What's With The Nose?
The night air chilled Savannah to the bone. It was completely dark out; the street lamps were all shotty and gave off little light, yet another reason why she didn't like to be out so late at night. She hadn't thought to change out of her short, lacy white dress that she'd worn to school that day when Nick had suggested that they check out the evidence vault again after sunset. She may have been freezing cold, but his rough hand pulling her along by her thin wrist made her cheeks hot and her heart beat just a bit faster. The mere idea of sneaking around the station underground after hours gave her butterflies; but she had to remember that they were in fact trespassing, so she had to keep her head on straight.
The investigation of the Madison Mansion was going swimmingly, aside from a few mishaps here and there. Nick had been surprisingly helpful about the whole thing, despite his mixed - more silent than mixed, really - feelings in the beginning. Savannah could hardly believe how far t
US x UK - My AngelAlfred was always an curious child. He would sit for hours perhaps in a meadow, in his garden or even by the sea just waiting for something to happen. If it was an UFO or a horse he was intent on seeing I shall never know, though many who know him well may argue it was the UFO. Anyway, I am getting off subject. This is the story of the supernatural. I know what you're thinking "what is the person going on about?" Well, I'll show you. But first I need to paint the scene.US x UK - My Angel4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Young Alfred, dressed in his brothers red hoodie which he managed to sneak out of their double closet was sitting once again in the meadow near his house. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining bright and the grass had never looked greener. Birds were chirping merrily away in the tree's, the slow trickle of water from the lake over the hill could be heard and a light breeze ruffled his blonde hair. The only thing out of place in this meadow was a wand. It was a simple thing. A stick of black with a pointy golden st
The Suicide of Arthur KirklandDear Diary,The Suicide of Arthur Kirkland3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I think it was chilly out today. I don't remember. The sky looks grey, so I guess it was cold. Christmas is probably going to be be here soon, I don't remember what day or month it is, but there are Christmas trees all over and people keep singing "Jingle Bells" in town. I can't bring myself to sing with them. I can't believe Matthew is making me keep a diary. This is stupid.
Alfred stood on shaky legs, discarding the diary into a drawer in his dresser. He turned to his bed, ripping off his jacket quickly before collapsing on the red, white, and blue sheets. He sighed, pulling his glasses off his lightly tanned face, and shut off the bright, yellow-ish light from his lamp. He felt cold. He shut his eyes, and slowly fell asleep.
Text from: Froggy Bonnefoy
Alfred? You have to stop ignoring me, and everyone else. This has gone on far enough. Why don't you talk to us, Amerique?
The American glanced down at his iPhone. He only barely took in the words from the t
US and UK: Fourth of JulyUS x UK- Fourth of JulyUS and UK: Fourth of July3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Anyone bypassing the large home of Arthur Kirkland, the personification of Great Britain, on this particular night of July, would've heard (very loud) crying coming from the top level of the mansion (though when asked, he would deny it). In the bedroom of the large house, England was lying on his bed, with his face buried in his pillow, tears streaming down his face, and sobs and shudders wracking his body. This night was a reminder of one of England's worst nightmares coming true.... the Fourth of July. The day his most precious colony, the United States of America, became independent from him. Now, after over 200 years, Arthur still held the pain, the sadness and the anger of that heartbreaking day. 'He's probably out celebrating, like always...', Arthur thought grimly as his salty tears started to dry on his reddened cheeks. He, referring to Alfred F. Jones, the personification of America. The hamburger loving, loud mouthed, illogical idiot that Arthur had co
Birthday PlansDisclaimer: I disclaim. Disclaim aallll of this. except the story line, words, and stupidity. I have to own up to those.Birthday Plans3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Alfred groans in his bed. He is alone, again. Arthur is usually in there with him, adding a familiar warmth to the place, but he's been gone for a week now. Alfred's birthday is coming up which always brings back bad memories for Arthur, for both of them really, so the Brit is gone for at least a week. It happens every year; Arthur leaves for a week or more and Alfred is left in his large bed alone. His birthday is in two days and he would love nothing more than to spend it with his moody little Englishman. Alfred, in his desperation, decided early that he will go ask the other nations for help in the morning. Surely one of them will know what to do.
Alfred goes to Mat
APH-Babysitting American StyleSummary: A Britannia Angel spell backfires and England turns himself into a child. After learning that it would take a few months for the spell to wear off, its Americas duty as a hero to care of his former father-figure. However, the child brings out new and forgotten feelings that America isnt exactly ready to deal with. USxUK pure, diabetes-causing fluffAPH-Babysitting American Style4 years ago in Teen More Like This
It was late afternoon and Yao Wang, or China as he was better known as, was peacefully lying on the floor of his home, resting comfortably against a soft silken pillow and happily reading a book before taking a quick nap. He needed the distraction from the current problems dwelling in the back of his mind and he was thankful for the serene night that gave him the perfect opportunity to forget his troubles. Twirling his long dark hair around his index finger, China continued reading, completely drawn into the worded adventure and unaware of the sounds of footsteps approaching his front door. He did, howeve