The First Ten:
1. Introduction
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Albion found herself in a strange land. The water behind her danced mockingly: a graceful and tragic show that made a jibe at her inability to swim, and her imprisonment far away from her home. The Roman Empire had won and forcibly dragged her to his own land.
She spent the rest of the daylight hours watching the spiteful waves, and as the Roman Empire did not call for her to return she continued watching them throughout the night, hoping for a glimpse of her home land. And when the sun rose the next morning she was still no closer at seeing her home.
She heard footsteps approaching, and prepared herself for the idiotic Roman to make some stupid remark that she was sure to answer back with a sarcastic drawl. The man did not scare her, though what he could do did.
She sat down and curled in on herself, determined to ignore the other Nations presence. She wasn't going to do what the man wanted her too willingly, she wasn't scared to defy him no matter the consequences; he'd already done so much already.
"You're Britannia, right?" A young and sweet voice questioned.
Emerald eyes glanced to the side sceptically only to find a boy a bit older than herself. He had wavy blonde hair that reached his shoulders, bright blue eyes that were too strange a colour to place to one particular blue.
"No," she scoffed and turned away, she refused to be called by such a… degrading name!
"But Rome said that that's your name," the boy smiled, and skipped over beside her. He looked her up and down once, before he started to play around with her hair that was slumped against the ground.
"Your hair's nice…" she flustered at his comment before she saw him frown. "But my Mother said guys aren't allowed their hair past their shoulders, it's barbaric!"
"I'm a girl!"
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And that was how their relationship had started…
France
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2. Love
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Guinevere smiled as she saw lovers give each other the heart shaped embroidery. Despite what other thought, she believed Valentine's day needed to spent a little more romantically… just having a meal for the Saint seemed a little sad, for the Saint had, had such a romantic soul.
Of course only her colonies and such knew she had started celebrating the holiday as something much more, she didn't need for snide remarks from France about her letting her feminine side show… or something ridiculous like that. No, it was better to enjoy the holiday in her own way while she could, she was sure America would find out soon from Matthew or someone and then the rest of the world would soon follow (Alfred was sure to talk… loudly).
She smiled despite herself as she saw a man fluster as he gave his wife a heart and the woman hugged him happily. It didn't matter who found out really did it? It might be fun if other Nations started celebrating in a more romantic way, as long as she didn't have to put with any of the idiotic Nations that was.
She turned as she felt a tug on her sleeve. Matthew stood awkwardly with his arms behind his back. He wore the smart clothes that she had given him and he promised to only wear them on important occasions, because he didn't want to damage them.
"Hello Matthew," she smiled warmly, having to look up slightly at the lad, he had grown thankfully not as quick as his brother, but he had nevertheless.
"Guinevere…" He muttered and paused as though trying to remember some speech he had pre-planned, his face lit up brightly in embarrassment as he hesitated.
"Are you ok Matthew?" She questioned, and worriedly put a hand to his head. His face only got brighter.
"I…"
"You feel a little warm Matthew you're not coming down with something are you?" She fussed as he slouched back slightly.
"I-"
"It's always so cold back in your home country," she commented idly. "I worry about you…"
"He… Here…" The wavy haired blonde managed to splutter, pulling his hands in front on his self.
There was a heart the same colours as the Canadian flag, with a fine white lace attached to the edge. The cuttings weren't to a professional standard, and a bit of the lace had been cut too close compared to the rest.
Guinevere looked up, and couldn't help the silly smile plastered on her face. She pecked both of the nervous Canadian's cheeks, with a "Thank you" and made a note to make him a scarf or something back in return.
Maybe the holiday would be more fun with everyone, but for now she'd have fun celebrating with one of her most loyal… friends…
.
His heart would always be a step away from her, even when he returned to his home land…
Canada
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3. Light
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Leon, as he happily started calling his self once he had gotten used to his new language and home, clung onto one of the trees in England's massive and impressive garden. She had offered to build him a tree house in one once she realised how much he enjoyed climbing, but he had politely declined, he wasn't going to be there for too much longer so there was no need to remind her of his disappearance once he left (he saw how she looked every time a Nation left her).
He jumped easily through the branches the little forest like area at the bottom of England's garden was perfect for climbing and hiding. He had been calmly waiting at the end of the garden when he spotted long blonde hair at the woodlands entrance.
