Fair Trade - 1a/?
anonymous
March 6 2011, 09:06:54 UTC
Warnings (all very tentative, as I've only just made a brief outline of the story so far): graphic violence/torture, psychological torture, brainwashing, etc.
**
Cold eyes glared down across the room where a long-haired brunet was standing near the front with a pile of papers in his arms, watching the speaker -blond idiot- with a soft smile on his lips.
There was something different about the brunet, and violet eyes narrowed trying to uncover what it was. Then it struck him: his smile. Small though it was, there was genuine happiness sparkling lightly behind those emerald eyes.
It sparked something in the watcher's chest - Litva had never smiled like that for him. His smiles had been half-hearted and shaky beneath eyes dark with fear or pain. The feeling grew as the blond finished and threw his arm across the brunet's shoulder; as the brunet flinched, the smile vanishing for a split second before it returned just a little brighter than before.
Clenching his fist so hard he drew blood, Ivan felt his hatred for the blond grow. That anyone should see a side of Lithuania that he had not been allowed was enough to make him wish for bloodshed, but that it was the same man who had stolen the smaller nation from beneath his fingertips who brought that side into the light. . . it was an insult beyond measure. One that would not go unpunished.
For a moment, Ivan considered tearing across the room and gutting the blond nation where he stood, but it didn't take long to decide otherwise. He had no wish to see the other nations turn against him as they would if he attacked the self-proclaimed “Hero.”
The possibility of waiting until after the meeting and taking the blond nation out in secret was contemplated and then discarded. Death was not enough. Even if it lasted more than the short time it took for a nation's body to revive, it was too quick. Not even destroying the country completely would give him the satisfaction he needed. Ivan wanted America to suffer, to feel the pain of losing what was his. The only question was how? What could he do that would bring the American nation to his knees?
Ivan was still trying to find the answer when the meeting ended.
Gathering his notes - ones he did not remember taking - Ivan stood to leave, America's laughter still ringing in his ears. The room was nearly empty, but Ivan failed to see the nation standing just inside the doorway until they collided.
His papers scattered on the floor, Ivan focused on the other man only to see America stuttering apologies under his breath even as he knelt down to collect the fallen notes.
America. . . and yet, not. Where were the angry accusations, the threats of justice and heroism prevailing? Confusion overcame the instinct to hurt the man as Ivan stared.
“I t-think that's all of them,” the stranger stood, revealing light violet eyes for a moment before he ducked his head and held out the papers. “Here. . . .”
Still somewhat bewildered, Ivan reached out his hand to take them when-
“Mattie!” Suddenly America stood before him, and the only proof that Ivan had not been hallucinating the quiet not-America were the exasperated violet eyes peering out from behind the blond nuisance. “Don't touch him, you bastard!”
Fair Trade - 1b/?
anonymous
March 6 2011, 09:12:51 UTC
“He didn't-” The violet-eyed man's protests went unheard.
Seeing the two together cleared the fog. Hadn't America had a twin brother. . . Callna? Cyprus? No, Canada. A thought began to take root as Ivan smiled pleasantly at the glaring nation, “He is unharmed, dа? Now, if you will excuse me.”
He snatched his papers from Canada's hands, smiling cheerfully as he “accidentally” grabbed the boy's hand, the delicate fingerbones snapping in his grasp before Canada gasped and wrenched his hand back, cradling it carefully to his chest as those soft eyes watered and glared at the larger nation.
“You. . .!” Ivan ducked as a fist swung his way, chuckling happily. He waited for a second blow to come his way, only to have America turn away to check on his injured twin.
“C'mon Mattie, we'll get you fixed up in no time.” So protective. Ivan had never seen America just. . . back off like that. Even with the icy glare directed his way as the boy led his brother away, Ivan could tell that America cared more about healing the broken digits than attacking him.
Perfect.
The plan began to take shape as he walked out, smiling like a well-fed crocodile. Little Canada, so adorable and innocent. Ivan knew better than to expect him to be helpless - as America's brother, and the only nation that could compete with Russia for size the boy had to have some form of strength, even if he never used it - but there would be time enough to find his weaknesses. Eventually Ivan would have his revenge.
And if it meant having a little fun along the way, all the better.
Please tell me what you think. Constructive criticism always welcome! I'm still getting the hang of this site though, so be a little patient with me. Thanks.
I love your writing! Russia being all evil and breaking poor Canada's hand like that. . . How much worse will he be when he's got Canada all to himself?
