Hi!! I'm Toad, I'm in my 30s, and I'd like to find other adults (particularly people closer to my age, but anyone over 18 is welcome) to RP with! I prefer lit and semi-lit, I love worldbuilding and longterm story RP, and while I may get replies in slow I will never ghost you OOC. Proship.
Ships (America and England bottom as default, prefer to play America and Belarus, prefer to play against England)
PruAme
SpUK
RusAme
KorAme/USSK
EngPort
GerAme
AmChu
DenAme
PruBela
Favored AUs, Genres, and Metalenses
Omegaverse
Royalty/Arranged Marriage
Superheroes
Historical Human AU
Historical Nationverse
Post-Apocalypse (Particularly Fallout)
Sci-Fi
Fantasy
I've been thinking about the scent I gave Omega Alfred. Cola, buttered popcorn, s'mores, cayenne. And about American soft power imperialism.
Alfred's scent is consumable. Not in the way of desire, though it is that too, but in that it's something you willingly take into yourself. And it's notable that most of the notes are junk food and the danger note is spice.
You know the cola has too much caffeine and sugar and the dyes probably cause cancer and it's made of corn syrup not real sugar and ou drink it anyway. You know the popcorn has too much salt and almost no nutritional value and you eat the whole bag. You know the s'mores are messy and sticky and might catch fire and burn your fingers and yet you still eat them fast enough that you definitely burn your tongue. And even the danger note. Spice. Something you eat full knowing that it hurts. Something you eat because it hurts, to induce the hurt.
Alfred scent screams "I am not good for you, but you'll consume me anyway because it tastes so damn good". And that's it, that's American power in its truest form. The power of the cultural trojan horse. The thing you let through the gates because it looked like a nice gift but now other things have spilled out from inside of it and there just here and wont leave and you have to deal with that now.
The Starving Time (Jamestown, Winter of 1609-1610)
CW: Cannibalism
Broke: Alfred would never eat his people! He'd find another way
Woke: Alfred definitely ate people
Bespoke: Nations don't have to eat, and when you're only one settlement you don't have anyone to spare. So this little boy, only a few years old, has to abstain from food completely because the corpses have to be saved for the few living he has left. He can still feel hunger, his stomach is gnawing at itself, but to take food out of the mouths of his people is to starve himself in truth
St. Augustine, ~1567. Spain feels powerful, dominant, endless. Florida sun and a pretty, receptive England laid out for him in the sand create the perfect atmosphere to bask in his own glory. But the moment has consequences he couldn't have predicted that would echo down centuries
SpUK Oneshot. America's conception. NSFW
The Florida heat was a lazy thing today, settling against the skin like a warm blanket rather than a wet, heavy thing. The sand was pleasant rather than scorching, the breeze playing with the ends of their hair.
Arthur is radiant like this, nude and languid and perfect. He’d gone into the ocean like that, as if returning to his mother’s womb and been reborn again from the seafoam like Aphrodite. When Antonio rolled over and trailed kisses over his sun-pinkened shoulder his lips came away tasting of salt.
“So this is the new world, eh?” England hummed, cracking one green cat’s eye open to peer at Spain.
“Mm, my little piece of it at least.” Antonio said, fingers dancing over the curve of Arthur’s waist. “Or one of them.”
“Or one of them.” Arthur scoffed, a warm chuckle vibrating Antonio’s fingers as they skimmed a sunburned chest. “You have so many, France must be furious you took this one, too.”
“You like it when France is furious.” Antonio said, smile curling against Arthur’s neck.
“A little bit.” Arthur admitted, green eyes sparking playfully. “What are you calling it, this new fort of yours?” Antonio glanced over at the wooden walls they’d erected on the cliffside, more practical than defensible. But that would change. He would turn all of these little wooden forts into castles spanning the globe, each one a symbol of his reach.
“San Agustín. We got here on the feast day, so we thought it was appropriate.” Antonio said, drawing Arthur closer with one arm. The Omega went easily, curling into his side and laying his head on Spain’s chest. He felt smaller in Antonio’s arms than his big personality suggested, softer than his pointed words could show.
England made him feel older in unfamiliar ways. Not elderly, just…mature. He’d spent the time between Rome’s fall and now feeling so young, so underprepared. But somewhere along the line he’d become a man, an empire. In contrast England was young, scrappy, hungry for recognition and power. He stood at the edge of the continent never quite fitting in but never quite able to pull himself away. If Spain was achievement, England was pure potential.
