ivan is talking

anonymous asked:

Okay but imagine Gilbert and Ivan in a demon and angel au, Gilbert the demon and Ivan the angel and Gilbert falls in love with Ivan but he's an angel so he tries to make him fallen but Ivan just keeps rejecting him like 'Nah comrade I'm happy being an angel'

i like the way you think. 

Idk why people always portray Alfred as such a righteous and selfless guy like guys I need a fic where he is willing to sell out his friends just because someone gave him a shit load of money. I NEED A FIC WHERE AT FIRST HE SEEM LIKE SUCH A GOOD GUY BUT THEM THIS HANDSOME BUT VERY BAD PERSON COMES UP AND SEDUCES HIM and not with his good looks but WITH MONEY

anonymous asked:

I'm a simmering ball of Pens hate with no current rooting interest in the Metro; would you care to give me a short rundown on the Flyers? (Younger ones especially, I know all about and am delighted by Simmonds and Giroux and co.)

My dearest, you’ve absolutely come to the right place. You want to know about the young Flyers? Get some snacks, put your reading glasses on, and pull up a chair because I’ve got a lot to tell you.

The Flyers prospect pool is really talented and really promising. Like, really promising. The amount of talent that’s going to be NHL-ready within the next few years is slightly orgasmic overwhelming at times. Since he took over as GM, Ron Hextall has focused mostly on drafting and building from within and his infamous patience with development has Flyers fans excited and ready for the dividends to finally pay off.

Look for Flyers development camp this summer. Especially for Shit the Beach.

The rest of this is…. really long. So I’m gonna put it under a cut. Enjoy!

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Send me the title of your favorite YouTube video and I’ll draw Ivan and Alfred in a scene from it.

Ivan: Very nice heels, Alfred! I think it suits you really well! ( •⌄• ू )✧

Alfred: Why thank you! I know right? I’m totally rockin’ ‘em, dude! I like that tie of your’s too! ♡✧( ु•⌄• ) 

Russia: I hate flying anywhere with you. 

America: Why?! I’m amazing!! 

Russia: Just because you are the world’s largest arms dealer does not mean you have to travel like it.

Prussia: O.o Holy shit!! Russia has to tell you that?!

Canada: It is getting out of hand, bro… 

Training before the match (29.10.2016)

Another Story {Ivan Martinez}

“Ivan Martinez imagine where he teaches you Spanish”

>REQUEST<

—————–

“Lamp,” Ivan said while pointing to a lamp across the room.

“Lamp-erro,” You said almost as a question but Ivan just laughed at your answer.

“Y/N, you can’t just add ‘erro’ on the end of a word and make it Spanish,” Ivan said while placing a hand on your shoulder speaking in a condescending tone. “And it’s Lámpara.”

You just laughed because you knew you sucked at Spanish and Ivan definitely knew you sucked at Spanish.

“Wait, wait, wait! I know how to count to ten! Ok. Uno, dos -“

“Everyone knows how to do that Y/N,” Ivan said cutting you off.

“Ok. Ok. These lessons are getting no where.” You said looking at the ground. You just didn’t want to let your best friend in the house down."I’m sorry I’m letting you down.”

Ivan took your hands “You’re my best friend, Y/N, and you could never let me down.” He gave you a hug, “Now what’s love?”

“Amor,” You wondered why he said that but you didn’t know why.

“Correct and I would LOVE to get some food,” Ivan said helping you up. “Me too,” You said but your mind still stuck on why you butterflies in your stomach when Ivan started to talk about love but why?

Ivan got up. You got up. You wondered about him where these feelings came out of but that’s another story…

—————–

Srry if this is bad because I’m lyyyke bad at typing on my phone and. In genrealul. It’s a thing. And I’m just here to like not be boreddd. X I just came out here to have a good time.

the boy king

(I felt like trying my hand at writing some fic, as a change from just drawing!)

Summary: It’s 1947, and they’re supposed to be picking up the pieces. Alfred makes a scene, Ivan is unmoved and Arthur reflects on how the world has changed- and what Alfred has become. 

Warnings: historical!hetalia. allusions to various real events. profanity.  


The silence is shattered by the sound of Alfred’s chair scraping across the floor.

Alfred is smiling, as always. There is no want for jauntiness in his manner, nor in the casual friendliness of his relaxed slouch, palms pressed to the table. He’d always been good at that. Putting people at ease. Not for the first time, Arthur thinks of the tall blonde surrounded by a ragged semi-circle of German children, cracking jokes, ruffling heads, handing out sweets and chewing gum. They took to him easily; he was every bit that straightforward and handsome boy-next-door, who might’ve been their older brother in another life.

But now, there is also something distinctly calculating in the tilt of his head, in the sharp alertness of his eyes.

Keep reading

Cursed Tattoo (Chapter One)

Alfred sat on his living room couch, playing a shooting game on low volume. It wasn’t the same without the sound effects, but Ivan had reminded him that Alaska was sleeping in the next room and that if he wanted to keep her asleep, he best mute it. However, Alfred just couldn’t bring himself to plain old mute it, so he turned the volume to the lowest it would go and hoped for the best. So far so good, am I right? But at that moment, his phone went off.

