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Post by Deleted on Jun 30, 2015 23:35:36 GMT -5
The helicopter blades sliced through the air, causing a rush of wind to push through the immediate surroundings as it slowly lowered itself onto the landing pad on the small metal fort. The British flag laid visible on the tail of the aircraft, announcing to all who had just arrived. Arthur had his chin rested in the grip of his hand as he stared out over the fort that once belonged to him. The fort had been made for simple military purposes similar to all his others during World War II. He never had suspected the strange call from his military men when they told him of a child. He visited with disbelief and suspicion of this news, initially believing it to be a result of an affair between a female staff and a soldier. Arthur had always been vulnerable to children. Their innocence and bright eyes managed to warm his heart. During his colonial years, France and Spain often called him an arrogant controlling bastard. Such words usually led to them on their knees, arms tied and a sword roughly pressed against their throat. Yet with each colony he took under his wing, each child, the terrifying pirate melted away to a loving father. His days as a pirate might be long behind him, but children still held such power over him, and this little boy was no different. His beautiful bright eyes and those familiar thick eyebrows made him the cutest little nation he had yet to see.
He knew not why a nation had appeared on his fort. Still to this day, he did not understand his existence, but he knew the boy needed his help and guidance. The war kept him away, but he certainly put in his effort to see the child and watch him grow. He gave the boy his own room and practically spoiled him in his mind. He always spoiled all of the younger nations under his mentorship. He suspected it to be the reason that each turned into ungrateful and misbehaved brats. He sighed softly.
The helicopter settled and the blades slowed to a stop. He sat straighter and pulled off the headphones and microphone, sitting them away before moving to the door. He flung it opened and hopped down and onto the fort. The wind pushed at his hair, yet his always dishevel appearance seemed unaffected. He folded his hands behind his back as he moved away from the landing pad towards a small micro-nation who looked less than please to see him. His bottom lip pouted out in disappointment.
“We have discussed this before, Peter. The rules of etiquette are important,” he remarked down to the young boy. “It takes the littlest of effort to smile.”
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Post by Deleted on Jul 1, 2015 12:44:43 GMT -5
Peter could actually still remember a time that his and his brother's relationship hadn't been as rocky as it was today. He could actually remember looking up to his brother like one looked up to the moon, something to be reached for and aspired for. He remembered running around in a military hat, trying to get his brother to show him how to be like him. He even remembered wanting to grow up and get strong and be a soldier for his brother. Their relationship hadn't always been this rocky, indeed.
That had probably started, to be honest, with that time Peter punched Arthur in the nose (or at least, he tried to). To be fair, that incident was an anomaly, since Peter wasn't a violent person, and had to do with the fact that Peter had been in a terrible place emotionally when he first became an independent country. Latvia later told him that by 'don't hide your emotions' he hadn't really meant 'punch your brother in the face' while helping ice Peter's knuckles, which had probably wound up more injured than his brother's face thanks to the fact that Peter, at the time, had no idea how to throw a punch.
Since then, Peter had calmed down significantly (and learned how to punch someone properly). He was no longer in a state of absurd emotional turmoil like he was for those first years, even if some of that loud shell he'd worn back then sort of just never went away. Their relationship, though? There were some things that were hard to heal from, and all of the feelings that had made Peter punch his brother remained somewhere in him. There were some things that were hard to ever forgive, and the time of being "nothing" between "fort" and "nation" was pretty hard to forgive anyone for.
It also didn't help that Arthur always managed to bring the worst out in Peter, and Peter wasn't even sure why. Sure, he was sometimes rather belligerent and childish with other people, but he was rarely just mean. And yet, somehow, he wound up saying things that were actually cruel to his brother and he didn't even understand why he couldn't just stop. He'd try to apologize, but the words wouldn't come out, and then Arthur would say something that made Peter mad at him all over again in some sort of vicious cycle. Sometimes, they were fine. Oftentimes, they were not.
In recent years, Peter's emotional state had gotten poorer again and Peter's insistence on his own independence had gotten much, much louder again. No wonder everything had ended so badly the last time they talked, really. And it was no wonder that Peter had been avoiding the man, since talking to him while his emotions were running high never, ever ended well.
