Update: Kidfic.
Title: Pen to Paper
Author/Artist: Fickledeuce
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Lithuania/Poland
Rating: PG
Warnings: Unfinished fluff?
Summary: Growing up is hard to do, and Lithuania finds a way of recording his feelings.
It started with a gift. Looking back, nobody would be able to even say who it was from, no doubt some duke from a foreign land looking to gain favour. These people, greased hair and greedy eyed, faded in and out of nation’s minds. They bore no great importance. But this time, the gift itself did, from the moment it changed hands til the day it disintegrated.
Paper was scarce in those days, and for important documents, not leisurely rambles. And yet Lithuania had always had a fascination with it, the crisp dry smell and the rivers of ink that spread like stains when his quill touched the page. Nobody quite knew how he had learnt to write, but he had, though he scarcely got to practice it. And so when he’d been presented with a book, all his own, he’d nearly cried with joy. The duke had knelt, two before him, in order for the two nations to choose which they’d prefer, in the hopes that they would favour him with their good fortunes, explaining how the diaries were ‘for them to record their noble pursuits.’ One pair of enthralled green eyes had firmly glued themselves to the books by this stage, the other pair rolling in boredom. Poland had no interest in simple stationery, and Lithuania sensed him itching next to him, wanting the stuffy procedure to end so he could vanish with his horse.
The choice of the books seemed obvious. Though equal in size, and filled with the same creamy white pages, there was a difference between them. The first attracted the eye with it’s deep marbled pattern of aqua and emerald, flecked with gold. The poet inside Lithuania sang out at this, dreaming of his forests in that same green immortalized in the diary, the waves that -
“Hey!”
XX
Two hours later, and he was still sulking. Staring at a plain leather diary, Lithuania felt like hurling it across the room. It was so unfair! Why did this always have to happen? Poland had dumped the beautiful blue diary into his bag, having snatched it right from out of Lithuania’s nose. He’d then left to go to the stables, without even looking at his new possession. Tossing his hair in indignation, Lithuania stabbed his quill into the inkwell. His first entry was surely an angry one.
It’s just so frustrating!
This diary doesn’t mean anything to me, and yet he’s got the other one and I don’t!
Poland is so selfish! He didn’t even want one!
I don’t know why I put up with it!
I’ve got my own country to go back to, and my own life, and I don’t need him! I’ll find another way to beat the Teutonic Order. I’m strong, and I got a new sword last Midsummer. I can do it!
Boss won’t care, I’m gonna pack up and leave right now, and then Poland will be sorry.
Dark eyebrows met like angry caterpillars squaring for a fight as he considered this, then slowly the quill came up to scratch through the last line, which was carefully rewritten.
Boss won’t care, I’m gonna pack up and leave right now, and then Poland will be sorry.
Maybe I’ll leave after the harvesting season instead.
Pen resting in his hand, Lithuania stopped writing for the day. As he watched out the window, the devil in question came into view, beaming from ear to ear. It looked as if on their travels Feliks and his horse had found wildflowers, if the number of them attached to the duo was anything to go by. There was more violets than hair atop Poland’s head, and the mane of the horse was so heavily ladden with daisies it seemed to be keeling over .
If Lithuania had felt his heart skip a beat, it was with rage, he told himself. It wasn’t anything else, because why would it be? It made perfect sense, for a heart to do that. If it pounded with fury normally, it was bound to have a few stutters because of it, surely? He made up his mind that if he was going to see a doctor about it, and the sudden heat on his cheeks, it would be for the doctor to tell him just how furious he was, and how that was why.
XX
It had taken a while, but Lithuania had become used to his thick, ugly diary. It became a part of him, continuously joined to his hand. And he dared to share in it thoughts he wouldn’t dare express to anybody else. The events in the diary were mostly uneventful leading up to the harvest, with only a few private matters on his mind, such as;
I don’t understand what’s going on. Today I tried to give a speech to my Boss, and in the middle of it my voice went all squeaky and high. I sounded like a girl! But no matter what they say, I’m not one! After that my voice went really low, and now it can’t stay put. I bet it’s witchcraft, and someone cursed me.
