(no subject)
author: konbini @ rihiten
fandom: axis powers hetalia
rating/warnings: g
drabbles: this is me avoiding schoolwork ffff
1. sighted 1544 (portugal (oc)/taiwan, maybe portugal/england if you squint lol) - 203 words
2. not harm, subjugate (vietnam, france, spain, philippines(oc), thailand) - 210 words
sighted 1544 (portugal/taiwan)
She was a feral child, ravishing and brazen and there. Inky hair, tendrils in the way of her sun-kissed skin and eyes of black jade. Spain had seen islands more beautiful but his brother had come across this one and his eyes did not blink for a moment. This one Portugal admired like a flower, or a portrait Veneziano had painted in oil and hung in hallowed halls. Perhaps, he considered as he took a sip of wine, they would burn him at the stake for falling for the vulgar lolita. So burn him! Portugal laughed. It was true; he was smitten. They had not met and already he talked of her, to her, gave her a name. England knew he had to punch his arm lightly (can't bleeding hear myself think) for his old friend to keep his flights of fancy where they ought to be. Still, he laughed - poetry. Portugal was speaking in sonnets, pieces that deconstructed themselves into stanzas, rhythmical lines into words incomprehensible, flowery language that spoke of the girl that had taken over his thoughts. Sober and out of metaphors, he resorted to the bare truth. Ilha formosa. Mouthing each syllable to the Pacific breeze, Portugal loved her.
not harm, subjugate (colonization of cochinchina)
A girl years wiser than Felipe, splashing freshwater at her brother Siam's legs, drops bursting from the lucid surface of the river they play in are made jewels by sunlight. They land on her clothes, her skin. Laughter, her sweet, sweet laughter fills the air. Her people call her Dai Nam, the Great South - what France is after.
"It pains me to know that you would dare hurt such a lovely creature, Francis," Antonio watches her wade in shallow water. His subject follows the ripples she leaves on the surface; his friend follows the legs that make them.
"I do not hurt, mon ami." Francis lets out a chuckle that sends shivers down Felipe's spine. It sounds like Antonio's, not.
They look at her - the flowering wilderness of her hair, the fire in her eyes, everything distinctly not theirs: they will tame. Her being, her soul: they will possess.
Francis has chosen another beautiful woman. Don't you think so, Felipe? Philippe? ("He's sixteen," Antonio brags when he remembers. "sixteen and a half, he's growing up too fast.")
The boy wraps his arms around his rifle, clings on to it. His charcoal eyes cast their gaze at girl he knows as Vietnam.
Yes - she's beautiful, he muses. Free.
fandom: axis powers hetalia
rating/warnings: g
drabbles: this is me avoiding schoolwork ffff
1. sighted 1544 (portugal (oc)/taiwan, maybe portugal/england if you squint lol) - 203 words
2. not harm, subjugate (vietnam, france, spain, philippines(oc), thailand) - 210 words
sighted 1544 (portugal/taiwan)
She was a feral child, ravishing and brazen and there. Inky hair, tendrils in the way of her sun-kissed skin and eyes of black jade. Spain had seen islands more beautiful but his brother had come across this one and his eyes did not blink for a moment. This one Portugal admired like a flower, or a portrait Veneziano had painted in oil and hung in hallowed halls. Perhaps, he considered as he took a sip of wine, they would burn him at the stake for falling for the vulgar lolita. So burn him! Portugal laughed. It was true; he was smitten. They had not met and already he talked of her, to her, gave her a name. England knew he had to punch his arm lightly (can't bleeding hear myself think) for his old friend to keep his flights of fancy where they ought to be. Still, he laughed - poetry. Portugal was speaking in sonnets, pieces that deconstructed themselves into stanzas, rhythmical lines into words incomprehensible, flowery language that spoke of the girl that had taken over his thoughts. Sober and out of metaphors, he resorted to the bare truth. Ilha formosa. Mouthing each syllable to the Pacific breeze, Portugal loved her.
not harm, subjugate (colonization of cochinchina)
A girl years wiser than Felipe, splashing freshwater at her brother Siam's legs, drops bursting from the lucid surface of the river they play in are made jewels by sunlight. They land on her clothes, her skin. Laughter, her sweet, sweet laughter fills the air. Her people call her Dai Nam, the Great South - what France is after.
"It pains me to know that you would dare hurt such a lovely creature, Francis," Antonio watches her wade in shallow water. His subject follows the ripples she leaves on the surface; his friend follows the legs that make them.
"I do not hurt, mon ami." Francis lets out a chuckle that sends shivers down Felipe's spine. It sounds like Antonio's, not.
They look at her - the flowering wilderness of her hair, the fire in her eyes, everything distinctly not theirs: they will tame. Her being, her soul: they will possess.
Francis has chosen another beautiful woman. Don't you think so, Felipe? Philippe? ("He's sixteen," Antonio brags when he remembers. "sixteen and a half, he's growing up too fast.")
The boy wraps his arms around his rifle, clings on to it. His charcoal eyes cast their gaze at girl he knows as Vietnam.
Yes - she's beautiful, he muses. Free.