DenNor--TitanicNot many things startled the Norwegian. He got bored during suspense films, and yawned at horror movies. If a meteor fell in front of him while he was walking, he wouldn't even blink an eye.But what was really frightening to him was seeing Denmark, wrapped up in a fuzzy blue blanket, sobbing his eyes out.---------------------------------------------It had started out as a normal day; if you could call any day in the Nordic household normal. Norway had been the first one up, so he took his time getting out of bed. A lot of time, to be exact (Norway knew he was not the most cheerful person to be around in the morning). By the time he fixed his hair and straightened his bow, all of the other Scandinavian countries were up already.Except for Denmark.A polite Fin, who was busily flipping pancakes, was the first to greet him. "Good morning Norway! Would you care to wake Denmark up? Breakfast is almost ready." With a silent nod of the head he walked off towards the Dane's bedroom, suppre
oo2. LoveLove: A form of insanity that is often caused from spending too much time with someone. Can lead to reckless decisions and, in some cases, horrible depression or false happiness.It was something Norway had tried to avoid, something he never thought would happen to someone like himself. When he had gone to Finland for advice on what was happening to him, he got a simple, dreadful answer."You're in love, Norway!"He had just brushed it off as a misdiagnosis though. Finland didn't know him, he didn't know how his brain worked. Though he did know what it was like to be in love, and Norway carried all the symptoms. He knew it himself too. His pulse raced from the simplest touch, hearing that voice sent shivers through his body. All of these years he thought he was happy, but now his heart ached with every passing day."Norge! Noooorge!" He curled himself into a ball under the covers of his bed, yelling back at the voice by the door."Go away, I don't wanna deal with you right now, Danmark
oo1. IntroductionFor Estonia, life was normal. He was still worrying about Latvia, Finland had been keeping good contact with him, and Russia had been leaving him alone for the most part. He was making his way towards the World Meeting when someone came up behind him."G'day mate!" Slowly Estonia turned around to face the annoying voice. Behind him stood a tall, tanned man with bright green eyes and slightly slicked back brown hair, with two hairs sticking out of place. His eyebrows were thick like England's, and he had a peculiar accent."Hello...and you might be..?""Australia! But you can call me Aussie."'Ah,' he thought, 'He's that Continent-Nation.'"Well hello Australia. I'm--""Estonia! I've heard a lot about ya." Estonia readjusted his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. How would Australia have heard anything about him? It's not like he was one of the more popular countries out there."...Yes, good things I hope. Well if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way to the meeting." He h
BentWe all have a drug. A crutch. Something we're addicted to that keeps us from breaking down, that gives us a little extra boost of happiness to get us through life. Some people use actual drugs, some use extreme sports. Other people use forms of art, like poetry, sculpting, singing. Only the lowest forms of life use people as their drug, their crutch.I guess I was one of them.An incoherent mumble in the background, prodding at my subconscious every day, was trying to tell me something. Trying to warn me. But I was on too much of a high to listen. I was to happy with the "perfect" life he gave me and his "perfection" to step back and look at things rationally.Was I ever even in love in the first place?It's a question that hurts to think about. Always I would tell myself, "Yes, you were in love. Why else would you feel that way?" But now I'm not so sure. If I was in love with him, would I really do that to him? Would I put him under the pressure of keeping me sane? Keeping me alive?"