Family Ties [Part 33]
Apr. 7th, 2010 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): France, China, Scotland.
Rating: 18
Warnings: Torture, graphic imagery, gore, me getting carried away.
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.
He is tied up with his arms spread wide, forced to kneel on the floor, facing the concrete wall. His wrists are aching with rope burn, it's getting harder to breathe every time he inhales, he can taste blood in his mouth and see it on the floor. These are the least of his worries.
A wet sloshing sound is all the warning he gets before his back erupts in agony.
For a few merciful seconds his consciousness whites out, though it quickly returns as the pain re-awakens him. His skin blisters and boils and bleeds, his hair absorbs the heat and scalds his neck in whips. The boiling liquid spreads over his shoulders and down his chest, rivets of pain dripping onto his folded legs and raising skin into angry red trails as it goes. It is not water, it is oil, and every place it touches it stays.
He's only aware that he's screaming once he has to stop for breath.
"Changed your mind yet?" China asks in French, butchering the accent even worse than he does in English. "All it takes is a simple 'yes', aru, and this can stop."
France spits a mixture of blood and saliva at his captor, who neatly dodges.
"Very well."
The sudden ice cold water knocks all the air out of him so fast he can't draw it back in. No, he's not trying to breath air, it's just water, he's dying, drowning, thrashing and gasping and drowning-!
He's slapped twice around the face and that brings him back from the terror for just a second, heart stopping and starting in fits of fright.
"I will ask again." China asks with zen-like calm. "And as many times as it takes for me to get the answer I want. Do you surrender to the New World Order?"
He can't say anything, he can barely remember his own name around the pain, but rebellion and spirit spark in blue eyes as rioters in the streets march forwards to the government offices just like they had so long ago.
China does not look pleased. "Fine. We shall have to do this the hard way." A pause. "Hard on you, that is."
While the other Nation switches to Mandarin and orders his men about, France gathers his wits for whatever comes next. They have broken all of his fingers, as well as his knee caps, which makes the kneeling all the more painful. His arms are held apart, strapped to a board that is suspended on rope in the air, a mockery of crucifixion that slowly suffocates him, as if he could die that way. At some point he bit his tongue to muffle his own screams, but only ended up with a mouth full of blood.
His knees send stabs of pain racking through his body as the board his arms are strapped to is turned around, ropes twisting. The rest of the room is revealed to him, a hundred instruments of torture waiting for the poor souls they were intended for, China and two assistants watching the door expectantly.
It opens, and swarm of men invade the room. There need not be so many, since the man they are carrying can't exactly attack them with all of his limbs broken like that.
'James...'
As though the Scotsman heard him, green eyes raise to meet his as he is strapped to a metal table far out of France's reach. With a crunch, his jaw, previously broken, heals back into place. The assistants quickly strap his legs to the table as the bones in them pop and click and heal at an astounding rate, bruises blossoming and fading in a fascinating display that would make any biologist faint. He opens his mouth to say something, but is gagged before he can.
"You know why we are doing this to you, aru." China addresses France in English this time, most likely intending for Scotland to overhear. "We cannot afford for you to go running off with all the nukes and supplies we need, aru. Besides which, you are a strategic point to have in Europe."
Two tanks of what smells of gasoline are poured all over Scotland, even as he growls muffled curses into his gag. China takes out a matchbox. France can't breathe for different reasons than before.
"Our reasons for doing this to you are logical, aru." China takes four paces to where Scotland struggles and skillfully strikes three matches at once. "But why would we do this to him?"
Seconds after they leave his hand, Scotland is engulfed in fire. He bucks and archs and yells and screams obscenities in ancient Gaelic, but the iron cuffs hold firm and the table is bolted to the floor so all of his struggles are meaningless torment.
"James...!" France's voice is barely above a whisper, but he can't do any better. Leaning forward, he weakly makes his own attempt at escape, but he has nothing but desperation to fuel him, and it is not enough.
"We do this to him-" China begins, before noticing he doesn't have Francis' attention. He grabs his chin. "We do this to him because he is connected to you, and if he went free you could use him, aru. Besides which, he has already refused to leave you, even under interrogation, aru." Between the flames, Scotland's skin peels and blackens. "You've got yourself a nice little pet, haven't you, aru?"
