CT's Hetalia thread

[cakeface33]

*happy sob* That was beautiful! I'm at a loss for words! That was so adorable ,warm and fuzzy. I am eternally grateful. Thanks so much! Can't wait for the next drabble!

[Not_Telling]

OHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYYY GODDDDDDDDDD

THAT WAS SO SO SO SO SO CUTE ASLDKVJHAWOCVVLDKSJHVLIA!

[Maus_17]

This was adorable! And so wonderfully fluffy! :3

[CT <3]

@Cakeface No problem; I’m glad you liked it.

Okay, here’s my first festive fic, as promised. It’s mostly GerIta, with a slice of my favourite family in the middle. I know it’s really long and not even particularly well-written, but I meant for it to sound better than it turned out. Anyway, here it is.

*Note* This story functions on the Germany = HRE theory. If anyone doesn’t support that, I’m sorry.

Memories of mistletoe

"C'mon, West, you can't back out now!"

"Just do it!"

"Kiss him, kiss him!"

The chorus of excited encouragement echoed around Germany's spinning head. To be honest, this whole situation was his fault; from the moment that Prussia had proposed the idea of a Christmas party he just knew it would end up badly. Yet he'd still gone along with it in his foolishness, not to mention drinking far too many glasses of mulled wine. So really, he only had himself to blame for the fact that he and Italy were isolated in the centre of the room with a sprig of mistletoe hovering over their heads.

This was one of those rare moments when Italy had his eyes fully open; alive with a fiercely bright hopefulness. And when he leaned in closer, smiling nervously as he did so, Germany found himself unable to think properly anymore. He'd never seen his friend's lips looking so soft before, or so... kissable. Barely aware of himself, he found his arms wrapping around Italy's body, and his head tilting to the side so their faces were level. Everyone seemed to have fallen into an awed silence, or else ceased to exist. Italy was the only one who mattered anymore, so close to him now that he could feel his quickening breaths against his own cheek. Germany took a gulp of air to steel himself, and swallowed hard. This was it, his one chance. He couldn't afford to mess anything up, he just-

"Hhhhhh-- haaaahhh--" Ferocious irritation caught suddenly in Germany's nostrils and his breath stilted in preparation. In a split second of horrendous realisation, he scrabbled to pull away.

"HAT'SCHHUU!!!"

The release came too soon, too violently, showering Italy's face in a wash of spray. He responded with a hurt yelp of indignation, almost drowned out by the unison of multilingual blessings over the room, but loud enough for Germany to hear. His heart sank down to the pit of his stomach and his face flared with crimson shame. 'Scheiße... what have I done?' Horrified, he broke apart from Italy and took a step back, accidently brushing against the mistletoe in the process.

"Huhhh-- huhhhhh--- Huh'RUSHOO!!!" the force of the sneeze jerked his whole body forwards, almost bent double and still stuttering over. Anticipating more. "Hehhh-- Heh'CHIIIHUU!!! HUH'RESHIIOO!!! EYASHHSHOO!!! HAH-AH-AT'SCHIUUU!!!"

"Mein Gott, gesundheit!" Germany looked up through blurred and smarting eyes to see Prussia's watery form swimming before him. "What the hell's making you like this, West?"

Wordlessly, Germany gestured above him, before ducking his head to another spasm of uncompromising tickliness.

"Heh'EPSHOOO!!!"

"Mistletoe?" Prussia reached out a hand to yank it down, "But... I swear mistletoe doesn't have any flowers, how can-?"

"I-I think it might be my fault." Hungary's sheepish voice carried clearly from where she stood with Austria by the fireplace, "I made that sprig and... I put Christmas roses with it too. I always have done."

From Prussia' hand, the plant was clearer, and Germany could see dots of small white flowers hidden beneath the green. Astonished, he rubbed at his dribbling nose.

"Germany, I'm so sorry!" Hungary continued, shaking her head, "If I had known..."

Germany tried to reply, but containing the sting in his nose was already taking up too much of his energy. Helpless, his head snapped forwards again.

"HET'CHHH!!!"

The sneeze provoked yet another round of different 'bless you's as everyone crowded around to check if he was alright. Blinking back allergic tears, he scanned the crowd. Verdammt, where had Italy gone? He had to be there somewhere...

"C'mon," Prussia's hand pressed reassuringly against his shoulder, leading him through the crowd, "I think you need a lie-down, West. Clear your head for a bit."

"Nein, I'm- I'm-- H'TSCHHKK" he stifled an outburst of the lingering itch into his hand.

His brother led him over to the other side of the room, and deposited him on an unoccupied sofa. Wiping his nose roughly against his sleeve, Germany struggled to stand back up.

"I-Italy..."

"I don't think so." Prussia pushed him back firmly, "Best if you just sleep it off. The allergen and the wine."

Germany sniffled hard and let himself collapse back. His nose still felt like it was being ambushed and his head was in a daze, half with alcohol, half with the thought of what had just happened. All of a sudden, his eyelids felt heavy, and his vision began to flitterer in and out of focus. As he began to drift off, he could vaguely hear a conversation in the back of his mind; urgent exchanges coming from the two people who behind him;

"Austria, he's-"

"I know what you are going to say. I am sure it is just a coincidence."

"But he's allergic to my Christmas roses! There's only one other person I've ever seen like that."

"Agreed, but we cannot make presumptions based on mere chance."

"But just say-"

"Don't. Do not even contemplate it, Hungary. You know nothing will come of it."

Then Germany's mind let go and he heard no more.

Every Christmas, Holy Rome's house became transformed into a palace of festivity. This year was no exception either; a large tree stood proudly in the entrance hall, Miss Hungary had been working hard for hours hanging up decorations, and even Austria entertained everyone with renditions of carols on the piano. And yet, the only one who was unable to get into the Christmas spirit was Holy Rome himself. Standing alone beside the window, he stared out vacantly into the snowy garden beyond, trying to ignore the tug of longing in his chest. It was that same pain that he'd been feeling for a while now; the ache he got every time he thought about her. Those carefree giggles... the beautiful dresses... the way the world seemed to light up every time she smiled... it was impossible for him to stop thinking about it all.

"Holy Rome? Are you listening to me?"

Holy Rome turned with a start to see his Master standing by the door, arms folded in an austere manner.

"You are required downstairs." he told him, clicking his tongue impatiently, "In the kitchens."