Unfortunately? Avoidance didn't seem to be an option anymore.
"I really, really don't want to have to deal with him right now," he whined to his boss, who was giving him an exasperated expression. "Can't you tell him that I'm diving, re-securing some of the electrical systems? It'll actually be true, too! We've had power flickers and I need to work on it! It's not the most urgent thing, but I do have to do it and suddenly now seems like a very good time-" he rambled, before starting to go into technobabble about induction motors and generators and his wiring system. After a few minutes, his boss stopped him.
"Both as your boss and as family, I think you need to talk to him," James Bates said, his hand covering Peter's mouth. Peter huffed, but after a few minutes, relented and nodded to the man. He sighed and looked at the radio operator that was communicating with his brother and the small radar blip that told him there was a helicopter above him, telling him that over and over with each refresh of the screen, even as he silently wished it would just sort of disappear.
With a small, weary, not-yet-emotionally-prepared sigh, Peter left the room and started climbing ladders to get to the landing pad for the helicopter, a small frown on his face. He could try to smile, but there wasn't really a point. Once upon a time, he would have been thrilled, unabashedly thrilled to have his brother visit him. Now it mostly just left him feeling dry. It's funny: for someone who loves the idea of family so much, Peter seemed to want every family but his own.
He waited, wind whipping against his blonde hair, his blue eyes piercing the sky, as the helicopter landed. It was a relatively chilly day, but Peter was still wearing shorts and short sleeves. It took a bit more than "chilly" to make him not. His eyes traced his brother's motions within the helicopter. He could do this. He could do this and everything would be fine. They could even have a reasonable, friendly discussion, maybe even have fun together? Yeah. He could do this. He could do this, just so long as his brother didn't nag too much, didn't start with...
...that. Peter's frown got deeper, and then he was suddenly already irritated with the older man. He really had to start this off with nagging? Really? Any thoughts Peter had of apologizing for his last argument vanished. He didn't smile. "You could have given me more warning," he somehow managed to mutter petulantly despite the fact that he was shouting over the sound of the helicopter slowly shutting off. "So that I could be sure that I was prepared. Even though we're small, we actually have to use that landing pad a lot, you know." Of course, he mostly just wished that Arthur had given him more time to emotionally prepare. He'd never say that out loud, though.
"So, why are you here?" he asked. He doubted it was simply "I want to visit my little brother". It was rarely just a plain-old visit. There was always something else.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 1, 2015 21:57:12 GMT -5
Peter lived up to his namesake. Arthur had always enjoyed Peter Pan and Wendy by J. M. Barrie. The concept entertain him, and occasionally brought out a more youthful and playful side to the serious Englishman.
He first came across the boy in the thralls of World War II. The constant influx of bombing on his Capitol left him shaken. Europe was lost to Germany and submarines traversed the waters around him. He would not lose, and he would not surrender. He held too much pride in his people. If Germany planned to destroy him, he planned to go down with his chin held high. No matter one’s pride, however, fear has a subtle way of creeping in. For while he stayed as strong as an unshaken wall, he felt the real possibility of losing his Great Nation fall to the Nazi and dictatorship. Fear still wrapped its clutches around him when he visited the fort, fear strangled him as he walked aboard and his mind still at home with the sirens, and fear weighed down his body as he followed one of his soldiers to the room with the boy.
And yet, that same fear washed away with ease as his eyes first landed on the boy. His cute features and determined eyes gave him something he had almost thought forgotten. Hope. He had not lost the war yet, which meant a chance to win was still within his reach. He made him believe. For if a nation could be born in the middle of the ocean with only a few stationed men during a middle of a terrible war, than an older nation who once controlled the majority of the world could win against the Nazis. He made him believe like his favorite fictional character Peter Pan.
A sweet smile had crossed his face as he gently reached out and glided his hand through the boy’s fluff of blonde hair, “Hello Peter, welcome to the world.”
He never thought naming the boy after the famously forever young playful character would lead to him gaining the role of Captain Hook. It seemed all the boy wished to do these days was argue with him, throwing cruel names towards his presence every time they spoke. He had garnered sympathy for the old pirate over the years. Captain Hook trapped on an island with children who knew nothing of respect. The last time they had visited, Peter had been outright nasty.
