Tired of ads? Upgrade to paid account and never see ads again!

AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME


AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME hetalia_kink
Previous Entry Share Next Entry
Hetalia kink meme part 21
axis powers
hetalia kink meme
part 21


VIEW THIS PART ON DREAMWIDTH

STOP! DO NOT REQUEST HERE!
NEW REQUESTS
GO IN THE MOST RECENT PART!

New fills for this part can go HERE.

Please continue existing fills on this post until it is full.
Get information at the News Post.

Any, dark AU; nations are abominations.

(Anonymous)

2011-12-21 10:22 pm (UTC) (Link)

Nation-tans see war as a game, and human death as losing playing pieces. Yao sportingly concedes victory to Kiku at Nanking, lectures him about "breaking my stuff", and they fight back-to-back merrily slaughtering humans on both sides. Kiku and Alfred watch the Hiroshima "fireworks" together with popcorn and painkillers. Lost battles leave wounds on the nation-tans, but they heal up fine and don't really mind. Either they don't care about humans because there are plenty, or nations are gods and require sacrifices. Most humans don't know they exist, and they only really turn murderous during wars, so nobody stops them. Other than that, they’re still their cute selves; it's on the level of children smashing up video game characters. Plenty of gore, but NO RAPE, I want more childlike evil.

This doesn't reflect my opinion on people in any of the actual nations. Just that immortals are scary. People already hate on the fandom for "cutesifying genocide" - let's give them a real reason!

Bonus #1: Someone (maybe Yao or Alfred) laughing like a little kid while slaughtering all in their path, contrasted with dissonantly-serene Kiku either actively killing or spectating while singing "Sakura Uta": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKry5x2nEmI&feature=fvst
Bonus #2: The nation-tans display battle skill from centuries of practice, and keep on going with injuries a human couldn't survive. I like the idea of one of them duelling three men with half his head shot away, or something.
Bonus #3: Consumption of human flesh on the grounds that they're not human so it's not cannibalism, disgust at the idea of treating another nation-tan that way (everyone still hates what Russia does to the Baltics), and similar dissonance. Get across that these guys really aren't human. Anon loves Humanoid Abominations ;)
(Frozen) (Thread)

Re: Any, dark AU; nations are abominations.

(Anonymous)

2011-12-22 02:28 am (UTC) (Link)

alsdkjfskl Seconded so hard.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

OP

(Anonymous)

2011-12-22 11:19 am (UTC) (Link)

Thanks! I was pretty sure this would be flamebait, nice to see someone else likes the idea.

I was loosely inspired by that fill where the nations only take on human forms to fit in and actually look like monsters - anyone got the link to that one? But this time it's sort of the other way around; they look human all the time, and act like monsters. Anon goes gooey for innocent-seeming evil.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

I have a link to that here, also am a potential filler

(Anonymous)

2011-12-25 01:52 am (UTC) (Link)

http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/21125.html?thread=85305477#t85305477

^ That's the entire thread with all the fills for that.

I might fill this because it sounds interesting, but there are a few things.

1) Anon has a tendency to focus more on Western European and Mediterranean nations and has more of a grasp of those characters, how would you feel about that?

2) Anon may or may not be able to actually fill this anyway I'll try anyway.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

OP

(Anonymous)

2011-12-25 09:50 am (UTC) (Link)

Any characters are cool, as long as there's the requested sweet-and-innocent slaughter ;) Trying's all you can do, so I'm happy you offered even if nothing comes of it. And happy holidays!
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: I have a link to that here, also am a potential filler

(Anonymous)

2011-12-26 04:09 pm (UTC) (Link)

Y'know, now I'm picturing Spain taking Chibimano on a tour of the dungeons of the Inquisition and eating the victims, complete with comparing internal organs to tomatoes. Am I weird for wanting this scene so much?

Also, this might be useful inspiration: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=22027728#t22027728
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread) (Expand)

The potential filler - (Anonymous), 2011-12-27 12:31 am (UTC)(Expand)
OP - (Anonymous), 2011-12-27 01:00 am (UTC)(Expand)

No Regrets [1a/?]

(Anonymous)

2011-12-27 06:41 am (UTC) (Link)

Chapter One: In Rome

"We, who are about to die, salute you."

Romano watched the gladiators fight from the gate they came from. Normally, normal citizens would not be allowed in this area, much less a child, but he had asked and was not denied. The guards that had let him in, not knowing why they had felt such authority radiating from such a small boy, especially one so plainly dressed, ceded almost immediately.

Romano had always loved watching this. Rome, though he was off on that stormy island at the end of the world, had always said "No, you can't play with the Gladiators. The armor wouldn't even fit you, you're so tiny!" with a laugh, before ruffling his carefully combed hair back into a curly and tangled mess.