Fair Trade - 2a/?
anonymous
April 30 2011, 17:34:40 UTC
Sorry about the wait. It took me a while to get this bit done, and I'm still not really satisfied with it, but I'm not sure I know how to make it any better. So, here it is. Future parts might end up being in Canada's POV, just because I like him better... :)
The next two days had Ivan looking for the timid blond, watching as he hunched over his bear, apparently invisible to most of the other nations. Only America, and occasionally France, seemed able to see him most of the time, and even that had no real guarantee - it was amusing to see America shrieking about ghosts when Canada tried to speak up though.
There would be no one to notice his absence, even with only minimal effort on Ivan's part. And so, after considering several convoluted schemes ranging from sending Estonia in as a distraction before drugging him to inviting Canada over to his house and never letting him leave, Ivan decided to go with simplicity.
Rather than having to find where Canada lived, or wait another three months until the next meeting, he would take Canada at the end of the last day of meetings. America would be off at the nearest bar, as he always was, and the resulting hangover would leave him incapable of remembering or caring if Canada had caught his plane for at least a day. By the time he knew what had really happened, it would be too late.
And so Ivan sat in the hotel lobby, watching as the other nations slowly drifted off to the bar. He frowned as Lithuania was dragged along by an excited America, his determination strengthening even as he glared at the duo. Lithuania cringed, but America - idiot that he was - didn't even notice. France and England made their way out not long after, followed closely by a number of the. . . louder nations, and not long after, the lobby was empty.
Ivan smiled, Canada would be alone. It was best done now.
And so he made his way to the elevator, pressing the button to the fourth floor with glee. America would regret going against him, and he would have a new toy.
The hall was eerily quiet as Russia looked for the Canadian flag. Finding it - all alone on the last door at the end of the hall - he knocked loudly.
“Yes-” Canada opened the door, his smile fading as he saw Ivan. His hand flexed, almost unconsciously, and Ivan smiled. “Russia?”
“Canada.”
For a moment, neither man moved, violet eyes clashing - one pair wary and confused and one shining with a devious light. Ivan was delighted to see that Canada did not seem to trust him, no doubt remembering the unprovoked breaking of his fingers. The smaller nation was intelligent, not like his brother. He would learn quickly.
“Do you need something?”
Ivan's grin widened, “It is not polite to be talking in the hall like this.” He took a step forward, forcing Canada to take a step back. “You invite me in, yes?”
“Ah. . .” Canada seemed torn, eyes darting from Ivan's towering frame to the door.
Ivan took his chance, bringing his pipe out from behind his back with a quick gesture. Canada's eyes widened, and he took an instinctive step back, pushing the door shut, but Ivan was quick to get in the way of it closing.
Fair Trade - 2b REWRITE
anonymous
April 30 2011, 23:08:51 UTC
This time, with Kumajirou. I FAIL AT LIFE!
Canada shoved hard on the door, his breathing quick and frantic as he called for help.
Ivan pushed just as hard, grinning as he exerted himself to counter Canada's strength. Anyone else, any smaller nation - possibly even America under the right conditions - and Canada might have succeeded, but Russia was nearly twice the size of Canada (the country), and Ivan knew better how to use that strength.
Canada was thrown to the ground as Ivan shoved hard against the door, hitting his head on the side of an armchair. He tried to stand, but Ivan was in front of him before he recovered from the blow.
There was no warning when the small white bear that Ivan had nearly forgotten about launched itself at him, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. Ivan stumbled backwards as the bear tried to take a chunk out of his neck only to get a mouthful of Ivan's thick coat and ever-present scarf. Grabbing the bear by the scruff of its neck, Ivan held it away from him, batting at it with his pipe and ignoring its flailing claws. The bear wailed, its struggles increasing.
His coat shredded, and his arm bleeding, Ivan threw the animal at the wall, grimacing angrily. How had he forgotten to take the stupid bear into account - it wasn't like Canada went anywhere without it!
“Kuma!” Canada was standing near the door, holding the long, standing lamp in front of him defensively. He had been about to run, but now he watched his bear whimper and try to stand with horror in his eyes. Two of its legs were broken from the impact.
The distraction was all it took. Ivan rammed himself into the door, slamming it shut and blocking Canada's escape.
The wide, terrified look in Canada's eyes made way for anger, and Canada took the offensive, stabbing at Ivan as if his lamp was a spear. Ivan dodged it, moving for the crippled bear.
Canada didn't realize his intentions until it was too late, and the bear was in Ivan's arms, yowling and snapping ineffectively. One large hand engulfed the bear's skull, holding it still, while the other held his pipe across the bear's unprotected throat.
