Takeover_Part 1: Two? "Vehh...Germany, where's Japan? He wasn't here for dinner last-a night..." a smallish, brunette man whined. He laid his head on the spotless table cloth, looking exhausted. "Germany" sighed, shrugging. The duo's black haired friend had said he was going to look for a certain manga late the day before, and hadn't returned yet. It was the next morning, a lovely Tuesday. The birds were singing, the bread was baking, and it seemed as though nature had really kicked itself into gear. However... "I don't know, Italia. Maybe he vent to Hungary's? He seems to do zat pretty often..." The blonde man sighed in his thick accent. He smoothed back his flax-golden fringe from his face, slightly irritated. He's usually back by the time Italy wakes up... What is something had happened? Germany usually wasn't one to worry, but if Italy started to cry
Different ground, Same Sky_1Chapter One- New Arrival Anastasia woke up to the sound of a voice. She glanced to the window. The sun had barely crested the frozen landscape, so it was approximately five-thirty A.M. She sighed softly, then rolled out from under the white comforter. The walls of the room were a cream color, with the occasional hand-drawn picture from when she was little. Anastasia was pleasantly surprised that Big Brother had kept them all these years. She pulled on her sky-blue robe and padded down the wooden stairs. The voice got louder. "Big Brother must be on the phone," she thought blearily. After three flights of stairs, she arrived in the kitchen, almost silently. Big Brother's back was to her. He seemed tense. "...da...Right now? But...yes. Goodbye." Ivan clicked the phone off and turned around. He qu
please just stay dead "Hey there, time god." Her lips are without her favourite black gloss, without it she looks younger. She's dyed her hair lilac again. It looks well on her and you've told her so. For some reason she can find lilac hair dye and not the decency to knock before entering. She has that book tucked under her arm nice and neat and her tank top straps are twisted and her hair's mussed on one side. It looked like she'd been trying to sleep. Nobody can even tell if it's night or day anymore on the meteor, besides you. It's your curse. Earth time, it's 6:02:28 PM, January eighteenth, two thousand twelve. Mostly you ignore the little clock inside your head and don't sleep. You click off your iShades and face her, rubbing your jaw. "Hey there, batshit crazy eldritch goddess. What brings you to the Dave-cave?"