(no subject)
Who: libertyfuckyeah and spiffingtea
Where: Dissumulo, America's place
When: Friday/Saturday Evening, 16th.
Rating: PG 13.
Summary: England can't actually see his 'friends' in Fortuna. This has had an effect. America finds out just what it has done to England.
The Log: England had been in this place since about the third. He'd learnt a lot while being here. Namely how much not having all the attributes of being a nation sucked. He was really disorientated, he felt generally weak, and he couldn't sustain off of human needs as long as some nations could. Nations were human to the extent that they could feel emotions and pain and suffering and love, but at the same time because they lived for so long and experienced so much pain and so much trauma sometimes, that they naturally had to have something inside them that let them last a lot longer and get through much more compared to an average human.
But that was two millenia of history squished into one mortal mind in the case of England. And it wasn't benefiting him in the slightest being in this predicament, but it wasn't that that had broken him. Even though he was now bearing the burden of a nation on a truly human mind for now, he was managing just fine with that. But what had made him snap?
Ever since he'd arrived in Discedo, he'd not seen one single faery, unicorn, or mythical beast.
Alright this was something to easily laugh at and poke fun at England for being so typically... English and not having his stupid faeries to prance about with making him break down but people wouldn't understand. Ever since England could remember, ever since the day he was created, he could remember those faeries and unicorns and creatures surrounding him and being around him and being his friends and supporting him and a lot of the time they were the only thing that bothered to make a motion that they cared about him.
That first night when he'd tried sleeping in Discedo it wasn't the radiation that had England wake up in tears it was the fact that he couldn't sense them around him. They weren't around him and his longest source of comfort was nowhere to be found, even in the background. It's kind of similar to a kid not being able to sleep without their favourite teddy bear or blanket because it might not be doing anything or might just be in the person's presence but it was a comfort and it calmed them.
And England liked calm. He liked it a lot and he found out that he simply can't sleep without having possibly the worst nightmares of his life without them. So! Problem solved, he just wouldn't sleep.
Yep, Arthur had the most brightest idea he'd ever come up with in his childish and panicked state. He has nightmares without his friends nearby. How would this be solved? Either they appear or Arthur doesn't sleep. And since he hadn't seen any in over a week, it was no sleep for him.
Of course, this had taken an immense effect on the man. He couldn't sleep. He wouldn't dare to. This was okay for the first few days, he'd gone on like this without sleep before no problem. But it was as the days went on and it slowly clocked on over the days that his body simply started needing the sleep. As in, it was crying out for it. And Arthur needed the sleep so badly that it panicked him even more and forced himself to stay away even more because he was not going back to those nightmares. After he'd arrived in Dissumulo He'd nearly added a nice new scar to Alfred's head in a bid to insist he'd just sleep in America's old bedroom and not join the yank in his own, probably with a little too much insistence than he would like. England really was out of it. Two weeks without sleep did that to you. It could nearly kill you.
But every night when they parted for bed England would just sit on the edge of the bed and wait all night, forcing himself to keep awake, doing everything to keep himself going. He sometimes found himself having to muffle himself for fear of waking that bloody yank up because his cries almost overwhelmed him because he was in that much pain from having no sleep. All this for not having his bloody faeries about.
But one night his body couldn't cope anymore. So as soon as they'd parted and England sat on the bed, his boy conked out - practically passed out and England was thrown into what would be called by some blissful sleep.
It lasted only a few minutes, but Arthur threw himself awake with screams and yells that would bring the house and half of Dissumulo down. There were several bangs as he threw himself in a fit off the bed, crashing into a few bits of furniture and such in the process.
Wailing like the stupid little kid he'd now turned into, he crashed out of the room and fled towards the bathroom, upon where he was violently sick again and again, more due to the fact that his body was on a thread's end from strain.
AND THERE WE HAVE THE LONGEST AND MOST DEPRESSING PARAGRAPH OF WOOBIFIED ENGLAND OR SOMETHING. IDK. HAVE FUN WITH THAT WALL OF TEXT JENNA.
