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“(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,
"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?"
"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
"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
"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
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.
Scotland x Reader- Summer Camp"Allister!" Exclaimed Alfred as he turned to you. His smile slowly faded and silence came over the students. You turned you head to look at the red-headed country with a gulp. Everyone knew that. Allister Kirkland was a delinquent. It was surprising that they still let him come to the camp. You looked around at everyone as they all seemed to give you a look of sympathy.
"Well.. Let's continue." Alfred mumbled before continue to call out the names. You looked back over at Allister. He had a small frown on those thin lips of his and her arms were crossed over his chest. He had an obvious look of uninterest on his face. You didn't actually mind being in a group with him. He was always somewhat kind to you.Besides, you formed a bit of a crush on the fiery Allister.
You decided you were gonna make him like the time he spent you, make him actually well.. Enjoy himself.
"Here you are." Alfred said and handed you a smooth, blue sheet of of paper. He gave you a smile before walking away. Yo
Drunken sweetness (ScotlandXReader)A bang. The front door had been thrown open, banging against its hinges as someone else banged in. “(Y/n)!! I’m hoooome~” Not again.
Allistor grinned lazily, opening his arms for you as he stumbled inside. Why did you even wait up for him anymore? You should’ve known he’d come home drunk like always. With a couple more drunken slurs of what you guessed was your name, he fell to his knees in front of you.
You shook your head at him and sighed, putting down the magazine you’d engrossed yourself in. Stroking his cheek, to which he nuzzled his face in your hands. “I’m back hooome~” He murmured, pressing kisses on your palms.
“W-why’re ya still awake..?” He questioned, resting his chin on your folded up legs. “I was waiting for you stupid.” Why did you still wait up for him like this? Oh yes, it was because you were head over heels for the redheaded Scot and his affection, which tended to be more prominent
Taming the Beast Scotland X Reader
"I hope you're ready for this, she can be pretty intimidating you know. But don't get your hopes too awful high either, like I said before, she's a really shy one that girl. So we'll just have to wait and see. I did bring her favorite food though, so hopefully she'll come out today." Scotland had you out in the middle of the Loch Ness, in a very small boat. It looked like it may start pouring down rain at any minute. "She does love this kind of weather you know, makes it harder for people to spot her." He pulled some rather stinky cheese from a barrel he'd brought aboard the boat. "It's Vieux Boulogne, one of the stinkiest cheeses in the world. But it's Nessie's favorite. She should be able to smell it no matter where she is."
"I don't doubt it, that stuff smells awful." You covered your nose with your hand and scrunched up your face in disgust.
"I know it. I don't know what would make a lovely sea serpent like her like such a pungent cheese. Oh that m
The Incident (ScotlandXReader)Sitting on a bar stool, nursing the best scotch the pub had to offer, Allistor Kirkland didn’t have too much to complain about. He had a drink, a cigar, and all the time in the world. Not literally, of course (the paperwork had to be done at some point), but it was nice to pretend. Now all he needed was a fight.
One particularly drunken man was causing a ruckus across the bar, shouting for more drinks in a voice so slurred, words could barely be recognized. Allistor growled in annoyance, his grip tightening on the bottle in his hand, teeth grinding against the cigar perched on his lips. It looked like he had his target, and perfect timing, too.
The bartender noticed the look in his eye. “Oh no ye don’t, Allistor. Not tonight. Ye nearly destroyed the place last time,” the older man cautioned, but the red head couldn’t hear through the anger burning in the back of his skull.
“He deserved it, though,” Allistor growled, emerald eyes watching the lo
ScotlandxReader: Chicken "Name your game Iain."
The man scanned the area around him, the empty playground in the middle of the night to see an abandoned swing set under the light of a nearby street lamp. He grinned.
"Whoever jumps aff at th' hi'est point wins." Both of you grinned, fire in your eyes as you went over to the swings.
Both of you started pumping your legs back and forth, going higher and higher. The only think running through your minds was to beat the other and do so with pride. Iain was about two yards high when he jumped off, knowing you couldn't stand the height you were at.
Looking down at the ground, you could feel your face pale. Still, Iain was standing there, grinning in content with his arms crossed and his hip out,"A bawherr scared, aren't we lass?"
"No!" You cried back, going up higher and higher. Still, you wanted to beat him not matter how scared. He didn't assume you would jump off from that height which was why he
Seven minutes in heaven-Scotland"_______ got...Scotland?" Alfred asked himself. You looked at the packet of ciggarettes(?) and looked over at the red haired Kirkland brother. He was leaning against the nearest wall, ciggarette in his mouth and looking at you. He was wearing torn up jeans, a t-shirt with his flag on it and a thick leather jacket. You stood up and he smiled.