Swords clashed and hit shields, one managed to strike a man in the side, the blood splattering on the attackers armor and mask, Romano couldn't see his expression, but he didn't particularly care. The crowds cheered as the gladiator died in the dust, a grin spreading across Romano's face, lighting it up, an uncommon sight on him.

Like most Roman citizens, Romano needed something to keep his mind off of his suffering. Unlike most Roman citizens, his suffering was not directly from being under the rule of flighty Caesars. He had stomachaches and muscle spasms from their riots and the natural disasters that plagued the land they called home, his suffering was second-hand, and he could do nothing about it. He wouldn't do anything about it, even if he could. What did he have to gain of it? People would always suffer, it was the nature of existence to suffer, and anything he did to alleviate it for even a decade would cost much more health to him than regular.

When they brought the lions out, he still had that aching dream to go out there and fight. It looked like fun, and it's not like he'd lose like the rest of them. He'd win, he'd win even if he lost. He was Rome's Grandson, after all.

--


"My God... Rome, what happened to you?" Germania stood over his friend in a secluded ally, where the man had hidden.

Racking coughs erupted from the hunched over empire before he replied. "Ah... nothing. Is not your fault. Well, it kinda is." A weak, joking, chuckle. "It's my time. You see?" He held out his previously buff and tanned arms for the other to see, practically skin and bones by this point. "I've been sick for a while, old friend. I won't make it this time, when you strike me."

"Is it.. because of this? Was it the blockade? Oh, Rome.. I don't..."

"I've been sick for a while, old friend. It's okay, it doesn't matter. I've lived a long time. I give you permission. It's been a long game, hasn't it?"

Screams of agony in the distance as the Visigoths sacked the city.
The raped women, the crying children, the clashes of swords. Background noise.

"You win."

While he was practically a skeleton by this point, an old, gray haired skeleton with the sagging skin stretched tight over the bones, long pauses coming between each word, his eyes were bright and merry as they had always been.

Germania lifted up his sword.

"Wait, wait!" Rome's hands waved in front of him wildly, clearly taking a bit of effort before he had to lower them again to cough, this time coming up with dark, thick, globs of blood. "Don't do it just yet, I have a final request. My grandsons..." Rome trailed off, unable to keep his train of thought, but continuing to look imploringly at Germania.

Germania inwardly laughed at the irony at calling them "Grandsons". Rome had never looked much like a grandfather, all nations being permanently stuck somewhere in their twenties, but now he did. It was kind of funny, in a way.

He nodded slowly before bringing his sword down, straight into the dying empire's chest. Hitting the heart dead-on, the kill was instantaneous.

(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

No Regrets [1b/?]

(Anonymous)

2011-12-27 06:41 am (UTC) (Link)

Germania stood back, not sure what to expect. He'd never seen a personification die, after all, and it was assuredly different from a human dying. If they aged differently, they had to die differently as well, yes?

The unspoken question was answered less than a minute later, as the blood streaking up the sword and bubbling out of Rome's chest dried and cracked, turning a deep black, before his body began to crumble away to flakes of dust, making small piles on the ground around him.

Germania walked away before the decay finished, leaving his sword behind.

Wasn't much point in staying.

Wasn't much point in seeing what would eventually happen to him.

Striding into the fray, the background noise became deafening, and the blood pooling in the streets was tantalizing.

"You win." Echoing in his mind, a grieving smile gracing his lips.

This kind of start probably wasn't the best, since now that I look at it it might be a bit too sympathetic light to start out in, but the format is basically going to be going through history from ancient times to modern day, and this was the only start I could see. Hope you all liked this first chapter. :D
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

OP

(Anonymous)

2011-12-27 12:04 pm (UTC) (Link)

I love it! Can't wait to see more. Don't worry about it being sympathetic - that's presumably going to be upturned soon enough ;)
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

AA

(Anonymous)

2011-12-27 06:04 pm (UTC) (Link)

I'm glad you liked it! :D I'm working on what the second chapter will be right now~
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

No Regrets [2a/?]

(Anonymous)

2011-12-29 06:42 am (UTC) (Link)

Chapter Two: Child of the Crusades

The church had sent him (And the rest of Europe, really.) on a mission to reclaim the holy land, and here he was, in the heat of battle in the land of the Turks, with Turkey himself nowhere in sight.

What would he even say, if he saw him here, beheading people left and right in one swing? He'd be angry, to be sure. He was probably pissed as hell at the moment, considering that nobody had left him alone for the last ten or twenty years or so.

It'd been a long time since he'd last seen Turkey, hadn't it? Face to face, that is. He'd sent him a lot of letters, though most of the replies were "Shut up, stupid kid."

