“Right, tout le monde, I’m taking this one!”
The second the flamingo group, including Arthur, Roderich, Francis, Lovino, and Ludwig, walked inside their cabin - or more like stumbled in, muddy and dragging their overnight bags over the ground - the ever energized Francis ran to the top bunk with the largest window and furthest from the door, his bag slung over his shoulder, and claimed it without hesitation. Lovino didn’t even comment, instead choosing the bottom bed on the bunk beside Francis’ as he was too tired to climb up the ladder. He sprawled onto the bare mattress with a groan, sweat-matted blood chocola
“Am I seriously a god damn flamingo?” complained Lovino loudly the second he set eyes on the kids he would be sharing a cabin with for the time being, and the sign they were holding up that the teacher had given them. Flamingo. The picture on the sign was of a fucking flamingo.
“Ve - it can’t be that bad, fratello,” his brother said, attempting to sooth his hot-headed brother’s anger. It almost worked, until Lovino remembered that Feliciano wouldn’t be in the same cabin as him.
“Of course it’s that bad! And you aren’t even in the cabin with me!”
“No, it’s not, bec
“I will not sit with that bloody idiot!”
“Arthur, calm. Alfred, move back a seat.”
“But-”
“Now.”
With a facial expression like a punished puppy, Alfred slouched out of the seat he had been sitting with formerly named Arthur, and settled for the one directly behind the blonde English-boy. Arthur glared at him through the reflection in the window while their teacher clapped her hands together at the front of the bus.
“Alright everyone! I hope you all have gone to the bathroom and everything, because it’s a two hour bus trip to Camp Hetmour, and we aren’t stopping along the w
It started with a dance. After all, what else could one expect?
As per usual, there were all the other countries involved - though secretly. They shuffled about around the dance floor, either moving with each other, laughing, or doing something such as raiding the kitchen where the Bad Touch Trio were involved. The light red hair of Italy bobbed up and down like a miniature child in contrast to Germany, who kept glancing at the Swede sitting against the wall on the sidelines. Romano was there, trying to pull Italy away before his grip slipped and he crashed into Japan, who dropped his drink but managed to bend and catch it before it
It was one of those times of year, and no one knew it.
Then again, of course no one knew about it. After all, Canada rather appreciated the day and that was cause in itself for the day to go by unnoticed. Whoever had come up with the holiday was mentally loved by the large and still invisible nation, but sadly ignored in existence from everyone else.
Canada hummed contently to himself as he plucked a white circular plate from the stacks and bundles of kitchenware marched neatly inside his cupboard. He had already poured little puddles of homemade pancake batter into the pan seated on the stove below, and could practically feel the sizzles a
“Right, tout le monde, I’m taking this one!”
The second the flamingo group, including Arthur, Roderich, Francis, Lovino, and Ludwig, walked inside their cabin - or more like stumbled in, muddy and dragging their overnight bags over the ground - the ever energized Francis ran to the top bunk with the largest window and furthest from the door, his bag slung over his shoulder, and claimed it without hesitation. Lovino didn’t even comment, instead choosing the bottom bed on the bunk beside Francis’ as he was too tired to climb up the ladder. He sprawled onto the bare mattress with a groan, sweat-matted blood chocola
“Am I seriously a god damn flamingo?” complained Lovino loudly the second he set eyes on the kids he would be sharing a cabin with for the time being, and the sign they were holding up that the teacher had given them. Flamingo. The picture on the sign was of a fucking flamingo.
“Ve - it can’t be that bad, fratello,” his brother said, attempting to sooth his hot-headed brother’s anger. It almost worked, until Lovino remembered that Feliciano wouldn’t be in the same cabin as him.
“Of course it’s that bad! And you aren’t even in the cabin with me!”
“No, it’s not, bec
“I will not sit with that bloody idiot!”
“Arthur, calm. Alfred, move back a seat.”
“But-”
“Now.”
With a facial expression like a punished puppy, Alfred slouched out of the seat he had been sitting with formerly named Arthur, and settled for the one directly behind the blonde English-boy. Arthur glared at him through the reflection in the window while their teacher clapped her hands together at the front of the bus.
“Alright everyone! I hope you all have gone to the bathroom and everything, because it’s a two hour bus trip to Camp Hetmour, and we aren’t stopping along the w
It started with a dance. After all, what else could one expect?
As per usual, there were all the other countries involved - though secretly. They shuffled about around the dance floor, either moving with each other, laughing, or doing something such as raiding the kitchen where the Bad Touch Trio were involved. The light red hair of Italy bobbed up and down like a miniature child in contrast to Germany, who kept glancing at the Swede sitting against the wall on the sidelines. Romano was there, trying to pull Italy away before his grip slipped and he crashed into Japan, who dropped his drink but managed to bend and catch it before it
TAGGED BY: ~The-Tart-Queen (https://www.deviantart.com/the-tart-queen)
Rules:
1. You must post the rules.
2. Each person must post 6 things about themselves in their journal.
3. You have to choose 9 people to tag and post their icons on your journal.
4. Go to their page and tell them you have tagged them.
5. No tag backs.
6. No stuff in the tagging section about "you're tagged if you're reading this". You legitimately have to tag 9 people.
Lets change that to 6 people to tag, given I'm only telling you 6 things about me. Now thats more fair. :F
Now....lemme see...
1.) I have an unhealthy obsession with plants, berets, and glasses.
2.) Embarrassment is my biggest fear.
1. Pick one of your OCs.
2. Fill in the questions/statements as if you were your OC.
3. Tag five people to do this meme!
4. Tell people that they've been tagged with a link from your journal.
1. What is your name?
Matthew ---...Matthew.
2. Do you know why you were named that?
Because my biological parents were high?
3. Are you single or taken?
Single.
4. Have any abilities or powers?
Uh.
Yeah.
If I did, no one would be alive to write this.
Especially not THAT woman. //Points accusing finger at Yuryaoi// WHO FORCED ME INTO THIS.
5. Stop being a Mary-sue!
B-but..w-wh...HUH. I thought I already told you my name was MATTHEW.
6. W
Post this in your Journal with the title saying, "I act like a __ year-old".
[ ] You know how to make a pot of coffee.
[ ] You keep track of dates using a calendar.
[x] You own a credit card.
[ ] You know how to change the oil in a car.
[x] You've done your own laundry.
[ ] You can vote in an election.
[x] You can cook for yourself.
[ ] You think politics are interesting. (I find them interesting as I laugh at the patheticness of most people's mindset.)
[ ] You show up for school/work late a lot.
[ ] You always carry a pen/pencil in your bag/purse/pocket. (I dont even bring a pencil to class on a regular basis.)
[ ] You've never go
FIGJFIDIDS AMG. IT'S BEAUTIFUL. I-I.. IM SPEECHLESS. THANK YOU. MUCHIAS DANKE HOWEVERYOUSPELLTHAT. /Curls up into a corner and noms my doughnut slowly and with great care./
WOAH NOW WE'RE SPEAKING SPANISH AND GERMAN IN THE SAME SENTENCE ARE NOW, EHH? //walks away coolly// I have done my job. //puts on glasses like a boss//
Want me to speak French, German, and Armenian in the same sentence? 'CAUSE ZHE AWESOME ME CAN DO ZHIS OF COURSE. /Takes off glasses and puts them on Germany./