Ég bulla bara

If so,,,,perhaps a denorice where Iceland either

-Attempts cross-dressing (androgynous crossdresser gang gang (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧)

-or has a bad day (aka a comfort fluff fic)

It's whichever you'd prefer writing really 👉👈 (I'm sorry I don't like asking for things but it seemed like a good idea rjcnrbybrjcjy)

Aww thank you! It’s been a while since I’ve written anything, so it’s nice to hear that people still enjoy my fics. Hopefully once this semester is over, I’ll have the mental capacity to write again.

Day 5 of @historical-hetaliaweek: “mirror.” This is set in...let’s say around 1859/60. TW for mentions of eating disorder.

Day four of @historical-hetaliaweek: “seaside.” Set during the Second Cod Wars, namely September 5, 1972, around 10:40 am.

Here is day three of @historical-hetaliaweek, and the prompt is “up in ashes,” so of course I had to set this just after the eruption of Askja in 1875.

Lukas gripped the paper tightly, shaking slightly. 82%. His vision blurred until all he could see was that number. A B, how could he have gotten a B? And in Algebra of all things? Math was one of his best subjects, it was unfathomable that he could have gotten anything less than an A on a test.

He glanced cautiously around the room, keeping his face blank. “Oxenstierna,” he called to the boy in front of him. He didn’t know him that well, since they had gone to different middle schools, but he knew that Berwald also got top grades. The boy turned around, glaring at him silently, and Lukas frowned back.

“Hmm?” Berwald prompted.

“What did you get for number three?”

In lieu of a response, the boy showed him his test. Lukas only needed to glance at it to realize what his mistake had been: he had missed a negative. Stupid, so stupid. The one-millimeter-sized symbol had cost him an A. He readjusted his glasses, thinking of the consequences he’d face for this. Would it be a lecture about maintaining focus, a snide remark about finding him a tutor, or a passive-aggressive question of “how many B’s do you have now”? It was hard to predict his parents’ reactions, only that they’d have one. That’s why it was easier to focus and study and work until he achieved the perfection they demanded from him. Then, if he was lucky, they’d be proud of him. Well, they certainly wouldn’t be proud of a B...

“Thanks,” he muttered to his classmate.

His chest ached, and it was getting hard to breathe. The tips of his fingers were going numb.

“If anyone is unhappy with their grades, I’m giving out extra credit if you participate in the math competition on Saturday,” announced their teacher.

Lukas sat up a little straighter in his seat. At least he could assure his parents that he would make up for the lapse with extra credit. He took a deep breath. At least he had a plan now. After class, he went straight to the sign-up sheet.

“Didn’t think you’d need extra credit, Thomassen.”

Lukas whirled around to scowl at his classmate. “It’s none of your business, Oxenstierna.”

Berwald grabbed the test from his hands and scanned it before Lukas could snatch it back. “Not bad,” he said.

“Not good either,” he spat.

“Tough parents?”

“You could say that.”

Berwald grunted and turned around, heading for his next class, and Lukas glowered at his back. Not bad, indeed, who did he think he was?

He tried to put the test out of his mind for the rest of the day. He couldn’t let this slip mess up his focus in his other classes. He was like a juggler tossing porcelain plates; one misstep, and it would all come crashing down.

He sat by himself on the bus as usual, dug the test out of his bag, and started preparing his speech. I’m sorry, Mother and Father, but I’ll make up for it. It was a mistake, and I won’t make it again. I won’t let it affect my grade…

“Thomassen.” Lukas jumped as his thoughts were interrupted. Berwald was sitting next to him.

“Oxenstierna,” he acknowledged before looking out the window. He had to concentrate, figure out exactly what to say to appease his parents as quickly as possible.

His classmate suddenly snatched the test out of his hands once again. Lukas opened his mouth to protest, but Berwald held up one finger. He pulled two markers out of his backpack: a whiteout marker, and a fat, red correction marker. He leaned over the test, squinting in concentration, and after a minute or two gave it back to Lukas. The negative sign that he had missed was gone, as was the big red check next to problem number three. His test now proudly proclaimed 100% at the top, and you could hardly tell it had once said something different.

Lukas gaped at his classmate, who stared back silently.

Of course, these days teachers posted grades online for any parent to snoop through, but by the time Lukas’s parents would see his real grade, he would already have the extra credit from the math competition. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice it if it didn’t affect his grade. This forgery had bought him some time.

The bus came to a stop. “See you Saturday,” Berwald said, gathering his belongings and exiting. Lukas stared after him. Why had someone he barely knew done something so nice for him?