#briteain

[overthefjords]

don't mind him. giving aleks a very exaggeratedly dramatic roll of eyes. hmph.

... What's the look for?

[valorblooded]

@briteain​ from here

The cat shimmies out of the nations hands to rest against Alfred’s shoulders instead, leaning over closer to Arthur, sniffing him.

“There are cat hotels, or take him with you to meetings. Spice it up a little bit, ya know?” He hums as does move closer to the other country to look at the... ruined food. He makes a grimace.

“He doesn’t even have a collar or nothing. A little dirty too. Don’t think he belongs to anyone as much as a street cat belongs to anyone. See, I think he even likes you especially.”

[frestoniia]

📜 👀

Incorrect Quotes Generator || accepting

@briteain

Craig: I think I'm having a mid-life crisis. Arthur: You're like 16 years old Craig: I MIGHT DIE AT 30!

BONUS:

Craig: Chris, keep an eye on Arthur today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched. Chris: Sure, I’d love to see Arthur get punched. Craig: Try again. Chris, sighing: I will stop Arthur from getting punched.

[forviik-a]

@briteain​ || x

“ Haha! ” they bark with laughter, triumphant. “ Jokes on you, Artie. Ah take that as a compliment! I’d rather be a feral beastie than a' squidgy like ye. You came down like a dowie ol’ tree in a windstorm! ”

    Georgie remains largely undeterred by Arthur’s fussing, even as he raises his voice well above what would be considered appropriate for indoors. Rather than shrinking away, they simply tighten their hold on him, wrapping their thin arms around his waist like a baby otter clinging to their mother’s stomach. Except, instead of a baby otter, it was a baby Georgie. And instead of a doting mother, it was... Well, Arthur.

“ Mm, pass. Ah like ‘im well enough, but Craig’s all soft ‘n squishy. Which is funny, since ‘is name is supposed to mean rock. ”

    Georgie lets out a snort of amusement, round glasses slightly askew on their face as they look up at the country.

“ Ahh... Sorry ‘bout yer tea, though. My bad. I’ll help make more! I’m gettin’ much better at it. ”

[amxricanpie]

@briteain liked for a starter! 

☆彡 Click. Click. 

The spark of a lighter and the resulting flame illuminates Amelia’s face in the darkness outside of the old pub, watching the rain fall just outside of the shelter of the overhang. She lights the end of a freshly picked cigarette from her box of Newports, and takes a moment to inhale the toxic smoke slowly into her lungs. She blows out the excess through pursed lips, then turning to Arthur. 

“Want a smoke?” 

She motions the box over to him, and waves it around his face like a treat for a dog. She smiles cooly, her own cigarette between her lips, streaming a thin line of smoke from its tip. 

“You look like you need one. Maybe it’ll help?” Amelia never was one to recommend healthy coping mechanisms, rather, she tended to enabled old habits (or in some cases, create new ones that she felt worked for her). ‘Dont fix what isn’t broken.’ She’d always say. 

[ironcrossed]

@briteain​

[mrusofa]

@briteain​ | x

“weren’t you still like... a baby when you were my age?” he asked. “tiny and running around your open fields or whatever?”

[irish-emerald]

@briteain

"Oh you know exactly what look. You got that "I'm judging you so hard right now" look on your face!" She huffed, pointing a finger at him while she sipped from a Starbucks cup. She knew exactly what he was judging her for.