Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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"Alfred..." he heard Ivan murmur softly. He didn't want to hear it...didn't want to hear whatever the fuck that lunatic might have to say to him. What was he going to do to him now? Hit him? Beat him? Starve him?
"Alfred," he heard him say again, and this time he looked up, eyes shimmering slightly as he held back his tears of frustration. He'd planned that so well...he'd thought of everything! He'd had him scared, he was sure of it, and all it would have taken was a small movement of his hand, and he could have been on his way out of here right now...on his way home...
"Shut up! Shut the fuck up, you goddamn fucking bastard! I don't want to hear any of your patronizing shit about how this is for my own good, or how I'll understand later! I don't want to understand later! Don't you fucking get it? I want to go home! I want to go home, you fucking...fucking..." He couldn't even think of another insult worthy of hurling at Ivan. None seemed to accurately capture the sheer amount with which he loathed him.
So to make his point clear, he brought his fist up, suddenly and without warning, and slammed it into the side of Ivan's face. He was kind of expecting the Russian to stop him, so he was delightfully pleased when he felt it collide with the other man's face.
Ivan resisted the urge to take a step back. He did not raise his hand to his face, as was the instinct. He simply let the warmth from the force of Alfred's hand spread across his cheek, forming a distinct contrast against his pale skin. His mind was racing; he'd known Alfred was going to hit him a split second before he did, and he actually may have been able to stop him. The Russian was capable of very fast movements, after all.
But...he knew Alfred needed this. It was an important part of his education. He needed to release his pent up anger and frustration in a way other than simple yelling. He needed to do something. It was in the basic nature of the American. And now that he had done that...had finally lashed out in such an obvious way...he would relax. When he saw such a thing had not helped him in the least, he would not attempt it again. He would grow more and more dispirited and depressed the longer he was cooped up here...and eventually...he would begin to listen to Ivan...
"Alfred...my dear..." he said, testing out the adjective, to see how he would react to such a thing. "I am not mad at you." He gave a soft, sincere smile. It was true. He was not mad at him in the least. "You do not need to worry...I am not going to hurt you. I know that is what you think...from stories you have heard from the others," he continued, a slight, almost unnoticable scathing lilt to the last word, "But I am not. I am not going to harm you in any way. I understand, Alfred...you are angry, and are right to be. Kept in a strange, foreign country...all on your own, without any of your friends...this must seem hellish, am I correct?" He kept his tone light, almost conversational. It caught Alfred off guard, and he scowled.
"Yeah, you're correct, you fucker. This sucks," he confirmed angrily. "And you know it does. So don't give me this bullshit like you care or something. Good cop bad cop doesn't work with only one cop."
Ivan smiled dotingly. How adorable! He also noticed that Alfred had not reacted at all to his use of the familiar adjective...which meant he was either used to it, which was impossible since Ivan had never used it aloud to refer to him, or his mind just accepted it as something normal. That was exciting progress.
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Alfred glared at him, gaze filled with icy daggers.
"Sure, Braginski. Whatever. If you're not going to do something to me, then get out. Leave me alone. I'm sick of seeing your ugly face," he said, rather petulantly.
Ivan shrugged and nodded. He would accomplish no more with Alfred today, anyway. Though this hadn't been in his plan for the day, it worked out well for him. This was an important day. It was certainly not a waste, though Alfred would not see it as such. Alfred would spend the night sulking and pouting...and in the morning, when Ivan came again, he would either ignore him or scream at him, though seeing as how many times the American had tried screaming to no avail, Ivan predicted the former.
He smiled softly at him and backed out of the room. To turn around and exit would be to show weakness...and at such a critical time in Alfred's education, he could not afford a screw up like that. Alfred could not see Ivan for even a moment as something weak. Ivan needed to project to him the image of infinate strength...infinate wisdom...that way, when Alfred's fighting spirit had been calmed, and he was ready to ask the important questions...he would not doubt Ivan's answers.
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I cheer on Alfred while at the same time I want Ivan to win and, more importantly, to see how he wins.
Ivan chose the perfect way to break Alfred. I can't see Alfred breaking from pain but this...he's already losing a bit with his thoughts and hesitance at attacking Ivan.
Ivan seeing what he does as 'education' is just so dark and amazing at the same time. His reactions and thoughts are so psychopathic (or sociopathic? I can never remember which qualities go to which) that I get shivers. Especially the last paragraph.
Good luck on defeating writer's block!
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:anon can hear the Hallelujah chorus:
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I'm glad to see that fighting spark in Alfred, even if I'm morbidly fascinated with watching Russia slowly snuff it out. America certainly wouldn't go down without some sort of fight, and you handled the situation excellently. Alfred's devistation at his slip-up -and the implications of the slip up himself, that purhaps some part of him doesn't sit so well with wanting to attack Russia- really shows just how much everything is affecting him. No matter what he thinks about his situation, it is getting to him...and the fact that it's happening so subtly is so like Russia.
