![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arccie posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
smashconTitle: Not About Cake
Author: Commander Freddy
Rating: PG
Prompt: Celebration
Fandom/Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Word Count: 1,611
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
Summary:
For humans birthdays are just another part of life. Yet for nations, they can mean so much more. The Principality of Sealand, in a discussion with his older brother, attempts to prove his nationhood through the use of birthdays – Sealand and UK platonic gen fic.
NOT ABOUT CAKE
As many people will be able to tell you, giving birth is a process often long and painful, as well as potentially quite dangerous for both mother and child. Perhaps that's why birthdays are such a big deal. While people outgrow parties and presents, no one ever really becomes too old for birthdays themselves. Somehow they have a great sense of permanence, a tie to the past; a way of making sure no matter how confused and hectic life becomes at least you will always know when you started.
What a luxury.
Nations have to earn their birthdays. The day they come into being is not a particularly significant one, and very few would be able to recall when indeed they actually came into this world. None of them really know how, either. They simply are.
The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland distinctly remembers the storming of the Bastille, the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the reunification of Germany, the liberation of Minsk, and so many others. He could remember what it was like for every single one of his - well, they weren't exactly friends, but neighbours - when at last they gained recognition as nations, when their state was solidified and they earned that great mark of humanity. A birthday.
The UK was not particularly interested in gaining his own birthday - being over 1000 years old made them more of a nuisance than anything special. He had St. George's day and quite frankly that was enough for him. What would his day commemorate anyway? He was four different countries, and four different countries who were hard pressed to agree on anything, too. No, the UK didn't care much for birthdays, especially considering many of the birthdays that surrounded him were really nothing more than ex-siblings celebrating their independence from him.
But this opinion was far from the most prevalent.
You would not think many functionally immortal beings would treasure birthdays, especially considering most of them would have too many to count. But what most people fail to consider is that, while immortal, nations are not always millennia old.
The Principality of Sealand was quite well set up in terms of official national instruments - he had his own currency, his own stamps, both a sovereign and various nobility from around the world, his own coat of arms, and a flag. Did he have a birthday? He had two. Not only did he have Independence Day on the 2nd of September, he also had Regent's Day, celebrating the birthday of Prince Michael. That, he believed, was as good a reason as anything to affirm his nation status.
"Nations," he announced to Britain one morning over a bowl of cereal, "only get birthdays once something really important happens."
"This should be good," muttered Britain into his tea, keeping his eyes on the newspaper he was reading.
"And the big thing about birthdays is," continued Sealand, paying no mind to the raisin bran he kept shovelling into his mouth, "is that the days that are turned into birthdays are the days when the nation turns into itself properly."
"Eloquent," said Britain. "Pass me the jam, would you?"
Sealand huffed, and sent the pot of jam sliding across the table where it very nearly dropped off the edge.
"Careful now," said his older brother.
For a while Britain attempted to maintain the illusion of being completely engrossed in his paper, but the pout on his little brother’s face was just too prominent to ignore for very long.
“Planning on running the 200m sulk next Olympics?” he asked, at last looking up.
“I was talking about birthdays and why they’re super-duper important,” said Sealand, refusing to look at his brother, “but it seems you just love The Times too much to listen.” Any credence his argument may have had was lost rather abruptly when he concluded it by sticking his tongue out.
Britain sighed. “You know I don’t see much point in birthdays,” he said, folding his paper in half.
“Yeah but I wasn’t talking about you, captain snooty pants.”
“I’ll have you know my pants aren’t snooty in the slightest,” replied Britain. “But, in the interest of fairness, what was your point?”
“That if a birthday celebrates the day a nation really, truly, absolutely, completely-”
“That’s probably enough adverbs,” said Britain.
“Hey, are you gonna listen or what?” Sealand cried. But this next bout of huffiness was quickly forgotten as he raced to prove his point to his brother. “If birthdays are the day a nation really becomes itself, like when France was all “egality and democracy and stuff!” and Germany got glued back together in the 80’s, all that, then it follows, by use of proper smart logical thinking, that any nation with a birthday must be… a real nation!”
