Family Ties [Part 89]
Oct. 5th, 2010 08:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): Quebec, Ukraine, Russia, America, TWO not very surprising surprises, England, France, Scotland, Ireland.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Some implied horrific implications (department of redundancy department) twisty twists and sob.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
Everything happened very quickly, and then slowed down. It was very hard to tell where the speed stopped and the sickening slow motion began. It wasn't like in the movies where Quebec could see the bullet fly, the air rippling around it as everyone's faces went slack with horror. It was more that a lot of things happened at once and he was somehow able to process them fast enough to understand it around the chaos.
America snapped at Russia, finger squeezing the trigger. Ukraine reached out for her brother, nearly falling out of Quebec's arms in her desperation. Russia's eyebrows rose in an expression of slight surprise. A door opened behind them, on a part of the wall that Quebec would later look at and wonder where it had gone, and something rushed out and slammed their shoulder against America's arm, throwing off his aim. Something white and furry bellowed a roar and skidded into the room to stand in front of the Slavic siblings.
Russia stumbled back and hit the wall, clutching at his arm which had gone limp. Ukraine twisted out of Quebec's arms until he was forced to put her down and help her over to her brother. Once she'd got to his side she fussed over his wound despite being gravely injured herself.
A voice pierced the slowed-down silence, shattering the illusion.
"What do you think you're doing, eh?!"
Quebec had clearly snapped. His mind probably couldn't take the strain of this damned war any more. That, or the bullet had hit him instead, and he was dead.
A boy, possibly as old as Quebec had been before independence, was grasping America's wrist and forcing him to point his gun at the floor. His blonde hair curled at the ends, and behind his glasses violet eyes of the north sparked with righteous anger and deep confusion. He was breathing hard from running, face flushed red and hair a mess, in nothing more than a pair of jeans and a red hoodie, no shoes.
The United States of America dropped his gun.
"Impossible." breathed Russia, staring up at the scene before him. Quebec, for once, was inclined to agree.
He'd blinked once and suddenly found himself at Canada's feet, grasping onto his familiar red hoodie and crying like a lost child come home. A soft hand landed on the top of his head, stroking his hair with a warm affection.
"It's not like you to cry, Quebec..." he said in his quiet voice, always so easily drowned out by the rest of the world and their chaos. "Come on, eh? Get up."
America snatched his hand from his brother's grip, white as a sheet and mouth moving for once without words. "Ghost!" he said, once he'd finally found his tongue. He turned a bit green, holding his hands up to shield himself. "Any ghost but this!"
Canada sighed, seeming put-upon. "Al, I may be a bit invisible sometimes, but I'm not a ghost."
"No!" America shouted, shaking his head and continuing to retreat backwards until he hit the wall and jumped. "No! No, I- you can't- Mattie!" His voice became nearly a sob. "I saw you, Mattie! I had to watch you die! I had to watch you die, and it's all because of him!" A shaking accusatory finger pointed at Russia, who seemed similarly shocked that Canada was alive somehow. "It wasn't fair! I had to pay him back, I had to make it right!" Desperate, he searched his brother's face for understanding. "Can't you see it, Mattie? He's the villain, I'm just trying to save what I can!"
"Does this look right to you, eh?" the other twin asked, following the path of Alfred's finger. "What I see are two very broken countries at the hands of a brutal conqueror."
America physically flinched away.
"How...?" asked Russia, staring as though he could decipher the secret himself. "How is this possible?"
"Generally it wouldn't be." the now teenage Nation explained, and a small smile appeared. "But that's something I'm not allowed to share. What I can tell you is that Kumashiro helped."
Everyone focused on the white bear, who was now much bigger than the cub Canada usually carried around with him; it was a fully sized polar bear now, and took up much of the space in the hallway. It stood off to the side, ready to stand between America and the Slavs again if needed.
"It's Kumajiro." it mumbled.
"Right, right." chuckled Canada. "Quebec, which territories or provinces joined your union again?"
The other Canadian Nation sniffed and tried to regain some dignity, letting go of Canada's hoodie finally. "Ah... Newfoundland and Labrador, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia and New Brunswick..." he counted off. "And I'm watching most of where Ontario... was..."
"And Al, which of my provinces did you take on?"
"Yukon... and British Columbia..." he breathed out, eyes flashing with pain. The extra two stars on his flag...