"Kid?" Teutonic Knights huffed to himself, stomping through the tall soldiers. True, he looked about four at the moment. Fluffy (white) hair, big (blood red) eyes, chubby cheeks (without a single hint of blush).

(He looked demonic to soldiers from both sides with his albinism, and it didn't take long for his presence to be seen as a bad omen,a sign of death, though nobody was quite sure of what symbolism his childishness had. Perhaps, it was a sign from God himself, telling them this was wrong? Perhaps it was a ghost of one of the children that had been marched into battle, forced to kill, perhaps they had been sent to hell and this was their revenge upon the sons of the men that had done that to them? Whatever theory anybody could come up with for the child that would stride through battle, moving faster than they could, lifting things they couldn't, jumping higher than they could, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the impending doom that nearly radiated off of him.)

"Out of my way, I need through." He seethed impatiently, pushing against two men that were pushing their swords against one another, before slashing straight through the legs of the one that was clearly not on his side, sending him straight to the ground in agony as his feet (still partially in their boots) toppled to the side without the rest of the support, blood momentarily spraying out to add to the stains already soaking the originally pure white caped outfit that Teutonic Knights wore.

Teutonic Knights continued on without a second thought, leaving the stunned crusader that had been locked in battle before to quickly deliver a mercy kill to the now crippled man, before being attacked from behind by another, becoming consumed by another fight.

Where was Turkey?

He'd probably never find him in this huge crowd, there had to be hundreds of people in this battle, and while Teutonic Knights hated to admit there was anything wrong with him, that he was anything less than absolute awesome perfection,

He had to admit, here, in this sea of tall adult men, that he was small. Very, very small.

Almost abnormally so, especially considering his grating, scratching voice, which sounded more like the voice of a boy going through puberty rather than a younger child, and his height, which, while his face may have looked about four, his body looked about two. Maybe three, at the most.

In any case, he gave up trying to make it through the crowd after being stepped on a couple dozen times, put his sword in front of him, and barreled his way through as fast as he could, knocking people over and to the side, in some cases throwing them up in the air, while people who weren't caught in the sword's path stared at the physical impossibility before their eyes, and the wide path (strewn with injured or dead soldiers) that the child had left.

After about five or seven hundred yards, he toppled into clean, fresh air. A couple dozen feet in front of him was Turkey, striding towards him forcefully, his lose clothing flapping out behind him.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

No Regrets [2b/?]

(Anonymous)

2011-12-29 06:43 am (UTC) (Link)

"You. Boy. I told you to go away." The covered up figured towered over Teutonic Knights, who blinked several times in disbelief at the person in front of him. He had to be at least six or seven feet tall- much taller than anybody he'd ever seen in his life! Much taller than anybody he'd ever heard of!

(In actuality, a few inches less than six feet, but still very tall nonetheless, especially for then.)

Teutonic Knights pushed himself onto his feet, brandishing his sword at the imposing figure. "Never! You-you-you-- how dare you get taller than me! We were the same height last time we fought! The exact same height! What happened!?" He attempted to stand on his tip-toes, but the boots he was wearing (Tiny, tiny leather boots) made this impossible.

"Advancement? Really, kid, I've gotten stronger. I'm stronger than you, I'm stronger than any of Europe could hope to be at this point. You might as well pull back now, this is getting kind of old, don't you think?" Although he was wearing a mask, the eyebrow lift could practically be felt in the air.

"No! I want to win- I'm not going to pull back until you surrender!"

Teutonic Knights began beating his fists on Turkey's knees.

Meanwhile, the large and bloody battle was still raging not far behind them at all. As a crowd, it had actually moved, so the area they were standing on was once a large part of the battle, with dead bodies here and there with swords and arrows sticking out of them, blood soaking into and staining the grass.

The path that Teutonic Knights had driven through the battle had already closed up, with nothing that would tell you that the area had ever been clear in the first place.

"Sheesh, you're so weak." Turkey rolled his eyes and bent over so that he was eye level with Teutonic Knights, nearly having to crouch over. "Listen, you'll never win here, I've come much farther than you in the last hundred years than you could make in a thousand. My doctors will be able to tend to the wounded better than your doctors, My armor is better made than yours- you see the stuff all the Europeans are wearing? It's all outdated."

A finger was sharply jabbed into Teutonic Knights' forehead, who's face turned a furious shade of red as it scrunched up.

"Shut up! I can still win!"

"Not if all your toys are broken and mine aren't. That's how logic works, kid." The finger was lifted away as he stood up. "Now, I'll be going home. This is getting boring, and I can see that this'll be going on until at least sunset- maybe sunrise tomorrow, and I'm pretty bored, and hungry." He turned around to look at the pouting blood-stained boy one more time. "This land was never yours to begin with, and isn't stealing a sin?"

