Drabble dump~
So many mixed ratings in here. Prepare for mood whiplash. Also no notes because yeah, most of these are self explanatory or actually have no reason.
Will be updated as I add more, so check back.
Gallia quite liked Rome. But, then again, he couldn't really remember a time before the Empire had been here. His mother told him stories of freedom and of their culture from long before, and he listened intently and danced with her and laughed quite happily along with it.
But Rome was fascinating in different ways to his mother's heritage. No Nation could resist the allure of power that the Empire gave off. Even that strange Britannia, who at times was a horrible brat who fought against his conqueror with tooth and nail, was enraptured by the sheer power. Gallia quite liked Rome, for lots of reasons.
So when Rome said he would show Gallia something special, he'd very eagerly agreed.
Apparently, it wasn't art or writings or scenery or anything like that. Rome said it was a different kind of knowledge, used for different kinds of things. Sitting inside Rome's tent, Gallia poked the soft cushions that had been laid out on the ground, creating a nest and playing with the fabric tassels on the corners. What could it be? There was so much he wanted to learn about the world. For goodness sake, he was nearly 200 now.
Rome entered the tent wearing a loosely wrapped cloth around his waist. Gallia tilted his head in wonder all the scars that laced and danced across olive skin, newer ones highlighted in pink, older ones a light cream. Rome smiled, and the little blonde smiled back.
"Today, we have a biology lesson." brown eyes caught Gallia's blue, something the savage Nation couldn't name lurking in their depths.
"A biology lesson?" Gallia pouted. "But I know all sorts of stuff about the body. Greece gave me scrolls on medicine, though I couldn't read them, so I looked at the pictures." Actually, the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that he might have gotten it wrong after all. Rome smiled patiently at him.
"Yes, but there's something that nobody teaches children until they're older." Rome explained, discarding the cloth and reclining on the pillows next to Gallia.
The little blonde pouted. "Well that's mean of them. Why're they keeping it secret?" this train of thought was quickly distracted by the revelation of "You're going to show me?" he beamed with delight. The Empire chuckled and reached over, tugging at the edge of Gallia's tunic.
"That's right, but you've got to take this off for it to work right."
A tiny frown creased the blonde's forehead, but he changed quickly out of his clothes, placing them aside because he actually kind of liked those ones. He thought mother's people were the ones that dressed less, not Rome's. But Rome knew what he was doing, surely, so he just did as told.
"There we go." he nodded, then gently gripped Gallia's chin. "Now, I'm sure you're familiar with this part." Blue eyes blinked wide in surprise as Rome planted his lips against his. A little breathless from how long it lasted, Gallia pouted.
"I know that." he grumped, folding his arms. "Maman does that sometimes with you."
Rome chuckled. "Yes, yes, but that's just the beginning, you see." He unfolded Gallia's arms and placed them on his chest, drawing the boy closer. Gallia traced a few of the scars idly. "So tell me, did that feel good?"
Gallia considered it. "Uhuh."
"There are ways to make it feel even better." Rome assured, kissing him again. Rough hands traveled down Gallia's back, across his thighs, until the little Nation's breath hitched-
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
Rome was suddenly not there any more, and it took a few moments for Gallia to register that the sentence had been shouted in Gaulish, not Latin. Looking up, he saw his mother standing where Rome had once been, face a picture of fury and wrath. Rome sat up from where he'd rolled away, grasping at his head.
"Hey now, that's not polite, kicking a guy in the head when he's busy with something like that." Rome said, but his jovial tone was laced with danger. Gaul didn't seem to care.
"You will NEVER touch my son like that while I still have breath in my body!" she shrieked at him, wild and untamed and savage. "I won't let you taint him with your dirty hands! You have me, why would you want him?!"
Rome got to his feet. Gallia's instincts told him to get out of the way, which he did, scrabbling on all fours. Rome stepped forward. "My, are you jealous?" He tilted her chin up, still smiling. "Don't worry, I was going to come to you next."
Gaul spat in his face. "You gluttonous, senseless animal."
