Re: Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child 2/3
anonymous
November 19 2009, 05:50:59 UTC
“Do not…ever…make the mistake of bringing my other son into this,” France hissed, forgetting in his anger to drop random French into his sentence just to piss the others off.
England was on his feet as well. They were vastly outnumbered. A two-on-seven fight, when the other side had nations like Germany and Russia, who were practically as wide as they were tall? No, they couldn’t win fights like this anymore. There had been a time when England had been able to take on Spain’s “Invincible” armada and win, but now…now he was just England. Weak, pathetic. Old-fashioned…
…still spoiling for a fight, even if the odds were against him, because nobody tried to hurt his boys and got away with it.
“Aw, did I brush a nerve?” Prussia said in a mocking tone of voice, his red eyes narrowed. He might have been smiling, but this was no joke. This was going to be a fight. A REAL fight.
“I think you know the answer to that question, Prussia,” England growled, clenching his fists.
“I assure you,” Russia said, in his saccharine tone that only meant pain and suffering, “That little America will only receive his just punishment~ A little humiliation will go a long way to soothe his ego, da~?”
France was really the one to initiate things. He grabbed Russia’s ever-present scarf and pulled, hard.
“NE TOUCHEZ PAS MES FILS!” he snarled, even as China grabbed a hold of his wrists with bruising force. This led to an elbow to China’s face. China primed to land a blow to France’s neck as Russia managed to disentangle himself from his scarf and gasp for breath, but England caught his elbow and twisted his arm behind his back. Well, at least he had a human shield, now.
England grabbed France and pulled him back towards a corner near the exit, making sure to keep China in front of them at all times. The other nations were on their feet, slowly movie towards them, like a zombie horde from one of America’s B-rated movies. Russia wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Stop,” England demanded, his voice as it once was- strong, commanding, unrelenting, “Stop where you are.”
“Why should we?” South Italy said, a terrible smirk on his face, “You’re out-numbered, idiot.”
“That may be, be we’re not out-manned!” England retorted, “We’ve got a hostage here, and unless you want to be responsible, in part for his death…”
Out came the switchblade England had on him at all times, ever since his days as a pirate.
“…you’ll cooperate with us.”
“You won’t do it,” Prussia scoffed, although England could see that miniscule amount of doubt in his eyes. Yes, Gilbert remembered what he’d been like back in the day. That’s what England was counting on.
“Oh really?”
The blade pressed dangerously close to China’s jugular.
“Wait, wait! England, don’t do it!”
North Italy, who had been lingering at the back of the impromptu-mob, hoping (but losing hope every minute), suddenly ran forwards, practically into France’s arms.
“ITALIA!”
“Fratello!”
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” France purred in North Italy’s ear, although his eyes were locked with Germany’s and South Italy’s, “I think, angleterre, that we have ourselves a little piece of leverage…”
“B-big brother France?”
“Hush, my little Italy, the grownups are talking…”
Re: Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child 3/3
anonymous
November 19 2009, 05:51:56 UTC
North Italy whimpered.
“LET HIM GO, YOU BASTARD!” South Italy shouted, although he didn’t take a step towards his brother. He might shout and rage at him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about North Italy. The same went for Germany.
“I don’t think so…not yet, at least,” France said, leaning down to nuzzle North Italy’s cheek.
“Indeed…after all, he interrupted us in this very important discussion,” England added, his knife not having left China’s throat, “And boys who interrupt must be…punished.”
“NO!”
“Why ever not? You would punish America, who is much younger than North Italy, because he made some mistakes and fell into a recession, but then turn and tell us that North Italy does not deserve to be punished when he interrupts something as serious as a hostage situation? Poor China might have been killed…”
A single bead of blood welled up on China’s neck beneath England’s blade.
“England, I’m sure this can all be easily resolved…” Japan said. His voice was as calm as ever, but he was determinedly not looking at China.
“Oh, but it can, Japan…” England said, equally as calmly, “Just forget about ‘punishing’ America, and this will have all never happened.”
“…we’ll use discretion.”
“Will you now? France? Why don’t you teach little Italy a thing or two about the world? I heard he’s still a virgin…”
“Avec plaisir…”
“B-big brother? Big brother?!”
“It is nothing personal, petit frère…” France murmured in the Italian’s ear, so softly that not even England could hear, “But I need my boys to be safe…you understand, don’t you?”
At that, France was ripped away by Germany, while South Italy held his younger brother tightly, glaring at everyone else in the room, as if daring them to say something.
