Excuse my angsting, and a bad fic. >.>
None of you should be reading this, first off.
Second off, I just want to rant, so I can feel bad about ranting later.
Don't click this cut. D:
Okay, so, I've just been feeling useless. It's all from my forum RP, too--I just can't tag back, and that makes me feel horrible. Evetyone else is speeding flying jumping leaping motherfucking acing through all their tags and they make sense, and all I can do is complain and whine and bawwwww in the CBox below. And the truth is--I honestly can't think of anything to write. It's not writer's block. I'm just an idiot. A huge, huge idiot. And it's horrible. I'm sitting with Microsoft Word on, Meltdown playing, the Reply Box open and all I can think is, "I want to go to sleep."
Which is another problem--I slept for 14 hours today and I'm still sleepy. I have homework to do, Art projects to work on, English to study, tags to write, pictures to draw, and I'm doing an ultimate mix of NO-THI-NG. It's so horrible, I just curl up into a ball in my dark room, on my bed, hug my old, tattered pillow and just cry. Which is a horrible teenagish thing to do.
God, can I stop being such an idiot for a little while? Just, you know. Eight seconds. Let everyone not be annoyed by me. Let everyone like me. Let me like myself. Let me feel that.
I'm not depressed. I can't be. Depression "affects your life and is an illness." I'm an idiot. That "affects my life and is my own damn fault." See the differences?
I can't rely on anyone, either. I'll blame myself later. All the time, I rageface to someone, and then two minutes later, I instantly wonder why the fuck I'm pushing myself onto them and why the fuck I haven't died yet. Why am I annoying so many people? And, even if you say, "Ohhh, noooo, I love you, rant to me anytime you want <3?" I still think you're lying. I think, "They're really going, 'God, she's such a fucking brat, can't she shut up, better entertain her until she shuts up or kills herself, the bitch.' " And I can't stop.
And then I'm scared. I'm scared to get online because I don't want people to get angry at me. If I just avoid the online world, people will think I'm busy, not that I'm literally breaking down over not knowing how to respond to Lovi asking Maya if he could show her around a store or Sadiq paying for Eliza's things.
God, I want to kill myself. But I'm too weak to do it.
OTL. You did not just read this.
Now. If you want to skip that and go straight to Germany mutilation, jussssst click my cut belowwww.
Crack.
Ludwig couldn’t explain why, but when the screams were bouncing off the walls and piercing his ears, he probably felt more comforted than now, when all that he could focus on were the sickening sounds of bones being broken and flesh being torn apart. At least then there was a sign of life, a concept of free will still there, a fighting spirit. The other countries were completely silent, watching on morbidly, as if they were too busy enjoying the sight to say anything. Or maybe they were talking, Ludwig couldn’t tell.
Thud.
With each rise and fall of the lead pipe Ivan weld with brute force and sloppy accuracy, the blood splatter spread further, even though Ludwig was sure it had stopped flowing. Maybe it was out of pure spite, why Ivan couldn’t stop his destruction of the corpse, but for whatever the reason, it didn’t change the fact that blood and flesh and bone was spread on the floor and stuck to the pipe and dripping down his clothes.
Snap.
With the new sound making Ludwig flinch and shudder again, he turns his head slightly, to stop watching his brother be torn apart, to focus elsewhere. Alfred was speaking, his hands firmly in place on Ludwig’s arm to prevent any escape-and, although he didn’t want to listen to that idiot talk about his soon to be death, it had to be better than witnessing the desecration of Gilbert’s body.
“…work together,” he was saying, his face scrunched up in a childish way. He also wasn’t looking at the ruined nation before him. “We can’t go on wasting our resources like this.”
Ivan paused and Ludwig let out his breath. “I find it interesting,” Ivan started nonchalantly, using the edge of his lead pipe to lightly beat Gilbert’s body, bruising what wasn’t bloody. “that you are so willing to bring order to my house, da? Even though I already have it.”
Ludwig felt Alfred shake his head violently behind him. “What you have isn’t working. But this isn’t the place to talk about it,” he said, his fingers digging uncomfortably into Ludwig’s arms. Unlike the others, he still has much strength left. Declaring war only halfway through the fight was a clever tactic, and it wasn’t much to bomb houses across the world for a superpower, was it? Especially since no one could ever reach his. “We have to focus on how we’re going to deal with entire Prussia business-”
Prussia, Ludwig thinks.
