My Sisters and I .:Chapter 1:.
Rating so far: PG13
Belarus left the meeting angrily. She didn't see any problems with the way she was taking care of her people. Sure, the others had called her "the worlds last dictatorship," but it surely wouldn't matter once her brother became one with everyone, and then they could get marriedmarriedmarried...
Her reprieve was interrupted by the loud chatter of an annoying Frenchman. She paid him no heed and walked past the park bench where he sat with Spain and that albino freak of a nation who dissolved a long time ago, after her beloved big brother took him as part of an agreement after the wars that left her ravaged. She was only trying her hardest to take care of her few remaining people. And anyway, her boss was the one doing all of the work... Why did the others all have to hate her so much?
Well, it didn't matter. Her big brother would show them all, and then they'd get marriedmarriedmarriedmarried... and he wouldn't be so afraid of her anymore...
Her thoughts of marriage were, once again, interrupted by the loud Frenchman.
"So, anyway, the plan is to just place the love potion into my complimentary, fine cuisine during the next world meeting..."
She noticed the words "love potion" almost immediately. An idea quickly formed in her head. She snuck behind the park bench and waited for France to turn his head, so that she could steal the mysterious package that she suspected was France's love potion.
Fortune seemed to smile on her, for he quickly became distracted by Prussia's "awesome" antics. She swiped the brown paper bag and ran off towards the airport as quickly as she could.
"Hey, France, did you hear something?"
"No. Pourquoi?"
"Must have been a jogger or something."
When she returned home, Belarus called her older sister.
"Pryvit!"
"Pryvitannie, siastra."
"Why are you calling?" Her sister's voice seemed a bit frightened; even her sister was afraid of her.
"I know we haven't always been the... closest of sisters... But I need to ask a favour of you."
Belarus explained the plan to her sister over the phone, and within the hour, her sister had come over to Russia's house, where Belarus lived anyway.
Ukraine felt a bit bad for playing a part in the ruse, but she had made a deal with her sister. A deal which was altogether satisfactory to her as well.
She put the small cake into the oven and placed her hands on her forehead, and jiggled, as she was prone to do. Would her brother ever trust her after this?
He was all she had ever wanted, a deep, dark secret left in the night. Her quiet moans, the pillow that she held in her sleep, the dreams of love.
She knew that if she ever pursued him he would run away too, just like all the others.
Ukraine wiped the tear away from her cheek and put the small cake on a plate. Would he ever forgive her?
On the phone, Belarus was surprised to hear her sister's response to her demands.
“I accept this. But, on one condition.”
She was not used to her sister ever being assertive. It was new, and confusing, like the first time her brother rejected her.
“What condition?”
“On the condition that we share.” She smiled. Finally, she would have a chance with Russia. And, there was absolutely no chance that he would run away. Even if it was just for a night, she could pretend that he loved her.
Ukraine knew why her sister was asking for her assistance. Even though sometimes her sister could be quite foolish about their brother, she knew Russia trusted his elder sister more than his younger.
Russia walked into the kitchen, confused by the smell of food. He didn't remember having made lunch. Had Belarus made him a meal filled with love potions again?
He sighed, and shook his head. She really was quite a pretty girl, if only she could find a nice boyfriend other than him, or even a girlfriend; but he quickly dispelled those images from his head.
He was surprised to see his older sister stirring a pot of some sort of soup.
"Ah, Russia! I'm so sorry! The gas was shut off at my house,"
He felt a pang of guilt at her words, and his heart stirred a bit.
"and I recently got a gas stove,"
He had been the one who had cut off her gas. She hadn't been able to pay the bills for several months straight.
"so I thought I could perhaps come over to your house so that I could cook some lunch... I'm sorry..."
"No, it's okay. You can come over anytime."
"Here, you can have this cake I made..."
"No, it's really okay."
"I insist! You've been ever so kind to me! Please! It's the least I can do!"
"If you insist..." Russia took a bite out of the cake. It was delicious. His sister really was a wonderful cook.
Within a few minutes, the cake was gone. Belarus watched from a corner and smiled one of her rare, true smiles.
Just as planned.
It was only a few minutes after eating the cake that his beloved older sister had made that Russia started to feel a bit strange. He felt odd sensations in his lower body. It felt like heat building up in his stomach, along with a feeling that he had never experienced in his daily life- only in fleeting twitches throughout the cold nights alone, which he would shortly rub away, along with the visions of his fellow nations dressed in clothes that France must have surely designed. The thoughts would come unbidden to his mind; he knew he wasn't weird like the others. The swelling was uncomfortable. It felt... good. Why?