"Come on then lass." (Is that welsh?!) He said, opening the door for you. You smiled. He was as much of a gentleman as his brother. You walked in and he closed the door behind you both. You could smell the smoke and wrinkled your nose.
"You do know they are bad for you." You said, taking the ciggarette out of his mouth and stubbing it out on one of the walls. You saw him frown and reach for the packet you had in your hands. You held it behind you.
"You're not smoking in here. I don't like the smell." You said. You saw him raise an eyebrow then smile.
"Oh really? We'll see about that." He said, before pulling you into a kiss. That surprised you grea
R: Scotland x Reader"Hey, hey Scottie. Scottie. Sssssssssscottie."
The Scotsman looked up from his book and cigar to look at the [nationality] who was poking his cheek endlessly. "What is it, lass?"
[Name] stopped poking his cheek and looked at him innocently. "What's under your kilt?" she asked. Scotland's jaw slightly dropped, nearly making his cigar fall.
"You should close your mouth. You might catch a fly or something," [Name] said.
Scotland closed his mouth as he regained his composure.
"What made you bring out that question, lassie?" he asked. The girl in question tapped her chin as she thought of what to answer.
After a moment, she stopped tapping her chin and looked at him. "I read it somewhere," was her reply.
The male looked at her questionably. "Where?"
"Somewhere in deviantart," she responded happily.
"Now lass," Scotland started. "I don't think you would want to know yet. You're a wee bit too young for it, aye?"
[Name] snorted. "I'm only a year younger than you, you silly Scotsman. And why ca
ScotlandxReader Pocket Watch
These are the human names I'm using for the Kirkland Brothers :3
North Ireland- Sean
"Can I get this mummy?!" Your six year old son held up the package of sweets excitedly.
You held back a tired sigh. "Of course honey."
Colin squealed with delight, tossing the package into your shopping cart. You allowed your self a small smile.
He alternating between sitting in the cart and walking next to you during the shopping trip. After wards, you walked home. One hand holding a grocery bag, the other clasped around your son's small hand.
"Hmm?" You glanced down at him. Colin's bright red hair shone in the afternoon light.
"Why do you look sad?"
You blinked, unconsciously reaching up with a hand and touched your cheek.
"I'm not sad....Just tired."
It was a half truth
Okay guys a brief explanation for why kitty Scot is such a weird cat. It's mainly because, I think that if Scotland was a cat, he'd be a hyperactive little shit. xD That's all.
Making decisions had always been a slight problem for you and today was no exception. You stared at the throng of milling cats. You could only pick one, but they were all so cute and you wanted to take them all with you. But you couldn't.
Sighing, you pursed your lips. Maybe you should come back tomorrow after you had researched the different types of cats.
Turning to Elizabeta, you smiled apologetically. "I don't know if I'm really ready to adopt a cat yet."
She nodded, grabbing a flyer off the near by wall. It explained the purpose of the shelter and the hours. You thanked her smiled, taking the flyer. When you left, you felt a small tinge of guilt for not buying a cat.
Alistair Kirkland, let out a huge breath of smoke, as he peered down over the couch arm to see his friend (your name) flipping open a laptop screen.
“What are ye doin'?” he asked, his thick accent made her want to swoon.
“I want to ask you some questions.” she answered, hoping her friend would agree instead of finding a bypass to avoid it.
“Fine then.” he grumbled. “But be quick.”
By then, (your name) was already on the apparent 'site' and began to scroll down the page.
“Is is true that Scottish are all gingers?”
Alistair looked to the top of his head to see a little glimpse of his red hair. He already knew he had RED hair, but the question (your name) just said sounded dumb.
“No lass. Not all Scottish are...'gingers'.”
(Your name) gave him a cute smiled, before continuing down the page. Alistair, however still didn't get the idea.
“All Scottish people eat haggis?”
“No (your name).” Alistair
five.Five is the number of times you worry he’s stopped breathing, as the surgeons carve around his heart, twisting away the plaque ridden arteries, and pulling a vein out of his leg. Five is the number of heart wrenching hours you and your family were waiting in the hospital room, worried that your lives would crumble, that there would be five members of the family instead of six, that five days out of the week he would not come home for dinner, that five kisses from him would no longer be given to his wife and four children. Five was the amount of fingernails you bit off while watching people enter and exit the waiting room, and the amount of minutes your mother spent on the phone, explaining that something was wrong. Five is the critical difference between holding a father’s hand as your mother cries into his heart shaped pillow. The difference between rejoicing and smiling weakly because he’s okay or carrying your father’s American-flag-covered-casket and watchin
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More