The back of Rome's hand connected hard with his mother's face, and Gallia buried his face in one of the pillows. The Empire grabbed her by the hair. "I think it's time you got a lesson too."
Gallia ran.
~~~~~~
Over Christmas, we had a family reunion. Halfway through my aunt's traditionally long prayer, and in a room of about 30 people, I heard my sister whisper to my 5 year old cousin "Now go go go". At the top of his lungs, my cousin then yelled "NIPPPLLEESSS!" We found it hilarious. MLIA.
Australia couldn't breathe for laughing.
Ireland had completely abandoned her attempt at praying and was snickering into her dinner plate, biting onto her fist to try and muffle her laughter. Scotland did no such thing, and was outright roaring with laughter. Tanzania, the one who had yelled, grinned triumphantly as the entirety of the long table that held the Commonwealth Reunion burst into varying degrees of laughter.
"Oh that was brilliant." New Zealand gasped, tears in her eyes. The fact that this had most likely been her idea in the first place was probably what had caused such hysterics.
England was turning an interesting shade of red.
Canada snickered from behind his hand, shoulders hunched to keep himself quiet since he was sitting closest to England. Jamaica fell backwards off her chair, gasping for air between giggles. This, of course, only made it harder for those surrounding her to stop laughing when England shouted-
"That is quite enough!"
Sometimes it was worrying how all he needed to do was use that tone, and everyone would snap into obedience. The room went silent. Jamaica climbed back onto her chair. England's siblings shot a look at him, like they were checking if he was going to blow something important.
Dominica giggled. "Penis."
And order was lost again.
~~~~~~
"Oranges and Lemons say the bells of St Clement's!" Sang New Zealand in an entirely different key to her brother. They had their hands clasped and raised to create an archway, which Seychelles and Hong Kong ducked under and ran around them to do again as fast as possible.
"You owe me five farthings say the bells of St Martin's!" Australia chimed, sticking a leg out to try and trip Seychelles, who was wise to the trick by now and just jumped over it.
"When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey."
"When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch."
"When will that be, say the bells of Stepney." This actually sounded like an age old argument between the two siblings more than a rhyme.
"I'm sure I don't know, says the old bell of Bow." Indeed, Australia was glaring at his sister and squeezing their hands together a little too hard.
"Here comes the candle to light you to bed..." they both sang together this time, and Seychelles squealed and ran faster through the arch, with Hong Kong speeding up behind her. "And here comes the chopper to chop off your head!!" They swung down their hands, trapping whoever was in the middle at the time between them, which happened to be a sulky looking Hong Kong. "Chop!" They raised them, and brought them down again. "Chop!" Down again, raised again. "Chop!" And finally down. Hong Kong obediently dropped to the floor. "The last man's dead!"
"Yay! I win!" Seychelles bounced up and down in triumph, while Hong Kong went to sit with the others who were also out. Jamaica patted him on the head comfortingly.
"Dere dere, winnin' ain't everyting."
"I didn't think you could win Oranges and Lemons." Wales mused from his spot in a deck chair, where he'd been watching the proceedings with Falkland Islands asleep on his lap. Kenya leaned over to whisper in Jamaica's ear so Wales wouldn't hear.
"What surprises me more is dat dey let da little blacky win." she rumbled lowly and cynically. Hong Kong curled up.
"Maybe they hate chinks more."
~~~~~~
Most of the time, Albion hated Gallia. It was just an unwritten rule that had been forged between them from the moment they had met. Gallia found Albion unattractive, boorish, bratty and mean. Albion thought Gallia was stuck up, girly, irritating and stupid.
In addition to this, they were both secretly, intensely jealous of each other.
Gallia's hair was curly and smooth, Albion's was straight and stuck up in places where it shouldn't. Albion's eyes were a bright, entrancing green, where Gallia thought his eyes were quite common really, especially amongst his own people. Gallia had a mother to protect him. Albion had occasional freedom from Rome, when he wasn't being clingy.
This perfect balance of jealousy was broken when Gallia's mother died.
