✪ A M E R I C A ✪ (Alfred F. Jones) ✪ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
starspangledhero) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
discedo_logs2012-03-25 09:01 pm
starspangledhero) wrote in discedo_logs2012-03-25 09:01 pm
Entry tags:
may the odds be ever in your favor
Who: America, Tatsumi, and you.
Where: Where do you live? 8)
When: March 24 (yeah this totally isn't late)
Rating: PG-13 to R (depending on the thread) for violence, mutilation, and dark themes/touchy subjects. Seriously. For once I'm actually doing hardcore shit.
Summary: Tatsumi uses his crazy vampire powers to get the most use out of America. I write a psuedofanfiction about America's thoughts. Characters get attacked. MORE THINGS THAT MAKE THIS A COMPREHENSIVE SUMMARY.
The Log:
To those who wonder and those who care, a little background:
Personified nations can be a bit of a paradox; as an individual they are meant to represent a concept so astronomically large in all its components and complexities, it's nothing short of a miracle that a single body can hold everything that being a country entails. (Some would surely point to them as proof that God finds stereotypes as hilarious as most people do, but that isn't so much a philosophical inquiry as it a hilarious side effect of personifying something.)
Being a nation that emphasizes individualism and believes in free will can complicate matters. Over the centuries America has developed his own ideas of who he is, who Alfred is, and could comfortably point out "Alfred" on a map and own his own anatomy. He can happily say that he's one in the same; a powerful entity of global influence and a nineteen-year-old boy with an unhealthy diet. There is a lot more to stress and explore when it comes to this topic, but further detail isn't necessary for its relevance to current events.
Namely, the torture America has been experiencing for about two weeks now.
History is full of human depravity, cruelty, and violence. America may be young, but there are quite a few things in his past that, if brought up to him, would make him squirm uncomfortably. His gut would twist in shame and guilt if he happened to be the perpetrator, but he could usually mutter that such tragedies are a consequence of being a country--partially a lie, just enough truth to keep him from drowning in guilt.
Now as a victim--that was almost exclusively in times of war, always in a case where he was fighting for something he believed in, and the torture came as a consequence of being the guy fighting on the opposite side. (The line between being America and Alfred was so blurred at these times that it was almost nonexistent; country and soldier, they both became an embodiment of ideals and trials to endure. That includes finding a bathroom in France that hasn't been bombed or riddled with syphilis.) On those occasions he could hold onto his anger and pride. It was all just physical, after all. A momentary discomfort in a larger scheme of pain. No matter how many times he was burned, starved, sliced open, humiliated in every conceivable way, he could hold his head high and laugh with all the confidence of someone who would win that it often disturbed his tormenters.
(And when he lost his head, well, it's never not funny to watch the enemy flip their shit when they learned that not even decapitation would shut him up.)
This time it's different.
The enemy is someone he--Alfred, the goofy boy with a hero complex and a drug habit--had invited into his life with no political interests, no ideals to uphold, nothing to classify him in the same categories as any tormenters in the past. It's someone he trusted. Someone he loved.(Loves? Anger and hate are trying to claw any trace of attachment away, but it comes in gouges so unbearably painful on every level that he's finding it hard to let everything he ever felt go. That redirects some of the hate at himself, and so it goes.)
The worst part by far is that this time, it isn't just physical. Pins in his tongue and burns on his skin aren't anything compared to the betrayal, the icy pit in his stomach that only grows each time he's reminded you were never loved, you never mattered, and it opens up a raw wound from his revolutionary days to the point where he was truly scared that he's been broken. And the bites--hypnosis isn't even the proper word for it, because he is fully there in his mind for each agonizing step, but his body moves with the vampire's every command despite every attempt to fight it. Free will only applies to the neck up now.
The first days were spent in denial as he reassured both himself and Tatsumi that it was just the world messing with them again, everything would be okay, I'll fix things, as soon as this bite wears off I can help!
By the seventh day he was convinced that there was no going back. He finally asked, voice cracked from despair and raw from screams, why are you doing this? His former lover's eyes lit up, smiling sharper than a knife, and told him because every hero needs a villain. Alfred hadn't seen him so giddy in all the time they'd been together. His heart clenched and his head thumped against the floor. Even if he could will his limbs to fight back, his spirit was quickly losing strength.