Teutonic Knights heard hearty chuckles even after he was out of earshot.

'What a waste of a day.' He thought, figure slumped as he dragged his sword in the dirt, walking in another direction back to where he had camped himself.

There, he pulled out a leather-bound book that he had been writing his diary entries in, as well as a stick of charcoal.

"Diary of the Awesome Me" read the inside cover, scribbled in his messy handwriting, though it was obvious that he had tried to be fancy, but failed.

"Today, I met up with that jerk Turkey in battle. He still refuses to convert! I'll train harder, and then I will be taller than him, and then I will beat him! Hungary is probably going to laugh at me next time I see him. I'm never going to be humiliated again."

He blew the straw charcoal dust off of the page and slammed the book shut, strapping it back into its secure case.

Waste of a day.


Small historical note: There were several crusades, the first of which did involve marching children into battle. The one that I intended this to take place in was in the 1300s- it was mainly people invading Turkish land. The term "Franks" for the French came from this period, as it was what the Turkish people called them.

Since the Church was holding Europe back and not allowing any scientific/medical/artistic advances, the east developed much faster in terms of civilization.

The next chapter is going to be the ChibiRomano-and-Spain Inquisition scene. :)
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

OP

(Anonymous)

2011-12-29 11:50 am (UTC) (Link)

Loving it! I'm waiting with bated breath for more :)

I admit I was inspired to this idea because I don't like villainisation of any APH character. My train of thought went something like; every nation in the world has its less pleasant periods, so making one character a villain based on that is unfair unless you villainise all of them. So I mentally did exactly that, and the idea was AWESOME. And you're ficcing it perfectly!
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread) (Expand)

AA - (Anonymous), 2011-12-29 07:17 pm (UTC)(Expand)
OP - (Anonymous), 2011-12-30 12:18 am (UTC)(Expand)
AA is an extreme punster anyway - (Anonymous), 2011-12-30 05:53 am (UTC)(Expand)
OP - (Anonymous), 2012-01-01 02:56 pm (UTC)(Expand)
AA - (Anonymous), 2012-01-01 04:26 pm (UTC)(Expand)
OP - (Anonymous), 2012-01-01 04:32 pm (UTC)(Expand)
AA - (Anonymous), 2012-01-01 07:01 pm (UTC)(Expand)

No Regrets [3a/?]

(Anonymous)

2012-01-01 09:56 pm (UTC) (Link)

Chapter Three: The Spanish Inquisition

The Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition had existed for a little over hundred years now. In that time, there was one Inquisitor that came regularly, which would have been dubbed a holy example (Which was how he was 'used'- sticking his hand in boiling water for it to come out clean to prove to a heretic that if you were pious it wouldn't burn you, things like that.) had he not been absolutely terrifying in every way imaginable, despite his attitude being generally jovial, welcoming, with nothing about his outward appearance or stride that should have provoked this kind of reaction.

Spain was Spain, nothing more and nothing less. Every aspect of his being and personality was utterly derived from every aspect of Spanish society and Spanish people. The 'good', the 'bad', what people currently prided themselves on, what people prided themselves on in the past, what people never prided themselves on and never would, this was all him, and it all blended seamlessly.

Countries are not static and the attitudes of countries are not static, political relations are extremely fluid. The person representing it, on the other hand, rarely changed for any reason. A million years could pass, continents could sink under the ocean, the Iberian peninsula could split from the mainland, and Spain would still be the happy-go-lucky farmer he had been since day one.

However, there are some things that Spain just didn't get about himself. For instance, why was it so important that these people be tortured into converting? It didn't look like it was working. They might as well let them be whatever they wanted to be instead of sticking hot and pointy sharp objects into various orifices or locking them in spike filled boxes.

However, it was what his monarchy wanted, and he couldn't question it. He'd much prefer if it they were England's people, because at least then he could get some enjoyment out of it. As it was, the monarchy had spent a decade convincing him that this was important and that they needed to expel these people. Eventually, he had conceded, but he wasn't really interested in it.

And then Romano came along, found out, and asked him to show him. He asked fairly bluntly, not much of a facial expression to tell what he was thinking, but he just looked so cute... like a begging puppy...

"They don't clean it out a whole lot. The smell is bad enough to make you vomit."

"I don't care, I wanna see it, dammit!"

"Are you absolutely sure? It's dark, too, and kind of cold."

"Don't you have that wool thingy?"

"They don't really make them in kid sizes..."

"I can roll up the sleeves."