Albion didn't realise how attuned he'd become to happenings on the other side of the ocean until he suddenly felt the void. He didn't think much about it either when he packed a few essentials and got on the next boat to the mainland. He continued not thinking about it in detail until he got to where he was meant to be; the bit of Gallia's land (because it was his now, wasn't it) that stuck out into the ocean.
The other little boy wasn't so little any more. He'd grown much taller than Albion. At a guess, he looked about 13. He was sitting on a wall, one of Rome's, with a spade in hand. His usual pristine appearance was covered in mud, pretty curls in a tangled mess. Albion sat on the wall next to him and stared into the empty grave Gallia had dug.
Neither of them said a word. The spring had the birds set singing in the trees and the sun shining through the intermittent clouds.
"This isn't fair." Gallia said quietly after a long while. Albion kicked his feet out.
"Most things aren't." he replied. The other boy looked at him. He wasn't crying, though his eyes were slightly red, and he wasn't angry. He just looked tired.
"What did you do?"
Albion met his eyes. "I fought back."
"Did it work?"
"... no." The admittance was harder than it should have been. "I didn't even last three months."
Gallia looked thoughtful, though his eyes weren't as bright as they used to be. They were dark with pain and loss and anger. He smiled a smile that wasn't really a smile.
"I'm better at most things than you."
~~~~~~
"We're going to die we're going to die we're going to die WE ARE GOING TO DIE." Peru's mutters became a screech in Bolivia's ear. As the one driving the car, he would have thought he should be the last person to distract while on this particular road.
"For god's sake-- Chile, shut him up will you?" he grumbled, beeping his horn as the morons in front of him went as slow as humanly possible. Really, you could do sixty down here on a dry day, and it was barely raining.
Chile slammed a hand over his brother's face, though he looked similarly ashen with fear. "Er, hermano, I'm afraid he has a point."
"What?" Bolivia turned in his seat, causing Columbia to break her terrified silence and shriek "EYES ON THE ROAD YOU IDIOT!"
"That, ah, this road is extremely dangerous and why do you even have it and- FOR GOD'S SAKE PLEASE LOOK FORWARD!"
Bolivia turned back round in his seat, rolling his eyes. Wimps. It was only El Camino de la Muerte.
Saw it on Top Gear, couldn't resist.
Will be updated as I add more, so check back.
Gallia quite liked Rome. But, then again, he couldn't really remember a time before the Empire had been here. His mother told him stories of freedom and of their culture from long before, and he listened intently and danced with her and laughed quite happily along with it.
But Rome was fascinating in different ways to his mother's heritage. No Nation could resist the allure of power that the Empire gave off. Even that strange Britannia, who at times was a horrible brat who fought against his conqueror with tooth and nail, was enraptured by the sheer power. Gallia quite liked Rome, for lots of reasons.
So when Rome said he would show Gallia something special, he'd very eagerly agreed.
Apparently, it wasn't art or writings or scenery or anything like that. Rome said it was a different kind of knowledge, used for different kinds of things. Sitting inside Rome's tent, Gallia poked the soft cushions that had been laid out on the ground, creating a nest and playing with the fabric tassels on the corners. What could it be? There was so much he wanted to learn about the world. For goodness sake, he was nearly 200 now.
Rome entered the tent wearing a loosely wrapped cloth around his waist. Gallia tilted his head in wonder all the scars that laced and danced across olive skin, newer ones highlighted in pink, older ones a light cream. Rome smiled, and the little blonde smiled back.
"Today, we have a biology lesson." brown eyes caught Gallia's blue, something the savage Nation couldn't name lurking in their depths.
"A biology lesson?" Gallia pouted. "But I know all sorts of stuff about the body. Greece gave me scrolls on medicine, though I couldn't read them, so I looked at the pictures." Actually, the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that he might have gotten it wrong after all. Rome smiled patiently at him.
"Yes, but there's something that nobody teaches children until they're older." Rome explained, discarding the cloth and reclining on the pillows next to Gallia.
The little blonde pouted. "Well that's mean of them. Why're they keeping it secret?" this train of thought was quickly distracted by the revelation of "You're going to show me?" he beamed with delight. The Empire chuckled and reached over, tugging at the edge of Gallia's tunic.