On the eighth day he broke down and cried. He begged and pleaded for Tatsumi to stop, please, I love you despite all the shame and embarrassment he felt for degrading himself so much. The vampire laughed, bit him again. Alfred tries to forget what happened next. Something fragile inside him snapped. He closed his eyes and accepted that all hope was gone.
The next day he was content to be numb and feel nothing. That didn't stop Tatsumi. Alfred didn't particularly care.
Finally, finally after two more days spent in a haze, letting the emptiness in his heart suck him dry while the vampire did the same, he felt a spark of something. He latched onto it in a last desperate attempt to not lose himself completely.
When the vampire informed him that they'd be going on a little stroll, Alfred realized that what he was grasping at was his soul's last little flame of defiance. Amidst the sadness and shame that were once again flooding his thoughts, the mounting fear of what would happen next, the hate and anger that gripped him, Alfred had a thought:
I can win this.
It wasn't quite enough for America to smile, but his blue eyes regained their focus. That was enough for Alfred.
Alright guys, story time over. Now we get to the event in question. Under Tatsumi's watchful gaze and his precise orders, America's footsteps fall against the crumbling Discedo pavement. He's already learned that it's fruitless to try to stop his body from doing as it's told, so he focuses on his mind.
He has a vague plan. It's a stupid and desperate plan and might not work, but it's better than giving in. Anything is better than that. The multiple bites on his neck leak fresh blood, and he thinks, Good, maybe that'll slow me down.
America does his best to ignore Tatsumi and every goddamn feeling associated with the vampire, instead looking up at a building in front of him. He's supposed to hurt people. He probably will hurt people. He sucks in a sharp breath at the thought, but he has to push back the guilt, the embarrassment of being seen like this, the shame of being helpless, all for the sake of not letting the night become an utter catastrophe.
As his feet bring him close to his targets and the vampire follows at his heels, America realizes that he's going to have to think on the fly so that everyone will live.
So basically just a normal day.
Emotions aside, nothing America can't handle. At least he hopes so.
[ ooc: HAHAHA I SHOULD. PROBABLY SET UP GUIDELINES FOR THIS OR SOMETHING SHOULDN'T I.
Chronologically, everyone else will encounter America and Tatsumi before Japan and Turkey, but tagging order can be whatever!
My guidelines for what you can and can't do to America? Go nuts. Seriously, go to town on this guy. I want him a battered wreck by the time he reaches Japan. If you want your character killed (or injured in some specific way), just leave a note either in the original post or in your tag!
I'M PROBABLY FORGETTING SOMETHING but I'll add more if further questions arise. ]
Where: Where do you live? 8)
When: March 24 (yeah this totally isn't late)
Rating: PG-13 to R (depending on the thread) for violence, mutilation, and dark themes/touchy subjects. Seriously. For once I'm actually doing hardcore shit.
Summary: Tatsumi uses his crazy vampire powers to get the most use out of America. I write a psuedofanfiction about America's thoughts. Characters get attacked. MORE THINGS THAT MAKE THIS A COMPREHENSIVE SUMMARY.
The Log:
To those who wonder and those who care, a little background:
Personified nations can be a bit of a paradox; as an individual they are meant to represent a concept so astronomically large in all its components and complexities, it's nothing short of a miracle that a single body can hold everything that being a country entails. (Some would surely point to them as proof that God finds stereotypes as hilarious as most people do, but that isn't so much a philosophical inquiry as it a hilarious side effect of personifying something.)
Being a nation that emphasizes individualism and believes in free will can complicate matters. Over the centuries America has developed his own ideas of who he is, who Alfred is, and could comfortably point out "Alfred" on a map and own his own anatomy. He can happily say that he's one in the same; a powerful entity of global influence and a nineteen-year-old boy with an unhealthy diet. There is a lot more to stress and explore when it comes to this topic, but further detail isn't necessary for its relevance to current events.
Namely, the torture America has been experiencing for about two weeks now.
History is full of human depravity, cruelty, and violence. America may be young, but there are quite a few things in his past that, if brought up to him, would make him squirm uncomfortably. His gut would twist in shame and guilt if he happened to be the perpetrator, but he could usually mutter that such tragedies are a consequence of being a country--partially a lie, just enough truth to keep him from drowning in guilt.