“-and what we’re going to do with Germany.”
Germany, Ludwig thinks.
One last smash to Gilbert’s rib cage and Ivan turns around, stepping over the cold corpse calmly as he heads towards Alfred with a perfect smile. No one would even be able to tell that just seconds earlier, he was mercilessly and pitilessly destroying the body of a nation that had held itself ever so proper in such a long time, raised other countries, started and won wars, taken care of Ludwig. Never. “I think we would do well to divide him, da?”
Arthur was either annoyed or angry at the idea. “Simple for you,” he said, making a sound as if he was spitting. “You live only a short ways from him. And you’ve already claimed some of his land, haven’t you? You probably don’t even plan on giving us some, you bastard.”
Ivan’s deadly smile was dangerously still. “Why, England, of course not. I have every right to own the land I took. As for the rest, of course, you may take that,” He waved his hand up and down Ludwig’s battle-worn body lethargically, as if he was some sort of sick prize that wasn’t worth the effort. “Of course, I will be claiming that land as well.”
Ludwig wondered where Yao was in all this.
“You would think he’d just give up, wouldn’t he?” Francis chuckled, stepping lightly into the conversation. “After all this, he still thinks that he could hold on to his name.”
“But those are so easily lost, нет?” Ivan’s grin was still there, plastered on carelessly, a blatant lie to anyone who looked, really looked at him-not that anyone would, of course, just feeling his aura would be enough to frighten a normal human. “All is such a matter of just destroying his mind, and then he can finally wither away.”
Speaking so unashamedly of Gilbert was making Ludwig sick, especially since his body was right fucking there, only a few metres away. He didn’t want to describe how it looked, but his back had been ripped open, the flesh scattered on the floor, the white of his spine clearly visible in this bright room. And his arm, oh, God, his arm… Despite all the anger and viciousness Feliks had to suffer through the entire war, did he really have to take the whole arm like that? Now there was a gaping hole where his shoulder joint should’ve been, the skin like an old battle cloak, tattered and stained with the same deep crimson that Ludwig’s mind was enveloped in.
“I think,” Arthur started, speaking callously and bluntly, “that we should decide what to do with Germany now.”
Then he was on the floor, face smashed against the floor, teeth cracking down on his lip and cheek and nose snapping freely. Ludwig gasped as the pain shot through him and he wished greatly to have a free hand to readjust his nose, before it set. But then he remembered.
Gloved hands ripped open his shirt, baring his scarred and paled skin to the Allied Forces standing above him. He winced when they scratched against the still-bleeding wounds just inflicted on him, but tried to steel himself otherwise. He didn’t want them to notice how much agony he was in, never. Even if he had nothing else, he still had that one shred of pride.
“First,” he heard Ivan say. “I think that we should split him into four, da?”
And then there was a sharp, ripping, tearing, burning pain in his back as Ivan slowly drug the knife down his spine, to his collarbone, giggling as he felt the tip scrape against each vertebrae. The sudden pain widened Ludwig’s eyes until he couldn’t even see anymore and he let out a strangled cry, a failed last hope in that someone would help. When the cold blade left his skin, he only felt another line of torture slid across his back, now from the left side of his waist to the right. It was so painful, so painful. He couldn’t even think of different words, just pain and hurt and the deep red in his mind was turning to white and he couldn’t breathe well anymore.
He choked out something and then grit his teeth so tight that it was a wonder they didn’t break. He didn’t even feel the stab of claiming in his left shoulder blade when Ivan brought the knife down again, vicious and brutal.
“Впрочем, this area will be mine,” Ivan said, sounding even more chipper than ever.
Ludwig’s breaths were ragged and shuddering and heavy, but it didn’t stop Francis from bringing down his heel like a hammer down onto his elbow, crushing the joint easily. And, as if only one time wasn’t enough for his insatiable bloodlust, he brought it down again, even harder, shattering what hadn’t been broken. Ludwig only seemed to realize that he couldn’t keep his cries in anymore when he heard his own gruesome scream. “Oui, I think this region will serve me well.” Ludwig couldn’t remember ever hearing him speak so cruelly, so calmly, so composed. “England, si l'on veut?”