No wonder none of your family seems to stand you!
His lips moved to respond, but speech became lost, far too distracted by the consuming agony of the truth of those words. He left quickly after. A gentleman does not cry in public, and he knew that deep down the boy had not meant to say them. He decided to give him space, but as time went on, he became distracted by other official business and lost track of the months. It had been nearing a year since their last conversation, and it appeared that even with all that time, the boy still despised him.
“If I gave warning, I suspect you have been conveniently unavailable,” he noted bluntly to him. He adjusted his sleeves in the wind, before turning his gaze to the fort in general. He knew his population had grown, mostly with cowards from his own nation, but he would not pressure the boy to give them back. Peter might proclaim to be his own sovereign nation, but Arthur still considered him part of the United Kingdom. It was his job to protect him.
At the question, he turned back to the boy. He saw no reason to gallivant about the point. “I heard you spoke to Russia recently,” he stated.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 2, 2015 20:18:17 GMT -5
He didn't hate England. He didn't despise him. Sometimes, he'd shout about how he hated him, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Maybe, once, Peter had gone through a phase where he well and truly hated the man, and maybe Peter had never quite healed from some of that. But he didn't really. He just wasn't certain his older brother got that. Maybe that was why Arthur always seemed so cold. But it didn't really matter, much. Peter didn't really think their flaws would be fixed so easily, the way that Arthur knew the exact wrong things to say at the worst times. The two of them had fixed things a bit, once upon a time. They'd just gotten bad again as the war tore across everything else and they both realized that things had changed- or was it only Peter that seemed to realize that?
Times like now, Peter wondered if his once "big brother" realized at all that Peter had, in fact, grown up. He'd changed. He'd been through things and that had changed him and he'd come out a creature spitting fire and covered in a protective steel shell until a friend took a moment to help Peter fix that. He'd grown up. As much as Arthur seemed to miss it, Peter was even mostly independent from his Daddy at this point. So to watch Arthur come in and nag him was immediately irritating because it made him want to shout into deaf ears that he wasn't just some little kid, he wasn't!
His brother's next words, however, made Peter visibly wince. That was, unfortunately, a bit true. He probably would have panicked and come up with a bad excuse somewhere along the line to not confront the object of so many of Peter's insecurities, that great big Something that he still didn't really know what he felt about. What were his feelings towards his brother, anyway? He just didn't really know. He didn't blame him for That anymore, really. Okay. Maybe a little. But it wasn't the end all and be all between them, either. Maybe Peter wanted to be like Arthur, except he wanted to be everything but that. Maybe Peter loved his brother, except looking at him now he felt something nearer confusion every time he tried to understand.
So yes, he probably would have avoided it, not that he wanted to admit that to Arthur. He looked away and muttered "Yeah, well," his voice getting lost under the roaring of the helicopter. He couldn't really figure out what to say. He still wasn't smiling, not even the little, forced, painful-to-watch ones that he sometimes came out with when nothing else would work. Right now, he didn't particularly feel like it. He suspected he'd be getting emotional enough without trying to wrestle a smile onto his face and couldn't find himself bothered to do so. Arthur would see right through it, anyway.
The wind bit against his arms, little tiny knives that were almost as distracting as the cacophony of sound the helicopter and the breeze and the waves made up on that helipad. Before he let Arthur speak again, he gestured towards the door. "We should go inside," he shouted, "so we can actually hear each other." They certainly had enough miscommunication, after all, without considering a situation when neither of them could hear the other one properly.
So Peter had already started walking when Arthur answered his question (of course there was a why and that why was business, it was never any different and he didn't care, so why did it sting every time?). It was probably only the fact that Peter wasn't quite facing his brother that prevented the boy from already getting upset, because he could, in fact, take care of himself, and Arthur, in fact, was not actually his dad. England had no right to judge him on that or to start acting protective or to tell Peter that he should have told him about it, or, or, or whatever Arthur wound up deciding Peter had been supposed to do!
Deep breath. He was probably just worried, which was irritating already (and it was funny, actually, how Peter found Sweden's worrying a little bit more wonderful and a little less irritating, though it was at least a little irritating), but not necessarily something he should get worked up over. Peter was pretty sure he'd managed to psych himself out some at this point, pre work himself up somehow, because he was on a razor's edge. He needed to calm down. There was nothing saying that this would go badly, not if he didn't make it go that way.