It had been something that had upset him a lot at the time, and he hadn’t spoken for a whole day after that. When he had, it had been only from pure embarrassment, and even then, he felt more comfortable telling all to the empty pages.
Water is running low here, and people often bathe together to avoid wastage. I know that, but I was hoping I could bathe with my brothers this year instead.
Nobody listened to me though. I told them all kinds of things, that I didn’t like bathing with Poland because he took up all the space (he does) and because he splashed water everywhere (He does that too) but they ignored me. I don’t really know why I didn’t want to, but it seemed weird. Even though we did it when we were little.
I- I think there’s something wrong with me. Why should I care about what he looks like, Diary? He’s just another boy, and a really stupid one at that. He can be so greedy, and he’s so messy in battle, so why would I stare at him in the water? After all, little children don’t wear clothes all the time, it’s no different.
But when he asked me to wash his hair I felt something different, instead of just being annoyed. It…I don’t know what it was. But it was nothing. Wasn’t it?
XX
As the sweet spring days passed, the household began to notice a marked change in Lithuania. At first most ignored it, calling it a 'fad' or simply a part of 'growing up', but his nobles realized more with every day that passed that their sweet, outdoor-sy boy was becoming increasingly more introverted. In times gone by, even mere weeks ago, it had been normal to wake up and draw their curtains to the sight of the two Nations playing on the lawn, rough and tumble that always seemed to end with Poland emerging 'victorious' after Lithuania's gracious surrender. Now, though, it seemed like they hardly saw the two of them together now. Often Poland could still be spotted outdoors on the turf, but he seemed almost aimless there now, wandering alone as if he was wondering where his playmate was.
If Poland had thought to look up, perhaps he would have spied him, a wistful face at a window peering out at him. Lithuania's new haunt was the library, a place many people here seemed to neglect. It was a peaceful place, where he could be alone with only the empty dance of the dust motes for company. There was a small padded window ledge where the sun would fall from midday, and it was there he made his home, diary firmly attached to his hand and several books in small stacks around him. Perhaps this would seem leisurely, a light and meaningless way to spend his days, but the young Balt's thoughts were far from trivial. He wrote pages now, trying to sort out the thoughts that kept slipping through his mind, the changes in himself that he didn't understand, and what was truly 'right' and what was 'wrong'.
Sometimes up here I wonder if anyone misses me. Boss can contact me any time he wants, he knows that. And it's not like they need me for anything now. Not now harvest is over. I think we have our neighbours sorted out now, so it doesn't seem like they'll need me to fight.
But what about everyone else? I promised someday I'd go learn more from Cook, and I haven't yet. I know they say cooking is silly, and not something I should learn to do, because I'm important now, but I enjoy it. And some day it might be important. They say we don't know what the future will bring, after all.
And I haven't exercised my horse in a long time now. I'm sure somebody will take care of her, but there are really other reasons for me to go out again, I guess.
I suppose...yes...
He's one of them.
But, it's natural to miss a friend, isn't it? And a neighbour. I was told to love my neighbours, wasn't I?
Closing the diary quietly, Lithuania bent over, and pressed his forehead to it, tucking his feet under him on the window ledge as he let out a sigh. Who was he trying to fool now anyway? Himself? He'd never had the opportunity to have that many friends before, not on the side of Europe they lived on, but this was more than that. It had taken him three solid days of research through the library's few sordid novels to figure that out. And then he'd attempted to read the Bible for the next night as a kind of cleansing to make up for that. Each thought he'd had on this journey had been carefully chronicled. Lifting his head, he flicked idly through the pages, reading the words that jumped off the paper at him.
I don't understand....
.....Do people really do things like that?