Belarus left the meeting angrily. She didn't see any problems with the way she was taking care of her people. Sure, the others had called her "the worlds last dictatorship," but it surely wouldn't matter once her brother became one with everyone, and then they could get marriedmarriedmarried...
Her reprieve was interrupted by the loud chatter of an annoying Frenchman. She paid him no heed and walked past the park bench where he sat with Spain and that albino freak of a nation who dissolved a long time ago, after her beloved big brother took him as part of an agreement after the wars that left her ravaged. She was only trying her hardest to take care of her few remaining people. And anyway, her boss was the one doing all of the work... Why did the others all have to hate her so much?
Well, it didn't matter. Her big brother would show them all, and then they'd get marriedmarriedmarriedmarried... and he wouldn't be so afraid of her anymore...
Her thoughts of marriage were, once again, interrupted by the loud Frenchman.
"So, anyway, the plan is to just place the love potion into my complimentary, fine cuisine during the next world meeting..."
She noticed the words "love potion" almost immediately. An idea quickly formed in her head. She snuck behind the park bench and waited for France to turn his head, so that she could steal the mysterious package that she suspected was France's love potion.
Fortune seemed to smile on her, for he quickly became distracted by Prussia's "awesome" antics. She swiped the brown paper bag and ran off towards the airport as quickly as she could.
"Hey, France, did you hear something?"
"No. Pourquoi?"
"Must have been a jogger or something."
When she returned home, Belarus called her older sister.
"Pryvit!"
"Pryvitannie, siastra."
"Why are you calling?" Her sister's voice seemed a bit frightened; even her sister was afraid of her.
"I know we haven't always been the... closest of sisters... But I need to ask a favour of you."
Belarus explained the plan to her sister over the phone, and within the hour, her sister had come over to Russia's house, where Belarus lived anyway.
Ukraine felt a bit bad for playing a part in the ruse, but she had made a deal with her sister. A deal which was altogether satisfactory to her as well.
She put the small cake into the oven and placed her hands on her forehead, and jiggled, as she was prone to do. Would her brother ever trust her after this?
He was all she had ever wanted, a deep, dark secret left in the night. Her quiet moans, the pillow that she held in her sleep, the dreams of love.
She knew that if she ever pursued him he would run away too, just like all the others.
Ukraine wiped the tear away from her cheek and put the small cake on a plate. Would he ever forgive her?
On the phone, Belarus was surprised to hear her sister's response to her demands.
“I accept this. But, on one condition.”
She was not used to her sister ever being assertive. It was new, and confusing, like the first time her brother rejected her.
“What condition?”
“On the condition that we share.” She smiled. Finally, she would have a chance with Russia. And, there was absolutely no chance that he would run away. Even if it was just for a night, she could pretend that he loved her.
Ukraine knew why her sister was asking for her assistance. Even though sometimes her sister could be quite foolish about their brother, she knew Russia trusted his elder sister more than his younger.
Russia walked into the kitchen, confused by the smell of food. He didn't remember having made lunch. Had Belarus made him a meal filled with love potions again?
He sighed, and shook his head. She really was quite a pretty girl, if only she could find a nice boyfriend other than him, or even a girlfriend; but he quickly dispelled those images from his head.
He was surprised to see his older sister stirring a pot of some sort of soup.
"Ah, Russia! I'm so sorry! The gas was shut off at my house,"
He felt a pang of guilt at her words, and his heart stirred a bit.
"and I recently got a gas stove,"
He had been the one who had cut off her gas. She hadn't been able to pay the bills for several months straight.
"so I thought I could perhaps come over to your house so that I could cook some lunch... I'm sorry..."
"No, it's okay. You can come over anytime."
"Here, you can have this cake I made..."
"No, it's really okay."
"I insist! You've been ever so kind to me! Please! It's the least I can do!"
"If you insist..." Russia took a bite out of the cake. It was delicious. His sister really was a wonderful cook.
Within a few minutes, the cake was gone. Belarus watched from a corner and smiled one of her rare, true smiles.
Just as planned.
It was only a few minutes after eating the cake that his beloved older sister had made that Russia started to feel a bit strange. He felt odd sensations in his lower body. It felt like heat building up in his stomach, along with a feeling that he had never experienced in his daily life- only in fleeting twitches throughout the cold nights alone, which he would shortly rub away, along with the visions of his fellow nations dressed in clothes that France must have surely designed. The thoughts would come unbidden to his mind; he knew he wasn't weird like the others. The swelling was uncomfortable. It felt... good. Why?