Holy Rome couldn't help spluttering at that. "The kitchens?"

"That is correct. It is imperative that you come immediately."

Never before had he been summoned to the kitchens. This was technically his house, after all, even if Austria was the Master here, and only the servants were supposed to enter the kitchens usually. Slightly confused, he started to make his way out, but Austria stopped him before he could leave.

"Ah, wait one moment."

Kneeling down to his height, his Master swept off his black hat, then pulled a comb from his pocket and smoothed back his mop of straw-coloured hair. Finally, he dusted down Holy Rome's clothes and straightened his little jabot before standing again and giving a satisfied hmph.

"There. I think you are reasonably presentable now. Now come."

With an increasing sense of puzzlement, Holy Rome followed him down the stairs and through the rooms of their vast house until they reached the kitchens. As soon as they approached the door, he could hear the frantic whisper coming from inside.

"Quick, quick, he's here! Get ready!"

A moment or two later, the door opened and Miss Hungary emerged, looking somewhat flustered. Stepping aside with Austria, she gestured Holy Rome inside the kitchens with a mischievous sort of smile.

"Go on! There's someone waiting for you inside."

Frowning, he entered the room cautiously, then came to a sudden panicked halt as he realised just who. From the other side of the room, the little voice called out to him.

"Ciao, Holy Rome."

"Italia..." he breathed.

It was her. The little maid he'd been unable to get out of his head. She was looking especially pretty today too; clothed in a slightly-too-big Hungarian dress and with a touch of make-up glistening on her face. Holy Rome felt he was rooted to the spot, and his tongue wound into a tight knot. Thankfully, she was more than willing to do the talking for him.

"Holy Rome... I was thinking, as it's nearly Christmas time, I should give you a present!"

He cleared his throat, already reddening. "Y-you don't have to..."

"Si, I know. But I want to!" she twirled happily on the spot, "Come here and I'll give it to you."

His feet felt like blocks of stubborn lead, but somehow he was able to edge step by hesitant step towards her until they were in touching distance. It was only when Italia reached out and took his clammy hand into her own that he noticed that there was something hanging above them. A clump of bright green dotted with little white flowers he didn't recognise. Mistletoe.

Holy Rome had been watching Austria and Miss Hungary for long enough to know exactly what two people were supposed to do under mistletoe. It had always seemed easy enough... but summoning the nerve to do it himself was another matter entirely. Distracted, he rubbed his nose with his fist. A strange tickle he'd never felt before had just ignited there, sending little waves of irritation through his sinuses. There was little time to contemplate it, however, for the next thing he knew, Italia's face was inching towards his, and the whole world melted away. The closeness of her made his body tense and his heart pound in his ears as he struggled to ready himself. This was it.

"Hhhhh... hhh--haahhhhh---- heeihhhh..."

As he learned his head under the mistletoe, the tickle sharpened without warning, making his breath hitch. Panicking, he pulled away and buried his face into his sleeve.

"Haaaahhhh... Hatcccchhhhiii!!! Het'ccchhhiii!!!" the sneezes were violently messy, splattering watery flem all over his sleeve while his eyes spilled over with tears.

"Holy Rome!" Italia was back by his side in an instant to support him, "Are you alright."

"I-- heeehhhh-- I-I'm..." his nose flared up agin, halting him mid-sentence, "Hi'tccchhhiuu!!! K'ssshhhhiii!!!"

Italia gave a concerned little whimper before calling out in desperation.

"Mr Austria! Miss Hungary! Come quickly!"

The door burst open as the adults rushed into the room. Holy Rome noticed something that looked suspiciously like a video camera in Miss Hungary's hand, which she hastened to put away when she saw him shaking and stuttering in Italia's arms.

"Ita! What happened?"

"It's Holy Rome! He went all funny when we were under the mistletoe." her voice jumped octaves while she spoke, bordering on the edge of tears, "I think he might be dying!"

Her misery was heart-rendering, and Holy Rome battled to reassure her through his nasal agony.

"I-Italia, I'm heeehhhhh I'm n-n-not-- H'tcchhhiii!!!"

The sneeze struck too harshly for him to cover it, launching spray over the kitchen floor. Austria's previously concerned eyes narrowed in disgust.

"He is not dying, you fool, that it merely an allergy attack. Towards those Christmas roses, it would appear."

"O-oh." Holy Rome raised his head up at the mistletoe. It was strange to think that those harmless looking flowers could cause him such aggravation.

"Hooray, you're alright!" ecstatic, Italia squeezed him into a hug. Holy Rome's heart started hammering so hard he was surprised that it hadn't burst right through his chest.

Miss Hungary squealed at the sight of them. "Oh you two! So adorable!"

His face flared up in embarrassment, but he was spared the awkwardness of a response by another itch tearing free. "At'chhhiiiUU!!!"

"Egészségedre!" kneeling down, Miss Hungary scooped him up into her arms, "Now, let's get you away from these roses, shall we?"

She carried him over to the other side of the room, jiggling and rocking him like a mother would. At first, Holy Rome struggled to get down, he wasn't a baby after all, but Miss Hungary's grip was firm and determined. Not daring to look at Italia, he leaned into her body a little, sniffing wetly. Flem was flowing from his nose like a messy stream, and his burning eyes were still spewing slow, allergic tears. He tried to wipe his face on his cuff, but Austria caught his hand just in time.

"Stop that! How many times must I remind you that it is not proper to use your sleeve for such vulgarity?"

"Mr Austria..." Miss Hungary said in a reproachful voice, "Don't be mean to him."

"Mean? I am simply trying to teach my charge some manners." Sighing, he whipped his immaculate handkerchief from his inside coat pocket and unfolded it over Holy Rome's nose. "Blow. Your face is a mess."

Holy Rome was painfully aware of how pathetic this must look in front of Italia, but he had little choice other than to obey his Master. Closing his eyes, he blew into Austria's handkerchief with all his might. The honk that resulted came out as a deep, gurling blast; mortifyingly-loud for his age. Austria looked like he was fighting back a cringe, but Italia giggled.

"Ve- Holy Rome, you sound so funny when you blow your nose!"

"D-do I?"

He glanced towards her fleetingly, his heart thudding erratically. As humiliating as it all was, the sound of Italia's laugh was music to his ears.

"Well, it was pretty noisy..." Miss Hungary said.