"Leon!" He heard the voice that accompanied the blonde haired woman. Her voice was much gruffer than most female voices, as she had spent many years barking out orders to her people and she had on many occasions purposefully made her voice deeper to intimidate, but nevertheless her voice still had that softness that could only belong to the opposite gender.
"Leon!" She called louder, probably thinking he was deeper in the woods, when he was really just a few branches away.
He crept silently along the branches until he was above her.
"Where is that boy?" He heard her mutter as she tried to peer through the dense darkness that the tree brought with them. He heard the worry etched into the blonde woman's tone, she always over worried about things, claiming something could always go horribly wrong the next time.
He lowered his self off the branch and dropped carefully in front of her, he didn't want to hurt her from a clumsy slip after all.
"Leon!" She called in surprise, placing her hand over her heart in surprise; she took in a quick gasp of breath before narrowing her eyes at him: a clear sign she was going to scold him.
She opened her mouth, only to scream out in surprise as a loud banging noise appeared overhead. She jumped forward into him and turned quickly in an attempt to fall into her usual fighting stance. She stared up at the firecrackers that Leon had left there as he smiled to his self.
He loved watching England's surprised faces, and loved that the fireworks light always caught her at the right angle, and as he grew older he loved the way she jump into him as though she felt safer with being in his arms. Of course he didn't enjoy being reprimanded afterwards…
.
The light from those firecrackers always reminded him of his old home but now they revealed something far better…
Hong Kong
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4. Dark
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"Sadiq…"
"Ah… Guinevere." The man in question flashed a grin that was all teeth, his rough and unshaven chin rested easily against his knuckles, his elbow claiming the table before him. He was slouched across the chair he had taken as his own for the evening, but had somehow made the action not one of unclothe behaviour, but one of grandeur that screamed of the riches he had managed to seize over the centuries.
His free hand gestured towards the seat next to him.
"Care for a seat?"
Emerald eyes analysed the man's every move, before slowly with practised grace slid into the seat, eyes not moving from the figure for a second. Sadiq made no movement, as his eyes silently watched Guinevere. The woman was an enigma to him, one second she was seemingly hiding her gender under mountains of clothing and trying to hack away at her latest enemy, then the next second she was still trying to destroy her enemies, but in a dress that had far too many layers for her to be able to move as easily as she did…
An Enigma… albeit a very intriguing one.
"A question Sadiq," the blonde said after a moment of silence, her calculating eyes never leaving him, he'd find it endearing if it wasn't for that deadly spark that her eyes just weren't able to conceal. He made no indication for her to continue. She carried on anyway.
"Why would an Empire as vast and deranged as yourself accept an invite from one of your greatest enemies?" She questioned her eyes as fixated as before, as his eyes, hidden by the mask, glanced towards the enemy in question. Portugal.
"I mean if France, or even Spain were to invite me to one of their awfully boring social gatherings I would've shot the messenger they sent dead, then returned him with my reply," she laughed lightly as though recalling a humorous memory.
"A question myself Guinevere," he slid back into the chair more, having no problem relaxing with the blonde watching him like a bird of prey would a juicy meal. "Why would a deadly, but beautiful woman like you come gallivanting over to your closest ally's enemy?"
The blonde laughed in what could only be considered good naturedly.
"Why of course, dear Portugal asked me to play nicely tonight," her eyes lit up as she surveyed the room, emerald eyes coming across the narrowed hazel eyes that belonged to her ally. She smiled and waved lightly before turning back towards Sadiq. "And there was no way I was going to be able to play nicely with Spain lurking around- like he is."
Sadiq hummed in agreement, he had noticed how Spain would always prowl around Portugal if his brother was talking to Guinevere. Portugal always seemed to tolerate his brother's annoyance, but looked more on edge than usual, more likely than not because Spain had driven England off so she decided to sit with his Turkish enemy.
"Though I am highly curious…" She droned as she tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"If it's why I'm here-"
"No, no," she laughed, dismissing the suggestion with a quick hand gesture. "I mean don't we all go to these social gatherings when invited? Even to our rivals or most hated foes ones?"
"I thought you'd kill France's or Spain's messenger," The masked Nation joked, grinning.
"Of course," She laughed again. "But that doesn't mean the reply they'd get was necessarily negative."
"So what has sparked your interest, Guinevere," The man sent her a look he knew she wouldn't see. "You don't seem the type to dwell on things for far too long."