"That's right, but you've got to take this off for it to work right."
A tiny frown creased the blonde's forehead, but he changed quickly out of his clothes, placing them aside because he actually kind of liked those ones. He thought mother's people were the ones that dressed less, not Rome's. But Rome knew what he was doing, surely, so he just did as told.
"There we go." he nodded, then gently gripped Gallia's chin. "Now, I'm sure you're familiar with this part." Blue eyes blinked wide in surprise as Rome planted his lips against his. A little breathless from how long it lasted, Gallia pouted.
"I know that." he grumped, folding his arms. "Maman does that sometimes with you."
Rome chuckled. "Yes, yes, but that's just the beginning, you see." He unfolded Gallia's arms and placed them on his chest, drawing the boy closer. Gallia traced a few of the scars idly. "So tell me, did that feel good?"
Gallia considered it. "Uhuh."
"There are ways to make it feel even better." Rome assured, kissing him again. Rough hands traveled down Gallia's back, across his thighs, until the little Nation's breath hitched-
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
Rome was suddenly not there any more, and it took a few moments for Gallia to register that the sentence had been shouted in Gaulish, not Latin. Looking up, he saw his mother standing where Rome had once been, face a picture of fury and wrath. Rome sat up from where he'd rolled away, grasping at his head.
"Hey now, that's not polite, kicking a guy in the head when he's busy with something like that." Rome said, but his jovial tone was laced with danger. Gaul didn't seem to care.
"You will NEVER touch my son like that while I still have breath in my body!" she shrieked at him, wild and untamed and savage. "I won't let you taint him with your dirty hands! You have me, why would you want him?!"
Rome got to his feet. Gallia's instincts told him to get out of the way, which he did, scrabbling on all fours. Rome stepped forward. "My, are you jealous?" He tilted her chin up, still smiling. "Don't worry, I was going to come to you next."
Gaul spat in his face. "You gluttonous, senseless animal."
The back of Rome's hand connected hard with his mother's face, and Gallia buried his face in one of the pillows. The Empire grabbed her by the hair. "I think it's time you got a lesson too."
Gallia ran.
~~~~~~
Over Christmas, we had a family reunion. Halfway through my aunt's traditionally long prayer, and in a room of about 30 people, I heard my sister whisper to my 5 year old cousin "Now go go go". At the top of his lungs, my cousin then yelled "NIPPPLLEESSS!" We found it hilarious. MLIA.
Australia couldn't breathe for laughing.
Ireland had completely abandoned her attempt at praying and was snickering into her dinner plate, biting onto her fist to try and muffle her laughter. Scotland did no such thing, and was outright roaring with laughter. Tanzania, the one who had yelled, grinned triumphantly as the entirety of the long table that held the Commonwealth Reunion burst into varying degrees of laughter.
"Oh that was brilliant." New Zealand gasped, tears in her eyes. The fact that this had most likely been her idea in the first place was probably what had caused such hysterics.
England was turning an interesting shade of red.
Canada snickered from behind his hand, shoulders hunched to keep himself quiet since he was sitting closest to England. Jamaica fell backwards off her chair, gasping for air between giggles. This, of course, only made it harder for those surrounding her to stop laughing when England shouted-
"That is quite enough!"
Sometimes it was worrying how all he needed to do was use that tone, and everyone would snap into obedience. The room went silent. Jamaica climbed back onto her chair. England's siblings shot a look at him, like they were checking if he was going to blow something important.
Dominica giggled. "Penis."
And order was lost again.
~~~~~~
"Oranges and Lemons say the bells of St Clement's!" Sang New Zealand in an entirely different key to her brother. They had their hands clasped and raised to create an archway, which Seychelles and Hong Kong ducked under and ran around them to do again as fast as possible.
"You owe me five farthings say the bells of St Martin's!" Australia chimed, sticking a leg out to try and trip Seychelles, who was wise to the trick by now and just jumped over it.
"When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey."
"When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch."
"When will that be, say the bells of Stepney." This actually sounded like an age old argument between the two siblings more than a rhyme.
