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Post by America on Aug 1, 2012 7:59:18 GMT -5
Obviously, America's search for the basket ceased when Eastport came in. Not because of the loud noise. Not because Molossia looked about ready to kill the younger nation. Not because the onions were scattered about. But because Eastport had a basket. Which had been just what the superpower had been searching for.
"Awesome!" he exclaimed, picking the basket up (and positioning himself between the two- he was still a bit concerned for their safety if they decided to have a go). "Good job, Eastport! You found one for me!" He glanced over at Molossia, waving the basket to show him. "See? I got a basket now!" As if it wasn't completely noticeable without America saying anything. The blond country glanced back at Eastport. He didn't know the kid had decided to stay for longer. He had thought that he'd be flying back over to Europe.
With the eloquence of a warthog, America said. "What's up? Why are you still here?" And it might have sounded rude, but that was just America. Luckily, he realized that he might have given off the feeling that he was grumpy when, in fact, he wasn't. "Ah, just meant that I thought you were leaving sooner." He reached down next to Molossia, patting the micronation's shoulder and grabbing the fallen onions.
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Post by [x] Molossia on Aug 1, 2012 8:14:08 GMT -5
"Yeah, basket, fuckin' great... now," Molossia's finger accussingly shot at Eastport, pointing at him from around America, who had now pushed his way between them. "You know this kid?!" He snarled, jumping to his feet and cracking his knuckles. "He's fuckin' lucky I don't beat the shit out of him right now!"
Molossia hadn't been paying attention when America called the teen "Eastport". If he had been listening, he would've recognized Eastport. Or at least from what America had told him about the micronation.
Teeth sneered, Molossia didn't even give the chance for anyone to speak up. "Who the hell do ya think you are!? And then callin' yourself my 'elder'! Like hell you're older than me, you snot-nosed little brat! Somebody ought'a teach ya a lesson!"
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Post by [x] Eastport on Aug 1, 2012 12:46:40 GMT -5
((Oh, god. When he said that last thing "like hell you're older than me" I instantly went "EXCUSE ME, BITCH! PRE-REVOLUTIONARY WAR!" XDDD))
Smiling like a little kid being praised for his drawing, Eastport looked up (literally) at America. "Glad I could be'a some help!" However, his smile fell again into a pout. "'N I have to stay 'ere like a few more days 'cause'a repairs t' the helicopter. 'Pparently it got really beat up in th' snowstorm."
The sound of cracking knuckles added fuel to the flame inside of Eastport. He turned with a confident grin to Molossia, lacing his fingers and putting them behind his head. "I'd like t' see you try, Molly!" He took a chance and walked around America, not backing down from the other. Mostly because he didn't EVER take too kindly to being called "brat" or anything like it and also not being known.
"FUCKING BITCH!" he shouted back, nearly swinging at Molossia but having enough self control to just grab the other's shirt and drag him down to his level so that he was staring into blue-grey eyes that were scarily similar to his own. "I'M GODDAMN EASTPORT! YOUR OWN FUCKING BROTHER!" Eastport's teeth were bared, and his voice turned into a low growl. It wasn't all that unusual for him to do that when really provoked, but it wasn't ordinary enough to be ignored. "'N for th' record, I've been around since th' 1650s, bastard. Do y'r research BEFORE talking t' me like that."
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Post by America on Aug 1, 2012 19:11:34 GMT -5
America was just going to let everything go until he heard Eastport cursing and being ridiculously unusual. He set his basket of onions down and easily prying Eastport's fingers off of Molossia's shirt, then pushed both of them away. "Geez, I'm not usually the one who has to break up fights. Unless it's England and France doing the fighting." He shrugged. There hadn't been much of that around recently, since he wasn't even sure where France had gone off to.
With a sigh, he wiped his hands on his jeans before glancing at Molossia. "No beating the shit outta Eastport," he said cheerfully before turning to Eastport. "And no cussing or attacking Molossia. I don't want my micronations fighting! That's really uncool and very immature. Even for American micronations." He scoffed, having already noticed by now how most other nations thought him immature. Well, if only they could see the way these two were acting right now.
"Yeah, Mol, techincally, Eastport here is older, but..." He smiled down at Eastport. "He's still a kid in physical appearance." And then he crossed his arms over his chest. "And I'm older than both of you and have the strength to beat the shit outta both of you, so quit fighting or I'll do just that." He was about to turn back to his 'collecting of the veggies' when he realized he totally still had something left to say, something he had heard other parents say before. And even though he wasn't a parent to either of the micronations, he still wanted to say it.
"Oh, and my word is final!"
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Post by [x] Molossia on Aug 2, 2012 18:21:33 GMT -5
Molossia had seemed completely and utterly awed at Eastport's sudden exchange of dominance. Molossia was so used to striking fear into the hearts of those who crossed him. He didn't even need to threaten them sometimes, one look into those cold gray-blue eyes behind a pair of dark shades was enough to get anyone to back down. To have the tides suddenly turned on him - and, in exchange, be the one with his tail between his legs - was an absolute shock.