"I guess that made your west coast boarder all neat and tidy, eh?" Canada replied, and didn't bother to watch America flinch again. "I know you're not great with maps, Al, but anyone would know that there's a big space in between the two of you. It's mostly ice and forests that far up north, but..." He smiled. "There are still people, and they're still mine. Kumamaro was watching them until I came back. I guess that's how he got so big." He shrugged. "I barely exist, but it's still an existence, eh?"
"This is moronic... impossible..." Russia breathed, trying to lean forward. Kumajiro growled at him, much deeper and more fearsome fully grown.
"Yeah, kinda. But if we think too hard on it we'll get Greece in here and this hall is crowded already, eh?"
"Which..." Ukraine asked suddenly, voice raspy and unsure. "Which is the real Matvey?" She seemed so honestly bewildered and confused. Canada gave Quebec an inquiring look, to which the younger brother gave a helpless shrug.
"I just wanted to make her feel safe." he murmured. "And I blame you for that, for the record."
Matthew gave a sheepish chuckle. "I'm a country for five minutes and I'm already getting blamed for things." Dropping the cheer, he moved past Kumajiro to crouch by Ukraine. "Katyusha?" He touched her shoulder, but she twitched away with a whimper.
"I don't know who is who any more..." she cried. Russia was giving him a protective glare. Canada tried not to shy away; even injured Russia was scary.
"It's really me... It's Matthew. Canada." he assured. Slowly, Ukraine raised her hands to his face, eyes swollen shut with bruises, and she uncurled herself from where she'd been bent over Russia trying to help him even while blinded.
"... I killed you." she whispered, choked up on tears and a half-crushed windpipe. "I killed you. I'm sorry. Oh Matvey I'm so sorry."
It seemed that Canada hadn't had a good look at her injuries before, because when the older woman collapsed forward onto him in a weeping mess, his eyes widened as he took in the damage, and he looked incredulously over at America.
"Alfred..." he said, disbelieving. "What have you done?"
America stood, shaking his head, trembling legs carrying him backwards, mouthing denials before he turned and fled.
"Alfred!"
---
England blinked open his eyes and nearly swore.
Nearly meaning he actually did. Loudly, and in multiple ways.
"Buggering son of a bleeding arse fucker." he cursed, trying to roll onto his side before thinking better of it as his entire right side exploded in fiery pain. This only made him cuss harder and louder.
"I nearly forgot you were such a ray of sunshine in the mornings, Angleterre." France deadpanned from his bedside, his mouth curling up at the corners into a bemused smile.
"Fuck off you son of a whore I'm trying to die loudly here."
"Oh, is the runt finally awake?" asked Scotland, looking over at where England squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to will the world away. "Morning sleeping beauty."
"And fuck you too, you ginger tosser." the blonde moaned, glaring over at his brother.
His brother seemed slightly different from usual.
That might have been something to do with the missing leg.
"What the flying fuck?!" he exclaimed, sitting up in shock and then collapsing back onto the bed in a bundle of yet more pained swears and oaths.
"Hmm, yes, they had to amputate." France said, sounding a bit detached from the whole thing. From the croak in his voice he wasn't in the best of health either. "The cancerous tumors were too much to deal with otherwise."
"Evacuated the splash zone entirely, is what we ended up doing." Scotland explained, propped up on pillows in his bed, looking paler than his usual skin tone allowed for. "I have a lot of refugees in the highlands. Some o' your folks too."
"Great. Thanks." England groaned. And then things clicked into place and a rush of memory hit him as hard as the wave had. "Wales! Wales, what happened to Wales?!"
A tense silence fell. France and Scotland exchanged a look that made a cold hole open in the pit of England's stomach.
"Artie..." it was odd to hear Scotland attempt to be comforting. It didn't fit, didn't suit his personality or what England usually expected of him. It was wrong, wrong, all wrong. "Don't start freaking out on me, a'ight? Calm down."
"Calm down?" England let out a short, hysterical, incredulous laugh. "Calm down?! Our brother's just died and you're telling me to calm down?!"
"Yes, I bloody well am, so shut yer trap fer a moment and listen!" Scotland bellowed, drowning him out. Surprisingly, England complied. "Right. Wales' population has been reduced down to a couple hundred thousand. It ain't much but it's there. That means there's hope."
England covered his eyes with his functioning arm. "You're not usually this optimistic."
