THIS IS TONIGHT'S PROJECT, GUYS!!1
Give me a fandom, any fandom (well, one that I know/write for) and I will write a scene from a really ridiculous Hetalia crossover* with it. You may specify your country. :'(
also make
halcyonjazz stop smiling at me, I can sense her from here.
* Ridiculous especially in the way of "oh ha ha ha why would ANYONE ever want to cross THAT?" only because it's me and I fail at really anything funny, it will attempt to be a SERIOUS FIC! Sob.
Give me a fandom, any fandom (well, one that I know/write for) and I will write a scene from a really ridiculous Hetalia crossover* with it. You may specify your country. :'(
also make
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
* Ridiculous especially in the way of "oh ha ha ha why would ANYONE ever want to cross THAT?" only because it's me and I fail at really anything funny, it will attempt to be a SERIOUS FIC! Sob.
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She is lovely and bright-eyed and he thinks about how empty and silent the halls will be, without her voice or her pranks. Something itches at the back of his mind, like something he hasn't remembered to forget, but he pushes it away as he crouches down before her. She will inherit her mother's height, he thinks, and grow up tall and lovely and maybe the top of her head will reach his chin.
"Is that so, shvibzik?" he asks. He adjusts the collar of her coat, and she allows this, though she shifts her weight impatiently. "The whole wide world?"
"All of it!" She throws her arms wide open and her face lights up. "Oh, you'll see, we will show the entire world how glorious you are!" And then, like she was still very young (though she is so very young, and small, and he worries what his cold nights will do to her, when she's never known anything but the comfort of palaces and estates), she throws her arms around his neck and her entire small body against his. It's not enough to even budge him, but the ache at the back of his skull grows, and he cannot say why.
"I will miss you," she says into his shoulder. He hears the tremble in her voice, the wobble that her young bravado can't quite cover. "I will think of you all the time, you and Papa and Mama and Alexi and everyone--"
He pats her curls with his hand, then rests it against the birdlike curve of her shoulders. "I know," he says, and with complete honesty, says, "I will miss you too."
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