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"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?
"(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
"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'
"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?"
"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
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.
"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,
"(Name), I wouldn't try it." your Danish friend Matias laughed, while chugging down the last bit of beer in his mug. "He doesn't care."
"Of course he will!" you protested, clicking to the site you were looking at before.
Matias just laughed again, and continued his way into the kitchen in hopes of finding more beer to survive off of.
"He will listen.." you mumble to yourself, scrolling down the page to find different 'Swedish Stereotypes'.
It was or maybe would be the only way to get his attention. You tried before, but it never seemed to work. You'd ask him some questions and maybe have a chance at finally talking to the quiet man.
"Oh Berwald!" you called over, seeing him step in the doorway with Tino and Lukas. "Do you have any time?"
He only nodded his head and grunted, giving you the impression he didn't really care. Biting you lip, you wondered if Matias was right.
"Where's the idiot?" Lukas asked, holding two brown bags mostly filled with beer inside. Probably for Matias.
Hetalia Seven Minutes In Heaven Russia
You pull a white flower petal from the hat. "Oh, this is beautiful, who's is this?"
"That would be mine" Everyone but you stiffens at the familiar sound of Russia's voice.
"Who the heck invited Him man? He creeps the mess outa me!" America backed away from you two dropping the hat in the process.
"Ahh, you did, I got your invitation in the mail." Russia smiled at you sweetly, taking your hand and led you to the closet. Ukraine locked the door for you because America wouldn't go near it.
"I am not liking the dark very much." Russia held you close to him as if looking for comfort.
"It's not so bad" You said digging in your pocket for your iPod. Finding it you turned it on and used it for light. "There, is that better?"
"Yes, thank you, "Russia let you go. "Oh you are so krasivaja, I never noticed before now. I knew you were sweet but…" Russia slowly touched your face, as if trying not to scare you. ""_______" are you afraid of me, like everyone else?" You had never been afraid of
CIRL RussiaxReaderSpring. A wonderful time of blooming flowers, fresh rain, and sunshine ..How you loathed it.
It was a nice enough season by normal standards, but when it came down to your allergies? Those April showers bringing May flowers could rot. You used to love springtime. It was your favorite season. Then this hay fever cropped up out of nowhere and now you were constantly sneezing with a runny nose and itchy eyes. You were always taking allergy medicine for it.
You sighed and stared wistfully out of the window. You really wanted to go lay in the grass, but that would probably make your allergies react and you didn't feel like being miserable. At least come late May you could do that without many repercussions.
With a displeased grunt, you slouched further into the lair you'd constructed on your bed of pillows and stuffed animals. Maybe you'd just look at pictures of people walking through flowers and pretend that was you.
Now that you'd formulated a plan, you carefully pulled yourself out
Smooth Move [ Russia x Reader ]
The cold air bit [Name]'s cheeks as she continued trudging her way through the snow. She knew it wasn't a good idea to be outside for long during the Russian winter, especially when it snowed, but she couldn't help it. [Name] figured Ivan must be lonely, (wasn't he always?) and planned a surprise visit to see him. The snow that was falling and swirling in a flurry became denser, and it became harder to see around her.
"What are you doing, [Name]?" Ivan suddenly appeared in front of her, causing her to jump with surprise. She hadn't been able to see him coming through the thick blizzard brewing around them. He looked at [Name] with confusion: Why would she be outside in such dangerous conditions?
"I could ask you the same thing." She answered with a smirk, quickly recovering from the shock. She stopped her attempt at a fast pace for a moment, allowing the Russian to fall in step with her as they continued towards his house.
"I like the cold." He replied, a small smile etched on his face
Stay(Russia x reader)
“_____, wake up! It’s time to escape!” The frantic, nervous whispers of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia interrupted your troubled sleep.
You sat up immediately, and saw that Ukraine and Belarus were bundled up and ready to go, too. It was almost midnight, a bit earlier than you had planned. Russia was, hopefully, sound asleep. Honestly, you didn’t really want to leave the Soviet Union, but the others had convinced you to go along with their plans.
-Little Time Skip brought to you by Vodka!!!-
You volunteered to be the last to go, partially because you wanted to stay a little longer. Belarus and the Baltic States had already scattered into the darkness, leaving only you and Ukraine near the edge of the woods.