Peter took a moment before answering his brother's statement. He still sounded a little petulant, but more irritated at the world than at his brother. "You weren't supposed to hear about that. No one was supposed to hear about that!" he said, waving his hands slightly. "Don't even ask me how Daddy figured it out because I keep my word and I didn't tell him, at least, not directly!" He sighed and put his hands down. "...so yes. But you shouldn't worry. As you can see, I'm fine, and I can take care of myself, you know."
...well. He hadn't meant to bring that sticking point in so early. Whoops. It was going to show up eventually, so, Peter supposed, now would be fine enough. Besides, it was true. His brother shouldn't worry so much. Actually, that meeting, for all that Peter's meltdowns emotional breakdowns slipups during that meeting might suggest, it went a little bit better than Peter would have otherwise expected. Not that Arthur should have to know, anyway. He wasn't Peter's dad.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 5, 2015 16:08:53 GMT -5
Peter was not the first to buck his authority, call him harsh names, and proclaim his hatred for him. As the British Empire, his colonial power could not be matched by anyone, possibly Spain, but that git rarely remembered where his shoes were left, let alone the colonies underneath his influence. He watched as each one of them slip from his grasp and become their own nation, their own man. Alfred had been the worse, for he was the first to do so. Before the day he received the Declaration of Independence, he never considered Alfred wanted to leave. He thought his misbehaving was an aspect of all young colonies. He thought after America leaving him, he could harden himself to all critiques, and yet more followed suit, spouting similar nonsense as America. Each one left Arthur torn and broken hearted, except he began to realize that as a father figure eventually those underneath him needed to prove they could stand on their own without his support. He understood, or at least grew to understand.
Nations could not find their place if he stood looming in the background.
However, Peter was different. Peter wasn’t like his other colonies. He was not a nation with land, he was a military fort. If Arthur had a hard enough time accepting his colonies independence, how did Peter believe it would be simple for Arthur to accept his? A military fort with few people hardly counted as a stable nation that could protect itself against foreign invaders. He recognized that the young boy had grown since his conception. He had become smarter and cautious and managed to keep the few people on his fort suitably fed and alive, except he did so at the cost of Great Britain. He knew Peter stole his arms and food. He knew he managed to sneak through his airports under false names and passports. He did not outwardly accuse the boy for he prefer he steal from him, than another nation, but it was proof enough that he needed Arthur. He only survived because Arthur allowed him too, and the boy, far too trapped in his own stubbornness, did not recognize it.
So yes, Arthur still saw Peter as a young child, for he had yet to prove otherwise.
He rolled his eyes at the response, his foot tapping in annoyance. If the boy did live in his home, he suspected Peter would have holed himself in his room, only coming out for food. He remembered China speaking of similar instances with Hong Kong. Oh, Hong Kong, he should find a way to get a letter to him. He nodded in agreement at the boy’s shouting, and walked with an air of a gentleman, following after his young ward. Though if the boy was being polite he would have greeted him into his home immediately after his arrival and offered tea.
His frowned deepened at his next words as they moved away from the helicopter. When he first heard the news of Russia’s visit, he had hoped it not to be true. His intelligence services had been incorrect in the past. After all, he had thought if Peter were to be visited, the boy would at least give him a quick call. “I determined it when I lost a fleet of my ships to Russian Submarines,” he noted, bitterly, giving him a sharp look. “I did not know you thought so little of me that I did not deserve warning.” The young nation proclaimed neutrality, but he supposed somewhere in his thoughts, he had thought Peter would indeed share news if an imminent threat. Worse, however, was the bloody fact that Peter had been anywhere alone with the Russian man. Russia, to this day, was extremely dangerous, and in some effect, Arthur could not wrap his mind around his Peter had come out of the encounter unscratched.
He huffed and stopped his tracks, his arms folded over his chest. “Don’t be cheeky with me,” he spoke seriously. “Russia is extremely dangerous. I have known many nations who proclaim, as you so gallantly did, that they could take care of themselves, and a few months later they find themselves with the Russian Red Army at their back doorsteps. Smarten up!” he snapped.