“Drop it,” Russia ordered, tightening his grip until the bear squealed in pain when Canada didn't move. “You want him back, yes?”
“Kuraji!” Canada's fingers left prints in the lamp's metal stand, before he let it fall. “Don't hurt him.”
“Why shouldn't I?”
Canada shook his head, his hand outstretched. “Just- please.”
Russia smiled viciously, and threw the bear at Canada, following close behind it.
His pipe connected with Canada's skull with a sickening crack, and the smaller nation collapsed, his bear rolling out of his arms. Ivan brought the pipe down several more times on his skull and torso; there would be no more mistakes. He only stopped when all of his anger and frustration at the break in his plans had been spent.
There was no heartbeat, not even the faintest pulse or breath, as Ivan knelt over the body, energy drained. He frowned, he hadn't meant to kill Canada, not yet. Then he shrugged it off, Canada would recover.
With fingers dipped in the boy's own blood (pooling on the floor around his shattered skull), Russia left a message for America on the white walls of Canada's hotel room. He wanted the cocky brat to know what he had caused, to know that his brother had died because of him, that his brother would suffer because of him. He wanted America to know that he had traded Lithuania's life for Canada's, and he wanted America to know why.
When he was done, he dragged the Canada's body onto the bed, throwing the still whimpering animal on top of it. Then he rolled them both up in the blanket, folding it nearly in half when he was done, and throwing it across his shoulders, leaving the door locked behind him as he left. Someone would find the message eventually, but not until Canada was hidden away where no one could find him.
Fair Trade - 2c
anonymous
April 30 2011, 23:11:45 UTC
With a light skip in his step, Russia took the elevator down to the lobby. He returned the receptionist's curious, frightened glance (no doubt she heard the enraged yowls and pained whines that were growing softer with every minute) with a cheerful smile before turning in his key card and making his way to the rental car he had parked outside.
Stashing the bundle in his trunk, Russia smiled, already envisioning the sight of America's angry, desperate face as the brat realized what he had done.
Revenge was sweet indeed.
And, HTML Failure. Today is not good for me. Thank you Reviewer!Anon who mentioned Kumajirou. I always forget him while I'm writing, even though I planned the story with him in the room. I'm an idiot. Yes, I killed Canada. But Russia was angry, and didn't quite mean to do it - knock him unconscious, yes; kill him, not really. But yes, there will be lots more Canada torture ahead. Can't you tell how much I love poor Canada I really do love him.
Kumafan anon! here
anonymous
May 1 2011, 00:16:38 UTC
Aw man, now I feel kinda bad for reminding you because poor Kuma suffered more. Though I have to admit I like that part more since a fight was put up. Stay strong Canada! We still love you! XD
It's okay author!anon. I see so many authors forgetting about Kumajiro that it's almost comical. I guess he's the "Canada" of the fandom. :x
**
Cold eyes glared down across the room where a long-haired brunet was standing near the front with a pile of papers in his arms, watching the speaker -blond idiot- with a soft smile on his lips.
There was something different about the brunet, and violet eyes narrowed trying to uncover what it was. Then it struck him: his smile. Small though it was, there was genuine happiness sparkling lightly behind those emerald eyes.
It sparked something in the watcher's chest - Litva had never smiled like that for him. His smiles had been half-hearted and shaky beneath eyes dark with fear or pain. The feeling grew as the blond finished and threw his arm across the brunet's shoulder; as the brunet flinched, the smile vanishing for a split second before it returned just a little brighter than before.
Clenching his fist so hard he drew blood, Ivan felt his hatred for the blond grow. That anyone should see a side of Lithuania that he had not been allowed was enough to make him wish for bloodshed, but that it was the same man who had stolen the smaller nation from beneath his fingertips who brought that side into the light. . . it was an insult beyond measure. One that would not go unpunished.
For a moment, Ivan considered tearing across the room and gutting the blond nation where he stood, but it didn't take long to decide otherwise. He had no wish to see the other nations turn against him as they would if he attacked the self-proclaimed “Hero.”
The possibility of waiting until after the meeting and taking the blond nation out in secret was contemplated and then discarded. Death was not enough. Even if it lasted more than the short time it took for a nation's body to revive, it was too quick. Not even destroying the country completely would give him the satisfaction he needed. Ivan wanted America to suffer, to feel the pain of losing what was his. The only question was how? What could he do that would bring the American nation to his knees?