But why him? Out of everyone? ...
Author/Artist: Fickledeuce
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Lithuania/Poland
Rating: PG
Warnings: Unfinished fluff?
Summary: Growing up is hard to do, and Lithuania finds a way of recording his feelings.
It started with a gift. Looking back, nobody would be able to even say who it was from, no doubt some duke from a foreign land looking to gain favour. These people, greased hair and greedy eyed, faded in and out of nation’s minds. They bore no great importance. But this time, the gift itself did, from the moment it changed hands til the day it disintegrated.
Paper was scarce in those days, and for important documents, not leisurely rambles. And yet Lithuania had always had a fascination with it, the crisp dry smell and the rivers of ink that spread like stains when his quill touched the page. Nobody quite knew how he had learnt to write, but he had, though he scarcely got to practice it. And so when he’d been presented with a book, all his own, he’d nearly cried with joy. The duke had knelt, two before him, in order for the two nations to choose which they’d prefer, in the hopes that they would favour him with their good fortunes, explaining how the diaries were ‘for them to record their noble pursuits.’ One pair of enthralled green eyes had firmly glued themselves to the books by this stage, the other pair rolling in boredom. Poland had no interest in simple stationery, and Lithuania sensed him itching next to him, wanting the stuffy procedure to end so he could vanish with his horse.
The choice of the books seemed obvious. Though equal in size, and filled with the same creamy white pages, there was a difference between them. The first attracted the eye with it’s deep marbled pattern of aqua and emerald, flecked with gold. The poet inside Lithuania sang out at this, dreaming of his forests in that same green immortalized in the diary, the waves that -
“Hey!”
XX
Two hours later, and he was still sulking. Staring at a plain leather diary, Lithuania felt like hurling it across the room. It was so unfair! Why did this always have to happen? Poland had dumped the beautiful blue diary into his bag, having snatched it right from out of Lithuania’s nose. He’d then left to go to the stables, without even looking at his new possession. Tossing his hair in indignation, Lithuania stabbed his quill into the inkwell. His first entry was surely an angry one.
It’s just so frustrating!
This diary doesn’t mean anything to me, and yet he’s got the other one and I don’t!
Poland is so selfish! He didn’t even want one!
I don’t know why I put up with it!
I’ve got my own country to go back to, and my own life, and I don’t need him! I’ll find another way to beat the Teutonic Order. I’m strong, and I got a new sword last Midsummer. I can do it!
Boss won’t care, I’m gonna pack up and leave right now, and then Poland will be sorry.
Dark eyebrows met like angry caterpillars squaring for a fight as he considered this, then slowly the quill came up to scratch through the last line, which was carefully rewritten.
Boss won’t care, I’m gonna pack up and leave right now, and then Poland will be sorry.
Maybe I’ll leave after the harvesting season instead.
Pen resting in his hand, Lithuania stopped writing for the day. As he watched out the window, the devil in question came into view, beaming from ear to ear. It looked as if on their travels Feliks and his horse had found wildflowers, if the number of them attached to the duo was anything to go by. There was more violets than hair atop Poland’s head, and the mane of the horse was so heavily ladden with daisies it seemed to be keeling over .
If Lithuania had felt his heart skip a beat, it was with rage, he told himself. It wasn’t anything else, because why would it be? It made perfect sense, for a heart to do that. If it pounded with fury normally, it was bound to have a few stutters because of it, surely? He made up his mind that if he was going to see a doctor about it, and the sudden heat on his cheeks, it would be for the doctor to tell him just how furious he was, and how that was why.
XX
It had taken a while, but Lithuania had become used to his thick, ugly diary. It became a part of him, continuously joined to his hand. And he dared to share in it thoughts he wouldn’t dare express to anybody else. The events in the diary were mostly uneventful leading up to the harvest, with only a few private matters on his mind, such as;
I don’t understand what’s going on. Today I tried to give a speech to my Boss, and in the middle of it my voice went all squeaky and high. I sounded like a girl! But no matter what they say, I’m not one! After that my voice went really low, and now it can’t stay put. I bet it’s witchcraft, and someone cursed me.