“Maybe I should grab a piece for myself.” England said, a cat’s lazy grin curving against Antonio’s chest. “Can’t let you Alphas have all the fun.”
“An English colony in the New World, hm?” Antonio said, Arthur’s lips following the vibrations of his chuckle up his chest. “And how would you fund it, my little church mouse?”
“Oi!” Arthur protested, pinching him hard on the side. “I’m not that poor!”
“Here, now? We are both very rich men.” Antonio said, stroking Arthur’s scent gland playfully just to feel him shiver. “I know I have everything I could possibly want right here on this beach.”
“Oh you incorrigible old git!” Arthur scoffed playfully, pinching him again. Antonio responded with a warm, rumbling laugh as he rolled Arthur onto his back in the sand. He settled between soft, pale thighs and swallowed up his laughter in a languid kiss.
“You’re wet.” Antonio breathed against his lips, dragging his hardening cock through the hot folds of him.
“I was just in the ocean.” Arthur replied mischievously.
“Ay… eres imposible, cabroncito.” Antonio growled affectionately, grinning against Arthur’s mouth.
“You love it.” Arthur purred, catching Antonio’s lips in another kiss as he ground his slick cunt up against him.
“I love <i>you</i>.” Antonio said, voice just above a whisper as he pushed in. The tight heat of him was almost as decadent as the long moan that the Omega rewarded him with. But neither could compare with the small, whispered ‘I love you, too’ that fanned across his neck with Arthur’s breath right after.
There was something primal about this; about taking Arthur out here on the soft sand with the sun dazzling on Arthur’s skin and the waves lapping at the shore almost in sync with the languid motion of their lovemaking. He was the ocean meeting the shore, rocking forward and back against the sweet, receiving earth in an act of geological devotion.
“I’m almost as full of you as you are.” Arthur said, teeth a playful threat against the skin of his neck that never quite followed through. Antonio chuckled, low and warm, pressing their foreheads together and gazing into those pretty green cat’s eyes.
“Hostia! With other Alphas that sharp tongue will get you in trouble, bribonzuelo!” He said, tracing the curve of Arthur’s jaw with his thumb with a lopsided grin.
“And with you?” Arthur asked, fingers trickling down his back like warm rain.
“Your sharp tongue gets <i>me</i> in trouble, mi tentación.” Antonio growled playfully, nipping at Arthur’s scent gland as he ground in deep and rolled his hips until Arthur’s eyes fluttered closed and his cunt fluttered with them. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me, then, love. Make me understand.” Arthur said, the tenderness in his tone ripping a deep groan out of Antonio’s chest. He pressed a hard, desperate kiss to the Omega’s forehead before hooking his arms under Arthur’s knees.
Ignoring the yelp of surprise, he bent Arthur nearly in half, hunching himself over him like a rutting animal so he could claim his mouth like he’d claimed this land. Dominating, devouring, devoted; he kissed Arthur like a tidal wave kissed the beach.
His thrusts weren’t fast, they weren’t frantic. They were deep and rhythmic and hard like a current, pulling the Omega into the sheer force of them. They didn’t climax together so much as hit the eye of the storm, eyes locked as the moment seemed to suspend itself just for them.
And then it came crashing back over them, Arthur wailing as he milked Antonio’s cock while the Alpha roared in triumph and buried his knot deep. Locking himself inside of Arthur to fill him felt like victory, felt like conquest, it felt like his Empire and this love and this day and this beach would last forever.
Ironic, that he would realize later that this was the beginning of the end.
The Starving Time (Jamestown, Winter of 1609-1610)
CW: Cannibalism
Broke: Alfred would never eat his people! He'd find another way
Woke: Alfred definitely ate people
Bespoke: Nations don't have to eat, and when you're only one settlement you don't have anyone to spare. So this little boy, only a few years old, has to abstain from food completely because the corpses have to be saved for the few living he has left. He can still feel hunger, his stomach is gnawing at itself, but to take food out of the mouths of his people is to starve himself in truth
Okay so I have this concept for Nation birth in Omegaverse, right? And it's not a hill I'll die on, just a fun little theory.
So the idea that conception, carrying, and birth are more malleable than humans, and the timeline is murky, symbolic, and not understood by Nations themselves.
To demonstrate: America was conceived somewhere in the decade following the establishment of St. Augustine. But England didn't start to show until roughly around when he defeated the Spanish Armada, and Antonio didn't know (or at least didn't know it was his) until around the end of the Anglo-Spanish War. But then Alfred wasn't actually born until around the founding of Jamestown a few years later.