Ivan was still trying to find the answer when the meeting ended.
Gathering his notes - ones he did not remember taking - Ivan stood to leave, America's laughter still ringing in his ears. The room was nearly empty, but Ivan failed to see the nation standing just inside the doorway until they collided.
His papers scattered on the floor, Ivan focused on the other man only to see America stuttering apologies under his breath even as he knelt down to collect the fallen notes.
America. . . and yet, not. Where were the angry accusations, the threats of justice and heroism prevailing? Confusion overcame the instinct to hurt the man as Ivan stared.
“I t-think that's all of them,” the stranger stood, revealing light violet eyes for a moment before he ducked his head and held out the papers. “Here. . . .”
Still somewhat bewildered, Ivan reached out his hand to take them when-
“Mattie!” Suddenly America stood before him, and the only proof that Ivan had not been hallucinating the quiet not-America were the exasperated violet eyes peering out from behind the blond nuisance. “Don't touch him, you bastard!”
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Seeing the two together cleared the fog. Hadn't America had a twin brother. . . Callna? Cyprus? No, Canada. A thought began to take root as Ivan smiled pleasantly at the glaring nation, “He is unharmed, dа? Now, if you will excuse me.”
He snatched his papers from Canada's hands, smiling cheerfully as he “accidentally” grabbed the boy's hand, the delicate fingerbones snapping in his grasp before Canada gasped and wrenched his hand back, cradling it carefully to his chest as those soft eyes watered and glared at the larger nation.
“You. . .!” Ivan ducked as a fist swung his way, chuckling happily. He waited for a second blow to come his way, only to have America turn away to check on his injured twin.
“C'mon Mattie, we'll get you fixed up in no time.” So protective. Ivan had never seen America just. . . back off like that. Even with the icy glare directed his way as the boy led his brother away, Ivan could tell that America cared more about healing the broken digits than attacking him.
Perfect.
The plan began to take shape as he walked out, smiling like a well-fed crocodile. Little Canada, so adorable and innocent. Ivan knew better than to expect him to be helpless - as America's brother, and the only nation that could compete with Russia for size the boy had to have some form of strength, even if he never used it - but there would be time enough to find his weaknesses. Eventually Ivan would have his revenge.
And if it meant having a little fun along the way, all the better.
Please tell me what you think. Constructive criticism always welcome!
I'm still getting the hang of this site though, so be a little patient with me.
Thanks.
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I love your writing! Russia being all evil and breaking poor Canada's hand like that. . . How much worse will he be when he's got Canada all to himself?
Can't wait for more!
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But yeah, this looks very promising! Please continue!
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The next two days had Ivan looking for the timid blond, watching as he hunched over his bear, apparently invisible to most of the other nations. Only America, and occasionally France, seemed able to see him most of the time, and even that had no real guarantee - it was amusing to see America shrieking about ghosts when Canada tried to speak up though.
There would be no one to notice his absence, even with only minimal effort on Ivan's part. And so, after considering several convoluted schemes ranging from sending Estonia in as a distraction before drugging him to inviting Canada over to his house and never letting him leave, Ivan decided to go with simplicity.
Rather than having to find where Canada lived, or wait another three months until the next meeting, he would take Canada at the end of the last day of meetings. America would be off at the nearest bar, as he always was, and the resulting hangover would leave him incapable of remembering or caring if Canada had caught his plane for at least a day. By the time he knew what had really happened, it would be too late.
And so Ivan sat in the hotel lobby, watching as the other nations slowly drifted off to the bar. He frowned as Lithuania was dragged along by an excited America, his determination strengthening even as he glared at the duo. Lithuania cringed, but America - idiot that he was - didn't even notice. France and England made their way out not long after, followed closely by a number of the. . . louder nations, and not long after, the lobby was empty.
Ivan smiled, Canada would be alone. It was best done now.
And so he made his way to the elevator, pressing the button to the fourth floor with glee. America would regret going against him, and he would have a new toy.
The hall was eerily quiet as Russia looked for the Canadian flag. Finding it - all alone on the last door at the end of the hall - he knocked loudly.
“Yes-” Canada opened the door, his smile fading as he saw Ivan. His hand flexed, almost unconsciously, and Ivan smiled. “Russia?”
“Canada.”
For a moment, neither man moved, violet eyes clashing - one pair wary and confused and one shining with a devious light. Ivan was delighted to see that Canada did not seem to trust him, no doubt remembering the unprovoked breaking of his fingers. The smaller nation was intelligent, not like his brother. He would learn quickly.
