Family Ties [Part 97]
Jan. 5th, 2011 01:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): America, England and Wales
Rating: 15
Warnings: Mental breakdowns, insanity, violence
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.
America stared at England. His England, scarred and broken and voice sounding so weary, green eyes staring back at him in askance. The proud island nation, always laying demands on him, was actually asking something instead.
But what he was asking for might be too much.
"I don't..." he started again for the third time, trying to sum up what he needed to say, but for once being completely without words. What was he trying to say? I don't think I can? I don't think I want to? I don't think I should?
Don't pin this all on me. Don't act like I was the only one in this war. Don't pretend like you weren't with me at that planning table.
I thought you were on my side.
There were protests on the streets again. His president was being escorted out under armed guard. People were demanding things that he couldn't give. He couldn't give them peace, not yet, not yet.
"America..." England's voice punctured his thoughts, bringing him back to where he stood. "Will you stop?"
Even England was asking things of him. Why? He was counting on him to back him up, when he needed it, but instead he was turning it around on him? Why would he turn his back when America most needed him? He hadn't done anything to deserve that.
Something wet landed on his face, and he blinked. The next second, another drop, and another, until a sudden torrent of rain poured down on them. People hurried back into tents, hiding from the water, cringing away if it touched them. It wasn't acidic, though, so why were they so scared of it? It always rained at England's house...
"Get inside, all of you!" scolded a lady America didn't know. She gazed fearfully at him. "The radiation in the rain isn't going to do you any favors!"
England was tugging on his hand to try and pull him inside, but he didn't want to go. He wanted to stay out here. No, he wanted to run away, get back into his jet and find fly fast enough around the world that it would reverse the rotation and send them back in time, just like that Superman movie. He would go back to before all this happened, to before the first bombs and the NWO and the war, back to when he was the hero of the story, not the bad guy. He didn't like being the bad guy. Everyone looked at you like you were gonna snap on them, even allies. That wasn't right.
The people were still protesting. They were ripping the stars off his flag. He was looking after those for Canada, those bastards. How dare they... it was as bad as burning the whole thing! If they weren't going to act like proper Americans, he didn't need them.
He didn't need people who didn't play nice.
"He never used to be like that. You know what he said to me, before it happened?" Lithuania said quietly, with a melancholy sort of smile. America leaned forward in his chair to hear his voice, which had suddenly gone quiet.
"What's that?"
"On Bloody Sunday, he was just trying to get the protesting people outside to calm down. He said they always wanted things, even though he did all he could for them." America could see the Baltic's hands shaking, until he curled them into fists. "Then something changed. He picked up a rifle and opened the windows. Then he turned to look at me and said..." he shook his head, long brown hair hiding his expression. "'We don't need children who can't play nice.'"
America took a step back, horrified at his own thoughts. Unfortunately, there were stairs behind him, so he nearly fell down them too. He managed to catch himself after stumbling down three, and stood stock still. England's hand reached out for him, expression concerned and worried.
"America? Come on, let's go inside."
He couldn't stand it. He had to go back and fix his mistakes. Fix what was happening to him, as a country.
"Sorry, England." he uttered, barely audible over the sound of the rain. Why was it always him and England in the rain? "I'm sorry. I've ruined it. I messed up."
England's frown grew. "It's fixable, America. But you have to get out of the rain first. It's dangerous."
"Fixable?" America almost laughed. "Have you- have you even seen what I've done? You've not seen Russia. You've not seen Ukraine!" He was nearly hysterical. He didn't care. He was finally admitting it. Maybe England would finally withdraw in disgust if he told him. It didn't matter any more, it was all over. "I did everything humanly possible and then some! I murdered family members, I tortured both of them in front of each other, I denied them food and hygiene and violated nearly all of the Geneva conventions!" He put a hand to the side of his face, unsure if it was just a headache he was feeling, or if he was finally being ripped apart from the inside. "This isn't fixable, England. I'm not fixable."
England was starting to look genuinely scared. "I... America, we're countries, we make mistakes-"
"It's more than that!" America shouted. "It's more, and it's worse." He leaned his head back, letting irradiated water soak him through, from his hair to his boots. It was freezing cold and unforgiving. "He's right. He's been right so long."
"What are you talking about?"
Somewhere, unnoticed, a door opened.
