In which Alfred speaks a little too loudly, and Arthur finds that gut feelings can be a bitch when they’re right.

Yes we are <3

Alfred wakes up exactly twenty-one days later. 

Twenty-one days, Arthur absently thinks, is three weeks. Three weeks, when considering the average lifespan of a country, isn’t terribly long at all. Not when he has centuries worth of time past, years of collected motes of dust on his windowpanes.

But there has never been a Dummies guide to being a country, and a part of Arthur realizes that no matter how painful (bloody vomit in his sink and the smell of stomach acid and broken down carbohydrates and— And blood) the learning curve may be, perhaps there should never be one.

But it doesn’t erase the fact that some countries seem to stay on for lifetimes after their passing, while some manage to vanish overnight. How was he to know which Alfred would become?

But the important thing is that he does. He does wake up. 

He wakes up, paler and far skinnier than an Alfred F. Jones has any right to being, bleary eyed and chapped-lipped and his mouth parted, voiceless, and it felt so wrong that Arthur filled in the white noise for him.

(What he says doesn’t matter either— and later he wonders why in such an important moment, so many things turn out negligibly insignificant— only that Alfred somehow manages to turn towards the sound of Arthur and oh, he’s forgotten what that gaze has felt like, what it can do to him, reducing him to the wick of his self and it burns and aches and—)

Arthur buries his face in Alfred’s stomach for a long while, feeling the slow inhale-exhale of his breath, the steady rise and fall of his body (not heaving, not struggling— thank fucking god, if there is one), and in that moment, there are so many things he could have said (I missed you, you’re alive, you sodding idiot don’t ever do that again, you’re alive you’re alive you’re alive), but he says none.

They listen to each other breathe.

Companion piece to this old drabble.

We All Live (In A Yellow Submarine)

One rainy Tuesday, Arthur finally cracked.

“Stop it!” He shouted, stopping right in his tracks in front of the same street musician he passes by every day. 

The boy was young-ish, Arthur had figured. late teens, perhaps? Definitely too young to be condemned to a life of street busking. His clothes were fairly clean, and the only reason his hair seemed to be sticking up was due to a lack of brushing, not a lack of a good wash. 

Wasting his youth away, Arthur had thought to himself disdainfully, each time he walked past they boy in the underpass, on his way home from work. Arthur hadn’t done that. He’d done everything the right way, gone to college, gotten a degree in business, and was now working in the local branch of a large MNC in town. Perhaps, he conceded, it wasn’t the most glamorous or exciting job around, but it was a stable one, and it kept a roof over his head. 

He was a self-sufficient, responsible, mostly-content young man. Life was fairly good. 

Except for this stupid child. 

Every day, walking past, the boy would change his lyrics to— To mock Arthur, in some way or another. Eyebrows and argyle and sweatervests and plaid made their way into his pop-rock songs, which made Arthur twitch irritatedly. Every bloody day.

The song died in the boy’s throat, something about wearing sweaters and white shirts and… Someone else wearing t-shirts? Arthur honestly had no idea, and the tune had been irritating as hell.

“Do you think it’s bloody funny to be insulted by a— A boy singing songs about how I look?!” Arthur shouted, feeling himself go red in the face. He honestly had not thought this through, coming as close to admitting that the boy’s taunts got to him as he would ever get. 

The boy stared up at him for a moment with a blank expression, before cracking up into snorting laughter. “Dude,” he wheezed, grinning up at a very unimpressed Arthur. “You did not have to take that so personally. Why so stodgy?”

“Stodgy?” Arthur felt his hackles rising almost immediately. “You little twer—”

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Yes we are!! Just uh. Busy with other things, anon 8D;; Sorry for the inactivity, we should really post something/update soon eh OTL

D’awwwww, you’re too kind :’D Thank you very much, we’re thrilled to be able to have this kind of awesome impact on you ♥

Thought we were dead, I suppose.

Fat luck then.

We’re still here, slogging through chapter 9 of Suit Of Dissonance! Sorry it’s taking so long, but both Hika and I are in this admittedly terribly indulgent cycle of distracting each other in turn with a lot of other things.

And then you have to account for real life.

Just to let you know that we’re still here! Thank you for your patience, lovely followers, have a nice day ahead! 

Hello hello! Sorry for the slow reply!

Mmm, at the moment I don’t really have any plans to make any, but I suppose when I see a design I really like I’d end up making one again…? OvO;;

indigoredroulette:

symbiotific:

AWESOME NO? Almost-full Cardsverse team!

Play spot-the-Hika? :D

CAST LIST!

England: Hika

America: Farmer Dan

China: Kiwi

Veneziano: Rabbitan

Germany: Beffy

Prussia: Tessie

Sealand: Kaya

Russia: leXis

Hungary: Kitska (me!)

Liechtenstein: Mishi

France: Himi

Switzerland: Thye

Japan (Jiaer) came in late, while Austria (Ringo) had something on so she couldn’t attend. ;n;

AWESOME NO? Almost-full Cardsverse team!

Play spot-the-Hika? :D

Look! A real Aequitas and Regulation! 8D

Yeap we’ve dealt with it! Thanks very much for informing us, kind anon.

In which Alfred and Matthew tell the court, Arthur tells Issac, and the Kingdom throws a festival.

A wild potential-project has appeared!

More news will be given as it comes :D We’re super excited about it!

In other news, mini-hiatus is over! We’ll be writing chapter 8 of SOD this week, please be patient with us!