"Yeah well. We've gotta be. For Aine." the red head replied gruffly. The younger brother looked at him in surprise. "She's not doin' too well. Taking what happened to North pretty... pretty hard." He gestured over to a curtained bed in the corner of the ward. "I made sure she wasn't put into a room on her own or nothing. That would just make it worse, but... she's stopped talking to anyone. It's been a few days, ye've been out for most of it. It's like she forced herself awake, to feel the pain..."
The youngest brother (youngest, he was youngest again) stared over at his sister's silhouette. "She probably won't talk to me either, huh."
"If she won't talk to me, then she definitely won't talk to ye, Artie."
England pursed his lips. "Mm. How's everything else?"
The northern brother snorted. "Government's in a right old state, as though that's any surprise. Francis is taking on a lot of refugees, aren't ye."
France nods his head and shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know how long I'll remain a safe place for them; the radiation is drifting down."
"Why not send them to America? He's got space and-... what?" England paused mid-sentence as both the other Nations gave him looks like he'd received brain damage. "What? Is there something on my face?"
"Other than the massive burn, I'm just wondering if you truly are the source of America's impossible optimism. He has to have inherited it from someone and it wasn’t me or Netherlands. I always thought it might have been Spain…" France said in wonder, tilting his head slightly. "I understand you are on his side in almost all matters, Angleterre, but can you honestly be so blinded to what he's been doing?"
The cold hole in England's stomach grew bigger. "W-what? That's not funny. Don't tell me he's screwed up something silly and hid it from me."
That look again, passed between the two of them. He hated that look already.
"I think I need to update you on some things..."
Notes:
- Haha, extra long chapter because it's late because my parents are now turning off the internet at 11pm. orz;;;
- You remember way back when I first exploded Canada? I said that Quebec took all of the territories/provinces east of him, and that America took Yukon and British Columbia. Nobody questioned why I hadn't assigned and fate for the states in the middle. MASSIVE GAMBIT HAHAHA.
- And so we edge ever closer to the end.
Part 90
Characters (in this chapter): Quebec, Ukraine, Russia, America, TWO not very surprising surprises, England, France, Scotland, Ireland.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Some implied horrific implications (department of redundancy department) twisty twists and sob.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
Everything happened very quickly, and then slowed down. It was very hard to tell where the speed stopped and the sickening slow motion began. It wasn't like in the movies where Quebec could see the bullet fly, the air rippling around it as everyone's faces went slack with horror. It was more that a lot of things happened at once and he was somehow able to process them fast enough to understand it around the chaos.
America snapped at Russia, finger squeezing the trigger. Ukraine reached out for her brother, nearly falling out of Quebec's arms in her desperation. Russia's eyebrows rose in an expression of slight surprise. A door opened behind them, on a part of the wall that Quebec would later look at and wonder where it had gone, and something rushed out and slammed their shoulder against America's arm, throwing off his aim. Something white and furry bellowed a roar and skidded into the room to stand in front of the Slavic siblings.
Russia stumbled back and hit the wall, clutching at his arm which had gone limp. Ukraine twisted out of Quebec's arms until he was forced to put her down and help her over to her brother. Once she'd got to his side she fussed over his wound despite being gravely injured herself.
A voice pierced the slowed-down silence, shattering the illusion.
"What do you think you're doing, eh?!"
Quebec had clearly snapped. His mind probably couldn't take the strain of this damned war any more. That, or the bullet had hit him instead, and he was dead.
A boy, possibly as old as Quebec had been before independence, was grasping America's wrist and forcing him to point his gun at the floor. His blonde hair curled at the ends, and behind his glasses violet eyes of the north sparked with righteous anger and deep confusion. He was breathing hard from running, face flushed red and hair a mess, in nothing more than a pair of jeans and a red hoodie, no shoes.
The United States of America dropped his gun.
"Impossible." breathed Russia, staring up at the scene before him. Quebec, for once, was inclined to agree.
He'd blinked once and suddenly found himself at Canada's feet, grasping onto his familiar red hoodie and crying like a lost child come home. A soft hand landed on the top of his head, stroking his hair with a warm affection.
"It's not like you to cry, Quebec..." he said in his quiet voice, always so easily drowned out by the rest of the world and their chaos. "Come on, eh? Get up."
America snatched his hand from his brother's grip, white as a sheet and mouth moving for once without words. "Ghost!" he said, once he'd finally found his tongue. He turned a bit green, holding his hands up to shield himself. "Any ghost but this!"