"You don't know me well enough then Sadiq," she sent him a look that mirrored his own. "But, your mask is what has caught my curiosity."
"My mask?" He questioned surprised… well that was unusual…
"Yes…" She hummed in thought, giving him a quick once over. "You don't seem the type to hide battle scars…" She continued to survey his appearance as she thought about it. "Nor does it seem to be some peculiar fashion statement… it's far too simple to be something of the like…"
"Why, Guinevere, I never knew you were so observant," he smirked at her. "So why do you believe I wear such a plain mask?"
"Well…" She looked thoughtful. "I doubt it's to mask your reactions, I believe you probably don't need such a flimsy shield to hide your expressions from others. So, I'd have to say it's a complete mystery to me, though it does leave one intrigued."
"Why I'm greatly fond of catching such a fine woman's interest," he took an amused note on the way she forced herself not to act shocked from such a statement. "I have to question what alternative motives you may have."
"No motives Sadiq," she rolled her eyes, grinning as Portugal walked over, sending a menacing glare over at the Turkish man and handed Guinevere a glass of the finest wine he had, before the Nation stormed off after Spain's infuriating insistence.
"You've got that boy wrapped around your fingers," Sadiq commented as Guinevere took a rewarding sip from her drink.
"Portugal is just far too nice…" she sent her companion a look. "Or at least to those he likes… or tolerates… then he's lovely."
They fell into a mildly pleasant silence. Important people and Nations socialising around them, dancers passing by each other in the repetitively dull pattern they had created; maids giggling as lords flirted for the hope of a one off.
"So, going to sedate my curiosity Sadiq?" The blonde woman questioned politely, giving him an infuriatingly determined look.
"Why I only share such precious knowledge with those I trust," he smirked towards the blonde. "And I believe you're a Nation that shouldn't be simply trusted."
"You offend a woman Sadiq," she tutted, before smiling. "So how shall I gain enough trust to be let in on such a secret?"
"It depends on the person," he started as Guinevere gave an inquiring gaze, her lips lingering on the rim of her glass. "And for one as lovely as you I guess seeing my face will suffice."
"Oh," she raised a brow up looking highly amused. "So, if I was to snatch it from you or if it was to simply fall off I'd gain your trust?"
"Or you could simply ask."
"Why then Sadiq, may I see the face you frustratingly hide?" She questioned after a light laugh.
"Anything for you," he smirked teasingly. Pulling his self up right, he let both hands trail up to the white mask that sat snugly under his flamboyant hat. He pulled it off slowly, as Guinevere surveyed him with her daring emerald eyes.
"Sadiq I do believe that's cheating," she chided half disappointed, half annoyed, that once the white mask was completely off his hat cast a dark shadow across his face. All that could be seen was his amused smirk.
"Well Guinevere you should have known," and the blonde watched him a little bit, before laughing.
"I should have, shouldn't have I?"
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Even with the veil of dark shadows, she'd find a way to see him clearly…
Turkey
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5. Seeking Solace
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Guinevere Kirkland had always been a strong individual (to say the least). She had sailed the seven seas fiercely stealing from Nations that others cowered away from in fear. She had fought for all she was worth against some of the most ruthless invaders. And had forced (physically or otherwise) respect for her empire, being a woman should after all have no effect on what her people were capable of.
It was with this in mind that the blonde female had pushed herself off the mud coated ground, sent the most menacing glare possible toward America and his allies (those annoying and loathsome individuals) and returned to the sea… after all she knew a lost cause when she saw one, and her people had lost… they had lost badly and she knew somewhere her old colony was celebrating his independence with much glee and it crushed her, even if she didn't want to believe it.
She had spent the next few weeks directing her crew mindlessly across the ocean, the sea's calming presence numbing her somewhat. Supplies were running low; her men growing weak, so that when one of her men spotted land, there was no way they weren't going to dock, no matter what country they landed in or what she had to say about it.
After a few struggling hours they had managed to anchor the ship and row in to shore. They had landed in a seemingly barren land, the sand seemed dull; the land seemed dull, the sky seemed dull… Guinevere sighed as her crew dispersed, looking for sighs of food, drink and civilization.
The blonde groaned and wandered off in a completely different direction, quite content with laying down somewhere and allowing the sun's rays to kill her of dehydration (not that she'd actually die of it, but it was still the principle). This didn't seem like any land she knew… not that she particularly cared at the moment.
