foxesdemonica

England was dead. Dead and in Hell. That was the only logical explanation for why he was currently laying in the back of an unfamiliar car, wearing a cowboy hat, a pink shirt, and a pair of what appeared to be America's old jeans. Not to mention the sun was in his eyes. That detail gave England pause. Last he checked, there was no sun in Hell. Just lots of fire and brimstone and torture. Ok, so he was still alive. But how did he end up here? Thinking back, England remembered being manhandled to America's birthday party by a certain Frenchman. After America had screamed a greeting at him, England had headed straight for the bar. He only had

To say that nobody saw it coming would be the understatement of the century. Prior to that day, if you had asked any of the countries who they thought would try to take over the world and cause World War 3, they would have said America. The war with Russia had done something to him, something no amount of treaties and peace agreements could fix, and it was a secret the whole world knew that he had kept storing up nuclear weapons long after he was supposed to have given them up. Looking back, many of the nations would blame this surety for what happened. The whole world had simply been too busy watching America to even consider any other th

Ivan sighed wearily, patting the small box in his pocket. It had taken him most of the summer to find the perfect one, but now he was ready. Or not. It had seemed so simple back at home, but now, standing outside Yao's front gate, all of his courage, liquid or otherwise, seemed to desert him. Just as Ivan was about to give up and go home, a small, black-haired form ran into him and bounced off his chest and onto the ground. Ivan starred impassively at the fallen form, trying to remember which one of Yao's siblings it was. It didn't take him long to remember after the other nation stood up, however. "Falling was invented in Korea you know?

B had never experienced a longer plane ride in his life then the one back to Whammy's that cold winter night. As long as he focused on the raven sleeping on his shoulder, it didn’t seem too bad. L would make it okay. L was worth it. “Is he really B? Is he worth the memories, the pain, the stress?” A questioned from his seat across the aisle. B sighed and turned away from the A-hallucination, choosing instead to stare out the window at the lights of England passing quickly under the plane. L was worth it. There could be no other way to think. L awoke just as the plane was landing, gracing B with a sleepy smile before leading