✪ 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
no subject
"The fuck."
When America said gimme all ya got, he wasn't exactly expecting this. It would probably be a more pleasant surprise if there weren't whispers in the back of his mind reminding him of what Danny said about being half ghost. (Even now he refuses to admit that such a thing is possible, shoving the thoughts away like old clothes in a storage closet.)
He decides repeating himself will invoke some sort of stunning revelation.
"THE FUCK?"
It doesn't.
no subject
"I already told you what I was. Why are you so surprised?"
no subject
"BECAUSE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE GAY NOT A GHOST YOU CAN'T BE HALF GHOST BUT YOU CAN BE HALF GAY I KNOW BECAUSE I'VE BEEN THERE BUT YOU CAN'T BE HALF DEAD UNLESS YOU'RE A COMMUNIST AND YOU'RE NOT A COMMUNIST RIGHT??????"
The poor guys is having a meltdown, completely unaware that he's now charging toward Danny and firing off shots.
no subject
...Vlad and Valerie had them all the time.
So of course he knew that the absolute worst place to be when someone had one of them. ESPECIALLY when they had a weapon was right in front of them.
Which he was.
Oops.
He yelps and hastily goes intangible again.