It had been something that had upset him a lot at the time, and he hadn’t spoken for a whole day after that. When he had, it had been only from pure embarrassment, and even then, he felt more comfortable telling all to the empty pages.
Water is running low here, and people often bathe together to avoid wastage. I know that, but I was hoping I could bathe with my brothers this year instead.
Nobody listened to me though. I told them all kinds of things, that I didn’t like bathing with Poland because he took up all the space (he does) and because he splashed water everywhere (He does that too) but they ignored me. I don’t really know why I didn’t want to, but it seemed weird. Even though we did it when we were little.
I- I think there’s something wrong with me. Why should I care about what he looks like, Diary? He’s just another boy, and a really stupid one at that. He can be so greedy, and he’s so messy in battle, so why would I stare at him in the water? After all, little children don’t wear clothes all the time, it’s no different.
But when he asked me to wash his hair I felt something different, instead of just being annoyed. It…I don’t know what it was. But it was nothing. Wasn’t it?
XX
As the sweet spring days passed, the household began to notice a marked change in Lithuania. At first most ignored it, calling it a 'fad' or simply a part of 'growing up', but his nobles realized more with every day that passed that their sweet, outdoor-sy boy was becoming increasingly more introverted. In times gone by, even mere weeks ago, it had been normal to wake up and draw their curtains to the sight of the two Nations playing on the lawn, rough and tumble that always seemed to end with Poland emerging 'victorious' after Lithuania's gracious surrender. Now, though, it seemed like they hardly saw the two of them together now. Often Poland could still be spotted outdoors on the turf, but he seemed almost aimless there now, wandering alone as if he was wondering where his playmate was.
If Poland had thought to look up, perhaps he would have spied him, a wistful face at a window peering out at him. Lithuania's new haunt was the library, a place many people here seemed to neglect. It was a peaceful place, where he could be alone with only the empty dance of the dust motes for company. There was a small padded window ledge where the sun would fall from midday, and it was there he made his home, diary firmly attached to his hand and several books in small stacks around him. Perhaps this would seem leisurely, a light and meaningless way to spend his days, but the young Balt's thoughts were far from trivial. He wrote pages now, trying to sort out the thoughts that kept slipping through his mind, the changes in himself that he didn't understand, and what was truly 'right' and what was 'wrong'.
Sometimes up here I wonder if anyone misses me. Boss can contact me any time he wants, he knows that. And it's not like they need me for anything now. Not now harvest is over. I think we have our neighbours sorted out now, so it doesn't seem like they'll need me to fight.
But what about everyone else? I promised someday I'd go learn more from Cook, and I haven't yet. I know they say cooking is silly, and not something I should learn to do, because I'm important now, but I enjoy it. And some day it might be important. They say we don't know what the future will bring, after all.
And I haven't exercised my horse in a long time now. I'm sure somebody will take care of her, but there are really other reasons for me to go out again, I guess.
I suppose...yes...
He's one of them.
But, it's natural to miss a friend, isn't it? And a neighbour. I was told to love my neighbours, wasn't I?
Closing the diary quietly, Lithuania bent over, and pressed his forehead to it, tucking his feet under him on the window ledge as he let out a sigh. Who was he trying to fool now anyway? Himself? He'd never had the opportunity to have that many friends before, not on the side of Europe they lived on, but this was more than that. It had taken him three solid days of research through the library's few sordid novels to figure that out. And then he'd attempted to read the Bible for the next night as a kind of cleansing to make up for that. Each thought he'd had on this journey had been carefully chronicled. Lifting his head, he flicked idly through the pages, reading the words that jumped off the paper at him.
I don't understand....
.....Do people really do things like that?
But why him? Out of everyone? ...