Quickly he launched his right hand at the phone and positioned it against his ear after pressing the answer button.

“H-hey,” Hiccuping noises resonated from the phone, in between each word and sometimes syllables, “Hey, Alfre’. Iz me, Arrrrrthur. I need - I need ya te pick me up.”

“Arthur, it’s only ten thirty. Are you drunk?” Alfred asked, even though he knew the answer. His slightly older best friend - Alfred at twenty seven, Arthur at thirty - was constantly going to the bar. More often than not he got himself shitfaced within a few hours and needed Alfred to pick him up.

“A lil.” Arthur slurred back, static making its way through the phone.

Alfred sighed. He didn’t mind picking Arthur up at whatever pub he was being an asshole at. The real problem was that Ivan didn’t like Alfred leaving in the middle of the night so often. The white-haired male described it as “juvenile” and “irresponsible”. Alfred loved Ivan, and he loved Arthur in a different but still relevant way, but he was starting to agree with his husband. What if there was an emergency and he wasn’t there to help his family?

“Alright.” Alfred sighed, letting himself get killed in his game one last time. He set down his controller and let the screen fade into disuse as he collected his keys, shrugged on his bomber jacket, and asked Arthur through the phone, “Where you at?”

“Alfred?” A differently accented voice asked dangerously from behind the blond. He slowly swiveled to face his husband, Ivan.

“I’m just going to pick him up, he needs me to -” Alfred immediately launched into a hurried explanation, holding the phone a bit away from his mouth so that Arthur couldn’t pick up the conversation about to unfold.

“You cannot keep doing this, dorogoy. It’s stressful for you and it upsets Alaska when she wakes up and you’re not there.” Ivan cut off Alfred and explained patiently.

Alfred rubbed his brow, “But he’s relying on me! He’s my best friend!”

“And we’re your family and I love you. I’m sorry Alfred -” Alfred’s blood ran cold, “but you can’t keep doing this.”

“Y-You’re right.” Alfred rubbed his soulmate mark on the left side of his ribcage. The words that would shatter his world one day.

Everyone was born with a tattoo that started out blurry. As a person aged the tattoo would become more clear and reveal a dreadful thing: the last thing a person’s soulmate would say to them before said soulmate would die. Alfred’s only said ‘I’m sorry, Alfred’. Every time he heard that phrase, his mind froze up in panic.

Some said that the soulmate marks were a curse; to only know who you were meant to be with after it’s too late is a terrible thing. Others thought it gave a sense of closure, like watching a walk through of a game after navigating the entire thing on your own. Alfred just knew he wanted to go a long, long time before hearing those words uttered by Ivan.

Because Ivan was his soulmate, obviously. They fit together so well. Sure, they fought hard and horrible at times but they always made up in the end! And the passion that the Russian gave Alfred was unmatched. The two were married and had a beautiful daughter named Alaska. Why wouldn’t they be soulmates?

They wouldn’t know until the end, but Alfred was sure of himself and his choices.

“Please, Alfred? You can’t do this forever.” Alfred sighed and brought the phone up to his ear.

“Arthur?” Alfred said, checking if his friend was even still on the line.

“Hrg?” Arthur replied intelligently.

“I can’t pick you up when you get drunk anymore. It’s putting strain on Ivan and Alaska. Can you find someone else?” Alfred knew if his friend even begged a little bit, he would come running, Ivan’s temper be damned.

There was a long pause from the other end. Alfred could hear jovial talking and clinking from Arthur’s surroundings. Finally, he responded, “Yeah.” He still sounded a bit drunk, but the shocking turn of events had partially woken him from his drunken stupor. When was the last time Alfred hadn’t been there for Arthur?

“Good. Okay, get home safe Artie. Goodnight.” Alfred said, relief washing through his bones that Arthur didn’t seem mad.

“I’m sorry, Alfred.”

The words themselves sounded apologetic and a bit pitiful, but all they did was make Alfred’s heart stop. The beeping of the phone, signaling that Arthur hung up, beat against Alfred’s eardrums.

Alfred dropped the phone. It shattered, a nice screen ruined. In the back of his mind there was a whine of loss over the death of a smartphone, but Arthur’s words bouncing around in his brain didn’t exactly leave room for much else. Alfred glanced over at Ivan in horror and some semblance of organization returned to his brain.

‘Ivan is your soulmate,’ Alfred reminded himself. 'Arthur is just your friend who you’re worrying about too much.’

A tiny bit of his mind was still frantic, but Alfred silenced it by striding forward and pushing his lips against Ivan’s. Ivan responded with his own motions, his fingertips cold against Alfred’s hands. They pulled apart after nearly a minute.

“Are you okay?” Ivan asked in his thick accent that Alfred always found hot.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Alfred smiled as convincingly as he could. Ivan saw through the masquerade but let it go. If Alfred didn’t want to talk, Ivan wouldn’t make him.