"Well, okay, if you insist. But there's not much to see, and everyone is really bony and ugly looking..."

"I don't care. I wanna see where you've been going off to every month." Romano blew his bangs out of his face and set his jaw. (Spain couldn't understand why he wore his hair like that, but Romano refused to allow anybody to cut it. He was going to look like a girl at this rate!)

Spain sighed, slumping over melodramatically, his wide brimmed hat nearly touching the top of the smaller boy's head. "Okay, I'll take you. Just give me a second to get you a coat." Promptly spinning on his heel and walking back to the wardrobe, where another set of red robes were hanging.

It really was a shame to destroy it, it really was such a nice shade of red, such a nice uniform...

The skinny rope around the waist wouldn't hold it on Romano very well, so he got out a larger rope. In the end, the effect was very botched and ugly looking, and even with the majority of the length cut off, Romano still had to hold the skirt up to walk.

They were at the location in hardly any time at all, nearly giving the people standing outside a heart attack, before they were let in with the highest reverence.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

No Regrets [3b/?]

(Anonymous)

2012-01-01 09:57 pm (UTC) (Link)

The hallways were lit with lamps, as they descended down it got colder, making the wool robes necessary for warmth.

Colder, damper, until they got to the cells and the main torture chamber.

"This is where the prisoners are kept... most don't last very long."

Spain lifted Romano onto his shoulders so that he could see into the doors better, the boy leaning over and peering in at the starving person.

(The man, near to death, prayed with all of his remaining energy in Hebrew, not registering the presence of the boy at the door, who looked away from the starving old man, more out of a short attention span than disgust or pity.)

Spain showed Romano the racks, the spinning wheels,

He covered his eyes (to extreme protests) in the anal-penetration torture area more in the way of a parent trying to keep their child away from a dirty show or joke rather than not wanting him to see someone be treated in such an extreme way.

After a few hours of wandering around, pointing at stuff, giving a general tour, they came to the realization that not only were they very hungry, not having eaten since breakfast and it already being past lunchtime, Spain opened the cell door to a man that had only been recently imprisoned, having faced tortures already but still strong enough on his own to not die of it.

The man was tall and well fed looking, healthy, but with a few burn injuries here and there, and with his hands mangled beyond recognition. Thinking he was to be freed, he fell over a flustered Spain's legs, kissing at his feet in thankful glee.

The glee was cut short as Spain shoved a spike into his neck in an efficient manner.

The corpse, with the help of Romano (Who really needed to learn how to cook! The food from his home was absolutely delicious but he had absolutely no clue how to cook it right. Common paradox among nations, but either way, this would be an important lesson.) was taken outside into the light, (With the smell and the screaming, it was hardly an appetizing setting.) cleaned, and then cut.

"Never eat the liver, and never eat the brain. It'll make you really sick. Most humans are mostly fat- hardly any good meat, especially since it's so sour tasting." Spain looked up from skinning the man's legs to make a ridiculous face at Romano, who bit his lip trying not to laugh.

"So, you have to add lots of good spices- but not to offset the sourness, because trying to offset the flavor of a meat is against the point of using it in the first place! You have to make the flavor go right."

The knife finally cut through the bone.

They now had two nice legs, (Spain would cut off the feet, which were very bony and unappetizing to him) which was all they supposed they really needed. The rest was proven to be inedible after a quick check.

Spain watched Romano build the fire, though the clumsiness and difficulties moving in the robe made it a little difficult for the boy to complete it, so Spain would take breaks from the herb gathering and meat-skinning to help him with that, to many protests.

Romano watched Spain turn the meat around and around over the fire, occasionally sprinkling seasoning on it.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

No Regrets [3c/?]

(Anonymous)

2012-01-01 09:57 pm (UTC) (Link)

Rotisserie.

Under normal circumstances, they would not eat people. Animal meat tasted much better anyway. It was healthier.

This is not to say that eating humans was a last resort, only intended for dire situations in which there as absolutely no other option available, but rather that they just preferred not to.

It's like you're at a store- there's no chicken, turkey, or beef. Nothing that you like. There's only spam. You don't really like spam, though it tastes pretty good if you cook it with cloves and brown sugar, so you eat that. It's not a hard choice, it doesn't mean much, and you're no worse off for having made that choice.

Spain really was a good cook, though the meal ended up being very spicy, and there weren't any drinks around. (Inevitably, all this spicy food would result in anything less than 'three alarm' level spiciness being absolutely bland to Romano by the end of his 'childhood'.)

"This-this isn't half bad.." Romano was blushing, though almost entirely from the spice and heat.

"You like it!?" Spain gushed and beamed. Romano nodded slightly. "Thank you! You're the sweetest~"

"Am not."