Canada sighed, seeming put-upon. "Al, I may be a bit invisible sometimes, but I'm not a ghost."
"No!" America shouted, shaking his head and continuing to retreat backwards until he hit the wall and jumped. "No! No, I- you can't- Mattie!" His voice became nearly a sob. "I saw you, Mattie! I had to watch you die! I had to watch you die, and it's all because of him!" A shaking accusatory finger pointed at Russia, who seemed similarly shocked that Canada was alive somehow. "It wasn't fair! I had to pay him back, I had to make it right!" Desperate, he searched his brother's face for understanding. "Can't you see it, Mattie? He's the villain, I'm just trying to save what I can!"
"Does this look right to you, eh?" the other twin asked, following the path of Alfred's finger. "What I see are two very broken countries at the hands of a brutal conqueror."
America physically flinched away.
"How...?" asked Russia, staring as though he could decipher the secret himself. "How is this possible?"
"Generally it wouldn't be." the now teenage Nation explained, and a small smile appeared. "But that's something I'm not allowed to share. What I can tell you is that Kumashiro helped."
Everyone focused on the white bear, who was now much bigger than the cub Canada usually carried around with him; it was a fully sized polar bear now, and took up much of the space in the hallway. It stood off to the side, ready to stand between America and the Slavs again if needed.
"It's Kumajiro." it mumbled.
"Right, right." chuckled Canada. "Quebec, which territories or provinces joined your union again?"
The other Canadian Nation sniffed and tried to regain some dignity, letting go of Canada's hoodie finally. "Ah... Newfoundland and Labrador, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia and New Brunswick..." he counted off. "And I'm watching most of where Ontario... was..."
"And Al, which of my provinces did you take on?"
"Yukon... and British Columbia..." he breathed out, eyes flashing with pain. The extra two stars on his flag...
"I guess that made your west coast boarder all neat and tidy, eh?" Canada replied, and didn't bother to watch America flinch again. "I know you're not great with maps, Al, but anyone would know that there's a big space in between the two of you. It's mostly ice and forests that far up north, but..." He smiled. "There are still people, and they're still mine. Kumamaro was watching them until I came back. I guess that's how he got so big." He shrugged. "I barely exist, but it's still an existence, eh?"
"This is moronic... impossible..." Russia breathed, trying to lean forward. Kumajiro growled at him, much deeper and more fearsome fully grown.
"Yeah, kinda. But if we think too hard on it we'll get Greece in here and this hall is crowded already, eh?"
"Which..." Ukraine asked suddenly, voice raspy and unsure. "Which is the real Matvey?" She seemed so honestly bewildered and confused. Canada gave Quebec an inquiring look, to which the younger brother gave a helpless shrug.
"I just wanted to make her feel safe." he murmured. "And I blame you for that, for the record."
Matthew gave a sheepish chuckle. "I'm a country for five minutes and I'm already getting blamed for things." Dropping the cheer, he moved past Kumajiro to crouch by Ukraine. "Katyusha?" He touched her shoulder, but she twitched away with a whimper.
"I don't know who is who any more..." she cried. Russia was giving him a protective glare. Canada tried not to shy away; even injured Russia was scary.
"It's really me... It's Matthew. Canada." he assured. Slowly, Ukraine raised her hands to his face, eyes swollen shut with bruises, and she uncurled herself from where she'd been bent over Russia trying to help him even while blinded.
"... I killed you." she whispered, choked up on tears and a half-crushed windpipe. "I killed you. I'm sorry. Oh Matvey I'm so sorry."
It seemed that Canada hadn't had a good look at her injuries before, because when the older woman collapsed forward onto him in a weeping mess, his eyes widened as he took in the damage, and he looked incredulously over at America.
"Alfred..." he said, disbelieving. "What have you done?"
America stood, shaking his head, trembling legs carrying him backwards, mouthing denials before he turned and fled.
"Alfred!"
---
England blinked open his eyes and nearly swore.
Nearly meaning he actually did. Loudly, and in multiple ways.
"Buggering son of a bleeding arse fucker." he cursed, trying to roll onto his side before thinking better of it as his entire right side exploded in fiery pain. This only made him cuss harder and louder.
"I nearly forgot you were such a ray of sunshine in the mornings, Angleterre." France deadpanned from his bedside, his mouth curling up at the corners into a bemused smile.