"Sad?" She heard a cute voice question slowly, hesitantly and in a completely different language to her own. She blinked and looked down at the young brown haired boy who shuffled from foot to foot, looking completely clueless, but curious.
She had never seen the little Nation before. She looked around and saw no other Nations or people to look after the little boy. She sighed and knelt down and looked into the boys curious green eyes.
"Where's your family… or care taker?" She questioned, though she knew the boy didn't understand as he tilted his head at, before he broke out in a big grin.
He pointed between his happy filled smile and her, and chirped a word repetitively in his own language.
"I don't really… understand…" She shrugged, and looked away, the overly happy boy reminding her of another little Nation that she wasn't particularly fond of at the moment.
Before she knew what was happening she felt tiny hands tugging the side of her mouth up into a forced smile and the little brunette grinned while nodding as though he had just created some master piece. And before Guinevere had time to comprehend what was happening she felt her eyes overfill.
The little Nation looked panicked as he watched water slide down the woman's cheeks. Looking every which way as though trying to find someone to help, after finding no one he quickly turned back determined. He pulled his self towards Guinevere's confused face and kissed each of her eyes clumsily as though these tears were some kind of wound.
And Guinevere guessed they kind of were. Laughing lightly at her own stupidity, of course everything would hurt she had just lost someone she loved dearly, and the little Nations kindness she wiped at her eyes and smiled down at the little Nation, that she wouldn't mind looking after if he didn't have anyone else. She muttered the only thing she could think to say that showed only a minimum of her gratitude for the comfort (whether the tiny Nation realised he had done so or not)…
"Thank you."
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Even before they knew each other he was willing to protect and comfort her…
Australia
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6. Break Away
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Denmark was being far too overbearing, far more demanding and Sweden couldn't stand it. He had tried to speak to Denmark about it, but Denmark was far too loud and Sweden was far too quiet. And he had no idea what to do about everything.
Strangely enough the answer came at the next World meeting. The hall was large and grand, food and drink set up along one table that spread out beside the large windows, music roaming gracefully around the room from the band that had blended into the shadows in one corner of the room, and the rest of the room was an amass of space for dancing and chairs for those who didn't wish to dance.
Sweden usually found his self on the chairs with some of the other Nordic Nations. And that's where he found his self, with Norway and Iceland, as Finland went around happily socialising, and Denmark went over to the drinks to try and out drink Prussia.
He was watching Denmark at the time wondering exactly how in the world he was going to go about everything with the Nation. When he saw Denmark and Prussia stop and quickly bolt in different directions as a long haired blonde woman approach them with hell seemingly following her.
Denmark spotted him and Norway and rushed towards them yelling something back to the blonde haired woman. Her glare intensified and she stalked after him as Denmark, quickly sat beside them as though he had been there the whole time.
"Denmark!" The woman growled, as the Nation in question, muttered something about his axe. "So King of Northern Europe," it was drawled far too sarcastically. "What's this rumour I hear Prussia and you have been spreading?"
"Well…" His blue eyes darted everywhere, before grinning at the blonde. "It couldn't have been too farfetched England, because people believed us!"
And he ran off, before she could hit him. She stalked after him, her eyes burning with rage and the promised threat of death.
Sweden on the other hand was enlightened, looking at the small blonde woman. England had once been stuck with Denmark like he was now and she had escaped him, and here she was now trying to kill the man and actually getting away with such a feat… Maybe he could just leave Denmark's house… Like she had…
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Sometime's the idea of breaking Away can be scary, but when that happens we just need a little someone to help us through…
Sweden
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7. Heaven
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He was dead. He had been dead for centuries and centuries. The last she saw of him was when he left her shores, war ridden and scars of all sorts covered his being. He smiled at her as he usually would, though this time instead of telling her to be good and to not start another rebellion until he could return and put her straight; he wished her the best for the future. He left and others came, but he was the only one to successfully and completely take over her land (though she had a few close calls).
And she was never going to see him again, but then that was a given for the dead. Of course that was the strange thing… she did see him again.
It had been an unusual affair. She had been playing around with a different type magic. She had read about it before from Germania. The Germanic Nation had told her he was able to create the wishing stars in the sky with this magic and she had never dared read up more on it until she was sure she was strong enough to use it.
But it had been a long time since the Ancient Nations of old walked among them and the people who believed in magic had slowly lessened. It was a safer time for if anything went wrong, and it was a safer time for her to keep the book hidden from other roaming eyes that might try and abuse it.