The corpse was buried underneath a nearby tree.

They didn't mark it.



This chapter was a little hard to write, partially because I didn't really know what the best way to start it would be, and partially because halfway through I started feeling kind of nauseous. (Half of that is New Years' fault.)

Anyway, the Inquisition started in 1492 and was abolished in the early 1800s. The tribunal was established in 1480, but Non-Catholics (Mostly Jews and Muslims) were actively forced out of the country by law until 1492, and again in 1501.

The next chapter is going to be about the colonization of America.

Happy New Year everybody!
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread) (Expand)

Re: No Regrets [3c/?] - (Anonymous), 2012-01-01 10:18 pm (UTC)(Expand)
AA - (Anonymous), 2012-01-01 10:30 pm (UTC)(Expand)
OP - (Anonymous), 2012-01-01 10:37 pm (UTC)(Expand)
AA - (Anonymous), 2012-01-01 10:40 pm (UTC)(Expand)
OP - (Anonymous), 2012-01-02 12:44 am (UTC)(Expand)
AA - (Anonymous), 2012-01-02 01:16 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: No Regrets [3c/?] - (Anonymous), 2012-01-01 10:58 pm (UTC)(Expand)
AA - (Anonymous), 2012-01-01 11:21 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: No Regrets [3c/?] - (Anonymous), 2012-01-02 12:32 am (UTC)(Expand)
AA - (Anonymous), 2012-01-02 01:12 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: No Regrets [3c/?] - (Anonymous), 2012-01-02 06:48 am (UTC)(Expand)
AA - (Anonymous), 2012-01-02 01:42 pm (UTC)(Expand)

No Regrets [4a/?]

(Anonymous)

2012-01-23 04:43 am (UTC) (Link)

Chapter 4: America

Before the arrival of the Europeans, there were hundreds of thousands of diverse tribes. With the arrival of the Europeans, even before the massacres and enslavement, came disease. Smallpox, the plague, things that nobody in the western hemisphere had encountered before, infecting the air and killing off ninety percent of everyone in waves.

The personifications of the European nations that came on some of the voyages to the "Americas" were regarded by the personifications of the various tribes and empires that greeted them at the shores as, while genuinely curious and generally friendly, arrogant and ignorant, annoying. The annoyance they felt at first, however, was petty. The kind of annoyance you have for someone that sits behind you the talks loudly and sings off key and makes snorting noises.

Even when the invading humans killed off their people, when war was created, they gleefully fought each other as they would at any other point,

But then they began to die. Enemies, allies, relatives, dead in less than a week, less than a night, entire empires, Maya, gone in less time than she rose, gone in less time than her predecessors had fallen.

The European nations remained as they had always remained, as far away from 'down to earth' as the norm for nations could be, but they were still shocked at the speed and level of death that occurred. They were less shocked but still saddened when a personification would die even if most of their people were still alive- cultural obliteration, assimilation, was more explainable and understandable to them than a hundred people coming down with a disease they hadn't seen in a hundred years.

The various remaining personifications of the western hemisphere, meanwhile, didn't remain as they had always remained, the experience of this dragged over centuries jarring them over and over and over, expanding larger and larger in waves. The realization that they could, at any moment, for any reason, die. It wasn't an epiphany that "knocked them closer to earth" or anything like that, they weren't knocked from a pedestal of nation-hood to a more mortal moral code. Once you've lived for one thousand years there's no way to go back to the understanding of one that's lived for only twenty. At the same time, they were in a different situation than they had been, that the European nations were in. A delicate, horrifying situation.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

No Regrets [4b/?]

(Anonymous)

2012-01-23 04:44 am (UTC) (Link)

And then the children began to appear, personifications of the colonies that had been set up that managed to survive long enough to develop.

Spain, France, Portugal, others, they were overjoyed at the children, they treated them like sons and daughters and little brothers and sisters and dressed them up in frilly outfits and took them for walks in the wilderness and left them nice houses to stay in when they went back to tend to matters back in Europe.

England arrived to 'his' land one year to find a little boy in a loose white shirt tied on by a big red ribbon, his hair blond and his eyes the exact color of the sky, scooping him into his arms and carrying him off, hardly containing his excitement (And anticipation in being able to rub it in France's face that now he had proof that his colonies were doing well like Canada, which France had found a few decades earlier.) at the adorable cherub that he could call his own.

The more land that the colonies absorbed that the Europeans took, the more they became a part of the land, the less that there seemed to be room for a compromise no matter how much any of the tribes strove for it, the more it seemed that the only end was death. The European nations had seemingly forgotten that they existed, not even trying to visit them like they had in the past, not even coming to wage wars with their people. It's hard to compromise with someone that hardly remembers that you're there.