“Alright, if you say so.”

The next morning, Alfred was sleeping in his large bed, snuggled up next to Ivan under the covers, when Alaska came bouncing into their room and woke them up.

“Daddy! Papa! Daddy! Papa! Daddy! Papa!” She yelled happily, pushing at her dads and trying to climb up onto the mattress. When she succeeded, she simply started jumping- sometimes landing on a body part instead of a blanket.

“Alright, honey, we’re up,” Alfred said, sitting forwards and steadying the toddler on the bed in front of him. “Papa is up too. Right, Papa?” He nudged Ivan, who was trying to avoid opening his eyes.

“Da, dorogoy.” Ivan smiled and blinked his eyes open sleepily, the eyelashes trailing along. “I am awake.”

“Great. Now breakfast time!” Alfred scooped up little Alaska and set her on the floor, allowing her to race downstairs. Ivan rolled out of bed and followed, but Alfred allowed himself to check his phone first.

And what he saw was not good. Fifteen missed calls, ten of which were from Matthew, his twin brother. He clicked on the voicemail that was sent first, the least recent one.

'Oh, oh my god, Al! Answer your goddamn phone! I know it’s late but shouldn’t you be up or something? Arthur’s in the hospital, he was in a crash! Did you let him drive home alone? Oh my god, oh hang on, a nurse is coming, I don’t know why I’m here apparently I’m the second emergency contact after y -“ The message cut out and Alfred assumed Matthew hung up on him to talk to the nurse. His heart was pounding, racing, and his tattoo was burning all of a sudden. He didn’t even need to go to the hospital, he just knew.

Arthur was dead. And he had been Alfred’s soulmate.

——

Well that’s it! I’ll probably continue this to include how Ivan and Alfred try to adapt. Hope that if you made it this far you enjoyed it, I had a ton of fun writing it!

Think Outside the Lovesquare Day 3: Height Difference

Having a boyfriend nearly twice her height had its perks. He could help her reach things that were just out of her grasp and pull her onto his shoulders during concerts. He was always easy to find when they were separated, and Mylene had really grown to appreciate the fact that he could pick her up and twirl her like a scene out of a romantic movie.

Sure, it had its downsides. If one more person asked how they kissed, she might actually lose her temper enough to get akumatized all over again. Not that they were wrong. Kissing Ivan wasn’t exactly simple, given that she sometimes had to stand on the tips of her toes, and he had to bend over, but they’d found workarounds, and frankly he was a fantastic kisser, so the joke was on everyone else.

Plus, cuddling with him was easily her favorite. After a long day, one or both would seek out the other person and find a quiet room to just relax, Ivan’s arm draped over her middle and his solid warmth at her back. They’d talk about music, including some of his favorites that she’d also come to enjoy, and her father’s shows. Ivan attended almost as many of them as she did, and he clapped louder than anyone else.

“How’s History going?”

He shrugged. “Fine. The test was pretty easy.”

“Yeah?” She peeked back at him. “Rose said it was pretty tough.”

“She did study with Juleka.”

She giggled. “Oh.” Knowing the two of them, they hadn’t spent much time studying.

“What about your science project?”

She frowned. “It’s okay.”

“Need some help with it?”

“Well…” she considered for a moment, grateful he’d thought to offer. “Maybe. I need to measure some things, and you’re…”

He chuckled. “Tall?”

“Yeah,” she admitted.

“Okay.” He reached for her hand to gently squeeze it. “Want to go finish it now?”

She hummed in consideration. “Fifteen more minutes.”

He nodded and settled back down behind her. “Sounds good to me.”

Fifteen minutes became twenty, which in turn became thirty. Mylene was dozing off by the time Ivan checked in again, and she grumbled herself awake when he murmured in her ear.

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s go.” She reluctantly moved away from him, already missing the reassuring feeling of heat over her back. Once they were both on their feet again, she led him to the potted plants her father had relocated to a high shelf, one hand still laced in his. “We need to measure those.”

“That’s all?”

“Mm-hm.” She explained the experiment to him, rambling about her process, including each step she’d taken to control the variables she didn’t want to affect the outcome. For this project, she’d engineered a plant food after a good bit of research, and now she was testing to see how it affected the growth. As she talked, Ivan was pulling down the pots, one at a time, so she could measure and record each plant’s height.

“This one grew the most,” she commented as she jotted down the numbers. “I think it’s because we nicknamed it Ivan.”

He smiled, an endearing blush coloring his cheeks. “You named one after me?”

She grinned and nodded. “I named one after me and Papa, too.”

“Which one?”

She used the ruler to point to the smallest one, right beside the tallest one he’d just put back. “That’s me.” Then, she indicated a medium-sized one further down on the shelf. “That’s Papa.”

He bent down to kiss her forehead. “I like this project.”

She grinned and tugged on his sleeve until he was on her level for a proper kiss. “I like you.” After a soft kiss, she chuckled. “Even if you’re twice my size.”