She had been going through reading spell after spell, when she came across a… strange spell. A necessarily spell it seemed. The other spells in the book were useless without mastering this spell it seemed.
So with a few days of getting everything right and ready, she sung the spell out and allowed a blaringly white light to devour her whole being. Her emerald eyes snapped shut as the light stung them. She hunched over as a searing pain stuck her back.
She tried to breath, but it was hard… very hard.
"You can open your eyes now Britannia," she heard an overly cheerful voice that made her freeze. She felt arms pull her into a tight hug, and her eyes opened quickly in shock and looked up at the face looming happily above hers.
"R… Rome!" She squealed in confusion. Why was he here? He was dead… wasn't he?
"Aw, Britannia you're an angel!" he cheekily cheered, grinning. Though only two words crept through her shock… Britannia and angel…
She looked behind her at the large white wings that spread out majestically from her shoulder blades. Then back into the bright amber eyes above her.
"What…" She was confused; greatly confused the spell didn't usually work like this, right?
"Germania wondered when you'd use his spells…" The Roman pondered. "Though he didn't think I'd be brought down!"
"What's going on?" She managed to stutter.
"Well Britannia-"
"It's England," she cut in quickly, but he ignored her.
"To use the spells you need an angels help it seems. So you take on their wings, while the angel you're borrowing the wings from gets to play around on Earth for a bit," the Roman laughed. "And so you see Britannia-"
"It's England!"
His eyes narrowed down and she glared right back not phased at all, before he smirked.
"Still stubborn as ever Britannia," and before she could cut him off he added. "Angel. So, anyways while I'm playing around on Earth you can play around with some spells!"
He started to head off leaving a bewildered girl behind, before stopping and looking over his shoulder.
"You've turned out more beautiful than I ever dreamed you would Britannia!" He smiled. "Looking mighty gorgeous especially in a Roman toga!"
She spluttered as she looked down and realised that yes her clothes had changed as well as gaining wings… what the-
"See you later Britannia!" He cheered, running from her house. "I have some adorable Grandsons to check on quickly then I'll be back!"
"Wait… What…!" So… Rome had seemingly decided death wasn't a good enough reason to stop bothering her…
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He had always been the one to watch over her, and he's continuing so in Heaven…
Rome
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8. Innocence
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Guinevere groaned as she entered the local pub and moaned at the thought of all the other Nations being there. Of course the world meeting had to be held in England and they knew where to go to get away with her having to pay for all the drinks (the man who worked there had picked up that the other Nations were her friends and started putting the money from their drinks of her tab and the other Nations were too nice to deny such a matter… Damn them).
She entered to see a majority of the Nations already leaving her a huge debt created from a large drinking contest. She narrowed her eyes, but couldn't help but laugh when Prussia splashed some of his beer onto France's new fashionable and expensive outfit.
She shook her head, she'd let them off this time… though only this time and it was only cause some of her old Colonies looked like they were having a blast. She smiled and snuck over to a dark corner of the bar, she'd let them off but she wasn't going to deal with them when they were beyond wasted.
She sat down only to see a small blonde Nation sat next to her. He physically only looked about 15 and she remembered him to Latvia, who Sealand always affectionately called Raivis.
"Latvia," she called out to him, he looked up and smiled shakily and raised his hand to wave only to have second thoughts and put his hands in his lap.
"Hi… hi… Eng… England…" He stuttered.
"What are you doing here Latvia?" She questioned lightly.
"Well… well… I was… going to… have… a drink… with the others… but…" he looked down at his self. "I… look… really… really young… so…"
She smiled, remembering back when she looked as young as Latvia did, she used to always drink, though back then she was going around terrorising the seas and a pirate couldn't be a pirate without a good drink. She smiled and ordered two drinks, sneakily passing one to Latvia; after all he was much older than he looked.
"I won't tell anyone if you don't," she smiled, and the little Nation nodded and shakily thanked her.
Ah to be young and innocent again…
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Innocence is a hard thing to be both inside and out, but somehow he manages…
Latvia
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9. Drive
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Finland had his hands securely wrapped around England's. He didn't want her to do anything wrong, she knew how to ride a horse, but a sleigh was harder and he didn't want her to do anything that caused her harm. So he had his finger relaxed around hers as he sat behind her smiling.