"..Y... y-you..." Suddenly, America had pushed his way between the two and parted them. Molossia had no time to be relieved before his 'big brother' had suddenly threatened to kick both of them to high heaven! "Fuckin' hell, America! I could've taken 'im!" He snarled, stepping back and yanking the smock's ties apart. Molossia crumpled up the apron into a ball and threw it on the ground before bringing his foot down and stomping on the now-dirty, torn, rag-like fabric. Talk about temper tantrum.
He brought his finger up to point at Eastport again. "Ya little brat! I don't give a shit if yer older than me or not! Ya messed with the wrong micronation, Kid!"
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Post by [x] Eastport on Aug 2, 2012 21:50:14 GMT -5
Eastport scoffed and looked the other direction, letting go of Molossia's shirt. His heart hurt and he hated knowing that even his own brother didn't remember him. It wasn't that he was sad, he was just so frustrated and angry and almost to the point where he wanted to cry.
Narrowed eyes met the accusing finger pointing at his chest. His calloused fists curled into balls and he shifted his feet just enough so that he could jump away if he was in any immediate danger. "If y're so tough, prove it. Right 'ere, right now. Jus' you 'n me." A faint smile cracked on his tanned face. "That is, if you're up to it, bro." At this point, he really didn't care if it was going against America's decision. He had a LOT of pent-up frustration and anger that he had to let out before he exploded for real and what better way than a good, old-fashioned fistfight?
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Post by America on Aug 2, 2012 21:58:56 GMT -5
Ouch. They were totally ignoring his 'don't fight' rule, weren't they? America reached his hand up under his glasses and rubbed his eyes, wondering if this is how the other nations felt when America tried picking a fight with England or Russia or someone else. Not that he did it often, and it only stayed to verbal assaults. Unless he started pissing Russia off or Russia started pissing him off.
"I just said..." he started, but trailed off when he realized both nations were too angry to listen to him at the moment. Well, time to use his secret weapon, though, sadly, it would only work against Molossia.
"Fine. Get in a fight. But..." He raised his eyebrows at the older micronation (well, the physically older micronation). "If you get in a fight here, you're gonna ruin all these plants." There. Wait. "And neither of you can get in a fight anywhere else, since that would attract more zombies, what with the noise you two would have and stuff."
Hopefully, that would do the trick.
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Post by [x] Eastport on Aug 2, 2012 23:59:26 GMT -5
((Throwing this out there: Training grounds?? XDDD))
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Post by [x] Molossia on Aug 3, 2012 7:18:08 GMT -5
"Gladly!" Molossia hissed between clenched teeth. With his glasses laying on the ground a few feet away, it was very clear to see the absolute bloody murder glinting in his eyes.
Pulling his fist back to take a swing at Eastport, Molossia stopped when an invisible force grabbed his wrist and kept his closed fist from flying forward. He turned his head to America with wide eyes. "...My p-plants?" Molossia choked out, trembling. Unable to finish the swing, even if he wanted to, Molossia let his arm go limp and fall against his side, and stumbled back, away from Eastport.
America was right. Even if he was just trying to keep them from going into a full-throttle fist fight, he was more right than he probably realized from his own statement. But Molossia knew very well just how dangerous swinging and kicking and trampling would be to his beloved crops.
It would also help if he actually recognized Eastport as his 'brother'. All he knew was that he was another micronation on American land.
"...Okay, fine, fine!" Molossia flung himself at America and clutched onto his shirt, staring up at him with fear in his big, round, puppy-dog eyes. "P-please, please! I-I'll do anything, just d-don't hurt my plants! A-and don't let me hurt 'em either!" He pleaded over and over again, his entire body shivering. His slightly-deep voice was cracking as though he sounded about ready to cry. "P-please, man! I'm beggin' ya here!"
Molossia and Eastport would probably end up taking the fight somewhere else later, but he wasn't going to tell America that...
(Harr, Training Grounds it is. America can be ref. *Shot* XD)
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Post by America on Aug 3, 2012 8:00:11 GMT -5
America was unsurprised that Molossia stopped the attack on Eastport. If his plants were in danger, the micronation would do anything to save them. He smiled patting Molossia's back and trying not to act too patronizing, knowing how touchy Molossia could be sometimes. "I won't hurt your plants," he assured. "And, if you don't get into any fights, you won't hurt your plants either. And we all win."
He then turned his gaze over to Eastport. "Now. Since that's all settled and stuff, let's go make some chicken soup or something!" He put on the happiest tone imaginable, wanting nothing more than to do what he was planning on doing this entire time. Before Molossia and Eastport had decided to start a fight, anyway. A ridiculous fight.
Yet again, America wondered if he was like this. Maybe he was actually a bad influence on these young micronations. Maybe they just learned from him...
Nah. He was the hero! If anything, they learned how to be heroic and awesome, just as he was!
[[Knock yourselves out. XD America will be all, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING, BUT IT LOOKS FUN."]]
