aph england in shorts

Double Trouble (1p England and 1p America)

·One side of the bedroom is a mess and the other is always clean. The middle is where their s/o lays because they are greedy brats.

·Alfred gives piggy back rides ALL. THE. TIME. And it pisses Arthur off to no end. If in public he just follows behind with his arms crossed like a toddler.

·Horrible pranks with Alfred (putting salt in his tea and such)

·^The betrayal of Arthur’s face when he learns that his s/o was a part of is hilarious

·If Arthur and their s/o went out it would be like a mom and dad leaving their teenage son alone on the weakened. He throws huge parties and the house gets super

·Comic books and classics are scattered everywhere throughout the house. 

·^^^^“Comic books are classics!” 

 ·sleeping positions with Arthur leaning on their s/o’s shoulder and Alfred in their lap. 

 ·"Alfred please just eat one to make him happy.“ “NEVER.”

 ·Punk rock music every once in awhile where Arthur bust out his guitar. 

Who’s the better kisser fights. 

 ·The mornings where everything is perfect. Alfred cooks breakfast (and Arthur doesn’t complain) and they eat on the porch.

·It’s always a competition with these two. Like, seriously. Alfred will slide in for a kiss when Arthur is giving them a hug. Arthur will read to them just so she won’t look at Alfred’s comics. Petty shit all the fucking time.

He was a bit ridiculous, you thought. Bright and colorful and something out of a fairytale. Well, if fairytales were all sweet and sunshine coming out of the goddamn ass with a sprinkle of mild bipolar issues, but you digressed.

It honestly surprised you though, to realize that this was really Oliver. Every strange pink and blue, cute, and absolutely ridiculous part of him. You had thought that it might have been a front, especially for his customers, because no one can be that sweet and charming like this British doofus – but he always proved you wrong. Even when he was mad and scolding, those pretty blue eyes narrowed and flashing brightly with a strange violet pink (what was that?), he was too… ridiculous.

He didn’t do anything wrong, honestly he didn’t. But sometimes you did wonder how someone like that compared to you? You whom had to work to be that happy all the time. You whom had to prep just to smile at strangers day in and day out. You whom couldn’t keep one lick of your tongue from spouting insults underneath your breath and coming home tired. Somehow he did everything easy. He did everything so very easy, from the hop to his step, to the beaming smile on his lips, even the calming lilt of his voice, and those stupid ridiculous bright colors that just worked.

Your eyes narrowed as he tweaked his blue bowtie, a happy hum on his lips while he passed by. You couldn’t quite help the nasty sneer that appeared on your face, turning sharply away and muttering to yourself. You just didn’t quite expect for him to hear you.

“What?”

You flinched in surprise at the startled question and turned back to see that Oliver  was staring at you, wide eyed. Had he heard? He must have to be looking at you like that – all questioning eyes and furrowed brows and that little thing he always seemed to do with his hands when he wanted something. And he definitely wanted you to repeat yourself. But that was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous because you hadn’t said anything important and – he was doing the thing with his brows! The cute thing that always made you just a little more susceptible to whatever this idiot wanted.

Damn him. My weakness. You thought viciously.

“What did you say?”

You pursed your lips. “I hate myself.” There, you said it again. See? Not so hard and completely unimportant. An offhanded comment, it was. He had no reason to be demanding it as if you had just uttered the most sinful word in existence.

“Nooo??? Noo, don’t do that – noooOOO – NO. Don’t hate yourself, you are LOVABLE! You are PRECIOUS!!” Quick and agile, he yanked the blanket up from your lap before wrapping you into an unbreakable cocoon. He stared down at you, wide-eyed, unblinking with those very, very blue eyes sprinkled with violet pinks that would drive you mad if you let them. “I will love you.” and he hugged you tightly.

anonymous asked:

Butts or boobs for the allies

America/Alfred:

Boobs, probably. He definitely wouldn’t mind seeing a nice ass though!

England/Arthur:

Butts. His s/o in skinny jeans or short shorts would drive him crazy.

France/Francis:

You’re making him choose?! He loves both equally!

Russia/Ivan:

Butts, mostly because big boobs remind him of his sister and that’s gross.

China/Yao:

Boobs, but his preference isn’t that strong. He hopes that his s/o prefers ass though.

2

Guess who watched Zootopia today? (´ω`♡)

After seeing all the gifs on my dash,  I was so enthralled to watch it- But after @bluesart‘s post, I couldn’t resist the crossover idea /)//v//(\

Also- Got inspiration from here, a supposed selfie!

Sleeping Methods

—A warm cup of tea and a good book is usually enough for me to sleep soundly. —Arthur commented, sitting calmly on the other end of the table and embroidering, minding his own business.
—That or alcohol. —the Frenchman next to him snorted.
—Shut your mouth.

Michelle giggled from her seat and turned to look at the others, since what the Brit had said wasn’t much of help for her, considering that reading books only wakes her up more.

—And for you guys? Any special method you have for sleeping? —she inquired.
—Oh! When I can’t sleep, I spend some time painting to relax! —Feliciano raised his hand cheerfully in front of her.— Sometimes is just the stress of the day that keeps me awake.
—Unless you have either insomnia or another medical condition, stress is more than probably the main reason people can’t conciliate sleep. —the Japanese commented quietly, reading something under the table.
—But doesn’t counting sheep help you? —Antonio intervened from somewhere.
—Here we’re all trying to give her special methods and you jump in with counting sheeps. —Arthur grunted from the other end of the table.
—So what? It works!
—It works for you because you have the mentality of a little kid. —Lovino hissed from behind him.
—What are you talking about, Lovi? —the Spainard turned to the Italian with a bright smile.— You also count sheeps to sleep!
—Who gave you the right to announce that?!
—Don’t yell in here, this is still a meeting room! —Ludwig scolded them from the green board.
—Hey! But you’re also yelling! —Alfred chimed in out of the blue.
—That doesn’t give you the right to yell back! 

Michelle sat in silence with a tired smile on her face and an absent look on her eyes, wondering why had she even bothered to ask them all when it was clear it will result in an argument.
Like always.

Engmano being (or trying to be) smooth: Romano edition

America: ‘Mano, hey dude! How do you like your coffee? 

Romano: *turns around, smirking* I like coffee how I like my men. 

Countries present: ????

*sparkles and rainbows in the background*

Romano: *shows coffee mug with England’s face on it* Arthur Kirkland. 

America: *jaw drops* Holy shit. 

France: Honhonhonhon~

Spain: *pinks tear away* My little tomate is growing up so fast. *pulls his battle axe out from his conquistador days* You tainted his innocence, hijo de puta. 

Veneziano: *gasp* That’s so smooth, fratello! *pulls out notebook ‘How to flirt like real Italians’ and a pencil* Ve~ can you say that line again? I need it for my new book. 

Japan:  *camera flashes* That’s right Romano-san. Hold that pose. 

Hungary: *nosebleed* Think about all that spice. *drools* Delicious.  

Taiwan: * pulls out a sketchbook* That line will so be in my new yaoi doujinshi.      

Somewhere outside the meeting room

England: *sneezes and shivers* I know those wankers would be talking about me.