He inwardly scolded himself. Shouting at him would get him nowhere. His eyes squeezed shut in annoyance, as he tried to pull his temper back under control.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 7, 2015 19:24:49 GMT -5
Peter couldn't help but feel guilty as his brother kept on talking. When he explained that he'd found out about the visit after a large number of his ships had been sunk, Peter visibly shrunk in on himself some. He tried not to look back at his brother's eyes. He didn't want to see the anger that he was absolutely certain was there, and for a split second, he was utterly terrified that he'd let the older man down. He didn't hold out long. For a moment, he turned back towards his brother, and his expression was some combination of utterly horrified to hear about a disaster like that and completely and totally resigned to hearing about such things, with a little bit of guilt and a little bit of defiance spread into it. It was the expression of someone who'd known exactly what was going to happen but had hoped it wouldn't anyway.
A moment later, he felt angry at himself, too, because as he left the roaring thunder of the helicopter outside, his thoughts kept on bouncing around in his suddenly quiet head, and, for a moment, he'd really, really wanted to impress his older brother again, or, more like, had been frightened he'd lost his older brother's approval. But he wasn't supposed to care anymore, see? And he didn't! It didn't matter anymore, because he knew for a fact that he'd lost any approval from his brother a long, long time ago. If his brother didn't care, Peter shouldn't either. But that didn't mean it occasionally still hurt when he let his guard down. Like now.
Still feeling a bit small, he tried to offer up an explanation. Or, no. Not an explanation, and not an apology, but some tangent of the two things that might add together to either if twisted around and looked at from the correct direction, even if it wasn't really directly either. "I... I mentioned it indirectly on my show (I think that's how Daddy heard about it, actually), but I wasn't going to directly break my word, not after everything that he'd been saying, and I couldn't say that much on the show either 'cause I know Raivis listens to it and Russia said things that implied that he definitely heard it and I wasn't gonna go back on my word, I don't do that, and he directly asked me not to tell anyone, and... yeah." It was long and rambling, but it was the closest to a "sorry, sorry that happened, are you okay, you aren't too hurt?" that Peter was actually going to get.
Peter really did hope Arthur wasn't badly hurt, though. He'd feel utterly horrid for, well, probably for the next several weeks, honestly, if the man proved to be injured. But Peter wasn't going to hear about it. He didn't want to. He didn't need to, honestly, but there wasn't supposed to be collateral damage with neutrality, and his brother wasn't supposed to be close to the fighting, anyway. Something that he'd tried to explain, stumbled around, and never quite said right: his brother was on one side of the war. He'd almost been on that one. But his best friend, the person who'd dragged Peter from rock bottom, was on the other side. Even if it wasn't by choice, how, exactly, was he supposed to choose?
So he'd taken the third option. It just figured that would be the one that alienated both of them.
Suddenly, he felt as much as heard and saw his brother stop in his tracks. He turned around to face him completely as his brother spoke. Peter's heart clenched for a moment, and, before he could think, he'd already snapped out "Of course I know he's dangerous- my first and best friend is Raivis Galante, who I met during the Cold War." After he said it, though, he took a moment to process his brother's words, and realized that this probably wasn't the best response he could have had to his argument. He took a moment to process it again.
Unfortunately, Peter's own argument kept on looping back to the same things. Mostly, the fact that Peter was well aware of the fact that he was doing some pretty dangerous things. He wasn't trying to be all that safe. Well, correction. He was trying to stay right on the border of safe, where he could feel secure about the safety of his People. He himself, though? If it had been any other situation, he might have given a wry grin, but his face remained a bit more stony than normal (perhaps he was beginning to take after his Daddy...). He'd given himself more major injuries, had gone through a proper Nation healing process, far more times in recent years than ever before. Mind you, the majority involved some degree of electrocution (wiring under salt water was the sort of thing Peter refused to let anyone but himself touch), but a great deal involved guns or explosions, too.
He hadn't figured out how to explain to Arthur yet, actually, some of the more dangerous things that he did. Then again, Peter hadn't really figured out how to explain those things to his Daddy, either. So he just sort of... didn't. He assumed that they both kind-of knew that Peter was helping with some of those things, he just spared them the details, conveniently forgot to mention some of them (like the plans he had in North Korea that would go so badly later). But they did prove, in a way, that he could take care of himself. He could!
