Aria (pyrrhiccomedy) wrote,
Aria
pyrrhiccomedy

Order And Willing

Order And Willing - Prussia/America (sort of).
You call this a fucking army?
Genre: Drama, where America kind of gets his ass kicked. But there's some unexpected heart-to-heart there, too.
1778. R for violence.

Emergency pinch hit for the aph_rarexchange! That makes three fills total. Am I indie yet?

---

Philadelphia. March, 1778.

America hit the ground with a mouthful of blood. The shock sang through his skeleton.

"Get up."

America shut his eyes and jerked his knees in against his chest, because there it was: a snap as a sharp black boot toe flew into his side, and again, a few seconds later: snap.

"Jesus Christ, get up, you whiny fucking dirt farmer. What, are you waiting for somebody to come around and breast-feed you until you're ready to move on? 'Cause you're the only one who looks likely to sprout tits around here, so that's not gonna happen unless you're really goddamn flexible."

America felt his side, pushed in against his ribs. Hissed a breath between his teeth. Squeezed back the red behind his eyes.

Prussia grabbed him by the back of his collar and hauled him to his feet. America went up choking. He hung about five inches from Prussia's face.

"Do I have to do this for you, too, you shit-eating peasant?"

America shook his head, or tried. He was turning purple.

"I show you where to eat, I tell you where to piss--I explain how to stand in a straight line, how hard is that, you fucking idiot?--"

America shook his head again, frantic, and clawed at the front of his collar.

"Now I've got to show you how to get on your feet?" Prussia finished. Waited. He rattled America for emphasis.

"No," America rasped, because let go, you crazy son of a bitch, I can't breathe was too long for how much air he had left in him.

"No," Prussia drawled. A second passed. "You sure?"

America shoved at Prussia's arm and spat a wad of bloody foam. It didn't even hit him, but Prussia let him go--threw him back on the ground, more like. The impact jammed in America's shoulder.

America massaged his throat and coughed for breath, and dragged himself back to his feet before Prussia could put a boot heel in his kidneys.

"So!" Prussia clapped his hands together, eyes wide, big smile. "What have we learned?"

"You're a fucking bastard," America wheezed, and wiped his hair out of his face with the back of his arm. Cold seeped up from the ground through his boots, and icy night air slipped down the back of his collar.

"No, you already knew that. What you were supposed to learn," Prussia hefted his musket and slapped the stock. America flinched at the sight of it. "Is that this big, heavy bit of the musket is a weapon, too. Especially when you smash it into some unsuspecting smartmouth's face. How you doing with that, by the way?"

"You almost broke my fucking jaw!" Dull red throbbed all the way to his temple.

"'Almost' is a great word, isn't it? Almost. It's got a nice ring to it. It's like how it's almost been worth it for me to spend months in this freezing muddy backwater, trying to teach some barely-literate shit-herder how to use a fucking musket. Speaking of muskets."

America watched, wary, swallowing down his anger and the rank taste of copper, as Prussia turned his musket around and screwed in the bayonet.

"The pointy end," Prussia declared.

America didn't like that gleam in his eyes.

"What's it for."

"Well it's kinda like a sword, so I guess it's for stabbing people," America snapped.

"So you want to explain to me," Prussia slung the musket over his shoulder and strolled in a tight circle around America, "Why you've been using it as a goddamned cooking utensil?"

America set his jaw. All his teeth on the left side ached. "Muskets also fire shot," he ground out. "That seems kinda more helpful to me than a sword."

"Oh, do they!" Prussia jammed the stock into America's gut, but it was just for punctuation: America's air flew out of him, but his ribs didn't break. "Let's have a little demonstration, then, what do you say? Grab your musket."

America limped to the fire and hoisted up his gun.

"Now, walk out to…I don't know, walk out to that last line of tents." Prussia gestured without looking.

"Then what?" America eyed the tents: about a hundred yards away.

"Then," A smile: glinting eyes and teeth. "You try to load up Bess there and shoot me before I stab you through the leg."

America stared at him, the musket held loose in his hands. Prussia grinned. A lurched breath later, "Are you fucking crazy? I'm not gonna try and shoot you!"

"Really?" Prussia started striding backwards. His boots struck loud on the frozen ground. "Not even when I start running at you with a fixed bayonet?"

"I still think I'll feel bad if I plug your chest with shot!"

"You're not gonna win too many wars with that attitude, kid!"