'He's not my pet, he's his own person!' France tries to argue back, but the only place his voice is heard is in his own head.
Scotland twists one last time, and then lies still, flames still roaring and consuming him, a great beast summoned from the abyss. "This is your own fault." China tells him in his ear, like poison. "Your fault that he burns here tonight, and that he will be killed again tomorrow, and the day after, and until we run out of ways to kill him and start again. Your fault that his people are enlisted, young and old, to die for something they do not understand or support. Your fault that you always drove a wedge between him and his family in the first place, and now he dies for you, again and again, until he breaks."
The flames are doused, and France cannot look away even as the burned and unrecognisable corpse is revealed, and starts to heal, charred flesh falling off as new muscle stitches together.
"I will be surprised if he ever forgives you."
"No!"
Cold sweat ran down France's neck and over healing burn scars. He threaded his hands through his knotted hair and tried to calm his breathing, curling up on his bed roll. His guilt would not leave him alone even as he slept, it seemed. Memories replayed over and over, the hundreds of ways humans across the world had invented to kill people, all played out in graphic detail before him.
He crawled from his corner of the cell, heart racing, and found Scotland, slumped against the wall with hands bound, in case he had a sudden rebellion spell in the night. He was entirely too still for France's liking, and something cold landed in the pit of his stomach.
Hands shackled, France held quivering hands over his lover's face, unscarred physically but hiding something too broken for him to fix in these circumstances. "I'm sorry..." he murmured, voice still not recovered, if it ever would be. "I'm sorry that this happened to you, I'm sorry that I've done this to you..." If Scotland had been in his right mind, he probably would have despaired over how slowly his beard was growing back, France thought irrationally. "But please, don't leave me." He didn't see Scotland's eyes crack open. "Don't leave me..."
"Mmph... why would I leave ye?" he grumbled, shifting slightly against the wall. France withdrew his hands. "I've gotta protect ye... s'what I'm here for, aye?"
Francis sighed and sat against the wall with James, hissing in pain when he hit his injured back a little hard.
"Hey, don't hurt yourself." the red head said. The concern registered on his face but not in his eyes. France had to remind himself not to look there.
"I'm fine, just... go back to sleep, cher."
"... alrigh'."
Notes:
- Never apply ice cold water to third degree burns, much less oil burns that are all over the body. This will cause such a shock to the nervous system that the body will begin to simulate drowning, which can sometimes lead to a heart attack and death.
- No, I do not hate China. He is, in fact, one of my favourite characters, and has his own reasons for being involved like this. That said, if you're going to torture someone, you do it the whole hog.
- Contrary to popular belief, being stabbed in the hands and left to starve for three days was not what killed those who were crucified. Holding a person's arms above their shoulders will render them unable to breathe out properly, thus forcing them to drown on air. Try raising your arms above your head and having a good cough. Doesn't work as well as when they're down, huh?
- Haha, this chapter ended up longer than the rest. I wonder what that says about me?
Part 34
Characters (in this chapter): France, China, Scotland.
Rating: 18
Warnings: Torture, graphic imagery, gore, me getting carried away.
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.
He is tied up with his arms spread wide, forced to kneel on the floor, facing the concrete wall. His wrists are aching with rope burn, it's getting harder to breathe every time he inhales, he can taste blood in his mouth and see it on the floor. These are the least of his worries.
A wet sloshing sound is all the warning he gets before his back erupts in agony.
For a few merciful seconds his consciousness whites out, though it quickly returns as the pain re-awakens him. His skin blisters and boils and bleeds, his hair absorbs the heat and scalds his neck in whips. The boiling liquid spreads over his shoulders and down his chest, rivets of pain dripping onto his folded legs and raising skin into angry red trails as it goes. It is not water, it is oil, and every place it touches it stays.
He's only aware that he's screaming once he has to stop for breath.
"Changed your mind yet?" China asks in French, butchering the accent even worse than he does in English. "All it takes is a simple 'yes', aru, and this can stop."
France spits a mixture of blood and saliva at his captor, who neatly dodges.
"Very well."
The sudden ice cold water knocks all the air out of him so fast he can't draw it back in. No, he's not trying to breath air, it's just water, he's dying, drowning, thrashing and gasping and drowning-!
He's slapped twice around the face and that brings him back from the terror for just a second, heart stopping and starting in fits of fright.