"I'm sure I don't know, says the old bell of Bow." Indeed, Australia was glaring at his sister and squeezing their hands together a little too hard.
"Here comes the candle to light you to bed..." they both sang together this time, and Seychelles squealed and ran faster through the arch, with Hong Kong speeding up behind her. "And here comes the chopper to chop off your head!!" They swung down their hands, trapping whoever was in the middle at the time between them, which happened to be a sulky looking Hong Kong. "Chop!" They raised them, and brought them down again. "Chop!" Down again, raised again. "Chop!" And finally down. Hong Kong obediently dropped to the floor. "The last man's dead!"
"Yay! I win!" Seychelles bounced up and down in triumph, while Hong Kong went to sit with the others who were also out. Jamaica patted him on the head comfortingly.
"Dere dere, winnin' ain't everyting."
"I didn't think you could win Oranges and Lemons." Wales mused from his spot in a deck chair, where he'd been watching the proceedings with Falkland Islands asleep on his lap. Kenya leaned over to whisper in Jamaica's ear so Wales wouldn't hear.
"What surprises me more is dat dey let da little blacky win." she rumbled lowly and cynically. Hong Kong curled up.
"Maybe they hate chinks more."
~~~~~~
Most of the time, Albion hated Gallia. It was just an unwritten rule that had been forged between them from the moment they had met. Gallia found Albion unattractive, boorish, bratty and mean. Albion thought Gallia was stuck up, girly, irritating and stupid.
In addition to this, they were both secretly, intensely jealous of each other.
Gallia's hair was curly and smooth, Albion's was straight and stuck up in places where it shouldn't. Albion's eyes were a bright, entrancing green, where Gallia thought his eyes were quite common really, especially amongst his own people. Gallia had a mother to protect him. Albion had occasional freedom from Rome, when he wasn't being clingy.
This perfect balance of jealousy was broken when Gallia's mother died.
Albion didn't realise how attuned he'd become to happenings on the other side of the ocean until he suddenly felt the void. He didn't think much about it either when he packed a few essentials and got on the next boat to the mainland. He continued not thinking about it in detail until he got to where he was meant to be; the bit of Gallia's land (because it was his now, wasn't it) that stuck out into the ocean.
The other little boy wasn't so little any more. He'd grown much taller than Albion. At a guess, he looked about 13. He was sitting on a wall, one of Rome's, with a spade in hand. His usual pristine appearance was covered in mud, pretty curls in a tangled mess. Albion sat on the wall next to him and stared into the empty grave Gallia had dug.
Neither of them said a word. The spring had the birds set singing in the trees and the sun shining through the intermittent clouds.
"This isn't fair." Gallia said quietly after a long while. Albion kicked his feet out.
"Most things aren't." he replied. The other boy looked at him. He wasn't crying, though his eyes were slightly red, and he wasn't angry. He just looked tired.
"What did you do?"
Albion met his eyes. "I fought back."
"Did it work?"
"... no." The admittance was harder than it should have been. "I didn't even last three months."
Gallia looked thoughtful, though his eyes weren't as bright as they used to be. They were dark with pain and loss and anger. He smiled a smile that wasn't really a smile.
"I'm better at most things than you."
~~~~~~
"We're going to die we're going to die we're going to die WE ARE GOING TO DIE." Peru's mutters became a screech in Bolivia's ear. As the one driving the car, he would have thought he should be the last person to distract while on this particular road.
"For god's sake-- Chile, shut him up will you?" he grumbled, beeping his horn as the morons in front of him went as slow as humanly possible. Really, you could do sixty down here on a dry day, and it was barely raining.
Chile slammed a hand over his brother's face, though he looked similarly ashen with fear. "Er, hermano, I'm afraid he has a point."
"What?" Bolivia turned in his seat, causing Columbia to break her terrified silence and shriek "EYES ON THE ROAD YOU IDIOT!"
"That, ah, this road is extremely dangerous and why do you even have it and- FOR GOD'S SAKE PLEASE LOOK FORWARD!"
Bolivia turned back round in his seat, rolling his eyes. Wimps. It was only El Camino de la Muerte.
Saw it on Top Gear, couldn't resist.