America grabbed his powder horn and his bag of musket balls, and he stomped off towards the tents, snarling under his breath. He gave a dispirited wave when he made it.

Prussia roared and charged.

And America realized--

America realized--

Motherfucker, Prussia was serious--

America planted his musket between his feet and dumped gunpowder into the muzzle, spilled it across his fingers. Fuck, Prussia was closing in fast. Then the ball went in, and America shoved the iron rod down after it to tamp down the shot, crack, crack, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, crack crack crack the rod rattled in the barrel and he--

Whipped it out and--

Prussia smashed the musket out of his hands before America could even raise it to his shoulder. He cried out, hit the side of the tent as he went down, and

RED

--then he started screaming, both fists clenched against his thigh. Blood warmed his fingers.

Prussia pulled the bayonet out of America's leg and stood over him, his face cast in deep night grey. "What have we learned?"

"Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck!"

"No. What we have learned is that the pointy end can provide an invaluable tactical advantage when the terrain allows for the distance between you and the enemy forces to be closed at a charge." Prussia whipped out a cloth from inside his coat and cleaned the bayonet.

America groaned and tipped onto his side. "I need a medic, God damn it!"

"It's not that deep," Prussia dismissed. "Actually, now might be a good opportunity for another lesson."

He crouched by America's head and grinned down at him.

"Do you know how to give yourself stitches?"

---

America hunched under a blanket by the fire. He glowered as Prussia dropped down on the log beside him with a satisfied sigh, two biscuits in his hand.

"Here." Prussia struck one in front of America's face.

"No thanks," America muttered. He winched the blanket tighter around his shoulders and ducked his head down.

"Don't be a horse's asshole, eat something."

America hesitated--a what?--but gingerly took the biscuit, and winced at a twinge from his thigh.

"So," Prussia munched. "Do you hate me yet?"

America wanted to say I'm working on it. Instead he dropped his head and grumbled, "No."

"No kidding?" Prussia braced his elbow on his knee, eyed America from wilted hair to muddy boots. "Why not?"

America shrugged, sullen, and stared at his biscuit.

"I'd fuckin' hate me, in your position. You're supposed to hate your drill instructor," Prussia reflected, and flicked his hair out of his face. "I mean, if there's one son of a bitch in the whole world you should want to corner in a dark alley and beat into summer preserves with a strip of old oak planking, it should be the guy who taught you how to be a soldier."

"You're just trying to help," America muttered, and felt himself blush. At this point, it was embarrassing not to hate Prussia.

"And fuck me, but do you need the help. I mean, when I first showed up in your camp, you know the first thing I thought?" Prussia wiped a mess of crumbs from the corner of his mouth, and chomped off another quarter of biscuit.

"That I was a dumb hick farmer with no dress code and a bad attitude?" America broke off a piece of biscuit and tossed it into the fire.

"I thought to myself, 'fuck, this kid was raised by England?' --And then I thought all the stuff about how you're a worthless hick with shit for brains," Prussia allowed. "But I mean, you didn't know which side of the hill to piss on, kid. What the hell happened? I know England's got a left hook that'll loosen up your teeth, and he's probably not pissing in his biscuits, either."

America shrugged and nibbled at his food. "England always did my fighting for me."

"Pansy," Prussia smirked.

He shot a glare up at the older nation. "Fuck you, what do you expect? We don't all start out as military states."

"All states are military states, kid. Some of us are just better at it." Prussia stretched his legs out in front of him and picked at his teeth with his pinky nail. "But you don't hate me, fine. Do you hate England?"

America opened his mouth, closed it. Looked at the fire. Looked at his biscuit. Looked back at the fire, as his eyebrows drew sharply together. "No, I don't hate England. I mean, maybe he hates me, now, but I don't--I mean, he raised me, you know? And he...and it's not like this changes--"

Prussia held up a hand to stop him. "I don't need to hear the whole fucking melodrama," he warned. "Family shit, really complicated, there's feelings involved, I get the picture. You gonna be able to shoot him?"

America winced. "I-I've shot at his troops, I mean, what--"

"That's not what I'm talking about."

America stared down at his boots. His hands were cold. "Yeah, I guess," he mumbled.

Prussia sat up and touched America's elbow. "Hey. Look at me."

America blinked, and did as he was told. Prussia's hand didn't feel cold.

Prussia watched him for long, slow seconds. He wet his lips. Quiet, firm, then: "Tell me you're going to be able to shoot England. If you have to."