Germany had France’s head pulled back by his hair. The room was a cacophony of shouting. England had lost a hold of China and was being slammed down onto the table by Russia. There came the sound of clothes being torn in the fray. And somewhere above it all…
“St-stop…” North Italy sobbed, “E-everyone, please…st-stop…!”
“Italia?”
“Just stop…th-this isn’t right! England and B-big Brother France w-were right e-earlier! H-hurting America won’t h-h-help, if anything i-i-it’ll make th-things worse! S-so please…stop…”
The room went dead silent, except for North Italy’s hiccupping sobs. Germany reluctantly let go of France and pried Russia off of England. Prussia knelt next to the Italies.
“Hey…Italia…hey now…shh…” he murmured as gently as if he were talking to one of his many chicks, “It’s alright now…look, everyone stopped…”
North Italy gulped down his tears and looked around. It was true- everyone had stopped. Japan was holding a handkerchief to China’s throat, and Russia was holding the ancient nation as if he were made of glass.
“So why don’t you two go home and have some pasta, yeah? It’s almost siesta…we’ll clean up here…”
“Yeah, Veneziano, let’s go home…” South Italy said, helping his brother to his feet.
“O-ok…”
“Atta boy~ I promise, I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to America, ok? You were right, hurting him won’t help things…go on now…”
Prussia waited until both brothers were gone, then turned to address the rest of the nations in the room.
“Kid had a point,” he said with a shrug, “But…France, England, you hurt China pretty bad…scared the shit out of West and the Idiot Brothers too…”
England nodded.
“As long as you don’t touch America or Canada, I will take any punishment you deign to bestow upon me.”
“Moi aussi.”
“Perfect…”
Germany, Prussia and Russia began to advance on the two western nations.
England and France grit their teeth and prepared for the worst.
Because they would do anything for their beautiful boys…even if they would never know it.
Re: Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child 3/3
anonymous
June 10 2010, 21:43:46 UTC
THANK YOU. I always disliked the Financial Gangbang comics where England and France were involved in doing that to America, after all if England didn't shoot America in the middle of a war when he was the ruthless British Empire or do anything during the Great Depression, why would he rape him over a recession? But then again it could be my England/America fan girl coming out And you handled this really well, like how the other nations start to realise that England and France were world powers once too and how N.Italy couldn't go through with it. It was so sweet how France and England were planning on taking everything for their old colonies.
England was on his feet as well. They were vastly outnumbered. A two-on-seven fight, when the other side had nations like Germany and Russia, who were practically as wide as they were tall? No, they couldn’t win fights like this anymore. There had been a time when England had been able to take on Spain’s “Invincible” armada and win, but now…now he was just England. Weak, pathetic. Old-fashioned…
…still spoiling for a fight, even if the odds were against him, because nobody tried to hurt his boys and got away with it.
“Aw, did I brush a nerve?” Prussia said in a mocking tone of voice, his red eyes narrowed. He might have been smiling, but this was no joke. This was going to be a fight. A REAL fight.
“I think you know the answer to that question, Prussia,” England growled, clenching his fists.
“I assure you,” Russia said, in his saccharine tone that only meant pain and suffering, “That little America will only receive his just punishment~ A little humiliation will go a long way to soothe his ego, da~?”
France was really the one to initiate things. He grabbed Russia’s ever-present scarf and pulled, hard.
“NE TOUCHEZ PAS MES FILS!” he snarled, even as China grabbed a hold of his wrists with bruising force. This led to an elbow to China’s face. China primed to land a blow to France’s neck as Russia managed to disentangle himself from his scarf and gasp for breath, but England caught his elbow and twisted his arm behind his back. Well, at least he had a human shield, now.
England grabbed France and pulled him back towards a corner near the exit, making sure to keep China in front of them at all times. The other nations were on their feet, slowly movie towards them, like a zombie horde from one of America’s B-rated movies. Russia wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Stop,” England demanded, his voice as it once was- strong, commanding, unrelenting, “Stop where you are.”
“Why should we?” South Italy said, a terrible smirk on his face, “You’re out-numbered, idiot.”
“That may be, be we’re not out-manned!” England retorted, “We’ve got a hostage here, and unless you want to be responsible, in part for his death…”
Out came the switchblade England had on him at all times, ever since his days as a pirate.
“…you’ll cooperate with us.”
“You won’t do it,” Prussia scoffed, although England could see that miniscule amount of doubt in his eyes. Yes, Gilbert remembered what he’d been like back in the day. That’s what England was counting on.
“Oh really?”
The blade pressed dangerously close to China’s jugular.
“Wait, wait! England, don’t do it!”