As for him, well...~ You already know that I think your rendition of Ivan rocks to the nth degree, and your return didn't disappoint of this account either. Somehow, Russia labeling his treatment of America as "education" just adds a whole new creepy level to him. It really does emphasize just how much he sees Alfred as something to own, like a pet that hasn't been completely trained yet -and the petnames only add to that. So epic. He's just so clever and in control in this, instead of that blind rage and brute strength you see on the meme a lot, and it's always such a refreshing picture.
Glad to see you back!~ *bookmarks to ensure she misses nothing this time around*
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That was intense...riveting would be a better word I think.
That is the essence of reforming the youth.
When a teenager or child gets grounded instead spanked, it's because the point is to bore the unruly kid to the point of submission so they would learn their lesson. Because it's in our nature to be active and be entertained. That's why kids look forward to the start of school during summer vacation because it gives them something to do, even if they do hate it.
Ivan taking that to the extreme is the perfect way to break Alfred is genius. Regardless of his power, he's still young and the greatest enemy of the youth is boredom.
Capthca: dreamy Telephone. Hmmm....A phone would seem beautiful to Alfred by now.
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...I'm incapable of saying more.
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But this night, it was not simple restlessness that kept him from his much-wanted sleep. A gnawing, writhing sort of mixed guilt and confusion was weighing heavily on his mind. He just didn't understand! What had caused him to act the way he did? How...how could he have given up the chance to seriously hurt Ivan? It was cruel, but the world was cruel, and he was certain no one would have blamed him, anyway. He would probably have been awarded the fucking Nobel Peace Prize!
So...why? Why had his hand shook like it did? Why hadn't he just taken advantage of the situation, blinded Ivan, and escaped out of this hellhole? Keys and such would have been a problem, but he was sure he would have found them eventually. And if not, he was positive Ivan had a phone somewhere. He could call for help. His friends...they'd react immediately! Send planes and helicopters and tanks and whoever knew what else...they would come get him. He was sure of it.
So why the fuck hadn't he acted?! What had been the problem? Was it a moral dilemma? Perhaps...but Alfred was the sort of person not usually overcome by moral dilemmas...he looked at a problem, figured out his answer in a matter of minutes, and would argue passionately in defense of it, even though sometimes his opinions were quite wrong. He didn't mind being wrong, but he just never thought of himself as such. And he didn't normally brood over something as easy to figure out as whether or not Ivan could use a good maiming.
He frowned and shifted irritably. Why was he even thinking about this? It wasn't like it mattered. He'd missed his chance, and that sucked, but it didn't have any sort of...deeper meaning. Of course it didn't. He screwed up. It happened. Maybe he'd been a little nervous, he could admit it. Ivan was a scary person, even Alfred could see that. To attack such a person would screw with the nerves of the most hardened men.
At the same time, however...he couldn't help but remember how calm Ivan had been. It was rather disconcerting. How had he managed to remain so calm with such imminent, pressing danger so close? Alfred knew that were it him, he wouldn't have been nearly so calm. He would have been a little scared, though he'd never have admitted it aloud. Maybe Ivan was scared too, and was just good at hiding it...? No. That wasn't it. The Russian was many things, and Alfred was certain that if he were to want to hide his feelings, he would have no problem doing so, but the fact was, he just...didn't. He didn't try to do such things, because he simply did not care what others thought of him. When he was happy, he smiled. When he was upset, he scowled.
But the only expression his face had beheld was that eerie, all-encompassing calm. Alfred almost wanted to shudder just thinking about it, but did not allow himself the luxury. It would be demeaning. To be scared of an angry or intimidating Russia was to be expected...but when Ivan acted like that, it was almost worse, because you knew he was thinking something, planning something, and you had no idea what.
The only hint he had as to Ivan's true feelings at that moment was a small flash he'd seen in the other man's eyes. It had been gone as soon as it came, but Alfred got the impression that the feeling itself had not disappeared, only the physical evidence of it. And that feeling, at least to Alfred's mind, had not looked like fear, or even surprise...no, it had been something far more disturbing. It had been excitement.
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Alfred sighed and rolled over again, still uncomfortable, though he had quite a lot of bedding, and could barely tell he was sleeping on the floor. He wondered for a second why Ivan didn't just give him a bed and save him the trouble of so many blankets, but he shoved the unimportant musing from his mind as quickly as it came. It was because he was absolutely batty, that was why.
That was the answer to everything. Ivan was crazy. There. He'd figured it out. Now could he please go to sleep?
Of course not.