"What do you care?" America's voice came out softer than he'd expected.

Prussia rolled his eyes and jerked his thumb in the direction of the camp. "What the fuck am I doing here if you don't have the balls to finish your own goddamned war?"

America flinched around the corners of his eyes. The line of his mouth trembled and hardened. "I don't really know what you're doing here in the first place, to be honest."

Prussia snorted. "Trust me, you don't want me to leave. England would tear you apart."

That was true. America didn't want him to leave. In spite of the bruised ribs, and the sutures.

"Listen. Just--listen." Prussia's hand was still on America's forearm. He watched his eyes. "You don't have to hate who you're fighting to win a war. It can make it easier, even, if it's just business, if you keep it all business."

America took a second to work the wet back into his mouth. "I'm fighting for something I believe in."

"Sure, whatever you say. But listen."

There was a silence. The fire crackled.

Prussia went on slowly. "You're a fucking amateur, all right? And you threw sand in the face of the most powerful empire in the world, and you put your dick on the chopping block to make it stick, and I can respect that. You're a suicidal dirt-herder, but you're not scared of a fight, even if that's just because you're too pig-ignorant to be scared. That's why I'm here. I want to see what you can make of yourself, kid."

America watched, listened, his fingers trembling in fists. He didn't know why.

"But no matter how much training you get, no matter how many friends you've got, you will lose this war if you're not ready to fight harder than he is." Prussia was serious. America had never seen him so serious. "If you're not willing to do what he won't do. Are you listening to me? Tell me something--do you think England would shoot you? Not clip you, not thrash you, not rip the gun out of your hands and break every insolent bone in your body for what you put him through; do you think he'd stand in front of you, level his musket, and deliberately shoot you to win this war?"

America stared at Prussia, transfixed, and heard himself say, "I don't know."

Prussia tapped his sleeve. "But would you shoot him?"

America's lips parted.

"To win the war?"

"Yeah," he said, quiet. "I would. I guess I really would."

Prussia nodded, and let him go. "Then you'll win. Sooner or later. That's just how this works."

He shoved off the log, slapped the grit off his hands onto his thighs, and moved off past the fire towards the tents. America watched him go.

"Just finish your fucking training, Jesus. Do what I tell you! Bayonets! Drill and discipline!"

Bayonets, drill and discipline.

"And quit fucking whining about everything! How fucking hard is it to cauterize a wound, you leaky-eyed mama's girl, you'd think I'd asked you to cut off an arm..." Prussia's voice faded into the camp.

America felt himself smile, tiny and inexplicable.

He'd be laid up for a day, maybe two or three days. Limping around on a crutch. But then it'd be back to training. More bruised ribs, new scars, and getting shouted at in two or three different languages, like Prussia was looking for one that would finally stick.

Thank God he was here. That was all America could think, as he eased himself closer to the fire. Thank Christ Prussia was here.







+++

--Baron von Steuben was a Prussian aristocrat who served as Inspector General of the Continental Army during the American Revolutionary War, and more or less taught them how to be a, you know, an army. Military drill, discipline, conduct, camp layout, bayonet training--the works. And the Americans needed it. He was famous for shouting to his interpreter, "Here! Curse at them in their own language!"

Perhaps unsurprisingly, he isn't remembered as warmly by modern Americans as say, Lafayette, for whom we retain an enormous boner (despite our frequent ambivalence towards the French), but he was a big help, and he taught the Continental Army how to not urinate in the middle of their own camp, so give him some love.

+++

You can look at a directory of all of my Hetalia fic here!


Tags: america, fanfic, prussia, revolutionary era
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Oooh, I can never get enough of these two. *A* Finally some truly awesome, war-jaded strategist Prussia. Seeing him used as a mere comic relief gets a little weary after a while. <.<

"Then," A smile: glinting eyes and teeth. "You try to load up Bess there and shoot me before I stab you through the leg."

America stared at him, the musket held loose in his hands. Prussia grinned. A lurched breath later, "Are you fucking crazy? I'm not gonna try and shoot you!"


THISSSS. ... Somehow in my head this exchange worked with a perfect Fight Club style timing (as in the "I want you to hit me as hard as you can -- ... What?" moment). If that makes any sense. It possibly doesn't. Fuck, it's midnight again.
Ah, I'm so glad you liked it! =D Prussia is hilarious, I think, a lot of the time--but he can also probably tear out your goddamned teeth, and that's something we should maybe recognize from time to time.
This is great! Oh, Prussia, you crazy military-discipline-and-daredevil-showmanship old warhorse, you. Poor America. Hee!