Wind whipped around your (h/c) hair as you turned back to glance at Russia’s mansion. Strange emotions gnawed at your mind, telling you to go back and stay, to be able to see his honey-blonde hair and violet eyes again. Finally, you
Seven minutes in heaven-Russia~
A little sexual...Don't like, don't read!
"_-_______ got Ivan..." Alfred tailed off, giving you a sympathetic look. You held a sunflower petal in your hand, it looked freshly picked and still smelled of the flower. You watched Alfred step back a little as you heard him approaching. You turned round and smiled at the purple eyed man, your (e/c) eyes gleaming just as much. Even though he scared everyone witless, you kind of liked him. He was incredibly tall and you loved his child-like smile.
You were pulled out of your thoughts as he pulled you gently by the wrist to the closet, no-one being brave enough to walk you there. You saw the looks you were getting from the other countries and it was as if they all knew you were dead.
The door closed behind you and you looked up at Ivan. You saw him staring at you, but it wasn't scary at all.
"You didn't want to pick me did you?" He asked, bending down to your height. He took up a lot of the closet, purely with his height.
"A-Actually I don
Hetalia GermanyxReader - Stuck In a Box
"Ugh," groaned Gilbert as he downed the rest of his drink. "I'm so bored!"
"Well, this is your party, mon ami," chided his best friend Francis. "We should do something entertaining."
"Oh! I know!" said Gilbert's other best friend, Antonio. "Let's play Hide-and-Seek!"
"Good idea!" Gilbert climbed onto a tabletop. "Everybody! I've got a cure for all of your boredom! We'll play Hide-and-Seek!"
_____, hearing her friend's announcement, put down her drink and smiled. "That sounds like fun!"
"Seriously?" said her boyfriend, Ludwig, with a raised eyebrow. "Games are for kleine Kinder."
"C'mon, Luddy!" _____ took his hand, making him blush. "We all need to take time to play. Loosen up!"
Ludwig sighed. He could never say no to her. "Alright, schatz. I'll play one game."
_____ pumped her fist in the air. "Yes! Hey, Gil! Luddy and I'll play!"
"Awesome! Alright, peeps! You go hide! Toni, Francis, and I'll be it! Go!" And with that, the Bad Touch Trio turned around, covered their eyes
Hetalia ItalyxReader - Stuck In a Box
". . . Ready or not, here I come!"
At one of Alfred's parties, we all decided to play hide and seek, Alfred, of course, being "it". I ran into one of the back rooms, spotting an unlocked footlocker. After stepping inside it and making myself comfortable, I closed the lid, being careful not to lock it.
Several minutes passed, and I wasn't found by anyone else. A few moments later, I heard someone frantically stagger into the room, closing the door behind them. There was a short pause before the lid to the footlocker opened, leaving me exposed. I wasn't caught, though, because the person standing before me was my cute little red-headed Italian friend, Feliciano Vargas.
"Oh, _____," he stammered. "I didn't know you were in here"
"Yo, Feli~! Where'd you go~?" called Alfred teasingly.
"Eep!" Feli squeaked, jumping into the footlocker with me. The lid closed with a loud slam, pushing Feli down on top of me.
"Feli!" I whispered loudly. "Get out of here! This is my hiding spot!"
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
Hetalia PrussiaxReader - Stuck In a Box
I turned my head to see my boyfriend, Gilbert Beilschmidt. He was running toward me with his arms flailing in the air.
"What is it, Gil?" I asked.
"Gilbird's gone missing!" he said, panicked.
"Oh, no! Do you want me to help you look for him?" If it were anyone else's pet, I wouldn't have bothered. But it was Gilbird, and he was just so cute that I had to find him-- and he was my boyfriend's bird, after all.
Gil nodded. "Ja, thanks."
So we looked. And looked. And looked. We looked all through Gil's and Ludwig's house and property, but there was no sign of the little bird. After about an hour of searching, Francis and Antonio came bursting through the front door.
"Hola, mis amigos!" shouted the Spaniard.
"Bonjour, our Prussian friend!"
I straightened up from looking under the couch to look at the duo. "Hey, guys. Now might not be a good time to hang out with Gil. Gilbird's missing."
Francis put his hand to his mouth. "Mon Dieu! That's horrible!"
"Anything we can do?" aske
"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
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More