North Italy, who had been lingering at the back of the impromptu-mob, hoping (but losing hope every minute), suddenly ran forwards, practically into France’s arms.
“ITALIA!”
“Fratello!”
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” France purred in North Italy’s ear, although his eyes were locked with Germany’s and South Italy’s, “I think, angleterre, that we have ourselves a little piece of leverage…”
“B-big brother France?”
“Hush, my little Italy, the grownups are talking…”
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“LET HIM GO, YOU BASTARD!” South Italy shouted, although he didn’t take a step towards his brother. He might shout and rage at him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about North Italy. The same went for Germany.
“I don’t think so…not yet, at least,” France said, leaning down to nuzzle North Italy’s cheek.
“Indeed…after all, he interrupted us in this very important discussion,” England added, his knife not having left China’s throat, “And boys who interrupt must be…punished.”
“NO!”
“Why ever not? You would punish America, who is much younger than North Italy, because he made some mistakes and fell into a recession, but then turn and tell us that North Italy does not deserve to be punished when he interrupts something as serious as a hostage situation? Poor China might have been killed…”
A single bead of blood welled up on China’s neck beneath England’s blade.
“England, I’m sure this can all be easily resolved…” Japan said. His voice was as calm as ever, but he was determinedly not looking at China.
“Oh, but it can, Japan…” England said, equally as calmly, “Just forget about ‘punishing’ America, and this will have all never happened.”
“…we’ll use discretion.”
“Will you now? France? Why don’t you teach little Italy a thing or two about the world? I heard he’s still a virgin…”
“Avec plaisir…”
“B-big brother? Big brother?!”
“It is nothing personal, petit frère…” France murmured in the Italian’s ear, so softly that not even England could hear, “But I need my boys to be safe…you understand, don’t you?”
At that, France was ripped away by Germany, while South Italy held his younger brother tightly, glaring at everyone else in the room, as if daring them to say something.
Germany had France’s head pulled back by his hair. The room was a cacophony of shouting. England had lost a hold of China and was being slammed down onto the table by Russia. There came the sound of clothes being torn in the fray. And somewhere above it all…
“St-stop…” North Italy sobbed, “E-everyone, please…st-stop…!”
“Italia?”
“Just stop…th-this isn’t right! England and B-big Brother France w-were right e-earlier! H-hurting America won’t h-h-help, if anything i-i-it’ll make th-things worse! S-so please…stop…”
The room went dead silent, except for North Italy’s hiccupping sobs. Germany reluctantly let go of France and pried Russia off of England. Prussia knelt next to the Italies.
“Hey…Italia…hey now…shh…” he murmured as gently as if he were talking to one of his many chicks, “It’s alright now…look, everyone stopped…”
North Italy gulped down his tears and looked around. It was true- everyone had stopped. Japan was holding a handkerchief to China’s throat, and Russia was holding the ancient nation as if he were made of glass.
“So why don’t you two go home and have some pasta, yeah? It’s almost siesta…we’ll clean up here…”
“Yeah, Veneziano, let’s go home…” South Italy said, helping his brother to his feet.
“O-ok…”
“Atta boy~ I promise, I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to America, ok? You were right, hurting him won’t help things…go on now…”
Prussia waited until both brothers were gone, then turned to address the rest of the nations in the room.
“Kid had a point,” he said with a shrug, “But…France, England, you hurt China pretty bad…scared the shit out of West and the Idiot Brothers too…”
England nodded.
“As long as you don’t touch America or Canada, I will take any punishment you deign to bestow upon me.”
“Moi aussi.”
“Perfect…”
Germany, Prussia and Russia began to advance on the two western nations.
England and France grit their teeth and prepared for the worst.
Because they would do anything for their beautiful boys…even if they would never know it.
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Eh...translation notes?
'rosbif': "Roast beef"- As far as can tell, a French insult to the British. Yup. If I got that wrong...well...uh...I'm a stupid American?
'Mon ami, Prusse': "My friend Prussia"
'Dieu'- "God"
'NE TOUCHEZ PAS MES FILS!'- "DO NOT TOUCH MY SONS!" Oh~ Papa France is angry~
'Fratello'- "Brother" Once again, this is using my lame-ass American-language-deduction skills, so...
'Angleterre'- "England"
'Avec plaisir'- "With pleasure"
'petit frère'- "little brother"
Gah, my life would be so much easier if France just kept his mouth shut....;-;
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And you handled this really well, like how the other nations start to realise that England and France were world powers once too and how N.Italy couldn't go through with it.
It was so sweet how France and England were planning on taking everything for their old colonies.
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