But there wasn't anything left to think about...nothing at all. Nothing other than the fact that he still had not heard any new about when his friends were coming to get him. They must know where he was by now. They had to. What would he do if they didn't...if they never came, and he had to stay here forever? Well, he'd go just as loony as Ivan, that was what! So they'd better hurry the fuck up! He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take...it was so mentally cloistering, to be kept in this room all day, for weeks on end, with the only human contact...the only fracture in the blanket monotony that was all his waking time...being Ivan.
He just wasn't sure how much longer he could handle it. He had to get out somehow, do something somehow...he needed something to take his mind off things. Though he wasn't exactly the most avid of readers, he'd be delighted to even see a book right now, much less a television, or a computer. He'd lived with such things all around him for a long time now, ever since their invention, and though, considering the span of his life, that period was quite short, he'd grown accustomed to them. He wasn't sure what to do without them...how to just sit and be patient. Patience was a virtue Alfred simply did not have, though he had the sneaking suspicion that if he were to possess that great gift...even it would be tried right now.
He resolved then and there to have a chat with Ivan about this. Though the thought pained him...he needed him right now. If it weren't for his daily, and sometimes even hourly visits...Alfred would surely be crazy by now. But he wasn't enough. His careful, almost...loving, much as he hated to call it, care, was not enough. He needed something to talk about, read, see, hear, do...at the very least think about.
And Ivan was the only one who could provide him with such.
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Now, Alfred actually couldn't be certain if it were indeed the next day yet...his sleep had been short, or so he felt, and fitful. Ivan could merely still be sleeping, for all Alfred knew. But it felt like it was the next day. And this irritated Alfred. The one time he actually wanted to see that bastard...he had to be a fucker and not come.
So, not having much else to do in his room, Alfred pulled the covers back over himself and tried to go back to sleep. He wished again for the thousandth time that he had some goddamn clothes. He was getting used to the feeling of being naked, after so long of it, but he still hated the idea, and he still didn't understand why he was being forced to remain unclothed. Of course, Ivan had said it was because he preferred him like that, a comment which Alfred could have no doubts about the meaning of, but he was still a bit confused. Did that mean Ivan liked seeing him naked, then? That was kind of...creepy... He supposed it matched Ivan's character to like something like that, but the fact that it was he who Ivan liked to see like that...
The idea made him feel strange. He hated it, and he wanted clothes. Now. Which wish, of course, did not have a positive outlook of fruition any time soon. Considering who it was that he was dealing with, Alfred highly doubted he'd be in any state other than unclothed when he was rescued. He hated that idea, too, but at this point, he'd rather suffer that indignity than stay here another moment. Oh, were he to have a choice...
But he didn't. He sighed and tried in vain to shove the idea of rescue from his head. He wanted it more than anything in the world right now, but brooding on it would only depress him further than he already was, which, considering his situation, actually wasn't as bad as it would have been for a weaker person. The American had a much stronger mind and force of will than many people credited him with, and he was using it to his advantage here.
But he could consciously feel the depression creeping up on him out of the depths of his mind. He was slowly but surely beginning to lose hope. Though the question in his mind was still, 'When will I be rescued?' it was merging with his innermost fear, the one he had not until now even allowed himself to entertain: 'Will I be rescued..?'
He wanted desperately to be as sure as he'd been in his first few days of imprisonment that yes, of course they would, why would you think anything else? But no matter how he tried...he could not keep that fear from grating at him every waking moment...
~
Ivan indeed knew, or at least suspected, what Alfred was planning. It was not that he did not want to talk to Alfred that he did not visit him that day, far from it. His small moments with Alfred were the highlights of his increasingly hectic day. No one had outrightly condemned him as of yet, but the other nations made it clear they suspected he was behind Alfred's disappearance. It wasn't as if they could really do anything other than bother him about it, but it was still annoying. He was seriously considering unplugging his phone, important calls be damned. Nothing was more important than the precious man locked up in his house right now, anyway. Not even the pressing matters of international affair.
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Yes...this was necessary. This was the best thing to do right now for Alfred, Ivan was sure of it. But he hadn't expected it would be so hard...not only for Alfred but for he himself. He hadn't thought he would miss him so soon after last seeing him...but no matter that he had other things he needed to be dealing with, for his duties as a nation did not just disappear because he'd taken a captive, he could not seem to tear his mind away from the beautiful blonde. How he longed for him...not only physically, though that was indeed a powerful desire within him and one he thought about often, but mentally as well. More than anything, he just wanted to possess him...possess him in every way possible. This desire wasn't nearly as clear as the carnal one, for this one he was unsure of how to sate. But he knew he was on the right path toward achieving his goals, indistinct though they were even in his mind. He knew he wanted to keep Alfred safe, above all, but beyond that...well, he would need to think about it more.
Which, he thought, would not be a problem. Alfred's education would take much time...and by the time it was completed, Ivan would know what he wanted. And Alfred would be only too happy to give it to him.
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