Cananada

Original Time Stamp: Feb 1st, 2011 11:45pm

Watching: Hetalia: Axis Powers

What Canada sounds like when spoken in Sarah.

Hetalia, you are a bad influence. A very, very bad influence. But oh so lovely. We have discovered that in Axis Powers Sarah is the Italy to my Germany. Yeah. I just watched all 52 short episodes in three days. Hell yes.

Also, Germany reminds me a lot of one of my characters, Jason, who is also a startling blue eyed blond with an accent, a penchant for sadism, and super meticulous, almost neurotic, need to be organized. It’s eerie, the similarities. I have a feeling I’ll be called out on it at some point in the future, but oh well. I’ve had that creep lurking in the darkest shadows of my mind for the better part of a decade now.

*shiver*

Anyways, so I’ve been in class rotting my brain with advanced statistics (that’s “Quantitative Methods” for psycho majors). I actually have a test tomorrow in my Criminal Justice class before that stats one. It’ll be fabulous.

I’m totally enthralled with this show. I love it. It’s offense to all cultures and hilariously scripted. Plus, America sounds like Shaggy. Awesome.

I’ve been working on writing more, trying to do a page a day. That’s not going to happen, and even if it does, I have to choose which of my five quadrillion stories to write in. Bullocks! That’s right. I used British slang, and I’m horribly American. Take that.

I have, however, managed to come with a few shorts. Even though I have the fan base of the kid in the class who eats paste I will post one of those shorts here. All characters, text, and pictures are held under legal copyright by me. That’s right, I legally own everything you read in this blog.

And I will sue you.

Seriously.

I don’t have anything better to waste my time on, so don’t copy, don’t steal and don’t manipulate my shit. Got it? The internet is not public domain. I know the law. I expressly forbid the use of my material in any form without my written expressed consent.

Now that that bitchiness is over:

~ ~ ~

Jason kneeled and pulled her up into his arms. As limp as she was, he knew she was still breathing. Her dark hair shivered just around her lips in a movement that was nearly nonexistent. She was tattered in his hold, looking like a broken bride as he carried her, but he knew she’d be okay again.

“I told you before, Christina, I am the only one allowed to hurt you.” He spoke softly, eyes forward as he stepped over the limbs and bodies littering the floor along with all the debris. She had nearly shaken the house down on her own before he’d even arrived to save her ass. Again.

Her emerald eyes fluttered open to look up at her savior. The face wasn’t who she had expected, but part of her had known who would come.

“Jason,” she felt her voice come out hoarse and cracked.

“You’re awake.” He sounded faintly surprised as he glanced down at her.

“Look out for the trip wire in the parlor and the ones on either door.” She warned tiredly, her eyes closing forcibly as he smiled.

Maybe she was a reckless moron with a mostly suicidal tendency to find trouble, but she was his moron to look after, whether they agreed on that or not. She could scratch, claw and fight her way out of his care as many times as she liked, but he’d always track her down and try to make her submit again. He thought she sort of expected it now, after all, it had been that way since they’d met.

“Jason,” her eyes didn’t open as she slurred out her words.

“Hm?” he grunted.

“You’re still a dickhead.”

Jason sighed, trying to keep the chuckle in his chest quiet. He could rip her in half while barely staining his new shoes yet she continued to try to best him any way she could. The woman never knew when to shut up, or quit, or just sit there and look pretty. It wasn’t in the way she was wired to be tame and docile.

“You owe this dickhead your life.” He chided, not even sure she was conscious. She was stubbornly trying to fight off that painless darkness, he knew. She became deliciously masochistic around him.

“Fuck.” Then he felt her fall into her sleep in his arms.

~ ~ ~

I know, badass right? I love these two little drug balls. They are horribly twisted and around each other it only gets worse, but it’s like a moth to a flame. They just can’t help it.