Further centuries pass, the number of living personifications continues to dwindle down, wars for independence are fought and lost and fought and won, and the world becomes more about the children that were set up rather than the adults that were there before them.

America, the United States specifically, would call them all the same, would claim to be 'helping' them over and over in his exuberance, doing something different every time, the acts his government would pass.

They weren't the nations they used to be, and there was no way back or forward or out.



I'm sorry this took so much longer to get out, especially since it's so much shorter than the last chapter. D:

I also hope I didn't mess up with this. I tried a bunch of different ways to do this chapter, one of them was illustrating the colonization of America the way my APUSH book illustrated it, which was to begin with the destruction of the Spanish armada and going through that until around the 1700s, but that didn't work out.

I also hope I didn't offend anybody with this, because although a lot of stuff that's going to be in this is volatile, for some reason I feel like this would be more sensitive and I'm a bit more anxious that I didn't do it well. :C

The only thing I really have to say for this is that I don't like it when people portray a "Native America" as being the "mother" of Alfred and Matthew, because that doesn't work like a "Grandpa Rome" or "Mama Greece", both since there were many different tribes all over, and because "Native American" culture didn't lead to "Modern American" culture in the way that Roman culture led to Italian culture and ancient Grecian culture led to modern Grecian culture.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

No Regrets [5/?]

(Anonymous)

2012-06-11 08:35 pm (UTC) (Link)

AFTER A LONG HIATUS, I'M BACK. SORRY FOR THE WAIT!
Chapter 5: A Heart For A Heart

The burning of DC was provoked by the burning of Canada's capital at the time, York. Because Canada at the time was a British colony, people tend to be confused as to who did the burning- were they Canadian, or British?

In any case, DC was burned in revenge for York.

It burned, burned, burned, and the Americans ran and cried,
It burned, burned, burns, and we're the ones who did it, in the War of 1812.


"He must be around here somewhere." The British Empire and Canada stood on a hill, far from the blazes their soldiers were spreading.

"Maybe not. He could have run into a lake nearby to hide- or maybe the flames killed him. If that's the case, he'll turn up in a day or two somewhere. We just need to wait." Canada was leaning up against a tree. Since his own heart had been set aflame, his charred chest had been covered up in bandages- normally wounds wouldn't bother them too much but it had been his capitol and capitols are wounds that tend to be almost too much- one of the few ways to kill a nation even temporarily was to disrupt its heart, and it wouldn't reappear until it was rebuilt. But, Canada had survived, and while still in his typical state of serenity underneath it all he couldn't wait to step on The United State of America's fingers and give him what for.

British Empire couldn't count the number of times Paris had been burnt down, but he always loved the blissful months of France being dead. At least until the other nation came back pissed as hell and sent a sword through his head just to spite him- even if he hadn't been the one to do it. But, that was France, this was his former son he was destroying. Not that he cared much for him now but he did care for him once.

"God, this ash makes everything so hard to see, wouldn't be surprised if I went blind." The British Empire blinked a few times to clear his eyes, before seeing a moving black blob at the bottom of the hill- he supposed it could be a child trying to escape the blazes of their house, there were quite a few citizens that had been woken up by the sounds of screaming and fire thinking they'd been sent to hell before realizing the reality, but as his vision cleared and that figure got closer up the hill, he realized that it was, in fact, the United States of America himself. Covered in soot and still in his nightie.

"So, brother, you didn't die then?" Canada half-laughed-half-coughed from his position on the tree. "I was starting to get worried about you!"

"No you-" America couldn't finish for coughing, but then straightened up as he got closer to the top. "No, no you didn't! You fucking-"

"Language, boy." Britain placed a finger on his lips before America smacked it away.

"You fucking didn't! You fucking burnt it down!"

"You burnt down mine first, brother. You burnt my blood first. And since I'm still under English domain, that was also you burning his blood. So he returned the favor and I came along for the ride." Canada sat back with a huff. Normally, he wouldn't be quite so direct or bold, but this was special.

"So, there you have it, son, you've no right to be mad." British Empire chuckled, patting him on the back. "We've got spare bandages for you and a tub of hot water to get you clean. Come on, don't be that way."

United States of America looked back at the city. Not too many were dead, he supposed... and the buildings could be rebuilt, repainted. It still hurt, but, a hot bath did sound nice right about now. That could make up for it.

"Only if I don't have to eat anything you made." He said with a pout. British empire bristled as this but led him along to where they were camping, a drum of clean, warm water waiting inside a tent.