“I know, you wino,” Arthur hissed, sounding horribly okay with everything. Either he was aiming for a personal attack or he pitied Ludwig, but instead of a physical harm, he spat on Lugwid’s right shoulder blade, the cold liquid slipping down slowly. “Go ahead, America.”
There was a pause, a horrible pause, and Ludwig wondered if Alfred was pulling out another knife to stab his remaining free region, to stake another terrible claim on his body, his land, his people. Why couldn’t they just destroy him, as they had with Gilbert? Physical pain couldn’t compare to emotional pain, it couldn’t compare to what Ludwig’s heart was doing to itself, how he felt like he was rotting from the inside out. Then, softly, carefully, he felt a foot press down on his left side, almost tenderly.
“Y-yeah, I guess I don’t have much of a choice of where I’m going to be, right?” Alfred’s voice was barely shaking, Ludwig thought. He was doing a good job of hiding it. “I guess I’ll take this.”
There was another sickening sound as Ivan pulled the knife out of Ludwig’s back, and a heavy tension in his shoulders seemed to relax instantly, even though he didn’t know why. The slackness in his body brought on a sudden fatigue in his mind, and he had to fight terribly to keep awake, to note all that was occurring around him. “Should we complete this deal now?” He seemed to be giggling as he said this, high off of the blood he was covered in. Ludwig would believe it if he actually was. “I want to feel full, Мистер Америка.”
Ludwig saw the lead pipe besides Gilbert’s body and sluggishly imagined it crushing his bones.
“Maybe tomorrow, Russia,” Arthur said, maybe protesting. The haze in Ludwig’s mind made it difficult to process his tone. “We still have to pull out the documentation to officially declare this war over. Our people need to know what’s happened with this invasion before we do anything else.”
“Fine,” Ivan sounded so childishly disappointed. “But I want to claim him soon.”
“You’ll get your turn,” Francis said, and that was the last thing Ludwig heard before he passed out.
Second off, I just want to rant, so I can feel bad about ranting later.
Don't click this cut. D:
Okay, so, I've just been feeling useless. It's all from my forum RP, too--I just can't tag back, and that makes me feel horrible. Evetyone else is speeding flying jumping leaping motherfucking acing through all their tags and they make sense, and all I can do is complain and whine and bawwwww in the CBox below. And the truth is--I honestly can't think of anything to write. It's not writer's block. I'm just an idiot. A huge, huge idiot. And it's horrible. I'm sitting with Microsoft Word on, Meltdown playing, the Reply Box open and all I can think is, "I want to go to sleep."
Which is another problem--I slept for 14 hours today and I'm still sleepy. I have homework to do, Art projects to work on, English to study, tags to write, pictures to draw, and I'm doing an ultimate mix of NO-THI-NG. It's so horrible, I just curl up into a ball in my dark room, on my bed, hug my old, tattered pillow and just cry. Which is a horrible teenagish thing to do.
God, can I stop being such an idiot for a little while? Just, you know. Eight seconds. Let everyone not be annoyed by me. Let everyone like me. Let me like myself. Let me feel that.
I'm not depressed. I can't be. Depression "affects your life and is an illness." I'm an idiot. That "affects my life and is my own damn fault." See the differences?
I can't rely on anyone, either. I'll blame myself later. All the time, I rageface to someone, and then two minutes later, I instantly wonder why the fuck I'm pushing myself onto them and why the fuck I haven't died yet. Why am I annoying so many people? And, even if you say, "Ohhh, noooo, I love you, rant to me anytime you want <3?" I still think you're lying. I think, "They're really going, 'God, she's such a fucking brat, can't she shut up, better entertain her until she shuts up or kills herself, the bitch.' " And I can't stop.
And then I'm scared. I'm scared to get online because I don't want people to get angry at me. If I just avoid the online world, people will think I'm busy, not that I'm literally breaking down over not knowing how to respond to Lovi asking Maya if he could show her around a store or Sadiq paying for Eliza's things.