He sighed. "I mean- yes, I know he's dangerous, I just, you don't need to worry now, it's already happened and I'm" (mostly) "fine!" He shook his head. No, he was still shouting. He took a deep breath. He could come up with a way to do this without shouting. Probably. Mostly likely.
He just... couldn't come up with the words for now. But he would. He just... needed a few minutes first?
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Post by Deleted on Jul 16, 2015 20:20:13 GMT -5
The rambling of a child with his hand stuck in the cookie jaw started to slip from the younger one’s mouth like a waterfall. As he continued, his eyes only narrowed further and sharper as if the excuses justified nothing. He recognized the boy’s guilt. A puppy might be adorable with their big eyes and floppy ears, but it does not make him less agitated to know that puppy made a mess in his kitchen. Then again, the young sprout had been in conversing with Russia.
Bloody hell, what was this child thinking?!
If he would have called him, Arthur would have been there with his forces. Neutral or not, Arthur would not allow the Joint Pact to hurt him. The boy had been born during a war, so in some regards he should have a taste for it, but…but he was a child. A terribly misbehave child, but a child nonetheless! Yet there was very little Arthur could do if he continued to keep him in the dark. He could not help if he did not know help was needed. “You have no recognition of danger, boy. You should have rung, not only for my sake but your own,” he remarked bitterly.
He knew in his absence though that the boy had taken on many friends, and Latvia to be one of them. He wondered where Peter had gotten that magnetic personality that could befriend anyone. Actually, his large brows furrowed in thought. Most of his colonies never had difficulty befriending others. Quite strange, considering Arthur could list his own friends on one hand. If anything, they should be more careful who they associate themselves with. He had nothing against Latvia. After all, the smaller nation had joined NATO and the EU for a time. But Latvia and all the Baltics came with baggage none of them wished to carry.
“Now here, don’t spout that rubbish to me,” he scolded, “You can’t expect me not to worry when you frolic about with enemy forces set on conquering the whole bloody world!” His voice rose without his consent. He had alright to worry! He had raised the young brat!
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Post by Deleted on Jul 27, 2015 14:38:34 GMT -5
The guilt Peter felt for a few minutes there, the desire to know that his brother was okay, it faded a little as his older brother stared at him with narrow, accusatory eyes, and as Peter remembered that there was very little for him to feel guilty about in the first place. He'd done exactly what he had been doing this whole time, and yes, someone got hurt, and it hurt to think that anyone had at all, and it hurt more to think that his older brother had but what kind of decision was that anyway? He had to- he just had to make choices and they were permanant now and couldn't his brother see that he was trying to apologize? Maybe if Peter could just manage to say it plainly and straightly, then he'd understand, but Peter wasn't sure he could. He didn't particularly feel like he could apologize for something that was only a little bit his fault and not entirely apology-worthy. Whatever. It wasn't like miscommunication between them was anything new, anyway. Peter was pretty certain that they miscommunicated all the time. He wasn't quite sure how it happened, either. Peter, after all, was a kid who could easily translate what Sweden was saying and what his infamously stony-faced Daddy's emotions actually were. Why couldn't he do the same with his older brother? Probably because they'd never spent enough time together. Not that this was Peter's fault. He'd once lived and breathed his older brother. But he'd grown up now. He knew better, now. Doing that was only going to get Peter to burn out again, to sink into salt and sea like a dying fire. He'd found better people. He'd even managed to stop being so angry and everything else. That didn't mean it didn't sting a little, each time his brother looked at him like that, sting and make him cross his arms and huff and get more and more belligerent because he still wasn't the one that had done everything wrong! (Which one of them did that refer to, anyway?) "I can recognize danger, I didn't know they were Russian until he actually showed up in particular, and what, did you want me to call you while he was watching?" he muttered, his words low and frustrated. This argument was just going to go in circles, wasn't it? He didn't think his brother would really understand, anyway, why Peter tried so hard to keep his word, even if it was about things he didn't really want to do. How many times do you have to watch people making unkeepable promises and breaking them as they walked to understand that? He wasn't sure, but