Britain raised one of his spectacularly large eyebrows.
Sealand bounced around in his seat for a moment, waiting for the epiphany that would obviously come to his brother shortly. Eventually he decided to provide a little help.
“I have a birthday,” he said.
No further reaction from Britain.
“So… that means I’m a real, proper nation, and you have to recognise me! It’s probably in a law somewhere.”
His older brother took a deep breath. “Perhaps that would be true if your birthday actually represented a turning point in your nation’s history and identity but… Well, what is your birthday?”
“Independence Day,” said Sealand. “And it does too represent an important point! It was the day we were all like “screw you, we’re a nation now”!”
“But celebrating your independence doesn’t really work when it was never actually recognised, does it?” asked Britain. “Really your birthday is pretty much just an elaborate excuse for cake.”
“This is not about cake! This is about my birthday and what it means to the people of Sealand and how that means I am totally 100% a real nation!”
“Don’t shout at the table,” said Britain. “And besides, even if your birthday did make sense, having one wouldn’t automatically entitle you to full nationhood. There are states and provinces around the world with their special days, and that doesn’t make them any more independent than you. Not to mention that many full, recognised nations don’t have birthdays at all.” He took another sip of tea. “Like me.”
“Yeah, well,” Sealand muttered, sinking low in his chair. “Not like you would have a birthday anyway.”
Britain exhaled rather sharply. “Well, you’re right. I’m far too old and disjointed to have a national day – it wouldn’t work at all.”
“No, not that,” said Sealand. “I meant that you don’t need one.”
Britain opened his mouth to retort, and then paused. “Excuse me?”
“You’re the British Empire! The sun never sets on you, and all that jazz!”
“Sealand, I’m no longer an Empire,” replied Britain. “I am a constitutional monarchy with too many siblings who don’t want to talk to me anymore.”
“Okay, yeah, but everyone still knows who you are,” said Sealand. “All your citizens and almost everyone else’s, too. You’re a stuffy old man who likes tea and Doctor Who and beer and not changing things and pretending I’m not a nation. You don’t need a special day to celebrate that stuff, it’s pretty much all you do.”
“Well…” Britain paused. “Thank you. That’s rather sweet. I think.”
“Haha, yes!” crowed Sealand, instantly shattering any growing opinion Britain had of him. “I can say diplomatic nice things! You know what that means?”
“That I should stop taking you seriously?”
“It means I’m a nation! And now you have to recognise me!” Hands on hips with triumphant eyes, Sealand stared at Britain.
“Hmph,” was his brother’s reply. “Maybe if you got some actual land.”
“That’s discrimination!”
“No,” said Britain, “that’s the criteria for being a nation. The 1982 United Nations Convention on-”
“Hey can I have some Fruit Loops?” asked Sealand.
“Wh-what?” Sometimes the rate at which his little brother could lose interest truly astounded the United Kingdom “You already have half a bowl of raisin bran!”
“Yeah but…” Sealand flicked his cereal with a finger. “…Raisins.”
Britain sighed. “They’re in the larder.”
As his little brother raced off on his quest for sugared cereal, Britain had to breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that the constant demands to be recognised as a nation annoyed him – well, they did, but that wasn’t the point – what he was most afraid of was that Sealand was right. He was forty-something years old and was clearly still only a child. See, Britain had already lost count. That horrible process had already started.
The day Sealand was recognised as an official nation would be the day he lost more than he knew he had. The decades would pass faster and faster, and soon they would become centuries and before anyone noticed, the 2nd of September would stop being such a chaotic day full of cake and presents and the world’s most excited sea fort. It would just be another day, when a being with all the responsibility and none of the maturity inherent in hundreds of years of living would turn around and barely remember once being too excited to sleep the night before.
“Can I have some juice too?” Sealand called from the kitchen.
“Sure,” replied Britain before he could catch himself.
The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland liked to think himself a mature, responsible older brother who took good care of his little sea-bound sibling with stern but fair rules. Still, it was hard not to spoil a boy you couldn’t help but view as a ticking time bomb of immortality.
***
Voting has closed.