(And I love the idea of von Steuben having his interpreter curse for him!)
Poor America. Hee!

This is pretty much how I felt in writing the first half of this fic. XD America is just FUN TO BEAT UP, I don't know what it is. It occurred to me as I was posting this that this is my fourth fic in which America kind of gets worked over. I've let Russia do it, England's done it, fuck, even Italy got a turn...now it's Prussia!

I think it's just possible that Prussia's enjoyed it the most.

rfienneslover

7 years ago

pyrrhiccomedy

7 years ago

The only coherent thing I'm able to say to this is:

I LOVE YOUR PRUSSIA!

It's actually so rare to see him not as a comic relief but as a strategist and a really serious guy.
Also, him beating America is entertaining. It should not be, but it is.

Either way, this thing is awesome ♥

And the little bit about England was love - the most powerful empire in the world, recognize! ♥
I LOVE PRUSSIA TOO, I've been writing with him more often! Comic relief is great and everything, but come on, the guy was a petrifying military state. There's got to be something going on upstairs.

Also, him beating America is entertaining. It should not be, but it is.

Yeah, on the one hand, maybe I should feel bad for having so much fun knocking America around? But on the other hand, whatever. He can take it. XD
Yes, yes, yes, YES, PRUSSIA I LOVE YOU. Bastard that you are, I adore you. Never change.

There are so many awesome things about this that I can't really pick just a few. Suffice to say, I had a huge grin on my face the entire way through. (And fuck, we were just a bunch of suicidal hick farmers. It's amazing we lasted six months, let alone win the goddamn war against the British Empire.)

Fantastic as always. I think I am in love with the way you write Prussia. And really, the fact that he's beating the shit out of America while training him should not be as hilarious as it is. :D
fuck, we were just a bunch of suicidal hick farmers. It's amazing we lasted six months, let alone win the goddamn war against the British Empire.

THANK YOU PRUSSIA

THANK YOU FRANCE

THANK YOU SPAIN

THANK YOU ENGLAND, FOR BEING SUCH AN UNLIKEABLE CUSS THAT ALL OF EUROPE JUMPED AT THE CHANCE TO DICK YOU OVER.

WE APPRECIATE IT. ♥♥♥

imbusyreading

7 years ago

God damn, Prussia is a crazy bitch. Just what America needed, but God damn...
Crazy like a FOX.

And beating the shit out of America like a FOX.
At first I was wondering how on earth Prussia/America was going to work and by the end I was laughing gleefully -- excellent work! (And during the Revolution, too...I was a tad confused until I realized that Prussia does not equal Hessians around two lines into the fic, and then I was okay.)
The "What have we learned?" parts are so hilariously condescending and Prussia. Hilarious, and yet a bamf. Such a scary bamf.
Even though I was laughing for a lot of the fic, the serious parts, mainly America willing to shoot England when England was not quite willing to shoot him, were almost chilling. And awesome.
(I loved the footnote about the cursing. Oh, how I wish I had an interpreter who would tell me all the swears I would ever need to know....)
I was a tad confused until I realized that Prussia does not equal Hessians

Yeah, the HRE is my Hessian stand-in, usually.

Even though I was laughing for a lot of the fic, the serious parts, mainly America willing to shoot England when England was not quite willing to shoot him, were almost chilling.

Oh, I'm really glad you feel like that worked. ♥
I saw the date and I saw the pairing and I was like "shit is this really..."

von Steuben!Prussia = oh god I have no words. It's a ROLE MADE FOR HIM DAMMIT.

I also like the direction you took it in. Pulling no punches. Visceral.

I want to say more but I have to go, so... awesome job!
von Steuben!Prussia = oh god I have no words. It's a ROLE MADE FOR HIM DAMMIT.

As far as I can tell, von Steuben pretty much was Prussia.
Have I said I fucking love your Prussia?

Because I do. So hard.

(Were you to ever write something with him and France, I would be well and truly slain. Not that I'm angling or anything. Just...puttin' it out there.)
(Were you to ever write something with him and France, I would be well and truly slain. Not that I'm angling or anything. Just...puttin' it out there.)

You like Prussia/France? You've never said! What about them? I can think about it, anyway, if I know what you like about the pairing.

wizzard890

7 years ago

God, all of Prussia's dialogue is perfect. How do you do it?
It's all a matter of channeling your inner crazy son of a bitch.
-insert incoherent squealing here- I have been in love with the American Revolutionary War since eight grade. And I freaking love you so hard for this story.