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Post by [x] Eastport on Aug 3, 2012 9:49:37 GMT -5
((Ref? What ref? XD And darn it! You posted too fast, Meri! XD))
Easport's eyebrows raised and he wondered who was currently pleading to not hurt plants. "Uuuuuuuuuuuuuh.... Mol...ly?" The entire scene was odd to him. Here was this tough guy who was just about to pretty much murder him, begging for them not to fight in the greenhouse.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
"Uuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh... Y'know... it'd probably be easier if we went to like the training grounds 'r somethin' anyway." He loosened up a bit, shaking his arms out and relaxing, slightly glad that he wasn't going to get thrown to the dirt or anything. "More room there, too."
In the back of his mind, he kept a mental record of that event so that if the time ever came, all he'd have to was just mention something about plants.
He looked at his dad and sighed. "You guys go on ahead. I think I'm gonna go work out'r something. I need t' do somethin' productive-ish."
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Post by [x] Molossia on Aug 3, 2012 10:28:42 GMT -5
(FFFF The first time I wrote this out, I did it on my Argentina account aindfisninienriwe. It's so hard to remember to log out and log in as a different member every time I post. x.x Oh well, fixed it now.)
Molossia let go of America and shot a glare in Eastport's direction. He rolled his shoulders back at the mention of working out. Speaking of which; he hadn't worked out much recently either. He was growing soft.
Soup sounded good right about now, though. At least to Molossia, it did. Getting worked up about something always made him hungry. Molossia turned to America. "..A'ight. I'll help you make yer soup 'r whatever." He huffed and turned back to Eastport, a cold look in his eyes.
"Yeah, ya better scram, ya little brat..." Molossia grumbled. He shuffled through the soil and stopped in front of his glasses, crouching down and picking them up. And there he sat for a moment or so as he dusted off the lenses with his sleeve.
Oh, how he wanted to punch him. Eastport had seemed so smug, and so sure of himself before when he had gripped at Molossia's shirt and spat insults in his face. Molossia would have no more of that. The next time that happened, he was taking it to the training grounds. Gravel beneath their shoes, bare fists flying. That was a fair fight.
(Just thought I'd mention that Molossia's accent slips in and out. Sometimes he'll say 'you', sometimes 'ya'. Sometimes he'll say 'yer', sometimes 'your' or 'you're'. It really depends on his attitude. Also, by "ref", I meant referee. You know, the "READY, SET, FIGHT!" guy, and the guy who makes sure stuff doesn't get too out of hand. XD)
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Post by [x] Eastport on Aug 3, 2012 10:32:07 GMT -5
((Tina... check your account name. Good, it's fixed. :'D I just use Chrome for Spain and Firefox for Porty~ And I know. I was being sarcastic and hinting at "we're not fighting with a ref and never have". XDD Like: "What is this 'referee' you're talking about?" And can we just do a timeskip? I mean, I can only TECNICALLY do one or two threads... and this is my second. ;-; So yeah...))
Eastport saw that glare, and mirrored it exactly. "Make me." He mouthed, hearing the little brat comment. But something happened when he walked by.
His stomach growled, and rather loudly at that, too. His face shot up red, and he looked away. He wasn't going to admit that he was hungry, especially since that he knew that they didn't have an overabundance of food anyway. Hopefully they could just ignore the fact he was starving and was just dying for some good cream of crab soup and a cold beer.
"See ya guys later..." He mumbled, rubbing his arms and walking a few paces the other direction.
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Post by America on Aug 3, 2012 10:51:09 GMT -5
America smiled at Molossia. "All right, dude! It'll be the best chicken soup ever!" He looked down at his basket, which currently only had the onions. "So, I'll continue grabbing the veggies we picked, and you can get those herbs for the soup, cool?" He was about to go off and do just that when he heard Eastport's stomach growl. Ah-ha... he thought with a smirk. So the other micronation was hungry, too. Maybe the tension between him and Molossia would ebb away if he helped them cook.
"Hey, Eastport, why dontcha help us?" America asked, quickly walking forward and standing in Eastport's way. "And we can all eat together and be awesome friends!" He resisted the urge to start singing some sort of friendship song.
[[Ah...maybe Molossia and Eastport get into another fight and we time-skip down into the training grounds?]]
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Post by [x] Molossia on Aug 3, 2012 11:04:16 GMT -5
(I'm alright with that, if you're both cool?)
Molossia had stood up and put his sunglasses back on, over his eyes. No sooner had he done that had America offered to have Eastport help them cook.
Molossia's jaw dropped open. There was no hiding the shock and rage on his face, not even behind his glasses. "You're really gonna have him help us?! Why?!" He swallowed hard, clenching his fists. If it weren't for Molossia being extremely hungry right now, he would've just up and left, saying that he wouldn't cook if Eastport was going to be with them. "Jesus, do we have to bring him along?" He folded his arms over his chest.
(God, this is short. osfnnonosnfo)
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