"I will ask again." China asks with zen-like calm. "And as many times as it takes for me to get the answer I want. Do you surrender to the New World Order?"
He can't say anything, he can barely remember his own name around the pain, but rebellion and spirit spark in blue eyes as rioters in the streets march forwards to the government offices just like they had so long ago.
China does not look pleased. "Fine. We shall have to do this the hard way." A pause. "Hard on you, that is."
While the other Nation switches to Mandarin and orders his men about, France gathers his wits for whatever comes next. They have broken all of his fingers, as well as his knee caps, which makes the kneeling all the more painful. His arms are held apart, strapped to a board that is suspended on rope in the air, a mockery of crucifixion that slowly suffocates him, as if he could die that way. At some point he bit his tongue to muffle his own screams, but only ended up with a mouth full of blood.
His knees send stabs of pain racking through his body as the board his arms are strapped to is turned around, ropes twisting. The rest of the room is revealed to him, a hundred instruments of torture waiting for the poor souls they were intended for, China and two assistants watching the door expectantly.
It opens, and swarm of men invade the room. There need not be so many, since the man they are carrying can't exactly attack them with all of his limbs broken like that.
'James...'
As though the Scotsman heard him, green eyes raise to meet his as he is strapped to a metal table far out of France's reach. With a crunch, his jaw, previously broken, heals back into place. The assistants quickly strap his legs to the table as the bones in them pop and click and heal at an astounding rate, bruises blossoming and fading in a fascinating display that would make any biologist faint. He opens his mouth to say something, but is gagged before he can.
"You know why we are doing this to you, aru." China addresses France in English this time, most likely intending for Scotland to overhear. "We cannot afford for you to go running off with all the nukes and supplies we need, aru. Besides which, you are a strategic point to have in Europe."
Two tanks of what smells of gasoline are poured all over Scotland, even as he growls muffled curses into his gag. China takes out a matchbox. France can't breathe for different reasons than before.
"Our reasons for doing this to you are logical, aru." China takes four paces to where Scotland struggles and skillfully strikes three matches at once. "But why would we do this to him?"
Seconds after they leave his hand, Scotland is engulfed in fire. He bucks and archs and yells and screams obscenities in ancient Gaelic, but the iron cuffs hold firm and the table is bolted to the floor so all of his struggles are meaningless torment.
"James...!" France's voice is barely above a whisper, but he can't do any better. Leaning forward, he weakly makes his own attempt at escape, but he has nothing but desperation to fuel him, and it is not enough.
"We do this to him-" China begins, before noticing he doesn't have Francis' attention. He grabs his chin. "We do this to him because he is connected to you, and if he went free you could use him, aru. Besides which, he has already refused to leave you, even under interrogation, aru." Between the flames, Scotland's skin peels and blackens. "You've got yourself a nice little pet, haven't you, aru?"
'He's not my pet, he's his own person!' France tries to argue back, but the only place his voice is heard is in his own head.
Scotland twists one last time, and then lies still, flames still roaring and consuming him, a great beast summoned from the abyss. "This is your own fault." China tells him in his ear, like poison. "Your fault that he burns here tonight, and that he will be killed again tomorrow, and the day after, and until we run out of ways to kill him and start again. Your fault that his people are enlisted, young and old, to die for something they do not understand or support. Your fault that you always drove a wedge between him and his family in the first place, and now he dies for you, again and again, until he breaks."
The flames are doused, and France cannot look away even as the burned and unrecognisable corpse is revealed, and starts to heal, charred flesh falling off as new muscle stitches together.
"I will be surprised if he ever forgives you."
"No!"
Cold sweat ran down France's neck and over healing burn scars. He threaded his hands through his knotted hair and tried to calm his breathing, curling up on his bed roll. His guilt would not leave him alone even as he slept, it seemed. Memories replayed over and over, the hundreds of ways humans across the world had invented to kill people, all played out in graphic detail before him.
He crawled from his corner of the cell, heart racing, and found Scotland, slumped against the wall with hands bound, in case he had a sudden rebellion spell in the night. He was entirely too still for France's liking, and something cold landed in the pit of his stomach.