God, I want to kill myself. But I'm too weak to do it.
OTL. You did not just read this.
Now. If you want to skip that and go straight to Germany mutilation, jussssst click my cut belowwww.
Crack.
Ludwig couldn’t explain why, but when the screams were bouncing off the walls and piercing his ears, he probably felt more comforted than now, when all that he could focus on were the sickening sounds of bones being broken and flesh being torn apart. At least then there was a sign of life, a concept of free will still there, a fighting spirit. The other countries were completely silent, watching on morbidly, as if they were too busy enjoying the sight to say anything. Or maybe they were talking, Ludwig couldn’t tell.
Thud.
With each rise and fall of the lead pipe Ivan weld with brute force and sloppy accuracy, the blood splatter spread further, even though Ludwig was sure it had stopped flowing. Maybe it was out of pure spite, why Ivan couldn’t stop his destruction of the corpse, but for whatever the reason, it didn’t change the fact that blood and flesh and bone was spread on the floor and stuck to the pipe and dripping down his clothes.
Snap.
With the new sound making Ludwig flinch and shudder again, he turns his head slightly, to stop watching his brother be torn apart, to focus elsewhere. Alfred was speaking, his hands firmly in place on Ludwig’s arm to prevent any escape-and, although he didn’t want to listen to that idiot talk about his soon to be death, it had to be better than witnessing the desecration of Gilbert’s body.
“…work together,” he was saying, his face scrunched up in a childish way. He also wasn’t looking at the ruined nation before him. “We can’t go on wasting our resources like this.”
Ivan paused and Ludwig let out his breath. “I find it interesting,” Ivan started nonchalantly, using the edge of his lead pipe to lightly beat Gilbert’s body, bruising what wasn’t bloody. “that you are so willing to bring order to my house, da? Even though I already have it.”
Ludwig felt Alfred shake his head violently behind him. “What you have isn’t working. But this isn’t the place to talk about it,” he said, his fingers digging uncomfortably into Ludwig’s arms. Unlike the others, he still has much strength left. Declaring war only halfway through the fight was a clever tactic, and it wasn’t much to bomb houses across the world for a superpower, was it? Especially since no one could ever reach his. “We have to focus on how we’re going to deal with entire Prussia business-”
Prussia, Ludwig thinks.
“-and what we’re going to do with Germany.”
Germany, Ludwig thinks.
One last smash to Gilbert’s rib cage and Ivan turns around, stepping over the cold corpse calmly as he heads towards Alfred with a perfect smile. No one would even be able to tell that just seconds earlier, he was mercilessly and pitilessly destroying the body of a nation that had held itself ever so proper in such a long time, raised other countries, started and won wars, taken care of Ludwig. Never. “I think we would do well to divide him, da?”
Arthur was either annoyed or angry at the idea. “Simple for you,” he said, making a sound as if he was spitting. “You live only a short ways from him. And you’ve already claimed some of his land, haven’t you? You probably don’t even plan on giving us some, you bastard.”
Ivan’s deadly smile was dangerously still. “Why, England, of course not. I have every right to own the land I took. As for the rest, of course, you may take that,” He waved his hand up and down Ludwig’s battle-worn body lethargically, as if he was some sort of sick prize that wasn’t worth the effort. “Of course, I will be claiming that land as well.”
Ludwig wondered where Yao was in all this.
“You would think he’d just give up, wouldn’t he?” Francis chuckled, stepping lightly into the conversation. “After all this, he still thinks that he could hold on to his name.”
“But those are so easily lost, нет?” Ivan’s grin was still there, plastered on carelessly, a blatant lie to anyone who looked, really looked at him-not that anyone would, of course, just feeling his aura would be enough to frighten a normal human. “All is such a matter of just destroying his mind, and then he can finally wither away.”
Speaking so unashamedly of Gilbert was making Ludwig sick, especially since his body was right fucking there, only a few metres away. He didn’t want to describe how it looked, but his back had been ripped open, the flesh scattered on the floor, the white of his spine clearly visible in this bright room. And his arm, oh, God, his arm… Despite all the anger and viciousness Feliks had to suffer through the entire war, did he really have to take the whole arm like that? Now there was a gaping hole where his shoulder joint should’ve been, the skin like an old battle cloak, tattered and stained with the same deep crimson that Ludwig’s mind was enveloped in.