"Fuck off you son of a whore I'm trying to die loudly here."
"Oh, is the runt finally awake?" asked Scotland, looking over at where England squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to will the world away. "Morning sleeping beauty."
"And fuck you too, you ginger tosser." the blonde moaned, glaring over at his brother.
His brother seemed slightly different from usual.
That might have been something to do with the missing leg.
"What the flying fuck?!" he exclaimed, sitting up in shock and then collapsing back onto the bed in a bundle of yet more pained swears and oaths.
"Hmm, yes, they had to amputate." France said, sounding a bit detached from the whole thing. From the croak in his voice he wasn't in the best of health either. "The cancerous tumors were too much to deal with otherwise."
"Evacuated the splash zone entirely, is what we ended up doing." Scotland explained, propped up on pillows in his bed, looking paler than his usual skin tone allowed for. "I have a lot of refugees in the highlands. Some o' your folks too."
"Great. Thanks." England groaned. And then things clicked into place and a rush of memory hit him as hard as the wave had. "Wales! Wales, what happened to Wales?!"
A tense silence fell. France and Scotland exchanged a look that made a cold hole open in the pit of England's stomach.
"Artie..." it was odd to hear Scotland attempt to be comforting. It didn't fit, didn't suit his personality or what England usually expected of him. It was wrong, wrong, all wrong. "Don't start freaking out on me, a'ight? Calm down."
"Calm down?" England let out a short, hysterical, incredulous laugh. "Calm down?! Our brother's just died and you're telling me to calm down?!"
"Yes, I bloody well am, so shut yer trap fer a moment and listen!" Scotland bellowed, drowning him out. Surprisingly, England complied. "Right. Wales' population has been reduced down to a couple hundred thousand. It ain't much but it's there. That means there's hope."
England covered his eyes with his functioning arm. "You're not usually this optimistic."
"Yeah well. We've gotta be. For Aine." the red head replied gruffly. The younger brother looked at him in surprise. "She's not doin' too well. Taking what happened to North pretty... pretty hard." He gestured over to a curtained bed in the corner of the ward. "I made sure she wasn't put into a room on her own or nothing. That would just make it worse, but... she's stopped talking to anyone. It's been a few days, ye've been out for most of it. It's like she forced herself awake, to feel the pain..."
The youngest brother (youngest, he was youngest again) stared over at his sister's silhouette. "She probably won't talk to me either, huh."
"If she won't talk to me, then she definitely won't talk to ye, Artie."
England pursed his lips. "Mm. How's everything else?"
The northern brother snorted. "Government's in a right old state, as though that's any surprise. Francis is taking on a lot of refugees, aren't ye."
France nods his head and shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know how long I'll remain a safe place for them; the radiation is drifting down."
"Why not send them to America? He's got space and-... what?" England paused mid-sentence as both the other Nations gave him looks like he'd received brain damage. "What? Is there something on my face?"
"Other than the massive burn, I'm just wondering if you truly are the source of America's impossible optimism. He has to have inherited it from someone and it wasn’t me or Netherlands. I always thought it might have been Spain…" France said in wonder, tilting his head slightly. "I understand you are on his side in almost all matters, Angleterre, but can you honestly be so blinded to what he's been doing?"
The cold hole in England's stomach grew bigger. "W-what? That's not funny. Don't tell me he's screwed up something silly and hid it from me."
That look again, passed between the two of them. He hated that look already.
"I think I need to update you on some things..."
Notes:
- Haha, extra long chapter because it's late because my parents are now turning off the internet at 11pm. orz;;;
- You remember way back when I first exploded Canada? I said that Quebec took all of the territories/provinces east of him, and that America took Yukon and British Columbia. Nobody questioned why I hadn't assigned and fate for the states in the middle. MASSIVE GAMBIT HAHAHA.
- And so we edge ever closer to the end.
Part 90
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 07:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 08:08 am (UTC)Hi Canada.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 12:01 pm (UTC)or were, as it is now.
Canada: Hi. *waves*
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 07:26 pm (UTC)Idk I think it was 3 AM. xD
/stares
Date: 2010-10-05 08:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 08:40 am (UTC)I laughed with England cursing. That's just so him~ Poor Ireland, though, ahhh it keeps breaking my heart TnT
Tch, England, I bet he'll still defend America after he knows what he's been doing >>
awww no Team Middle Eastno subject
Date: 2010-10-05 12:03 pm (UTC)He's in another bloody hospital and he's damn sick of it. Also in a lot of pain so cuuuuuurses. Ireland made me sad face while writing it. ;n; stay strong Aine...