Hands shackled, France held quivering hands over his lover's face, unscarred physically but hiding something too broken for him to fix in these circumstances. "I'm sorry..." he murmured, voice still not recovered, if it ever would be. "I'm sorry that this happened to you, I'm sorry that I've done this to you..." If Scotland had been in his right mind, he probably would have despaired over how slowly his beard was growing back, France thought irrationally. "But please, don't leave me." He didn't see Scotland's eyes crack open. "Don't leave me..."
"Mmph... why would I leave ye?" he grumbled, shifting slightly against the wall. France withdrew his hands. "I've gotta protect ye... s'what I'm here for, aye?"
Francis sighed and sat against the wall with James, hissing in pain when he hit his injured back a little hard.
"Hey, don't hurt yourself." the red head said. The concern registered on his face but not in his eyes. France had to remind himself not to look there.
"I'm fine, just... go back to sleep, cher."
"... alrigh'."
Notes:
- Never apply ice cold water to third degree burns, much less oil burns that are all over the body. This will cause such a shock to the nervous system that the body will begin to simulate drowning, which can sometimes lead to a heart attack and death.
- No, I do not hate China. He is, in fact, one of my favourite characters, and has his own reasons for being involved like this. That said, if you're going to torture someone, you do it the whole hog.
- Contrary to popular belief, being stabbed in the hands and left to starve for three days was not what killed those who were crucified. Holding a person's arms above their shoulders will render them unable to breathe out properly, thus forcing them to drown on air. Try raising your arms above your head and having a good cough. Doesn't work as well as when they're down, huh?
- Haha, this chapter ended up longer than the rest. I wonder what that says about me?
Part 34
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-04-10 06:14 pm (UTC)Yes do it their tears are always worth it. \o/ /I'M NOT SORRY I - I can't choose, there are too many of them omg.
IS THIS BRITISH HUMOURsob I bet he probably got some level of satisfaction out of it, knowing him. And she was such a badass girl too orz, what a waste. WH-WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS SAY THAT. D: Well stalker I think it should please you to know that I made a fanmix of their awesome relationship, and here's another sketch to tide you over. :|aI would expect nothing less. You can write me anything you want, I love it all. XDDD I am such an angst!whore sob.
But why they don't get written nearly enough!;AAA; bawww thank you bb. <3 Pfft he's a romantic at heart, of course he does. 700 years and it's only just sex? I'M SURE. NICE TRY.no subject
Date: 2010-04-10 10:05 pm (UTC)jdhuyghesgzfcfgjoxhjkgzhkszgr/h 78 gv2u9ty9 p 9odiofgbcjlfdpocmphjhj
AJDIESJGHUERJKGJISHZB,DHGL6555763.5GJIUE7
CDFUGHFDTHLOX
XKH
GUH
YOOOOOOOOUUUU
MAN I LOVE YOU SO HARDCORE I DON'T EVEN.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled response.
Russia is totally into China when he's being all... like that. I don't even. DRAMAZ O NOES. orz me too, I'd die without them and the fic would lose all coherency.
Hahaha you are such an enabler of my evil you know. I've picked. >] You'll have to wait a while because events omg.
YES DO YOU LIKE IT WE'RE SO DRY AND DARK HOHOHO.England's a meanieface. This we have learned. WE ALWAYS SAY THAT BECAUSE YOU'RE AWESOME. Please see above response to both links. (Also me and Nena d'aww-d)Aww, shucks. We can be angst whores together since yeah, I love it too.
Then I shall take this as incentive to write even more!you're welcome sweetheart <33 Lol a romantic Romantic. *shot*no subject
Date: 2010-04-11 08:18 am (UTC)Russia and China does things for my size kink in the same way Scotland and France does orz, what even.
Ahaha yesss that's what I'm here for. I enable for the sake of great justice. <333 s;dlfk events, timelines, curses. BUT I WILL BE PATIENT.
I LOVE IT, YOU'RE SO SNARKY AND WITTYI swear he just does it because they all used to bully him in the past and it's payback time orz. Innocence, what is that? He stopped being cute ages ago baww. NO I'M NOT WHAT I JUST FANGIRL RIDICULOUSLY OVER THE SLIGHTEST THINGS orz. They need more d'awww in their relationship. Just saying. I intend to do more. \o/Ahaha awesome. Let's do it. /brofist man If you don't say it twice, then you're not a true Romance nation. Grandpa Rome would be proud. ;3;