"Exactly. Rather too noisy in fact." Austria dabbed at Holy Rome's nose, then brushed over his dampened cheeks, "It is not courtly to blow your nose in such an unrestrained fashion, you understand."

He folded his handkerchief and returned it to his pocket with aristocratic dignity. Holy Rome felt Miss Hungary's body stiffen ever so slightly as she shuffled him in her arms.

"Oh, Mr Austria..." she murmured, only loud enough for Holy Rome to hear.

"Ve-" Italia tugged at Miss Hungary's skirts, gazing up at him, "Are you feeling better now, Holy Rome?"

He nodded. His eyes were still stinging, but much less painfully than before, and he no longer felt the urge to sneeze every time he drew breath. Gently, Miss Hungary lowered him to the floor, and Italia reclaimed his vacant hand.

"Let's go outside now! We can build snowmen together in the garden!"

Miss Hungary chuckled. "That sounds like a wonderful idea! How about this, whoever builds the most snooty-looking Mr Austria snowman wins an extra piece of cake tonight."

His Master puffed indignantly. "Well, I hardly think that is fair! What about the most majestic-looking snowman? Or the most musical?"

"I think snooty would be better." smiling, she gave them a little push, "Go on, we'll be judging later. And remember to wrap up warm!"

"Yay! Thank you Miss Hungary." Italia gave his hand a warm squeeze, "Come on, let's go!"

"R-right." muttered Holy Rome, trying to conceal his blushes as she lead him out of the kitchen.

"Germany? Wake up Germany!"

His eyelids fluttered open to the sound of his name, and the world rolled into focus. After the excitement of the party, there was a certain calmness about the room now, with fingers of sunlight arching through the curtains.

"Yay! Germany's finally awake!"

Italy was perched on the arm of the sofa, his knees hugged into his chest. All at once the memories from the night before came flooding back, and the blood rose to Germany's cheeks.

"Italy!" he sat up groggily, rubbing his head, "How long have I been sleeping for, exactly?"

"Hours now! Almost everyone's gone home. We thought we'd leave you to rest." Italy slipped himself off the edge and shuffled up next to his friend, "You were smiling a lot in your sleep. Was Germany having a nice dream?"

"Ja, I think so..." he strained to remember, but the details were slipping from his mind like sand. Instead, he decided to address the more pressing matter. "About last night, I-I'm really s-"

Italy pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"Shhh, it's alright. You can't help your allergies after all." he grinned, and rested his head against Germany's shoulder, "I'm just glad to see that you're alright!"

For a moment, Germany said nothing, simply enjoying the feeling of Italy's body against his. This wasn't like last night, with everyone watching, it was just the two of them alone now. A perfect opportunity.

"Italy..." he cleared his throat, a little nervous, "Th-that, um, that kiss we were going to have yesterday... we could always do it now instead. But o-only if you want to, tho-"

The rest of his sentence was drowned out as Italy latched his arms around his waist, pulling him close.

"Yay! Of course I want to, Germany! It'd be the best Christmas present ever!"

Wasting no time, he claimed his friend's lips fiercely, knocking the breath completely out of him. Germany caught himself, then began to return the gesture, deepening the kiss with his tongue.

Outside the room, Hungary's eyes gleamed as she trained the camera on the unsuspecting couple.

"Just look at them together! Oh, it's the cutest kiss I've ever seen!"

Austria made an exasperated noise in the back of his throat. His own eyes were politely averted.

"You know, I doubt that Germany would be especially pleased if he knew you were filming this."

She giggled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, but I had to get this video. We have been waiting a very long time for it, after all."

Austria couldn't help smiling.

(End)

[Not_Telling]

Heeheehee! I giggled at the end~

This reminds me, I haven't written a drabble in quite some time...

[CT <3]

Ahhh, I meant to finish this one ages ago, but it took a little bit longer than I expected. Anyway, here it is. Christmas with the Hanamatageo family (and very very slight FrUk-y undertones).

Romantically challenged

"Fin, could y' come here f' minute?"

Finland hastened downstairs at his husband's call to where he was waiting just outside the front door. Slipping his hand into his, he nuzzled up against Sweden's shoulder.

"What is it?"

In response, Sweden pointed over to an enormous box sitting in the snow next to the doorstop. Hanamatageo was already giving it a cautious sniff, wagging her tail as she did so.

"A present?" Finland clapped his hands in delight, "That's so sweet! I wonder who gave it to us."

Sweden shrugged. "Dunno. No name or anythin'."

"Really? Now that is strange..." unlooping his hand, he shuffled over to examine it. He couldn't imagine why anyone would send anything as extravagant as this; a wooden box at least a metre wide and two times as tall.

"Maybe it's from Denmark and Norway. They must've heard that we're going to have the most romantic Christmas ever and decided to send over a lovely present to help us celebrate!"

The corners of Sweden's lips turned up in a very slight smile. "M'ybe..."

Curious, Hanatamago scraped at the sides with her paw. A soft, snuffily little outburst sounded in response.

"Ahhh-- Ai'tishieeww!"

Startled, the puppy edged back in retreat, barking and growling nervously. Finland and Sweden exchanged suspicious glances.

"Sve... did our present just sneeze?"

Together, they tore at the packaging; unlocking the bolts which held down the lid and flipping the box open. When he saw what was inside, Finland was barely able to conceal a gasp.

"Sealand! What are you doing in there?"

The micronation huddled miserably in the confined space, holding the sleeve of his sailor suit to his red-raw nose.

"Sweden? Fidla’d?" his eyes were rimmed with exhaustion. "It was that jerk Edgla’d, h-hhh- h-he-- aahhhh--"

His eyes squeezed shut and his head lurched into his sleeve, "Hwetch'ieeww!"

"Prosit. Let's get y' out." Sweden reached down and carefully lifted the boy out of the box and onto the doorstep. Immediately, Hanatamago pounced on him, covering his face with joyful licks.

Finland noticed a scrap of paper left at the bottom of the box. Pulling it out, he unfolded it and read aloud the message written there.

'Dear Sweden,

I'm going to be away all Christmas and I don't want *him* interfering. Paticually since he's managed to get himself ill. I'm entrusting him fully into your care until I return. Merry Christmas. England.

"That bastard just doesd't wadt be around whed he's with the French jerk." He scowled. "He cares bore about his stupid love life than he does about be."