Peter was never going to be one of those people. Never. He caught Arthur's narrowed eyes for a moment over his mention of Latvia, too, and very, very nearly lept to an impassioned defense ( he's been there more than you ever have!), but, either "alas" or "thankfully", his brother didn't say anything. Peter had caught before that Arthur didn't entirely approve of it, and understood the "why" to some degree. Peter just figured he didn't care, was all. But as long as his brother didn't actually say anything, Peter wouldn't shout. He shouldn't be shouting. He shouldn't be shouting. It's just, Arthur made it so easy to shout at him! Especially when he snapped at Peter and Peter's blood boiled because wow, wasn't that just a one-sided way of looking at things and he wasn't talking rubbish, he wasn't! Why couldn't his brother just take him a little seriously for once! Peter very nearly snapped at Arthur that right, because you haven't tried the world-conquering thing before. What was it they said? "The sun never sets on the British Empire"? Peter'd looked it up! It still didn't! He almost literally bit his tongue to keep from mentioning it. Stay calm. This didn't need to turn into a shouting match. Stay calm. He wound up shouting anyway, "It's not just rubbish! Don't just dismiss me!" Bit by bit, Peter's temper rose more. "I'm not just, just frolicking, either! I'm actually having to work! I actually work hard and try to take care of people! I-" he cut himself off, not trusting himself not to say worse. He took a visible deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself down. He could do this. He could do this. Probably. He took another deep breath before muttering "Don't just dismiss me like that," in a low, angry but mostly just hurt sort of voice. He shouldn't have expected anything else. His brother never gave him anything else. His brother had always been chief of the people who refused to take Peter with any kind of serious, who practically delegated him to a non-entity with the way they acted like he didn't count for anything. His expression was twisted and hurt and angry and he took another deep breath and reminded himself that his brother wasn't trying to hurt him, probably, that the strong language with strong, dismissive meanings (frolicking, as if, rubbish, he'd more than that) was just a product of anger, they both just needed to cool down because his brother was actually swearing some in front of him (not that Arthur ever had a clean mouth but still). He was just worried. Not entirely justifiably so, though somewhat justifiably so, and he was worried so he was saying things that he didn't mean. Yeah, right. Okay, no, breathe. "Can we change the subject?" Peter muttered. He didn't say why, but he assumed it was obvious. Breathe. They didn't have to shout. Breathe. |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 21, 2015 21:38:17 GMT -5
He raised far too many ungrateful children. He would discuss this in the Fallen Colonial Power Meeting that took place every month with Spain, France, and Portugal. They accused Arthur of absent parenting, but only so much could be expected when it took months to travel by ship to each colony. It had been a different time, a different era, where each of his colonies was protected by oceans and reality. The wars they fought were nothing to the ones Arthur faced at home. Out of all of them, Sealand should understand for he lived during World War II, the worse war of them all. Arthur might have left him alone after the war, but it had been a time when Arthur could barely pull himself out of bed, the reconstruction only starting. He knew Sealand to be safe, the war was over. He did not have to stop by every month to check on him. He had to heal himself, and yet the boy accused him of abandonment. The years had certainly gotten the best of him, but there was much to do with the communist rise in the world. He tried his bloody best! His largest regret in the world and his largest joy were his younger siblings.
“As you say, you’re quite resourceful,” he bit back at his remark. His hand clenched and unclenched as he moved as if squeezing an imaginary stress ball. Arthur only hoped to make the boy realize that he had not had to face the Russian alone if he would have only gotten word to him, told him. He would have been here. Peter might give him migraines, but he still considered him family and his responsibility.
He sighed, frustrated. He could already feel one of those particular migraines popping to the surface. “I am not dismissing you, Peter. I am pointing out god damn bloody facts!” he snapped, his temper tipping to the edge. “I am trying help you!”
He took a few calming beathes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew Sealand had managed along quite well, like a lone sailboat in sea, but at the end of the day, if a storm were to come that sailboat would capsize. Arthur only wanted to prevent such a day.
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Deleted
(Deleted User)
I was deleted!