I also think that Alfred and Matt's gestation kickstarted and ended around the same time even though Matt is France's child. They're still twins, though, because again this is all heavily symbolic and Canada and America just should be twins.
Spain: My son, Gilbert, really!?
Prussia: Right now it's lookin' like me or Ivan. Pick your poison
Spain: .....So what are you planning for Valentine's Day? You'd be surprised how much he likes getting flowers
Prussia and Russia both having a crush on Alfred could be so juicy because imagine it. Just as an example, think of the WWII -> Cold War events.
Al hasn't seen Gilbert in years. It was probably a bad break, too. And in the wreckage all Gil wants is to get back to Alfred and just get to hold him and tell him how much he loves him. Maybe this is even THE confession...
And then Ivan just drops the GDR on them in a meeting
And Gilbert knows, and Ivan knows, that this is just another play in the game for Alfred. That Ivan is taunting him subtly with 'I will keep you away from him forever while drawing all of his attention to myself'.
And I can't decide if it's better if Al and Gil are/were together and Alfred knows Ivan is trying to break them up, just not that he's doing it to take Gil's place, or if I prefer Alfred totally oblivious to both men's pursuit and he's just living his life. These two are fighting tooth and nail over him and he's just like "wow I love being so rich and powerful :)"
America: So you and Matt must get along, right? You're both like, cold and crap
Ivan: Matvey is a blend of the two people in this world I find the most annoying. So no, we do not get along
America: England and France?
Ivan: ......well at least you got one right
Follow up with Matt
America: Woah, did you know Ivan doesn't like you? That must sting, you're always so nice to him
Canada: *flashback to smashing Ivan's face in with a hockey stick a few months ago*
Canada: We don't fight in front of the baby
America: There's a baby???
Canada: *just gives Al a look* Yeah, and he's a loud ass idiot
America: Don't talk about your kid like that!!!
Canada: *under his breath* I wish he was my kid, his parents didn't spank him enough as a kid
America: What was that?
Canada: Nothin' bro, don't worry about it
Omegaverse France and England but instead of romantic, France is a gay af Alpha and England is his favorite Omega Fag Hag. What does the kind of gay man France is love more than mean, catty women? Wouldn't it be the same for gay Alphas? Arthur just rips Spain a new one verbally and France is just sitting with his wine like "You tell him, cherie <3. God, he's such a delightful bitch"
Gilbert calling Alfred a "good boy" jokingly and it activates the praise kink, the old teacher crush, the daddy issues, and the inner golden retriever all at once
America: *about to take a swing at Russia*
Prussia: Nope. *hoists Al over his shoulder and starts to walk off*
America: AND ANOTHER THING YOU COMMIE BITCH-
Prussia: *pats him on the ass* You tell 'im, babe
America: So you and Matt must get along, right? You're both like, cold and crap
Ivan: Matvey is a blend of the two people in this world I find the most annoying. So no, we do not get along
America: England and France?
Ivan: ......well at least you got one right
Just realized EAS + FEC family unintentionally turns the BTT into Al, Matt, and Ludwig's dads hanging out. Also Prussia has probably fucked England at some point, so it's also the Arthur's Hoes Gang.
Do you ever think that gets weird for them? Like Ludwig and the twins (yes they're still twins, Nations are weird, get over it) were hanging out at a bar after a world meeting when suddenly their dads stumble in already drunk as skunks and they're like "Not this again. Cursed blunt rotation. Atmosphere ruined."
And then it just gets worse because Arthur comes in and the whole damn trio is like a pack of dogs when a squirrel walks along a nearby fence
Because it can be hard to nail down culturally relevant scents, so if you're stumped here's some ideas
(If you want different designations than I picked, that sounds like a fun post for you to make!)
America (O): S'mores, coca cola, buttered popcorn, and a hint of cayenne
England (O): Black tea with cream and sugar, petrichor, heather, and tea rose
Spain (A): Aged ship wood, rum, valencia orange peel, and sunshine
France (A): Champagne, charred oak barrel, thyme, and black truffle
Portugal (A): Sea air, dried figs, madeira wine, and olivewood
Canada (A): Maple smoke, a deep icy lake, ginger ale, and moss
Australia (A): Eucalyptus, dry earth, sun-warmed wool, and finger lime
New Zealand (B): Aged linen sailcloth, manuka (the tree not the honey), cold sea air, and fresh grass