Finland couldn't help feeling a little squirm of guilt. Whatever England and France were doing didn't sound too dissimilar from the idyllic holiday of romance he and Sweden had planned together. A holiday which they had fully intended to spend alone.

Sealand broke the silence with a watery sniffle as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Are you two goi’g to look after be idstead, thed?"

"'Course." Sweden answered automatically. "Yer like m' son."

Finland smiled. "That's right. Chistmas is a time for family after all. Now why don't you come into the warm? We'll soon have you feeling better."

"Now then, are you comfortable enough there?"

Sealand nodded. He was curled up under the covers of their spare bed, leaning against several plumped-up pillows. Beside him, Hanatamago nuzzled against his chest affectionately. The sight of them cuddling up together made Finland feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"Sweden's just gone to call England and let him know you're okay." he told him, "In the meantime, why don't you drink up your hot chocolate? I made it with extra marshmallows!"

The boy took the steaming mug from his hands and took a few careful sips. "Finland, you're the one who orgadises Christbas, aren't you? Cad you bake it so I get a really good presedt this year?"

"Well, we'll see." he said teasingly, "Have you been good all year?"

"I have! I have! I promise! I-I- aaahhhaaahhh--" he cupped his hands to his face, "Ah'tsschieeww! Hahhh... 'SHOO!"

"Terveydeksi. Here,"

He swiped a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside table and tried to wipe Sealand's dribbling nose, but Sealand yanked them out of his hand.

"I cad do it byself, I ab a country after all."

Finland waited while he stemmed the flow and blew his nose with a stuffy gurgle.

"Better?"

"Yes, thank you." blushing, he placed the soiled tissues on the bedside table, "Anyway, are you going to go out with your reindeer and sleigh this year?"

"Of course. It's my job, after all."

Seland's eyes gleamed. "Wow, that sounds so totally awesome! Can I come too? Everyone will have to recognise me as a country if I help deliver all the presents!"

Finland chuckled and ruffled his hair. "You just focus on recovering, alright?"

"But I am recovering, I'm already f-feeling... hhaahh...H'tchieew!"

"Prosit."

Sweden's voice sounded from the hallway, and he thudded into the room a few seconds later. "Y' okay?"

"I'm fine! Why are you both worrying about me so much?" Sealand took a determined gulp of hot chocolate and wiped his nose surreptitiously on his pyjama sleeve, "And I'll definitely be feeling better in time for Christmas Eve. Just you wait!"

Hanatamago barked her encouragement and leaned up to lick Sealand's cheek. As her fur rubbed against the boy's nostrils, Finland noticed how they fluttered up and down in discomfort and how his nose began to redden at the tip. Hurriedly, Sealand pushed her down onto the covers.

"G-go away, H--haaaahhh--Hana, you're going to m-m-ahhh--make me sn-snee--" his nose scrunched up before he could finish the rest of the sentence and his shoulders lurched forwards, "Aitishiieww! H'pshhooo! Ahhh... A'shhhIEWW!"

"Terveydeksi!" Finland caught his jerking head and eased it back against the pillows. Sealand rubbed at the bridge of his nose stubbornly, his breath continuing to waver.

"HHhhhhh---haaaahhhh--aaahhiaahhh---"

Snatching up another tissue, Finland covered the boy's nose just before the second bout struck.

"H'weschhhieeww! AtissHHIII! K'tcccchhhHHH!"

The outbursts grew increasingly violent and desperate as they advanced, reducing the tissue in Finland's hand into a mess of sogginess. Pausing for breath, Sealand looked up, his eyes watering.

"I can't- c-an't—aaahhh-- s-stop... Pt'shhieeew! Ai'tishhOO!"

"Prosit." Sweden was kneeling by the bedside in an instant. "Hold still f' bit."

He pushed Finland's hand away, and gently pinched his thumb and forefinger over Sealand's nostrils. For a moment or two, they continued to twitch, but his agitation gradually began to subside under Sweden's suppression until his face returned to normality.

"Feel alright?"

Sealand struggled hard to respond, but was forced to succumb to his post-fit exhaustion, collapsing back onto the pillows. Sweden carefully tucked the covers around him.

"Jus' rest now."

Finland nodded. "I'm sure you'll feel much better in the morning."

"Y-yes of course I will... you'll see..." he stifled a yawn against his fist and shivered, "S-so cold, though..."

"I'll get y' 'nother blanket..." Sweden started to rise, but Finland leapt up in his stead.

"It's alright, I'll get it. You stay with him, Sve."

Leaving them in peace, he headed downstairs, not for another blanket, but towards the shed where he kept the sleigh. It looked like it would need some modifications if it was going to carry two people this year.

On his way back, a low, humming sound made Finland pause before going back inside. Curious, he pushed the bedroom door open. His husband was perched on the edge of the bed, singing softly in his own language while he stroked Sealand's hair. As he watched them, Finland's insides began to grow warm and melty, and a slow tinge of delight spread across him. He hadn't realised before how beautifully Sweden could sing... nor just how caring he could be.

With Sealand safely asleep, Sweden leant down to kiss him on the forehead, then tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"He's 'sleep." he whispered when he saw his wife standing there, "Don't wake him."

"O-of course not. He needs his rest."

"Fin, 'm so sorry." he looked into his eyes guiltily, "I know y' wanted our Christmas t' be romantic, and-"

But that was as far as he could get. Overwhelmed with emotion, Finland placed his hands around the back of his husband's head and pulled him in for a hard kiss. What seemed like ages later, when they broke apart, Sweden's cheeks were glowing with merriment.

"Fin..." he traced around his lips as though stunned, "What was that f' ?"

Finland couldn't help giggling. "You're so good with him Sve. It's absolutely adorable!" he peppered his husband's neck in kisses, then glanced back towards the bedroom door.

"He *is* fully asleep, isn't he? You don't think there's any chance of him waking up unexpectedly?"

"Don't think so."

"Good." taking Sweden's hand, he lead him through the hallway towards their own shared bedroom, "Beacuse I think we're going to have a little fun tonight."

Perhaps their Christmas could be romantic after all.

(End)

[cakeface33]

Great job as usual! Sve is adorable with the scamp!

[Not_Telling]

:o :o

How. Do. You. Write. Them. So. CUUUUUUUUTE?!?!?!?!

