Once upon a time, in the magical land of Europe, there lived a man named England. Saying he was young was like saying France was straight or Russia wasn't creepy as fuck. Throughout those years, he had experienced love, loss, victory, and the unspeakable need to punch America in the face.

Today he was writing a crack fic.

'FUCK I CAN'T BLOODY THINK OF ANYTHING,' he yelled, the power of his voice setting fire to the sheet of paper in front of him. You know, because.

'HOLY HELL, WHAT THE SHIT ARE YOU DOING?'

'AMERICA? THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?'

America got all awkward. 'Um... you're hot.'

England stared blankly at him. 'GTFO.' When he left, though, England threw a party with his fucking unicorns.

'Shit, is this bitch high?' one fucking unicorn said to another fucking unicorn.

'I'd be surprised if he wasn't, dammit!' a fucking unicorn who wasn't involved in the other fucking unicorns' conversation said.

'STFU, PAUL!'