"I ignored him, thinking he was just trying to get to me. But all along, I've been turning into this..."
"America, stop it..."
The rain was hitting his glasses. He couldn't see any more. Something slightly short and blonde was coming towards him. England?
"'We are so much more alike than you know,' he said." he half laughed, feeling mad and completely out of place in the world. "I know now. I know how alike we are now. Practically identical."
"What on earth-?!"
"I've turned into Russia!"
Something hit him hard across the cheek, sending him toppling down the rest of the stairs. He rolled to a stop on the gravel driveway, and realised just how much that hit had hurt. It had been a punch, a heavy one, a strong one. Had England punched him?
It hurt.
His jaw might have been knocked out of place.
"Hey, I found out how to finally shut him up." said a voice that wasn't England's, standing over him. His glasses had come loose in the fall, and he squinted up at the blurry shape.
"W-... Wales..." uttered England's voice, sounding completely blown out of the water. "But you... you died..."
Wales chuckled. "I got better."
Part 98
Notes:
- Hope everyone had a great New Year! I certainly did, so busy~!
-FALCON DRAGON PUUUUUUNCH
Characters (in this chapter): America, England and Wales
Rating: 15
Warnings: Mental breakdowns, insanity, violence
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.
America stared at England. His England, scarred and broken and voice sounding so weary, green eyes staring back at him in askance. The proud island nation, always laying demands on him, was actually asking something instead.
But what he was asking for might be too much.
"I don't..." he started again for the third time, trying to sum up what he needed to say, but for once being completely without words. What was he trying to say? I don't think I can? I don't think I want to? I don't think I should?
Don't pin this all on me. Don't act like I was the only one in this war. Don't pretend like you weren't with me at that planning table.
I thought you were on my side.
There were protests on the streets again. His president was being escorted out under armed guard. People were demanding things that he couldn't give. He couldn't give them peace, not yet, not yet.
"America..." England's voice punctured his thoughts, bringing him back to where he stood. "Will you stop?"
Even England was asking things of him. Why? He was counting on him to back him up, when he needed it, but instead he was turning it around on him? Why would he turn his back when America most needed him? He hadn't done anything to deserve that.
Something wet landed on his face, and he blinked. The next second, another drop, and another, until a sudden torrent of rain poured down on them. People hurried back into tents, hiding from the water, cringing away if it touched them. It wasn't acidic, though, so why were they so scared of it? It always rained at England's house...
"Get inside, all of you!" scolded a lady America didn't know. She gazed fearfully at him. "The radiation in the rain isn't going to do you any favors!"
England was tugging on his hand to try and pull him inside, but he didn't want to go. He wanted to stay out here. No, he wanted to run away, get back into his jet and find fly fast enough around the world that it would reverse the rotation and send them back in time, just like that Superman movie. He would go back to before all this happened, to before the first bombs and the NWO and the war, back to when he was the hero of the story, not the bad guy. He didn't like being the bad guy. Everyone looked at you like you were gonna snap on them, even allies. That wasn't right.
The people were still protesting. They were ripping the stars off his flag. He was looking after those for Canada, those bastards. How dare they... it was as bad as burning the whole thing! If they weren't going to act like proper Americans, he didn't need them.
He didn't need people who didn't play nice.
"He never used to be like that. You know what he said to me, before it happened?" Lithuania said quietly, with a melancholy sort of smile. America leaned forward in his chair to hear his voice, which had suddenly gone quiet.
"What's that?"
"On Bloody Sunday, he was just trying to get the protesting people outside to calm down. He said they always wanted things, even though he did all he could for them." America could see the Baltic's hands shaking, until he curled them into fists. "Then something changed. He picked up a rifle and opened the windows. Then he turned to look at me and said..." he shook his head, long brown hair hiding his expression. "'We don't need children who can't play nice.'"
America took a step back, horrified at his own thoughts. Unfortunately, there were stairs behind him, so he nearly fell down them too. He managed to catch himself after stumbling down three, and stood stock still. England's hand reached out for him, expression concerned and worried.
"America? Come on, let's go inside."
He couldn't stand it. He had to go back and fix his mistakes. Fix what was happening to him, as a country.
"Sorry, England." he uttered, barely audible over the sound of the rain. Why was it always him and England in the rain? "I'm sorry. I've ruined it. I messed up."