Where: Dissumulo, America's place
When: Friday/Saturday Evening, 16th.
Rating: PG 13.
Summary: England can't actually see his 'friends' in Fortuna. This has had an effect. America finds out just what it has done to England.
The Log: England had been in this place since about the third. He'd learnt a lot while being here. Namely how much not having all the attributes of being a nation sucked. He was really disorientated, he felt generally weak, and he couldn't sustain off of human needs as long as some nations could. Nations were human to the extent that they could feel emotions and pain and suffering and love, but at the same time because they lived for so long and experienced so much pain and so much trauma sometimes, that they naturally had to have something inside them that let them last a lot longer and get through much more compared to an average human.
But that was two millenia of history squished into one mortal mind in the case of England. And it wasn't benefiting him in the slightest being in this predicament, but it wasn't that that had broken him. Even though he was now bearing the burden of a nation on a truly human mind for now, he was managing just fine with that. But what had made him snap?
Ever since he'd arrived in Discedo, he'd not seen one single faery, unicorn, or mythical beast.
Alright this was something to easily laugh at and poke fun at England for being so typically... English and not having his stupid faeries to prance about with making him break down but people wouldn't understand. Ever since England could remember, ever since the day he was created, he could remember those faeries and unicorns and creatures surrounding him and being around him and being his friends and supporting him and a lot of the time they were the only thing that bothered to make a motion that they cared about him.
That first night when he'd tried sleeping in Discedo it wasn't the radiation that had England wake up in tears it was the fact that he couldn't sense them around him. They weren't around him and his longest source of comfort was nowhere to be found, even in the background. It's kind of similar to a kid not being able to sleep without their favourite teddy bear or blanket because it might not be doing anything or might just be in the person's presence but it was a comfort and it calmed them.
And England liked calm. He liked it a lot and he found out that he simply can't sleep without having possibly the worst nightmares of his life without them. So! Problem solved, he just wouldn't sleep.
Yep, Arthur had the most brightest idea he'd ever come up with in his childish and panicked state. He has nightmares without his friends nearby. How would this be solved? Either they appear or Arthur doesn't sleep. And since he hadn't seen any in over a week, it was no sleep for him.
Of course, this had taken an immense effect on the man. He couldn't sleep. He wouldn't dare to. This was okay for the first few days, he'd gone on like this without sleep before no problem. But it was as the days went on and it slowly clocked on over the days that his body simply started needing the sleep. As in, it was crying out for it. And Arthur needed the sleep so badly that it panicked him even more and forced himself to stay away even more because he was not going back to those nightmares. After he'd arrived in Dissumulo He'd nearly added a nice new scar to Alfred's head in a bid to insist he'd just sleep in America's old bedroom and not join the yank in his own, probably with a little too much insistence than he would like. England really was out of it. Two weeks without sleep did that to you. It could nearly kill you.
But every night when they parted for bed England would just sit on the edge of the bed and wait all night, forcing himself to keep awake, doing everything to keep himself going. He sometimes found himself having to muffle himself for fear of waking that bloody yank up because his cries almost overwhelmed him because he was in that much pain from having no sleep. All this for not having his bloody faeries about.
But one night his body couldn't cope anymore. So as soon as they'd parted and England sat on the bed, his boy conked out - practically passed out and England was thrown into what would be called by some blissful sleep.
It lasted only a few minutes, but Arthur threw himself awake with screams and yells that would bring the house and half of Dissumulo down. There were several bangs as he threw himself in a fit off the bed, crashing into a few bits of furniture and such in the process.
Wailing like the stupid little kid he'd now turned into, he crashed out of the room and fled towards the bathroom, upon where he was violently sick again and again, more due to the fact that his body was on a thread's end from strain.
AND THERE WE HAVE THE LONGEST AND MOST DEPRESSING PARAGRAPH OF WOOBIFIED ENGLAND OR SOMETHING. IDK. HAVE FUN WITH THAT WALL OF TEXT JENNA.