England's rather hopeless when it comes to America, I'm afraid. /facepalm
Sadly not my dear.no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 10:17 am (UTC)Probably how Canada got here to begin with /shotPfft oh god England aren't you just a charm to wake up to. Whose bright idea was it to put you in the same room with France and Scotland, someone's going to end up thrown out. XD Speaking of Scotland ;lsdkf HIS LEG WRRRRRRY. Please tell me he can grow that back too, he's been through enough in this war orz. But bawww Scotland you're such a good big brother when you want to be. ;n; Oh god England I know you want to see the best in America but orz;;; how can you be so clueless. Port I thought you'd be there for sure when he woke up. XD
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 12:07 pm (UTC)When one doesn't like hospitals and is in a lot of pain they are inclined to swear up a storm, methinks. France is really just hanging out in Scotland's room, visiting and all that (though he practically lives there because Scotty's not getting out for a while). Scotty can grow most things back, maybe once the land that's ruined is habitable again he'll grow it back, but keeping people in that area is only going to make his leg go all cancer-y. And that sucks.
Port's busy. Call back later. >]
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 10:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 11:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-06 01:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 11:11 am (UTC)Can't wait to see how this is all going to turn out! Can't wait for Wales and North to reappear oh and Bell! and I really want to see Port rushing over when he hears England's awake! AND AND AND!!!!!! What shal happen with Russia and America!
And you GO! CANADA! No one shall ever forget you EVER again!!!!!!
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 01:55 pm (UTC)XD Wales' re-appearance might give England a heart attack, bless him, North might make Ireland faint.
It's all so exciting!
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 03:30 pm (UTC)And then Scotland's the only one there to actually welcome them, for their other siblings are out... once again!
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 11:29 am (UTC)France, England and Scotland aaaaah your poor leg. /holds them all.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 12:14 pm (UTC)*gives them all to you to huggle, god knows they need it"
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 12:04 pm (UTC)I really do feel badly for Alfred though. Having to go through the pain of watching someone close to you die. Then they come back and are horrified by the revenge you exact in their name.
Sanctions will be...uh, sanctioned. Oh, yes.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 12:17 pm (UTC)Well really, did he think that Canada would want him to ruthlessly torture his girlfriend? Silly boy.
Hehe, oh yes.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 05:21 pm (UTC)Canada, don't kick your brother's ass too hard, okay?
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 07:59 pm (UTC)And yet more shit cometh to hit the fan.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 10:17 pm (UTC)hey wait- CANADA!!! *fistpump*
America's theme song is being reassigned: 'CANADA! Fuck yeah! Comin' in to save the mutha'fuckin day yeah!' orz
"Buggering son of a bleeding arse fucker."
I'm pretty sure this right here is my favorite line in maybe the whole entire fic.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 10:40 pm (UTC)MAPLE SYRUP (FUCK YEAH)
POLAR BEARS (FUCK YEAH)
ICE HOCKEY (FUCK YEAH)
SAYING EH (FUCK YEAH EH!)
/makes up the whole rest of the song.
Pfft. I'm quite attached to England's unique brand of swearing myself.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-06 10:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 10:29 pm (UTC)And England's like the best swearer ever. TEACH ME YOUR WAYS, ENGLAND.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 10:44 pm (UTC)Learn to swear, you will. Shut the fuck up and listen, you must.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-05 10:53 pm (UTC)Yes, sensei. *absorbs knowledge*
Live in harmony, harmony OH LOVE
Date: 2010-10-06 10:15 am (UTC)Still sorry about the stones. -whimpers-
I have a feeling that America regrets what he did. And Canada is mad (inside). And England is going to hit the former so hard his mother up There will feel it.
And WWIII crisis gangbang /shotEngland's swearing is beautiful. That should be a regional dialect somewhere! :|
Not sorry for them Brit sibs anymore because I know what goes on with Prussia, so yeah. -whistles-
Meloves this chapter, methinks.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-08 06:09 pm (UTC)I so glad he is alive ;__;!
no subject
Date: 2010-10-08 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-08 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-08 10:22 pm (UTC)