*bashes head*

[CT <3]

Merry belated Christmas, everyone! (And thanks for the comments for the last fic). Now, does anyone else ship LietPol? I realised the other day that it's the only one of my eight favourite pairings that I haven't attempted to write yet. Also, I haven't done anything to do with photosensitivity either. Time to fix that on both accounts, I think. *Note* I hope I did Poland's character justice. It's a little difficult to write his ditziness without making it too extreme. (By the way,I have no idea why the font keeps coming out so small).

Problems with ponies

"Wow, Liet, that looks, like, so totally amazing!"

Lithuania emerged from under the tree, wiping his brow on the back of his hand.

"Thanks." he said, trying not to sound too pleased with himself. It had taken absolutely hours to attach Poland's decorations to the tree- hours of unwittingly tying himself up in the cords mostly- but now it was finished he had to admit it; they did look spectacular. Or as spectacular as Christmas lights in the shape of ponies could look anyway. Standing beside his partner, he looped an arm around his shoulder affectionately.

"I did it just for you, you know." he leaned in to kiss Poland's cheek, "Merry Christmas."

Poland was only too willing to reciprocate in kind as he flung his arms around Lithuania's waist.

"Oh Liet," he moaned in between kisses, "You're, like, the best, most wicked awesome boyfriend I could ever hope to- wait, what's that say?"

Mid-kiss, he pulled away from Lithuania and snatched the instruction leaflet lying on the coffee table. He read over it, squealing in excitement.

"Omigod! It says when you turn the pony lights on, they, like, flash a totally gnarly shade of pink. Omigod, we need to try it!"

Lithuania blinked, then broke out into a grin. Really, Poland could choose the most inappropriate moments to be ditzy sometimes.

"Alright then, if you are wanting to we'll do it now."

He switched off the main light switch in the room for effect and fumbled around in the darkness around the tree. Finding the plug for the lights, he fitted it into the electricity slot and flicked them on. The ponies blazed into life instantly; glowing a deep pink which flashed in different levels of intensity. The shine it cast was so bright that Lithuania had to shield his eyes slightly as he wandered back over to Poland.

"What do you think, Po? Are you liking it?"

He waited for the enthusiastic response, but it didn't come. Instead, all he could hear were a series of hitching, clustered and desperate little breaths.

"Fuuuuhhhhhh--hhhhhh---eeeiddhhh--"

"Poland?" he turned to his partner, "What's the matter?"

Illuminated by the lights' dazzle, Poland's face was contorted and struggling. His eyes were tightly screwed up like he was in pain. "L-liet... feerrrhhhehhh-- they're, l-like 'mazing, but... ghhhhuhhh-- way t-too bright... hhaahhh-- fehhaahhh... Hep'chiiii!!! Hnxsshhiooo!!!" His head flung forward to the violent demand of his sneezes, sprinkling the air in a mouthful of spray, "Hap'sshhhii!!! H'aasskkkii!!"

"I sveikata!" Concerned, Lithuania hastily caught his partner before the fit could fully overpower him. He'd heard Poland sneeze before, of course, but never with this level of harshness, nor with such an exaggeratedly high pitch. "Are you alright, Po?"

Sniffling and teary-eyed, Poland shook his head before his breath caught and he buried his head into the other's shoulder. Lithuania could feel his body wavering like a leaf underneath his arms. "H'eessskkkiii!!! Nx'cchhhioo!!! Hhhhhh-- Hpch'skkkiiihhh!!!" Each sneeze had a unrestrained quality of wetness powering it. Within moments, Lithuania's shirt was clinging to his shoulder with his partner's dribbly snot.

"L-liet..." Poland gasped, almost incomprehensibly, "Y-you've gotta, l-like, he-help me... Hep'nsxhhiiiooo!!!"

"R-right, of course!" Not knowing what else to do, he hoisted Poland into his arms and staggered over to the light switch. He flicked it back on and full light burst back into the room. The potency of the pony lights seemed to die a little.

Sighing in relief, Lithuania lowered his partner. "I'm sorry, Po. I didn't know you were photosensitive." He grinned a little and kissed the top of his head. "It was very cute, though. You should be having the fits like that more often!"

"Yeah... whatever, Liet." Groaning, he raised his red eyes. His nose was already running rapidly down his upper lip, and no amount of sniffing seemed to be solving it. Lithuania cringed at the sight of him.

"Hey, are you needing to clean up?" He rifled through his pockets, certain he had a handkerchief somewhere. Poland however, pulled the fabric of Lithuania's shirt away from his chest and, before he had any chance to protest, blew his nose loudly.

Lithuania leapt back with a yelp. "Po! What did you do that for?!"

"What?" Poland shrugged, "My nose was, like, running in a totally dick way and I needed to blow it on something, right?"

"Yes, a tissue or a handkerchief, not my shirt!" exasperated, he peeled the article of clothing off and handed it to his partner, "Here, you might as well be having it now."

"Thanks, Liet, you're the best!" Poland wiped away the last remnants of his fit, "And have I ever told you that you look, like, wicked sexy with your shirt off?"

It felt like he'd heard those words about a thousand times now, yet they never failed to make Lithuania blush."Er, maybe a few times..." he gave himself a shake, "Come on, look at the lights. You can be admiring them properly now!"

Poland gasped in delight as he looked back at the tree. "Omigod, they're, like, even more amazing than before! Our Christmas is gonna be like, totally radical with those bro-skis on our tree."

Lithuania couldn't help laughing. It was funny really, how easily his partner could become distracted.

"Yes, let's just be keeping the light on in future, though."

(End)

[cakeface33]

Nice,interesting way you portrayed them. Haven't seen this before,which is good. Poland was spot on and so was Lithuania. Cute drabble!

[Not_Telling]

Daww! <3 photic poland

[MidnightCatK]

Hi there! This is the same MidnightCatK from Deviantart. I stopped by like you recommended and I love all your drabbles and I'm so happy I can get on the site a little more now (It's easier now because I have my own laptop and I feel a little more secure about being on the site due to that.) I think my favorite part about them is that you use characters I've never seen used in drabbles before. Please keep up the good work, you have my support and I enjoy talking to you on here and Deviantart, so don't be afraid to message me if you ever want to discuss fetish-related stuff.

[CT <3]

@Midnightcatk Yay, you’re here! I’m so glad you like these; I do try to me inventive with characters and scenarios. Great to know you’ll be on the forum more often, and feel free to message me too.

Okay, sorry that I haven’t written anything in a while; I’ve had so much school work. I think I might have mentioned doing something with England and Colonial America way back in November, so here it finally is. I know it’s not especially creative; just plain and simple fluff.