Baron von Steuben is right up there on my list. BAMF. Man needs more recognition. Along with Kosciuszko. -insert more incoherent squealing-

I love Prussia here. He's completely in character, and his awesomeness is shining through :D

(why don't I have a Prussia icon?)

Oh man I would LOVE to write Kosciuszko fic. I think I've seen it all of once.

(why don't I have a Prussia icon?)

Why don't I have a Prussia icon? I think I've reached the point where I've ficced about him enough that it's just embarrassing not to have an icon.
Finally, a Prussia who I can totally buy beating asses down left and right, as opposed to the comic monkey who says "awesome" every other word like a record with the needle stuck. Kudos, this was excellent as always.
Thank you, I'm really glad you like it! Prussia tends to be one of the biggest beneficiaries of my "ffs give them a tiny bit of credit" initiative.
YESSSSSSSSSSSS. OMFG, SECOND VON STUEBEN FIC I'VE FOUND. EEEEEEE. Did you know there's a von Stueben Day? 8D

Do you like my Putin icon better?
I do! My cat makes that expression when she sees a shiny bit of ribbon on the table.
Wonderful! Like everyone said, your Prussia is right on! Seriously, the "army" were a bunch of idiots with no common sense. von Steuben, I totally love the guy. We all know it's Prussia who made America awesome.

I love the bayonet training (esp with the Fight Club mind-set!!) and my fav:

"So!" Prussia clapped his hands together, eyes wide, big smile. "What have we learned?"

"You're a fucking bastard," America wheezed,

"No, you already knew that."
the "army" were a bunch of idiots with no common sense.

The "army" was a bunch of goddamned farmers who had never had more than basic militia training. Whenever America had a war that needed fighting, England just exported an army that already knew what they were doing. Why teach the kid too much, you know? ;)

raecat

7 years ago

pyrrhiccomedy

7 years ago

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Your commentary is always so concise, I love that. XD

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pyrrhiccomedy

7 years ago

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pyrrhiccomedy

7 years ago

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DRAMATIC CAPE-FLUTTERING ICON ♥

I'm so glad you had fun with it! America made a lot of friends during his Revolution. And only some of those friends gave him broken ribs!
Military drill, discipline, conduct, camp layout, bayonet training--the works. And the Americans needed it. He was famous for shouting to his interpreter, "Here! Curse at them in their own language!"

So, basically, he was Prussia xDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

I've been in love with these two, Steuben and Lafayette, for a long long time. Glad to see a tribute! It was amazing, as everything you write. Prussia was a fucking goldmine of excellent lines, as usual, but he was also pretty interesting and deep in his war wisdom. And you really conveyed both things about him and his rl clone, Steuben: what a fucking dick they both are, but also, what excellent commanders and trainers. Hell, this man trained what would become the most powerful army in the modern world! I'm sure Prussia gets a boner every time he sees the USA army in the newsXD
America better recognize that, without Prussia's help, not only would he still be a backwater uncultured place full of hicks under England, but he'd never have become the most powerful country in the world. As macros say, bitch better respect thatXD

Oh, and as always, yours is one of the best America voices I've ever read.

Will there be a Lafayette piece? ^^
So, basically, he was Prussia xDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

As far as I can tell, yes he was. XD

what a fucking dick they both are, but also, what excellent commanders and trainers.

The two tend to go hand-in-hand, really.

I'm sure Prussia gets a boner every time he sees the USA army in the newsXD

I think Prussia probably gets a boner whenever he sees any large-scale military operation on the news. It's porn for military states.

Will there be a Lafayette piece? ^^

I've kind of already written one.
this is EXACTLY how I imagined Prussia's presence in America's Revolution to be. You so rarely get to see our beloved Gilbos being the badass he had to have been in the 18th century so this scratched an itch for me. Goddamn beautiful and I loooved it. *wipes a tear*
I generally support showing all the nations less as dumbass comic relief and more as fucking badasses, but Prussia really needs it the most. I mean, I love my dumbass comic relief sometimes, but come on. We're talking about the only nation in the modern era to have been euthanized because he was too dangerous to allow back into the community of nations, even demilitarized and stripped of industry. (It's cool, he just wound up in the Eastern Bloc and then went to live in his brother's basement.)

keikanas

7 years ago

dasschlechtende

6 years ago

Well I'VE always had a boner for von Steuben! Swear at them in their own language PFFT. Prussia is FUCKING INCREDIBLE here (he demanded capslock), and the awesome dialogue between them, and the extremely tough love, and the stabbing with the bayonet holy crap and SELF-SUTURING oh man, love it!
Prussia always demands capslock.