She had a long thick red coat on, a scarf wrapped around her neck and looked far too hot for comfort. He wore a matching scarf and a long blue coat twice as thick as England's, but he had no problem with the warmth they brought.
"Sleigh riding is fun, right?" He questioned, helping her guide the reindeer forward.
"Ye… Yes…" She managed to answer, but groaned. "But why show me how to ride your sleigh in the summer?" She breathed deeply the sun above them burning hot. "Wouldn't it make more sense to learn in the winter… with some snow…?"
Finland smiled brightly though the blonde woman didn't see it.
"Guinevere, in the winter we'll both be twice as busy, and I want you to enjoy a good sleigh ride, so let's enjoy the Christmas festives a little early!" he started humming some Christmas songs, and she sighed, though the smile on her face told a completely different story.
.
He was well known for his love of festivals and a ride in his sleigh was more than enough proof…
Finland
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10. Breathe Again
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"Guin! I like totally heard what that Nazi idiot did!" The young flamboyant blonde called, bursting into his ally's room without consequence.
He blinked and looked around the room; usually England would've tried hitting him for bursting into the room without knocking or at least have some snide remark or even politely offered some tea with scones (it really depended on what kind of mood she was in). But today… he was greeted with nothing?
Strange…
He entered the room slowly, glancing at every shadow and corner of the room. What if Ludwig had paid her a visit, he remembered the last visit he received from the German and his Russian ally and shivered. They had no right to treat Guinevere in the same fashion they has him… it was far too ruthless and no matter how strong the woman was, no one deserved to suffer that horribly.
"Guin…" He called out hesitantly, the fiery female Nation was too strong to simply fall from the Russian and German Nation, right? She was the British Empire after all!
"Guin!" He called out more confidently, making sure not to leave one area unturned, she had to be around and alive!
As he looked behind the desk that stood proudly by the large glass windows of Guinevere's office he saw a sight that could've been considered angelic if he didn't know why she was there. Her blonde hair was sprawled out every which way, long blonde eyelashes bound elegantly together to cover her beautiful emerald eyes. One of her hands securely wrapped around her waist, while her other slumped awkwardly against her chest, her legs curled around each other.
She almost looked peaceful laying there, and he would've left her so she could get a good night's rest, better to let her get a little shut eye spread across the floor than to let her continue with her restless worried filled nights if she was breathing. But that was the thing she wasn't…
"Guin!" He panicked, rushing over to her side, pushing her onto her back and without thinking crashed his lips against hers, breathing into her.
He pulled away, and started looking for the space you were meant to push down against through CPR. In his panicked haze he somehow managed to find it and start the strong, but not too strong pushes. He worked fast as one did when they had a life in their hands.
"Come on Guinevere!" He called helplessly. "This like can't make you fall!"
And he started the process all over again. Breathe in… 1… 2… 3… 4… Push down quickly and effectively, he did so twenty times even though he was sure he was meant to press down more… or maybe less. Breathe in… and…
She coughed!
She spluttered to life, eyes snapping wildly open; her irises swirled with pain… so much pain. She looked around helplessly, towards him, towards the window and before she could get a word in edge wise, she was brought into a strong hug. Felik's muttered his relief, ignored the embarrassment that wanted to flare to life on his cheeks and swore he wouldn't let any more bomb fall on England's land throughout this war…
He'd fight with Ludwig in the sky and he'd make sure he won…
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And with a breath of fresh air he helped her breathe again…
Poland
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A/N:
And here we are a start of another drably thing done by me, but wait! What's this? This story isn't just created by me (Live-Like-its-heaven-on-earth… maybe I should change my name to something more creative…) and my dear and darling friend for far too many years now: tenants-midnight-wolf (she's obsessed with David Tennant if you're wandering, which I know you are).
OK, so we split the themes between us then I edit, then she edits and thus the stories are changed so much that you can't tell that our writing styles are so horribly different, or you should be able to at least. And we're gonna try and get as many different pairings as possible cause we're cool like that X3
Ah I think that's all, though a bunch of these drabbles (especially the Rome one) wants me to make a bunch of longer series fanfics… though I won't… For now!
K, anyway read, review, alert, fav and give helpful advice on how to improve we love such things after all!
Till next chapter (which will probably be in a week and a halves time, cause we have to add finishing touches to our art work for the end of this week… though knowing us we'll probably ignore the deadline till the very last day… ANYWAYS! We hope you enjoyed!)