♕ douze; [text] (4TH WALL EVENT POST)(backtag-friendly forever)

[crotchroses]

. . . |

I do not have enough cigarettes for this. Mon Dieu.

For once can I have a good sleep? Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is!

[ooc: YEAH FOURTH WALL. Backtag friendly like the title says, especially 'cause I'm semi-outta commission from my surgery and I know y'all are busy.

Francis is in his apartment (dressed) and cooking. Have at it! C: ]

Comments

[northaggression.livejournal.com]

You ain't gettin' none of my cotton neither! [ Wait. What. He actually has to pause for a second to consider what he just said.

...fuck double negatives AS LONG AS PEOPLE CAN UNDERSTAND HIM. ]

Yer revolution was creepy. I--America, Alfred, whatever--it ain't like we could just go up ta Robespierre an' be all, "Hey! ...Yer creepy!" I came ta visit ya. That's sayin' somethin', considerin' yer place looked like... well, what my place looks like now, but with more sharp blades an' less dysentery. But I wasn't ever hopin' ya'd fail an' go back ta absolute monarchy!

[ Snatching it back again!!! ]

[crotchroses.livejournal.com]

It was so much more complicated! You know that! And you know what? You really are an idiot! Why?! Because you would think I want America to be destroyed. Perhaps Angleterre did back then, I don't remember and I was kind of busy--

Amerique-- Alfred. I do not want you to fail. After the war you are in the midst of, you truly become the United States, and you become one of the most powerful countries in the world!

Merde---- I don't care what you call me, eh? But do not insult me by thinking I want you to disappear.

1/3

[northaggression.livejournal.com]

Ya mean yer busy with Son of Shorty all up in yer business, so yer content ta sit on the sidelines goin' "Oh hon hon hon gimme yer cotton see-voot-play! Oh, ya want some help or recognition? NOPE."

An' I ain't Alfred!

2/3

[northaggression.livejournal.com]

[ Oh well now he just gets quieter. It's kinda sad, actually. ]

I ain't Alfred. All anyone ever wants is him. Didn't think havin' a life'f my own would--

3/3

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

[ And of course here to ruin this touching moment is the North, who is now inexplicably dressed as a viking and shouting something that was meant to be Norwegian but just comes out as gibberish with a terrible accent. Literally he looks like he jumped out of How to Train Your Dragon. And with his battle cry (hint: it's meant to be Norwegian for NIC CAGEEEEEEEEEEEE) he throws the South out the window.

AND THAT IS HOW THE UNION WON THE WAR, KIDS.

North will be taking that cigarette now, thank you very much. ]

[crotchroses.livejournal.com]

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

]

[ And by that I mean SPITTING BLOOD ON YOUR SHIRT AND PUNCHING RIGHT BACK. ]

[crotchroses.livejournal.com]

Putain! If you don't leave I will do the most disgusting thing I can think of!

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

[ That gives him a very brief moment of pause. ]

You're already the most disgusting thing I can think of. What can you do to make yourself even more revolting?

1/2

[crotchroses.livejournal.com]

How can I be disgusting?! Angleterre is far more disgusting than I am, especially in the 1860's for you! I am beautiful and magnifique! Angleterre is a pile of shit someone set on fire.

But okay! I did warn you.

2/2

[crotchroses.livejournal.com]

1/I don't know

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

[ This is an awkwardly long kiss.

Probably because the North is frozen in horror. ]

[northaggression.livejournal.com]

[ At which point South bursts in, about to launch himself at his double.

Then he sees what's happening. ]

[northaggression.livejournal.com]

[ And goes right back out the door and quietly shuts it behind him. No way he's getting in on any of this shit. He should've just known when to call it quits, but now he's scarred for life at the image of the other America kissing a frog.

Thanks France.

Thanks. ]

DONE

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

[ Annndddd we're back.

Northmerica punches France in the gut and proceeds to spit and lick various surfaces to get the taste of his mouth. ]

AHAHAHAHAHA

[crotchroses.livejournal.com]

I told you! Now I want to know how you know what both of these things taste like.



You don't taste like angels either. Gunpowder and how horse shit smells and shitty canned food.

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

[ His voice rises an octave as he continues his freak out. ]

OH GOD THE AFTER TASTE IS EVEN WORSE. MOLDY BALLS!

[ At which point he starts rubbing his face on the nearest couch and drooling. He's pointedly not answering the question. ]

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

[crotchroses.livejournal.com]

I hope you realize I have fucked on that couch.

Don't dodge the question Amerique, I am so very curious.

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

[ With that, he immediately flops on the floor and flails. It's almost like a combination between a seizure and one of those wavy arm guys who flop around in the air when they're filled with air. YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. ]

I'M NOT ANSWERING THAT.

[crotchroses.livejournal.com]

Come here mon petit you will answer everything.

[southrebellion.livejournal.com]

I plead the fifth.