Province stories

Slavic women

NB: Alright let me have a spin

NU: NOO! I wanna try!

YK: Why can't I try!

ON: What if I-

🇨🇦:WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The provinces stopped and turned to the door of the falling apart house. A very wobbly Canada and slightly shaking Cuba entered the door.

🇨🇦: I'm back hahaha.. what are you all doing heh-

The provinces sat and stared blankly at their father that was always seemed slightly against them drinking was blanked out on the floor.

🇨🇺: Woah! He drank a lot more then I expected... I guess he did get into a drinking match with Argentina but Sheesh

NS: AUNTIE CUBA!

🇨🇺: Oh hey. Forgot he had kids.

🇨🇦: Rude!

🇨🇺: Oh my god get up

🇨🇦:What are you? My dad- holy crap your grip is strong

🇨🇺: I know I box

🇨🇦: Anyways so what are you all doing?

The provinces exchanged looks.

BC: Talking about our traumatic childhoods you caused.

🇨🇦: What! I didn't do anything-

He fell back into the smaller woman in a wobble before standing back up. She mumbled something and he sat the by them.

ON: Here take a spin

🇨🇦: Oooooooo- oki!

Canada spun the bottle

And of course it landed back on him, causing sighs across the group.

🇨🇦: So we're just telling stories right?

QU: Oui

🇨🇦: Oooo! Then how about how I met your very lovely mother! Well not actually mother... more like a step mom.

A varied mixtures of excitement and total boredom went through the group. And a gaze from Cuba could see she didn't want to sit through this story either.

🇨🇺: Um well I guess I'll go... don't drink anymore! Well at least for now.

🇨🇦: Yes yes, didn't know you were my mom.

(Canada's POV 1947)

It was quite a somber yet beautiful day. We had finally kicked those facist dumpster dwellers till they were a bloody pulp. Gave me a smile, just thinking about it.

What I didn't smile about was this boring and sad meeting I had to sit through.

Countries from all over the globe (their colonies included) who fought in the war were all crammed in this house my mom was kind enough to provide. Of course she, my father and my dumb yet loveable brother took the stage and discussed the treaties.

But that wasn't just it. A tall country who towered over me, wore a heavy coat, ushanka, eyepatch and had red hair and skin. He threw my brother and father for a spin, he controlled more of the conversation then France could even try to keep up. Unlike America who seemed to dislike him I thought he played his part, he got to Berlin didn't he?

Three children sat near the front, they must have been no more then 11. They seemed upset, scared and wanting a break. I could see UK and America had some sympathy for them, but even when I tried they reminded of us too much of them. I mean they're children of the enemy, of the monster.