Please take the time to comment on the fanfic. Thanks.
Author: Commander Freddy
Rating: PG
Prompt: Celebration
Fandom/Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Word Count: 1,611
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
Summary:
For humans birthdays are just another part of life. Yet for nations, they can mean so much more. The Principality of Sealand, in a discussion with his older brother, attempts to prove his nationhood through the use of birthdays – Sealand and UK platonic gen fic.
NOT ABOUT CAKE
As many people will be able to tell you, giving birth is a process often long and painful, as well as potentially quite dangerous for both mother and child. Perhaps that's why birthdays are such a big deal. While people outgrow parties and presents, no one ever really becomes too old for birthdays themselves. Somehow they have a great sense of permanence, a tie to the past; a way of making sure no matter how confused and hectic life becomes at least you will always know when you started.
What a luxury.
Nations have to earn their birthdays. The day they come into being is not a particularly significant one, and very few would be able to recall when indeed they actually came into this world. None of them really know how, either. They simply are.
The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland distinctly remembers the storming of the Bastille, the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the reunification of Germany, the liberation of Minsk, and so many others. He could remember what it was like for every single one of his - well, they weren't exactly friends, but neighbours - when at last they gained recognition as nations, when their state was solidified and they earned that great mark of humanity. A birthday.
The UK was not particularly interested in gaining his own birthday - being over 1000 years old made them more of a nuisance than anything special. He had St. George's day and quite frankly that was enough for him. What would his day commemorate anyway? He was four different countries, and four different countries who were hard pressed to agree on anything, too. No, the UK didn't care much for birthdays, especially considering many of the birthdays that surrounded him were really nothing more than ex-siblings celebrating their independence from him.
But this opinion was far from the most prevalent.
You would not think many functionally immortal beings would treasure birthdays, especially considering most of them would have too many to count. But what most people fail to consider is that, while immortal, nations are not always millennia old.
The Principality of Sealand was quite well set up in terms of official national instruments - he had his own currency, his own stamps, both a sovereign and various nobility from around the world, his own coat of arms, and a flag. Did he have a birthday? He had two. Not only did he have Independence Day on the 2nd of September, he also had Regent's Day, celebrating the birthday of Prince Michael. That, he believed, was as good a reason as anything to affirm his nation status.
"Nations," he announced to Britain one morning over a bowl of cereal, "only get birthdays once something really important happens."
"This should be good," muttered Britain into his tea, keeping his eyes on the newspaper he was reading.
"And the big thing about birthdays is," continued Sealand, paying no mind to the raisin bran he kept shovelling into his mouth, "is that the days that are turned into birthdays are the days when the nation turns into itself properly."
"Eloquent," said Britain. "Pass me the jam, would you?"
Sealand huffed, and sent the pot of jam sliding across the table where it very nearly dropped off the edge.
"Careful now," said his older brother.
For a while Britain attempted to maintain the illusion of being completely engrossed in his paper, but the pout on his little brother’s face was just too prominent to ignore for very long.
“Planning on running the 200m sulk next Olympics?” he asked, at last looking up.
“I was talking about birthdays and why they’re super-duper important,” said Sealand, refusing to look at his brother, “but it seems you just love The Times too much to listen.” Any credence his argument may have had was lost rather abruptly when he concluded it by sticking his tongue out.
Britain sighed. “You know I don’t see much point in birthdays,” he said, folding his paper in half.
“Yeah but I wasn’t talking about you, captain snooty pants.”
“I’ll have you know my pants aren’t snooty in the slightest,” replied Britain. “But, in the interest of fairness, what was your point?”
“That if a birthday celebrates the day a nation really, truly, absolutely, completely-”
“That’s probably enough adverbs,” said Britain.
“Hey, are you gonna listen or what?” Sealand cried. But this next bout of huffiness was quickly forgotten as he raced to prove his point to his brother. “If birthdays are the day a nation really becomes itself, like when France was all “egality and democracy and stuff!” and Germany got glued back together in the 80’s, all that, then it follows, by use of proper smart logical thinking, that any nation with a birthday must be… a real nation!”
Britain raised one of his spectacularly large eyebrows.