CAPSLOCK MOTHERFUCKERS.

Also I really, really wouldn't want to learn to self-suture under Prussia's tutelage. I mean, I wouldn't want to learn it at all, but Prussia would just be like "STOP BEING SUCH A WUSS, JESUS, STICK THAT NEEDLE IN THERE LIKE YOU MEAN IT."
Goddamn Prussia you crazy beautiful son of a bitch. America had better respect that. He trained what would become the most awesome army in the world. Who WOULDN'T be proud?

I always get so pumped reading about these battles and military ventures and history and omg von Steuben Prussia aaaah. Have my heart. ;A;b

This puts into context exactly why I'm in love with all of those crazy Europeans and their dick-showing contests. Empires shouldn't be so hot orz.

And just so you know I was thinking of this picture the entire time.
Empires shouldn't be so hot orz.

God I know, but when it comes to confident pushy manipulative motherfuckers, you just can't beat imperial Europe. ._.

And just so you know I was thinking of this picture the entire time.

...Should I be...turned on right now, or...I mean...would that be...inappropriate.

>_>

/clicks, saves

candelaria

7 years ago

My history teacher had it bad for von Steuben, so I was indoctrinated with a huge boner for him. Despite our debt of honor to Lafayette in the French Banana War, of course. I love Prussia in this; he's just such a major dick and so good at it. I know that Steuben was already an ex-military official by that point, but I love the thought of Prussia with him there in Valley Forge. And, living ten miles from that place, I can attest to the hellish Pennsylvanian winters and cannot imagine living in anything less than a house with central heat and a fireplace, much less a pissed-on tent >_>;
I can attest to the hellish Pennsylvanian winters and cannot imagine living in anything less than a house with central heat and a fireplace, much less a pissed-on tent >_>;

Oh, Jesus Christ, me too. We spent a winter in Pittsburg, once, and my (Australian) husband thought I was trying to kill him.

"WHY CAN'T I FEEL MY FACE"

"That's the cold, sweetheart"

"WHY IS THE WORLD FULL OF STATIC"

"That's snow, sweetheart"

"I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING"

"You've gone snowblind, sweetheart, it's okay, just let me take a picture to show all your friends back home."

sadlygrove

7 years ago

alors_indikaze

7 years ago

sadlygrove

7 years ago

pyrrhiccomedy

7 years ago

YOUR PRUSSIA IS LIKE MY FAVORITE PRUSSIA. Two things that stick: goddamn stitches, and "there's feelings involved." I can just see his facial expression there. Tough love, baby. Tough love.

And his mouth, glorious and filthy. Do you actually know someone who talks like that? XD Because awesome. And "all states are military states." Yes. Especially coming from him. So like, four things. And it's great because I remember and cherish your one with him and the chick. <3 It's, ah. Been a long two-and-some centuries.

Seriously write more Prussia. Write more Prussia. Also Poland.
I can just see his facial expression there.

Prussia: avatar of infinite disgust.

Do you actually know someone who talks like that? XD Because awesome.

I was exposed to some colorful language in my youth, let's just say. XD But you know, cussing up a blue streak is really more a ~mindset~ than a question of vocabulary.

Seriously write more Prussia. Write more Prussia. Also Poland.

I'm going to write them together, I swear! D= I just...I actually have been having a hard time thinking of a story. I mean...I could have them sit around in a damp Soviet basement playing cards and bitching at each other for ten thousand words, but I don't really have a point other than "isn't this entertaining?"
Prussia is so very epic. ^^
Truer words were never spoken.
I just learned about this the other day; the fact that you did a fic on this makes you even more awesome and fills me with glee. :D
Hurray! Glee!

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Nothin' wrong with Revolutionary!America that a bayonet through the leg won't fix. (Or several bayonets through the leg.)

(I think England might even agree.)
God, Prussia. Best instructor ever - he's just too good at doing his job.
Hahahaha, and America was so cute to realise it.
The prompt requested that America maybe just possibly a tiny bit have an unacknowledged crush on Prussia, RE: Prussia being such an unstoppable badass, and I thought: yes, I can probably manage that.
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