“Do you need something?”
Ivan's grin widened, “It is not polite to be talking in the hall like this.” He took a step forward, forcing Canada to take a step back. “You invite me in, yes?”
“Ah. . .” Canada seemed torn, eyes darting from Ivan's towering frame to the door.
Ivan took his chance, bringing his pipe out from behind his back with a quick gesture. Canada's eyes widened, and he took an instinctive step back, pushing the door shut, but Ivan was quick to get in the way of it closing.
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Canada shoved hard on the door, his breathing quick and frantic as he called for help.
Ivan pushed just as hard, grinning as he exerted himself to counter Canada's strength. Anyone else, any smaller nation - possibly even America under the right conditions - and Canada might have succeeded, but Russia was nearly twice the size of Canada (the country), and Ivan knew better how to use that strength.
Canada was thrown to the ground as Ivan shoved hard against the door, hitting his head on the side of an armchair. He tried to stand, but Ivan was in front of him before he recovered from the blow.
There was no warning when the small white bear that Ivan had nearly forgotten about launched itself at him, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. Ivan stumbled backwards as the bear tried to take a chunk out of his neck only to get a mouthful of Ivan's thick coat and ever-present scarf. Grabbing the bear by the scruff of its neck, Ivan held it away from him, batting at it with his pipe and ignoring its flailing claws. The bear wailed, its struggles increasing.
His coat shredded, and his arm bleeding, Ivan threw the animal at the wall, grimacing angrily. How had he forgotten to take the stupid bear into account - it wasn't like Canada went anywhere without it!
“Kuma!” Canada was standing near the door, holding the long, standing lamp in front of him defensively. He had been about to run, but now he watched his bear whimper and try to stand with horror in his eyes. Two of its legs were broken from the impact.
The distraction was all it took. Ivan rammed himself into the door, slamming it shut and blocking Canada's escape.
The wide, terrified look in Canada's eyes made way for anger, and Canada took the offensive, stabbing at Ivan as if his lamp was a spear. Ivan dodged it, moving for the crippled bear.
Canada didn't realize his intentions until it was too late, and the bear was in Ivan's arms, yowling and snapping ineffectively. One large hand engulfed the bear's skull, holding it still, while the other held his pipe across the bear's unprotected throat.
“Drop it,” Russia ordered, tightening his grip until the bear squealed in pain when Canada didn't move. “You want him back, yes?”
“Kuraji!” Canada's fingers left prints in the lamp's metal stand, before he let it fall. “Don't hurt him.”
“Why shouldn't I?”
Canada shook his head, his hand outstretched. “Just- please.”
Russia smiled viciously, and threw the bear at Canada, following close behind it.
His pipe connected with Canada's skull with a sickening crack, and the smaller nation collapsed, his bear rolling out of his arms. Ivan brought the pipe down several more times on his skull and torso; there would be no more mistakes. He only stopped when all of his anger and frustration at the break in his plans had been spent.
There was no heartbeat, not even the faintest pulse or breath, as Ivan knelt over the body, energy drained. He frowned, he hadn't meant to kill Canada, not yet. Then he shrugged it off, Canada would recover.
With fingers dipped in the boy's own blood (pooling on the floor around his shattered skull), Russia left a message for America on the white walls of Canada's hotel room. He wanted the cocky brat to know what he had caused, to know that his brother had died because of him, that his brother would suffer because of him. He wanted America to know that he had traded Lithuania's life for Canada's, and he wanted America to know why.
When he was done, he dragged the Canada's body onto the bed, throwing the still whimpering animal on top of it. Then he rolled them both up in the blanket, folding it nearly in half when he was done, and throwing it across his shoulders, leaving the door locked behind him as he left. Someone would find the message eventually, but not until Canada was hidden away where no one could find him.
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Stashing the bundle in his trunk, Russia smiled, already envisioning the sight of America's angry, desperate face as the brat realized what he had done.
Revenge was sweet indeed.
And, HTML Failure. Today is not good for me.
Thank you Reviewer!Anon who mentioned Kumajirou. I always forget him while I'm writing, even though I planned the story with him in the room. I'm an idiot.
Yes, I killed Canada. But Russia was angry, and didn't quite mean to do it - knock him unconscious, yes; kill him, not really. But yes, there will be lots more Canada torture ahead. Can't you tell how much I love poor Canada I really do love him.
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It's okay author!anon. I see so many authors forgetting about Kumajiro that it's almost comical. I guess he's the "Canada" of the fandom. :x
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