Now as a victim--that was almost exclusively in times of war, always in a case where he was fighting for something he believed in, and the torture came as a consequence of being the guy fighting on the opposite side. (The line between being America and Alfred was so blurred at these times that it was almost nonexistent; country and soldier, they both became an embodiment of ideals and trials to endure. That includes finding a bathroom in France that hasn't been bombed or riddled with syphilis.) On those occasions he could hold onto his anger and pride. It was all just physical, after all. A momentary discomfort in a larger scheme of pain. No matter how many times he was burned, starved, sliced open, humiliated in every conceivable way, he could hold his head high and laugh with all the confidence of someone who would win that it often disturbed his tormenters.
(And when he lost his head, well, it's never not funny to watch the enemy flip their shit when they learned that not even decapitation would shut him up.)
This time it's different.
The enemy is someone he--Alfred, the goofy boy with a hero complex and a drug habit--had invited into his life with no political interests, no ideals to uphold, nothing to classify him in the same categories as any tormenters in the past. It's someone he trusted. Someone he loved.(Loves? Anger and hate are trying to claw any trace of attachment away, but it comes in gouges so unbearably painful on every level that he's finding it hard to let everything he ever felt go. That redirects some of the hate at himself, and so it goes.)
The worst part by far is that this time, it isn't just physical. Pins in his tongue and burns on his skin aren't anything compared to the betrayal, the icy pit in his stomach that only grows each time he's reminded you were never loved, you never mattered, and it opens up a raw wound from his revolutionary days to the point where he was truly scared that he's been broken. And the bites--hypnosis isn't even the proper word for it, because he is fully there in his mind for each agonizing step, but his body moves with the vampire's every command despite every attempt to fight it. Free will only applies to the neck up now.
The first days were spent in denial as he reassured both himself and Tatsumi that it was just the world messing with them again, everything would be okay, I'll fix things, as soon as this bite wears off I can help!
By the seventh day he was convinced that there was no going back. He finally asked, voice cracked from despair and raw from screams, why are you doing this? His former lover's eyes lit up, smiling sharper than a knife, and told him because every hero needs a villain. Alfred hadn't seen him so giddy in all the time they'd been together. His heart clenched and his head thumped against the floor. Even if he could will his limbs to fight back, his spirit was quickly losing strength.
On the eighth day he broke down and cried. He begged and pleaded for Tatsumi to stop, please, I love you despite all the shame and embarrassment he felt for degrading himself so much. The vampire laughed, bit him again. Alfred tries to forget what happened next. Something fragile inside him snapped. He closed his eyes and accepted that all hope was gone.
The next day he was content to be numb and feel nothing. That didn't stop Tatsumi. Alfred didn't particularly care.
Finally, finally after two more days spent in a haze, letting the emptiness in his heart suck him dry while the vampire did the same, he felt a spark of something. He latched onto it in a last desperate attempt to not lose himself completely.
When the vampire informed him that they'd be going on a little stroll, Alfred realized that what he was grasping at was his soul's last little flame of defiance. Amidst the sadness and shame that were once again flooding his thoughts, the mounting fear of what would happen next, the hate and anger that gripped him, Alfred had a thought:
I can win this.
It wasn't quite enough for America to smile, but his blue eyes regained their focus. That was enough for Alfred.
Alright guys, story time over. Now we get to the event in question. Under Tatsumi's watchful gaze and his precise orders, America's footsteps fall against the crumbling Discedo pavement. He's already learned that it's fruitless to try to stop his body from doing as it's told, so he focuses on his mind.
He has a vague plan. It's a stupid and desperate plan and might not work, but it's better than giving in. Anything is better than that. The multiple bites on his neck leak fresh blood, and he thinks, Good, maybe that'll slow me down.
America does his best to ignore Tatsumi and every goddamn feeling associated with the vampire, instead looking up at a building in front of him. He's supposed to hurt people. He probably will hurt people. He sucks in a sharp breath at the thought, but he has to push back the guilt, the embarrassment of being seen like this, the shame of being helpless, all for the sake of not letting the night become an utter catastrophe.