“I think,” Arthur started, speaking callously and bluntly, “that we should decide what to do with Germany now.”
Then he was on the floor, face smashed against the floor, teeth cracking down on his lip and cheek and nose snapping freely. Ludwig gasped as the pain shot through him and he wished greatly to have a free hand to readjust his nose, before it set. But then he remembered.
Gloved hands ripped open his shirt, baring his scarred and paled skin to the Allied Forces standing above him. He winced when they scratched against the still-bleeding wounds just inflicted on him, but tried to steel himself otherwise. He didn’t want them to notice how much agony he was in, never. Even if he had nothing else, he still had that one shred of pride.
“First,” he heard Ivan say. “I think that we should split him into four, da?”
And then there was a sharp, ripping, tearing, burning pain in his back as Ivan slowly drug the knife down his spine, to his collarbone, giggling as he felt the tip scrape against each vertebrae. The sudden pain widened Ludwig’s eyes until he couldn’t even see anymore and he let out a strangled cry, a failed last hope in that someone would help. When the cold blade left his skin, he only felt another line of torture slid across his back, now from the left side of his waist to the right. It was so painful, so painful. He couldn’t even think of different words, just pain and hurt and the deep red in his mind was turning to white and he couldn’t breathe well anymore.
He choked out something and then grit his teeth so tight that it was a wonder they didn’t break. He didn’t even feel the stab of claiming in his left shoulder blade when Ivan brought the knife down again, vicious and brutal.
“Впрочем, this area will be mine,” Ivan said, sounding even more chipper than ever.
Ludwig’s breaths were ragged and shuddering and heavy, but it didn’t stop Francis from bringing down his heel like a hammer down onto his elbow, crushing the joint easily. And, as if only one time wasn’t enough for his insatiable bloodlust, he brought it down again, even harder, shattering what hadn’t been broken. Ludwig only seemed to realize that he couldn’t keep his cries in anymore when he heard his own gruesome scream. “Oui, I think this region will serve me well.” Ludwig couldn’t remember ever hearing him speak so cruelly, so calmly, so composed. “England, si l'on veut?”
“I know, you wino,” Arthur hissed, sounding horribly okay with everything. Either he was aiming for a personal attack or he pitied Ludwig, but instead of a physical harm, he spat on Lugwid’s right shoulder blade, the cold liquid slipping down slowly. “Go ahead, America.”
There was a pause, a horrible pause, and Ludwig wondered if Alfred was pulling out another knife to stab his remaining free region, to stake another terrible claim on his body, his land, his people. Why couldn’t they just destroy him, as they had with Gilbert? Physical pain couldn’t compare to emotional pain, it couldn’t compare to what Ludwig’s heart was doing to itself, how he felt like he was rotting from the inside out. Then, softly, carefully, he felt a foot press down on his left side, almost tenderly.
“Y-yeah, I guess I don’t have much of a choice of where I’m going to be, right?” Alfred’s voice was barely shaking, Ludwig thought. He was doing a good job of hiding it. “I guess I’ll take this.”
There was another sickening sound as Ivan pulled the knife out of Ludwig’s back, and a heavy tension in his shoulders seemed to relax instantly, even though he didn’t know why. The slackness in his body brought on a sudden fatigue in his mind, and he had to fight terribly to keep awake, to note all that was occurring around him. “Should we complete this deal now?” He seemed to be giggling as he said this, high off of the blood he was covered in. Ludwig would believe it if he actually was. “I want to feel full, Мистер Америка.”
Ludwig saw the lead pipe besides Gilbert’s body and sluggishly imagined it crushing his bones.
“Maybe tomorrow, Russia,” Arthur said, maybe protesting. The haze in Ludwig’s mind made it difficult to process his tone. “We still have to pull out the documentation to officially declare this war over. Our people need to know what’s happened with this invasion before we do anything else.”
“Fine,” Ivan sounded so childishly disappointed. “But I want to claim him soon.”
“You’ll get your turn,” Francis said, and that was the last thing Ludwig heard before he passed out.