Sealand bounced around in his seat for a moment, waiting for the epiphany that would obviously come to his brother shortly. Eventually he decided to provide a little help.
“I have a birthday,” he said.
No further reaction from Britain.
“So… that means I’m a real, proper nation, and you have to recognise me! It’s probably in a law somewhere.”
His older brother took a deep breath. “Perhaps that would be true if your birthday actually represented a turning point in your nation’s history and identity but… Well, what is your birthday?”
“Independence Day,” said Sealand. “And it does too represent an important point! It was the day we were all like “screw you, we’re a nation now”!”
“But celebrating your independence doesn’t really work when it was never actually recognised, does it?” asked Britain. “Really your birthday is pretty much just an elaborate excuse for cake.”
“This is not about cake! This is about my birthday and what it means to the people of Sealand and how that means I am totally 100% a real nation!”
“Don’t shout at the table,” said Britain. “And besides, even if your birthday did make sense, having one wouldn’t automatically entitle you to full nationhood. There are states and provinces around the world with their special days, and that doesn’t make them any more independent than you. Not to mention that many full, recognised nations don’t have birthdays at all.” He took another sip of tea. “Like me.”
“Yeah, well,” Sealand muttered, sinking low in his chair. “Not like you would have a birthday anyway.”
Britain exhaled rather sharply. “Well, you’re right. I’m far too old and disjointed to have a national day – it wouldn’t work at all.”
“No, not that,” said Sealand. “I meant that you don’t need one.”
Britain opened his mouth to retort, and then paused. “Excuse me?”
“You’re the British Empire! The sun never sets on you, and all that jazz!”
“Sealand, I’m no longer an Empire,” replied Britain. “I am a constitutional monarchy with too many siblings who don’t want to talk to me anymore.”
“Okay, yeah, but everyone still knows who you are,” said Sealand. “All your citizens and almost everyone else’s, too. You’re a stuffy old man who likes tea and Doctor Who and beer and not changing things and pretending I’m not a nation. You don’t need a special day to celebrate that stuff, it’s pretty much all you do.”
“Well…” Britain paused. “Thank you. That’s rather sweet. I think.”
“Haha, yes!” crowed Sealand, instantly shattering any growing opinion Britain had of him. “I can say diplomatic nice things! You know what that means?”
“That I should stop taking you seriously?”
“It means I’m a nation! And now you have to recognise me!” Hands on hips with triumphant eyes, Sealand stared at Britain.
“Hmph,” was his brother’s reply. “Maybe if you got some actual land.”
“That’s discrimination!”
“No,” said Britain, “that’s the criteria for being a nation. The 1982 United Nations Convention on-”
“Hey can I have some Fruit Loops?” asked Sealand.
“Wh-what?” Sometimes the rate at which his little brother could lose interest truly astounded the United Kingdom “You already have half a bowl of raisin bran!”
“Yeah but…” Sealand flicked his cereal with a finger. “…Raisins.”
Britain sighed. “They’re in the larder.”
As his little brother raced off on his quest for sugared cereal, Britain had to breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that the constant demands to be recognised as a nation annoyed him – well, they did, but that wasn’t the point – what he was most afraid of was that Sealand was right. He was forty-something years old and was clearly still only a child. See, Britain had already lost count. That horrible process had already started.
The day Sealand was recognised as an official nation would be the day he lost more than he knew he had. The decades would pass faster and faster, and soon they would become centuries and before anyone noticed, the 2nd of September would stop being such a chaotic day full of cake and presents and the world’s most excited sea fort. It would just be another day, when a being with all the responsibility and none of the maturity inherent in hundreds of years of living would turn around and barely remember once being too excited to sleep the night before.
“Can I have some juice too?” Sealand called from the kitchen.
“Sure,” replied Britain before he could catch himself.
The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland liked to think himself a mature, responsible older brother who took good care of his little sea-bound sibling with stern but fair rules. Still, it was hard not to spoil a boy you couldn’t help but view as a ticking time bomb of immortality.
***
Voting has closed.
Please take the time to comment on the fanfic. Thanks.