As his feet bring him close to his targets and the vampire follows at his heels, America realizes that he's going to have to think on the fly so that everyone will live.
So basically just a normal day.
Emotions aside, nothing America can't handle. At least he hopes so.
[ ooc: HAHAHA I SHOULD. PROBABLY SET UP GUIDELINES FOR THIS OR SOMETHING SHOULDN'T I.
Chronologically, everyone else will encounter America and Tatsumi before Japan and Turkey, but tagging order can be whatever!
My guidelines for what you can and can't do to America? Go nuts. Seriously, go to town on this guy. I want him a battered wreck by the time he reaches Japan. If you want your character killed (or injured in some specific way), just leave a note either in the original post or in your tag!
I'M PROBABLY FORGETTING SOMETHING but I'll add more if further questions arise. ]
no subject
All America can manage is to shake his head. I wish I didn't have to do this, he wishes he could say. For all his calm movements, all his remorse and fear is etched in his face. Dark circles hang under hollow eyes that flit between Japan's gaze and his own feet. Like he's not sure what his own body is going to do next.
Help me, he wants to say. The prideful part of him is almost thankful he can't. After moving his jaw a few times, he manages to force a reply.
"You can help." It almost sounds like a plea.
The sudden punch to Japan's gut seems to contradict the desperation in his voice though. America just hopes his blood loss has weakened his strength just enough that there isn't any internal bleeding.
no subject
But now he was in full defensive mode, trying to puzzle out just what the nation was talking about. He can help? It wasn't said in spite or anything. America wasn't asking for this fight for any reason.
And it's just now that Tatsumi drifts into his mind as a possibility. But, would he--?!
He gives a shove at America, as if that would help him in this sort of situation. "H-how?! What..." What's he supposed to do except dodge! That's the sort of personality he's been left with, and he's still trying to be sure of what this is.
no subject
"Ah! Uh," is his eloquent way of apologizing. Without a moment of hesitation, he quickly picks up Japan and tosses him across the room. The move itself is--thankfully, as sorry as he is to say--quite painful. Blood leaks from fresh wounds, cracked bones and torn muscles scream at him to stop moving for the love of God. His mind is all too willing to comply; the rest of him, not so much, but not even the vamp's powers can force his battered body to go beyond their limits. The shocks of pain slow him down just enough to create an opening for Japan to strike back or run.
America sincerely hopes he takes the chance.
no subject
Yes he's able to think that while being thrown across the room, okay. America seemed surprised just now, and the scenario was becoming clearer in his mind. After all, even after all Japan had done... Would America harm an ally? No. He did a lot of things, but...
After he rolls into the table or something, he's quick to struggle to his feet. Being resourceful, the first thing he grabs is the leg of a chair he just trashed. He didn't want to hurt America. Just. Stun him or stop him or, he didn't know. Japan has to stumble to his feet, but he manages, taking the chair leg just as he would a sword and running at America to strike him wherever he can manage.
"America-san, what is the meaning of this?!" A pause. That wasn't good enough, it was too vague. Japan thought it was too vague. "Is this Tatsumi-san...?" His doing, he means, but he figures he got the point across. WELL HE TRUSTS AMERICA OKAY...
no subject
He grunts, staggering to his feet and trying to lunge at Japan. Then the other country mentions Tatsumi's name. America freezes for a split second, hollow eyes growing wide.
Hopefully that's all the answer Japan needs.
no subject
That reaction is very much noticed, though, and he sort of chucks the chair leg at America as he stumbles out of the way, hands sloppily grabbing his sword. "I will not kill you, you realize!"
Just. So you know. Though what's he supposed to do? Now that he has his sword, he stands there with it held out defensively, watching America. ...Defense. It's defense. Real defense, and clearly America wants it as well, so if whatever happens can avoid death and still stop him, then it's good...!
AKA he's finally ready to do shit.
no subject
Under the circumstances, America would be just the opposite. He lunges forward, damaged body doing its best to avoid any slashes, and grabs Japan by the throat. America holds him against the wall with just his right hand, pressing, squeezing, lifting the other country up so that his feet dangle against the floor. His eyes grow wider as his hand constricts further, the panic on his face becoming more and more evident.