Heroes

"England! England!" the floorboards shook under the force of the young colony's feet as he charged into the drawing room, "You've gotta see this!"

Sighing, England folded his newspaper and put it aside. "What is it this time, America?"

In response, America held out the small bundle of white fur he was cuddling in his arms. "I found this rabbit outside when I was playing! Isn't he cute?"

England's heart sank down to his stomach in despair. 'Cute' was the last word *he* would have associated with it. 'Nuisance' would probably have been his first thought, followed by 'devious,' 'infuriating' and most important of all, 'avoid'.

"America, you can't bring that into in the house!"

"Why?"

Frustrated, England rubbed at his nose. Had that maddening tickle really started already? "Well, because... because..." he racked his brains for a plausible enough excuse, "Listen, animals just don't belong inside, okay? You'll have to take it back into the garden."

"But- but he's injured!" America pointed urgently at the rabbit's leg, and England noticed for the first time that it bent at a strange angle- broken probably- and was crusted with dried blood. "I thought you might be able to fix it."

England sighed. In his little colony's mind, it seemed like there was nothing that he wasn't able to do; mending rabbit legs apparently included. It pained him to have to let America down, but given how the tickle had intensified, threatening to spill into an unstoppable fit of sneezing at any moment, he didn't have much other choice.

"Take it back outside, please. It's going to have to learn to fend for itself."

America's hopeful face fell instantly, and his bottom lip began to quiver. He hugged the rabbit to his body and started to leave, tears welling in his eyes. The pit of England's stomach squirmed with guilt.

"W-wait, America, please don't cry! Ahhh-" he ran a hand through his hair indecisively, "I-I... I could take a look at it, I suppose. Seeing as you've already brought it in."

America rubbed his eyes with his fists. "Really?" When England nodded, he broke out into a wide grin.

"Yay! You're the best, England!"

He tried to push the wounded animal into his guardian's hands, but England took a careful step back, shielding his running nose from view.

"Just leave it on the t-taaahhh-- table for n-now hehhh." he sniffled and cleared his throat loudly, "And could you bring m-my me--eeehhhh-- medicine bag from upstairs?" He waited until America had hurried off out of earshot on his errand before retrieving his handkerchief and holding it over his quivering nose in preparation. A couple of shaky breaths later, and the tickle transformed itself into the inevitable.

"haaahhhh-- Ha'itsschhhoo! Atsh'ishhooo! Eihhh...hhhh..." there was a pause as his breath collected together, then burst out all at once, "Its'kiewww!!!" England lowered his handkerchief, gasping for air. His allergic sneezes always felt about ten times more draining than usual and tore right through his chest as well as his sinuses. Not that they had made any difference *whatsoever* to his nasal predicament, of course. Worse still, he could feel the irritation spreading to his eyes too, as if someone was rubbing vinegar into the edges. Reuniting his nose with the handkerchief, England blew; starting off with his usual restrained gentlemanliness, and then switching to aggressive honking when the itch persisted. By the time he finished, England's nostrils twinged with soreness and the cloth was wet through. That bloody rabbit...

He glowered at it as it sat on the table, all fluffy and innocent like butter wouldn't melt. America could've taken a liking to any other creature in the garden, any at all, and he'd have been perfectly happy about it. But, oh no, it just had to be the one he was allergic to. Typical.

There was the sound of an excited pattering of feet all the way down the stairs and through the hallway. England hastened to put his handkerchief away just before America burst back into the room.

"England! I got it!" he held out the medicine bag proudly, "Are you gonna fix him now?"

"It's 'Going to' not 'gonna'; I've told you not to snff a-abbriviate. haahhh... A-and I- hhahhhhh-- I..." he cleared his throat and pinched the tip of his nose briefly, "I thought maybe you could take a look at it."

"Me?"

"Yes, it'll be good for you to learn some basic first-aid." that wasn't completely untrue, after all, "Are you up for it?"

The boy's eyes lit up. "Sure I am! America to the rescue!"

England chuckled indulgently as he hurried over to the table, one arm held out in front of him like a superhero. Picking up the rabbit, he began to examine it with a determined expression on his face.

"Well, his leg's all broken and bloody so... I guess I should wash first, right?"

England nodded. "That's right. But... perhaps hold onto it a bit more gently." he added, noticing how tightly he clutched. Honestly, that boy didn't know his own strength.

"Oh, sorry!" he relaxed his grip, "Now, I need something to clean him with... Hey, England, can I borrow your hank- handkf- that cloth thingy you always have with you?"

"Erm..." England shuffled awkwardly and looked aside, "Sorry, I, er, I forgot to put it in my pocket today. But there should be a flannel in the medicine bag."

"Right." rooting it out, America wiped up the rabbit's wound, and stroked its head gently, "Don'tcha worry, Peter; I'm gonn- going to- save you! You'll see."

England raised his eyebrows. "Peter?"

"Yeah. Like the rabbit in those stories you tell. He needs a name if we're gonn- going to- keep him."

"K-keep him...?" the thought was horrifying, but he couldn't quite find the words to refuse. Instead, he watched on while America mopped up the rest of the blood and started wrapping a bandage around the rabbit's- around Peter's- leg. Every breath England took seemed to provoke the itch further still, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to contain. A particularly fierce convolution rippled through his nose, making his nostrils twitch devilishly. Blast it!

He dropped to the ground, pretending to tie his shoe-lace while he kept his head bent and a hand ready to stifle. It was coming; he could feel it. Any moment now...

"Hhuhhhh... H'nxcthhhh! Ehhh--ehhehhh... Nxt'shtchhhh!" Suppressing such a colossal urge sent jerks of pain through his sinuses, yet England felt a kind of vicious triumph. Those sneezes had barely been audible to him, let alone America. There was no way he could have noticed. Inconspicuously, he wiped his overflowing eyes against his sleeve and sniffled as quietly as he could.

"Bless you."

England's head jerked up. "What?!"

"I said 'bless you.'" America said, his voice as soft and as tinted with concern as before, "You're not getting sick, are you?"

"I-I- er..." he rose, blinking his sore eyes rapidly, "Y-yes, that's it! I'm just... coming down with a little cold. That's all."