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Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2015 19:48:07 GMT -5
For a moment, Peter's face, still slightly sullen, glowed. He wasn't grinning that terribly wide, mostly innocent, ever-childish smile that he sometimes gave, but for a moment, it was very, very visible that he still liked to hear any kind of approval at all from his older brother. Never mind the fact that Arthur calling him resourceful was said in a clipped, angered tone. At least he acknowledged it! A moment later, though, the glow vanished as Peter remembered that there was a context to that statement, and that it wasn't necessarily flattering.
He was falling into the same trap again. He shook his head internally. No. He was not searching for approval like that again, because Peter knew perfectly well that he wasn't getting it. His brother didn't give approval. Peter was pretty certain that, if he tried, he might be able to find some kind of appreciation from his brother, but Peter had a harder time, sometimes, reading his brother than he had reading his Daddy. It was funny, too. Daddy was supposed to be the stoic one, even compared to his brother. It was just, well, Peter was certain there was more to his brother (even if he couldn't lift his hopes up too high). There had to be. There had to be more than the yelling and disapproval and the "you aren't a real country" and all that. (It would break him too much if he let himself think there wasn't.)
In the end, several emotions flickered across his face, but all Peter responded with was an eye-roll. Resourceful, but not quite that resourceful. And also, he didn't break his word, unlike apparently everyone else. There was only but so much Peter could have done about the situation, anyway, and in the end he was going to try his best to not let anyone get hurt. Even if he didn't like them. Even if he should have realized his brother would start yelling at him about it. There wasn't a response Peter felt he could really give, though. He'd tried.
He just wanted to change the subject, now, especially after he blew up. He did not want to talk about things that were just going to cause him more upset. He wondered if Arthur did- Peter paused. What of their interests intersected, anyway? It took Peter a moment of thought. Maybe he'd show Arthur some drawings, or one of the designs Peter had made for things that sounded cool but he'd have no practical use for. Maybe Arthur would like those? It would be something they could try to reconnect a little with...
The subject didn't change, though. Instead, his brother shouted and Peter very nearly shouted back, his face screwed up, before he suddenly stopped and took a very, very deep breath. There was a moment of sheer quiet, during which time both brothers tried to breathe. He watched Arthur pinch the bridge of his nose. Peter took another deep breath. He didn't need to shout. He just had to try to defuse things. Yeah. Defuse things. Peter could do that! Peter could say something that would defuse the situation! Maybe!
Tell a joke? That might work... Slightly shakily, Peter put on a smile. Then, instead of shouting, he said "Daddy says you aren't supposed to swear in front of me." There was a teasing lilt to his voice, accompanied by a shaky laugh. It was clear that Peter was trying to make a joke, at least, instead of shout. Peter also hoped it was clear that he wasn't terribly serious. He rarely did, but Peter could, contrary to popular belief, swear. He just didn't like to. Also, when he did, it tended to be in Swedish, a fact that his Daddy probably did not want his Mama to find out about. The point was, really, that it wasn't as though he hadn't heard it before. He'd just needed something to say that wasn't angry, really.
After all, Peter hardly thought his brother was just pointing out facts. His language seemed pretty loaded, after all.
He took another deep breath and looked at his brother, slightly pleadingly. He didn't want to keep fighting, he really didn't, but they just kept on arguing in circles and now Peter had absolutely no idea what to say. He almost asked Arthur to change the subject again, but refrained. He doubted it would work. Instead he looked back away again for a moment, looking at his feet for a second before kicking them slightly. Change the subject, change the subject... "...do you know how long you'll be visiting?"
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do not forget me
About thirty years ago, Israel's boss was assasinated. By who, well, no one knows, but Israel immediately blamed Iran. Of course, that alone wouldn't have started World War III, even though Israel and Iran's various allies declared war in quick succession.
Nah, the nuclear bomb in the middle of Jerusalem probably did it.
Now? Now the rest is history. The world's been at war for thirty years, thirty years of bloodshed and pain. No one else has reached for the nuclear option quite yet, but no one's happy. So if we all die- well, do not forget me, okay?
updates
10/15/2020 Do Not Forget Me: a dark hetalia RPG is re-opened!
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Do Not Forget Me was created by Waffles and Jonathan and amazing layout and coding is thanks to SO-4 . Content is copyrighted to Do Not Forget Me unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney The mini-profile remodel is by Trinity Blair of Adoxography. Thanks!
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