The good news is that if Japan doesn't do something soon, America is certain his heart is just going to batter its way out of his chest and flee the vicinity. Hopefully that'll happen before he feels Japan go slack in his grip.
"C'mon Kiku." The urgency in his voice is apparent. "Just do it!"
Even if he has no control to make himself more open to a defensive strike, he's confident Japan's sword can still reach his stomach. He's already resigned himself to being stabbed or eviscerated.
no subject
Then America's words reach his ears. He has to do something. Maybe it's the urgency that causes his quick thinking, either in America's words or his own mind as he's quickly losing the ability to hold on much longer. Whatever it is, he has an idea, and he's received enough instruction from America to decide he can go for it. If he has to make up for it later, then so be it!
"F-forgive me..."
With that, he raises his sword in a quick and harsh swipe. Not at America's stomach, though it may have seemed to be the most obvious thing, but to cut off that hand that's choking him.
no subject
Actually he doesn't feel it at all.
It takes a moment for America to process exactly what just happened. He's alive, much to his surprise, and Japan is alright. He holds up his hand. Or, well, the stump where his hand should be. The shock will come later. At the moment he just looks vaguely dumbfounded and a little interested.
"Huh."
Because this is Hetalia, his severed hand gets up and skitters away like something out of an Addams Family episode. America watches it go with the same bafflement.
(And as it passes Tatsumi, wherever he is lurking, it gives him the finger before resuming its quest into the unknown.)
"Well that's new," America says in an even tone. His mind has short-circuited. There's simply too many things to process all at once, most of them grounded in the stupidity that defines his existence. The blood loss doesn't help.
Unfortunately, mental shock does nothing to stop his physical movements. He starts staggering toward Japan again, though much slower now that blood is practically flooding out of his wound. The color in his face starts to fade, yet he pushes on. It can't be much longer before he collapses.
no subject
"I-I will not do any more than that! Please forfeit! The blood loss should be too much!"
no subject
"Is it just me or did my hand just book it?"
America makes a clumsy swing at Japan, but misses by a whole foot. At this point all Japan really has to do is side-step America until he finally falls face-first onto the floor.
no subject
He does in fact side-step, watching him fall to the floor with a worried expression. "...It did." There's hesitation in his voice and stance. He waits a moment to see if America is going to move again. But he can't just leave him so wounded here either...
"America-san?"
no subject
If this were a movie, the camera would pan over from Japan and America ever so slightly to reveal Tatsumi standing in the background. He had been watching and listening the whole while. It was obvious in his eyes. The reflection of excitement, Satisfaction, Amusement. Specially when he discards his surprised derpy facade and let the shadows outline his sinister grin.
"I showed him off to so many people, but you're the only one that took him down." It was fitting, in some twisted way. After all, Tatsumi was Japanese. It makes sense Japan would be the one to stop America in his tracks.
He tosses Japan a creeper grin, "Congratulations."
no subject
He staggers, stumbles to his knees. He tries to look at Japan but his vision is swimming. The time has passed for any last-minute warnings.
The floor seems a nice place for a nap right about now.
Finally America slumps to the ground, unconscious.
no subject
"Tatsumi-san..." He does sound angry, but he tries his best to keep in controlled, frowning at the werepire. "Stop this immediately! I will be forced to take action if it is necessary to help America-san..."
He says that, but he's still standing quite still, hoping who he considers a citizen will just give it up. Unrealistically, but...
no subject
Tatsumi's amused grin remains, even staring at Japan and his blade. His golden eyes reflecting no real fear, just excitement. He was more than willing to get into a fight. All the days he has wasted on America had built up such a boredom within him that he still had a ways to go before feeling completely satisfied.
"You knew this was coming. It was inevitable, Japan-chan."
The shiki stepped closer, casually laying his hands on his hips while slowly circling about the countries.
"After all, a hero without a villain isn't much of a hero, is he?"
no subject
He sounds rather defensive, quite resolved that he won't use this sword again for any intent to kill. Tatsumi's included in that, but...
"If this is to continue, then perhaps I should be the one to stop Tatsumi-san, as well." A pause. "Stop this."
no subject
His eyes light up further.
"Ya think he'd be happy if you finished his job for him?"
He'll take another step towards them just to test Japan.