"No! You can't!" to England's surprise, America leapt forward and flung his arms around his waist, nearly hard enough to wind him. "I don't want'cha to get sick! What if it's really bad and you die? I won't let it happen!" He gave a whimper and clung on, suffocatingly tight. England sighed, though not only in despair. This might actually have been... touching if he didn't feel as if his legs were about to drop off from blood loss.

"America, let go. I'm not going to die- I'm-" grumbling, he tried to push him away, to no avail whatsoever, "Look, this is all very... sweet, but a lad of your age ought to be showing more stiff upper-" he stopped short as something caught in the corner of his eye, "America, your rabbit! It's escaping."

"Huh?" America finally unlatched his arms and glanced over the room. Having apparently limped over the table, Peter was perched on the open window ledge; dangerously close to falling. "Wait, Peter! Don't jump!"

He rushed towards the window, almost hysterical in panic, but England got there first. Just in time, he scooped the little rabbit up in his arms and slammed the window shut behind him. Safe.

Only when he felt the torturous explosion in his nose a second later did he remember.

"Hyhhh-- hrrhhhrr..." blast it! "Hi'tschhoo!!! Khhhh-- Ka'tishhiiioo!!!" The force of the allergy bent him over double; tears streamed down his face and he sneezed so hard he was surprised his brains hadn't burst out, "T'sscchoo!!! Ati'ISKiieww!!!"

"England!" he felt America tugging at his sleeve, "Bless you! Are you alri-"

"Do I bl-boody look-- Ha'TISHIiieww!!!-- alright?!" he screwed his eyes up and held the squirming rabbit in America's general direction, "Take it, for God's sake, take it! Get it away fr-fr-- K'tshCIIHhoo!!!-- from me!"

Mercifully, America obeyed him and stepped back warily. His eyebrows slanted upwards like he was wounded and England felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't spoken too harshly, had he? There was no time to contemplate it, however, for another itch crept over the point of no return. England scrambled for his handkerchief and threw it open over his nose to muffle a roaring sneeze.

"Hhr'aTCHIIIOO!!! Hhhhrrr..." Blindly, he felt his way towards the door. It was just no use, upset America or not, his sinuses just couldn't bear to stay in this room a second longer. And his sinuses were the only voice he was prepared to listen to right now. He fumbled for the door handle and flung it open, collapsing into the cool and wonderfully untainted hallway as the umpteenth sneeze ripped loose.

"Hhhh... H'pschIIEWW!!!"

Giving his nose a blasting honk, England stumbled off in the direction of the bathroom. Damnable allergies.

"Hey, England."

England looked up from drying his face on the towel to see America hovering in the bathroom doorway. Looking slightly lost.

"Oh. Hello."

"I just wanted you to know that I put Peter in my room and gave him some water. He seemed pretty happy about it."

"Right, I see." he folded the towel and placed it onto the rack before kneeling down by his colony, "Look, America, I'm sorry that I was a bit, er... short with you earlier. I'll try not to shout at you again, I promise."

America shook his head. "It's cool. I just wann- want to- know what did Peter do to you to make you sneeze like that. Did he get you sick?"

"Oh no, nothing like that. It's just, well... I'm allergic to rabbits, you see." America only continued to look puzzled, so he elaborated, "Allergies are when some people's immune system respond negatively to something; through sneezing or rashes or something. They're reasonably common, though, so you don't need to worry about me dying."

"Oh. I get it now. So... you want me to put Peter back, right?"

England sighed and ruffled America's hair. "No, we'll see if we can work something out. But you'll have to do all the looking after of him if we do keep him, mind you."

"Alright! That sounds awesome!" America said, smiling in that gawky, adorable way he had, "I'll be Peter's hero, just like you were!"

Chuckling, England leant forward and kissed the top of his head. "I think you're quite the little hero already.

(End)

Who should I write next? Chibi England? Another adult England? Prussia? Spain? Austria? Kugelmugel and Austria? I have so many ideas!

[cakeface33]

I always enjoy a good colonial America and England story. Nice job! It was definitely worth the wait! Have you ever done or thought of doing Angel England before? seems like an interesting idea...

[Not_Telling]

Oh mai! Dat was soooo cute! ahhhhh! wittle concerned colonial america and allergic-to-bunnies england wheeee!

*kiss* Magnifique!

[Dye]

Oh goodness! England allergic to rabbits really touches me cause I'm also allergic to them.

fdhlkjfdlhkajdfhkjad cute babies

[Kushami Suki Da!]

Wow! I go inactive for a month and I miss, like, three AMAZING fics!!! These are so great that I might have to check back more often! lol! But seriously, all these are amazing! I officially love you now!

[squealofapproval]

I don't have a preferable scenario, but maybe could you do something with PruAus? I would LOVE to see what you would do in your writing! You don't have to, though.

[MidnightCatK]

Awwww, I love the fact that America had no idea what allergies were. He's so cute and innocent!!!

[CT <3]

Thank you for all the lovely comments for the last fic. It took me a while to write, so it’s great to know that it was appreciated.

Now, onto the topic of the request. I have a couple of clarifications I want to make before I write them.

@Cakeface

I can certainly do some Britannia Angel for you. Do you mind too much about the cause or the pairing? I do have an idea, but I can change it if you have something you want in particular.

@Super_Awko

I have an outline for your fic too. It’s mostly PruAus-y, but I’ve planned for Hungary to make a brief appearance too. Is that alright?

^^ Once I know about these I can begin writing. Until then, here’s a little Spamano fic to keep you all going.

Attraction

Spain did not have sexy hands.

And definitely not how they were now; all raw and soapy from the washing up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And he, Romano, wasn't deliberately trying to stare at them. They just kept catching his eye because he was doing the drying, that was all.

Luckily, the Spanish jerkhead didn't seem to have noticed yet. He was too busy cleaning that one damn plate at a pace of a Greek whilst staring out dreamily into the garden beyond. His beloved sun was just beginning to set- casting a warm orange glow over the plains of his homeland.

"It is beautiful this evening, Romano." he said, inhaling the air deeply, "An evening of romance and passion, don't you think?"

Romano snorted. "We're here to clean the dishes, not compose poetry. Now pass me that plate, dammit."

Spain held it out, presumably to make the exchange then it suddenly slipped from his hands and plopped back into the water. Soap suds splashed everywhere and Romano recoiled.

"Why do you always have to be so fucking clumsy? All you had to do was give it to me, you stupid..."

