Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Smoke

Gunpowder clouded the air, canon roar drowning out the world-and then he caught a glimpse of familiar colors in the dawn's light. "O say can you see…"

Angler

Ludwig was an inexperienced angler in this thing called love (there was no manual for him to find), but luckily there was a fish that all but threw himself into the boat.

Tattoo

He didn't know how it had gotten there; he'd just woken up one day (not the least bit hung over) and stared in bewilderment at the marks in his skin. He simply pretended it didn't exist (uniforms were wonderful things) and went about his business. Sometimes it would burn or ache, and he'd thought about low quality ink and going to a doctor-but never did. It would not be until after the War that he would discover the meaning behind the numbers lining the inside of his wrist.

Dirt

Nothing gave him more joy than to see his usually fastidious Ludwig up to his elbows in dirt just because Feliciano had asked him to help plant tomatoes.

Memo

He wrote a memo, "Propose to Italy". (It would end in disaster and the little piece of paper would be forgotten until years later, when he would find it while cleaning out his office. It went much better the second time.)

Accent

"What is it with Americans and British accents?" Alfred colored and became fascinated with the carpet.

Whisper

"Awrigh' Awthur, I'mma gonna go play now!" The Empire watched his colony run about the park with a gentle smile. "He won't always be yours you know." Arthur froze, before spinning around to confront the speaker-or tried to anyway. Strong arms pinned him in place and he nearly panicked, for all that could trap a notion was another but he didn't know this voice- "But he'll still love you, even after he rebels." A soft chuckle brushed against the frozen empire's ear. "God knows why. Well, see ya later." Suddenly his captor was gone, and when England spun around there was no one to be seen. "Awthur?" England glanced down at the tug on his sleeve. America was staring up at him, big blue eyes worried. The elder managed a smile. "It's fine, just thought I'd heard something."

Rotten

"Something is rotten in the State of Denmark." What had he done to piss England off lately?

Chick

Sprawled on the ground with arms spread, the fallen empire looked more like a baby crow than the powerful raven he had aspired to be. Too small and too still thought the black eagle, red eyes gazing at the dark feathered corpse, to be alive. But the tiniest of movements caught his sharp eye, and thus the black eagle took the chick under his wing and taught him how to fly.

This is essentially a bunch of drabbles that were eating my brain until I wrote them down. More to come. Some may or may not spawn longer fics, and lemme know if you wanna play with any of the ideas.

Until next, ClockworkRaven