"It's not like your food is any better..." he mumbled

Meanwhile in the city still burning, the soldiers were retreating, their work done, everything covered in ash and children crying and adults trying to escape. It would continue to burn for a while, eventually be repainted in white and marble, but stay a small black mark on relations, but the nations themselves would forget about it. Maybe even laugh about it someday.



(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

OP

(Anonymous)

2012-06-11 09:09 pm (UTC) (Link)

Eee! You're back! Suh-weet. I'm still loving this :)
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

AA

(Anonymous)

2012-06-12 04:29 pm (UTC) (Link)

Yay! :)
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

No Regrets [6/?]

(Anonymous)

2012-06-13 12:06 am (UTC) (Link)

Erzabeta and Elizabeth

The facts about Elizabeth Bathory are mostly lost in the legends built up around her. What is known is that she killed hundreds of young girls, being one of the most prolific female serial killers ever. What is commonly believed of her is that she bathed in their blood for purposes of achieving eternal youth and beauty.

Hungary knew of her during this entire time. As one of her “bosses” at the time as nobility, she would be subservient to her. Well, in a technical sense. She could, theoretically, give her a bath of red wine rather than blood, and then light it on fire with her in it and that would be that. ‘A bath of red wine would certainly smell nicer-‘ Hungary would think as she stood by the small brass tub filled up a third of the way with the mixed blood of four recent kills. Hungary wouldn’t really have cared so much about Elizabeth’s bloody habits if it weren’t so disgusting… because large amounts of blood are just nauseating and to sit in it, naked, much less rub yourself in it… Hungary really, truly, was not bothered by the fact that girls were brutally murdered for this bath. She didn’t care that she had to drain them for it.

All she cared about was that she’d have to be in the hall while this woman bathed in blood and got the smell all over the place. And, all she could think was that “This woman is crazy, all that’s going to do to her skin is infect it with stink and stain it rust colored.” While she held her nose and tried not to vomit and lit the candles and dropped her towels and got as far away from the stale, unbearable atmosphere of that room that had a tub filled with blood and four corpses that had been tossed into the corner after being drained.

‘Really,’ she thought after leading the woman to her bath and sitting in the hall, waiting for her to finish up, ‘Out of all my bosses, all of them, this woman has the worst habits’. Almost two thousand years old as Hungary was, she had certainly a lot of bosses, and it would be weird if more than this one hadn’t been violent or disgusting, it was actually an anomaly for nations to have bosses that weren’t in some way just plain annoying, but nation memory isn’t perfect, they couldn’t be expected to remember all of them, now could they? Two thousand years old and for the life of her she could only recall the past five hundred, beyond that was a blur. What human body could hold two thousand years of memory? An actual human can barely hold fifty.

So, in her memory, the woman who took baths in blood for ridiculous reasons, was the most disgusting.

But it wasn’t disgusting in the way that an ordinary maid would think it disgusting. More or less the kind of disgusting like people who pick their nose or people who masturbate in public or people who pop pimples.

Hungary was, in fact, so turned off by what she referred to as this ‘little habit’ that she was almost glad that Elizabeth was often confused for Romanian. All the more embarrassment for him, less for her, and all the more reason for him to resent her. Not that she cared about that either, she liked things that way.

--

Another matter that couldn’t be cared less one way or another was the fact that Elizabeth spent the last years of her life basically locked up and only convicted for a small percentage of murders she actually did commit. Nobility or no, the whole debacle did not have an effect on Hungary, because there were mass murders before Elizabeth and there would be mass murders after Elizabeth. She was more or less a blip, who would be forgotten in the next thousand years besides the occasional mention in her legends.

The equivalent to those memories of having to unclog toilets for a job some people have.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

OP

(Anonymous)

2012-06-13 04:06 pm (UTC) (Link)

Awesome. I'm recalling the vampire in Pratchett's "Carpe Jugulum" complaining about the urban legend that an aunt of his used to bathe in the blood of two hundred virgins, but only because it's inaccurate - "Use more than eighty virgins and even quite a large bath will overflow."
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

OP

(Anonymous)

2012-07-09 01:12 am (UTC) (Link)

If you don't mind more suggestions, I have a mental image of the nations using 9/11 as an excuse to throw America a big party, like those creepy Red Tent parties mothers have for daughters hitting menarche - America's totally embarrassed and baffled as to why they see being attacked as an achievement, but not offended because hey, he has a hell of a lot more humans. I wondered about the level of taste in that, considering how recent it was, but then the point of this story is to make it clear that the characters are complete monsters, so as long as it's not played as funny or like they're right to see it that way, maybe it's doable ...
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Quibbler!anon

(Anonymous)

2012-07-09 06:04 am (UTC) (Link)

It wasn't the first time America was ever attacked on the mainland, though. Nor the first terrorism act on the mainland.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)