He trailed off as Spain turned to face him, immediately noticing his stilted breath and twitchy, wrinkling nose. Against his will, he felt excitement mounting inside. There was only one thing that could mean...

"L-lo siento, I-- hiihhhh-- d-didn't mean-- hehhhh-- ehhihhhh..." unable to suppress it a moment longer, Spain flicked his head forward again and released into the open, "Itnx'shhhuuuuu!!! Hhhh-heeehh... hp'shhhuuuuuu!!! Kst'shhhiihuuuu!!!"

His sneezes were as gorgeously prolonged and as striking as ever, allowing Romano to enjoy the lingering intensity of each outburst before the next one came. Uncovered, jets of messy, released spray misted up the glass of the open windows, making his insides tighten painfully.

"Disgusting." he said, attempting to force disapproval into his voice.

"Romano, I'm sorry, I can't- can't he-help... Heh'kiiishuuuuu!!!" his head thrusted forward helplessly towards the window again, "Ihk'schhouuuu!!! I thiii- think it mi-might be my hayf- hayfe- ah'tshhhiiiuuuuuu!!!"

Romano got the message and leant forward to slam the window firmly shut. A part of him twinged with regret to see Spain's slow gasps of recovery, but relief overwhelmed it. Best not to feel any more attracted to that bastard, after all.

"You dumb shit." he spat, "Why would you keep the window open when your allergies are fucking up?"

Spain sniffled apologetically. "I didn't think it would be so bad in the evening. But, Roma, I think there's a little something you've forgotten."

Romano tensed. Fuck. That jerk couldn't have guessed could he? He thought he'd been so subtle about his fetish. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Wh-what is it?"

"You didn't say 'salud'." his tone was teasing; exaggeratedly wounded, "Surely you want to wish Boss Spain good health, si?"

"Oh. Right." his body relaxed, "Well, why do I have to, jerk? You're not my boss anymore!"

"Come on, please! Just the one time for me?"

"No!" ears reddening, he turned aside and picked up a bowl at random to start drying, "You want to be blessed, you'll have to do it yourself."

"Oh Romano... how cru-cruel you hhehhhh are to y-your boss some-someti--" his nose strained and his head jerked down, this time in the direction of the washing-up bowl, "Hr'esshhhhhiiihouu!!!"

Melty feelings momentarily flooded Romano's stomach. He turned away to hide his blushes.

"Salud." he said, as quietly as he could manage.

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear."

"Never mind, bastard."

They continued their chore in relative silence. Within moments, Romano found his attentions back on Spain's wet, nimble hands. He decided that it would be best to focus on them for once. Anything to keep his eyes away from that jerk's stupid nose.

"Snnffff"

The noise was quiet, but still prominent enough to distract him; still prominent enough to turn his blood hot with fetishy anticipation. Furious with himself and his emotions, he continued drying.

"Snfff, snnnkff! Snnnfffff!!"

Romano coughed pointedly, ignored his lust and continued drying. He was not going to look up. Not even if he had to stand here, listening to that damn, torturous sniffing all night long...

"Snnnnffffffk!!!"

That did it. With an anguished cry, he turned to Spain. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Blow your nose, dammit!"

"Ah, sorry snfff Roma." his nose was running steadily, creeping over his lips and towards his chin, "But it's a bit snnkkff difficult to blow my nose right now..." He displayed his wet hands forlornly then nudged his nose up against his shoulder, trying to stem the flow. Romano grunted. This was about the most dumb, pathetic things he'd ever seen and, with Spain, that was saying something.

"Alright, I get the point, jerkhead. You want me to help you, don't you?"

Spain halted in mid wipe attempt; his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. "Romano? You'd really do that for me?"

"Not for you. Your fucking sniffing's getting on my nerves." Leaving the plate and tea towel, he went over to the cupboards on the other side of the kitchens and rooted out the box of tissues they kept there. He yanked out two, folded them over and returned to place them over Spain's waiting nose.

"Wow... you're actually doing this?" Spain sounded triumphant. Surprised, but triumphant, "You do love me, don't you, my little tomato?"

"Sh-shut up!" It was difficult to keep his hand from shaking. "Just blow already!"

Spain blew. His snot exploded into the tissue with a wet, scrunchy and obnoxiously-noisy honk. But an incredibly hot one at that. Romano kept his body tightened as Spain blew again, and again, failing to contain his attraction. His ex-boss never had been one for holding back on anything... and it was times like this when he was glad of it.

When he was sure Spain had finished, he wiped his nose roughly and tossed the tissue into the bin nearby. He was blushing so much by now that his whole body felt enflamed, and a single tug on his head let him know that his curl was behaving strangely too; making stupid, shitty shapes in tune with his emotions no doubt. Worst of all, Spain was staring at him in a way that made his heart twinge uncomfortably.

"Thank you, Roma." he placed his still-damp, still-attractive hands on either of Romano's shoulders and bent to kiss him; once on the forehead, once softly on the lips. "You know, I could probably just take over the washing up from here... why don't you go upstairs and wait for boss there?"

"Yeah. Right." Unable to think of a good enough comeback, Romano practically fled from the room, not stopping until he made his way upstairs and crashed down onto Spain's bed. His heart was still racing, and the skin where Spain had kisses felt like it had been licked by fire. Burying his ashamed head into the pillow, he made a mental note never to do the washing up with Spain again.

That stupid stupid sexy bastard.

(End)

[SpookyBoi]

Ah cute I love Spamano, and you do them so well.

[cakeface33]

There's always been a great interest in the Spamano pairing in terms of how Hetalia fans see them. Spain usually being submissive is great for this sort of thing so great job! I was just asking about what you thought of Britannia Angel as a new POV of him. Apparently,he's more sensitive than his human form. I do however have a request. Could you possibly write a USUK piece concerning UK trying to be "proper" in front of America? I apologize if it sounds like a weird request,yet it seems like something that would happen in the series. Once again,great job on the Spamano!

[Not_Telling]

Wahahaha!!! That was cute! And funny! It was cutunny! :D

Yeah, I second cakeface's request, too!

And, uh...

Well...

Maybe you could write another story where either Japan or America is sick and they try to hide it...?

[squealofapproval]

That's okay I don't mind Hungary.

[SpookyScarySkeleton]

Holy frick this is gorgeous , magnificent ;o skwnsiusnajzuhwndhzuhsbehs no English or French words good enough to describe how much I love this <3 !