England's frown grew. "It's fixable, America. But you have to get out of the rain first. It's dangerous."
"Fixable?" America almost laughed. "Have you- have you even seen what I've done? You've not seen Russia. You've not seen Ukraine!" He was nearly hysterical. He didn't care. He was finally admitting it. Maybe England would finally withdraw in disgust if he told him. It didn't matter any more, it was all over. "I did everything humanly possible and then some! I murdered family members, I tortured both of them in front of each other, I denied them food and hygiene and violated nearly all of the Geneva conventions!" He put a hand to the side of his face, unsure if it was just a headache he was feeling, or if he was finally being ripped apart from the inside. "This isn't fixable, England. I'm not fixable."
England was starting to look genuinely scared. "I... America, we're countries, we make mistakes-"
"It's more than that!" America shouted. "It's more, and it's worse." He leaned his head back, letting irradiated water soak him through, from his hair to his boots. It was freezing cold and unforgiving. "He's right. He's been right so long."
"What are you talking about?"
Somewhere, unnoticed, a door opened.
"I ignored him, thinking he was just trying to get to me. But all along, I've been turning into this..."
"America, stop it..."
The rain was hitting his glasses. He couldn't see any more. Something slightly short and blonde was coming towards him. England?
"'We are so much more alike than you know,' he said." he half laughed, feeling mad and completely out of place in the world. "I know now. I know how alike we are now. Practically identical."
"What on earth-?!"
"I've turned into Russia!"
Something hit him hard across the cheek, sending him toppling down the rest of the stairs. He rolled to a stop on the gravel driveway, and realised just how much that hit had hurt. It had been a punch, a heavy one, a strong one. Had England punched him?
It hurt.
His jaw might have been knocked out of place.
"Hey, I found out how to finally shut him up." said a voice that wasn't England's, standing over him. His glasses had come loose in the fall, and he squinted up at the blurry shape.
"W-... Wales..." uttered England's voice, sounding completely blown out of the water. "But you... you died..."
Wales chuckled. "I got better."
Part 98
Notes:
- Hope everyone had a great New Year! I certainly did, so busy~!
-
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 02:56 am (UTC)Oh god Wales has super strength now too oh my god aaaaaaaaaaah Wales
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 02:56 am (UTC)/studies maths instead.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 02:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 02:57 am (UTC)Twu wuv.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 02:59 am (UTC)This is important.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 04:09 am (UTC)And I love your last icon.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 04:14 am (UTC)And thank you, I'm rather fond of it too.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 04:21 am (UTC)Except now I ruined it again with my other comment.
Except NOW I fixed it again.
This is confusing.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 04:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 04:20 am (UTC)Waaaaaaaaaaaales! 8DDDDDD *glomps him*
Baww, America... Don't worry, you're not quite the same as Russia. Russians actually know something about geography and history and they can spell their own language.
(Just kidding, I do love you, Americans and you aren't as bad as Russia. Well, not yet at least. *ominous chord*)Okay, anyway... I randomly feel so sad for Russia... Hope he gets help in the end. Maybe from America. I don't really know if anyone else could help him.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 06:27 am (UTC)Wales: akhfkjhd /falls over
Lololol owch, poor America. We're too mean to him sometimes...
(It's like FT is the Ghost of Christmas Future... bewaaaare... you could turn into thiiiiiis!)Everyone needs a therapist after this thing is over.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 05:10 am (UTC)Well, except Wales now. Waaaaaaaales!! /cling
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 06:28 am (UTC)The collective cry seems to be "WAAAALES" XD He's finally being recognised. /shot
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 08:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 09:45 am (UTC)Wwaaalless!!! (>*¬*)> Welcome back to the land of the living! Ah, dynamic entry is dynamic!
Poor Alfred... T3T
no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 05:48 pm (UTC)And nobody expected the
Spanish InquisitionWales.:D *joins Monty Python quoting bandwagon*Well, this comment was completely useless, I apologise.:P
no subject
Date: 2011-01-06 06:46 am (UTC)Holy shit Alfred, you found out so late. Please get your shit together.
Excuse me while I fangasm because WAAAAAAAALES. I love this guy so much. And "I got better" omg I've been reading too much TV Tropes because I can't stop giggling.