Substitutes - 4a/??
anonymous
March 5 2013, 07:50:55 UTC
Apologies! Be warned, I'm not entirely sure where this bit came from, so it may be a little weird. I've been trying to write it for months, so I think it may be partially fueled by desperation. **
What was Russia thinking?
England thanked Estonia with a calmness he did not feel, setting the phone down gently before allowing the fear and anger to consume him.
To kidnap another Nation, when there was no war, no occupation, no excuse.
Not only kidnapping, but torture and rape, and enough blood that Estonia seemed to cringe just retelling the scene that he hadn't even been there to see.
“America...” The name slipped from his lips, as though it would erase what had happened.
Every fiber of England's being wanted to burn Russia's cities to the ground, to slaughter his children and ensure that the world knew what happened to those who hurt the ones England loved.
But America would never forgive him for that. For harming the innocent in the name of vengeance.
And before he could even think of revenge, he had to make sure that Russia did not add another victim to his list.
“I call upon the Dark Ones,” England spoke softly, channeling his rage and his need into the words as he made his way down past the basement into the room where he kept his Craft. “The Ones who Dwell in the Shadows, who Still the Fearful Hearts. In the Name of Albion and King Arthur's Bane, I call upon thee, whose oath is mine, to aid in the destruction of my enemy.”
Russia..
The flickering bulb did little against the Shadows that seemed to rise like smoke, circling England until it coalesced into three figures, resembling hooded men save for the flickering of their bodies.
“WE CANNOT TRESPASS UPON THE LANDS OF THE COLD ONE.”
England cursed, trembling with rage. What good was being owed a favor from the Dark Fae if they couldn't help when he most needed them?
“HOWEVER, WITH NICNIVIN'S BLADE,OUR OATH WILL BE DONE AND THY WISH FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF HE WHO HAS THE COLD ONE'S FAVOR EASILY FULFILLED.”
The foremost figure stretched forth an arm, the shadows rising and twisting until they vanished, leaving behind a dark blade that England reached out to take. It was a beautiful blade, and if the legends were true, it would cut through even the hardest of metals without a scratch and bring unnatural strength to the wielder.
“I thank the, Dark Ones, for thy favor and thy aid. Thy oath is fulfilled.”
“SHOULD YOU CALL UPON US AGAIN, THE PRICE WILL BE HEAVY.” With that, the Shadows vanished, leaving England feeling as though he had stepped out into the sun, though the only light was the same dull bulb.
Using the blade to draw the Ritual Circle in the packed dirt, England checked and double-checked every detail before stepping into the circle. Carelessness and impatience were his greatest weaknesses when it came to the Art of Magic, but there was no place for error here.
Carefully reading the ancient script, England chanted the words out loud, closing his eyes as the Magic swept him up in a rush of fire.
**
“Latvii?” Russia stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the trio as they made their way up. “What do you think you are doing?”
“We're leaving.” America had to force the words from his lips, but he didn't have to work for the glare of pure hatred that shone from his eyes. “And I'm not Latvii,” he spat, the words flowing easier. “I am the United States of America. Now get out of the way.”
Substitutes - 4b/??
anonymous
March 5 2013, 07:52:24 UTC
"Why do you lie, Latvii?" Russia looked almost sad for a moment, before his expression went vicious. "I thought I had taught you better, but if I must make the lesson strong-er..." Russia's voice stuttered to a halt, his eyes wide as Lithuania stepped up behind America, with Canada cradled in his arms. "L-Litva... and Litva? What is going on?" Then, softer than a whisper, with his eyes fixed on Lithuania's face, he asked, "Did I... Are you really dead? "
Unable to help himself, America flinched, nearly falling as he clutched at the railing and twisted to see Canada better, hardly caring that Russia might take advantage of his inattention.
Canada couldn't die. Not like this.
"Is he...?" America searched Canada's face, looking for even a tiny spark of life in the pale, blood-stained cheeks and the closed eyelids. He couldn't say it. He couldn't let it be true, not even for a moment. "Mattie?"
"He's alive," Lithuania reassured him. "He's still alive, but we have to get him help now."
"Litva?" Russia reached an arm out, confusion and fear warring in his gaze. "How...?" His gaze dropped to the body in Lithuania's arms. "What. . .?”
"Don't!” Reassured that Canada was still alive, America turned back to Russia, stepping up and blocking any view Russia might have had of Canada. “I won't let you hurt him any more.”
“L-Latvii?” Disbelief flashed across Russia's face.
“I. Am. Not. Your. Fucking. Latvy. Now, move.” America took another step up, quelling the shiver of terror that rose in his chest as he came closer to Russia with a rattle of chains.. “Or I will do it for you.”
Russia stumbled backwards, to America's surprise and relief, a look of utter confusion on his face. America didn't bother trying to wonder what he was confused about, instead rushing forward to make sure that Russia didn't change his mind, gathering his strength and snapping the chain between his shackles as he cornered Russia against the wall, meeting the confused gaze with a vicious glare that had Russia frowning.
“I will kill you if I have to,” America whispered. He didn't know if he could - heart racing at just being in such close proximity to his tormentor - but all that mattered was that Russia believed him, and it looked like he did.
“Come on,” America called to Lithuania, not taking his eyes off of Russia. “Get Matt out of here!”
“Be careful,” Lithuania seemed to beg, moving quickly to the door.
“Will do.” The confidence in the words was empty, nothing but a simple platitude to keep Lithuania from doing anything stupid that might endanger Canada. He didn't matter. Careful or not, nothing mattered but getting Canada away from harm.
Away from him.
America stumbled back a step, choking down the bile that surged up as he remembered what he had done, and something in Russia's eyes brightened.
Before America even knew what was happening, he was on the ground with Russia standing over him, one foot pressing down on his ribs. “You pretend to be strong, yes? I almost wondered if you were telling the truth, but you are weak, my Latvii. I do not know what you are playing at, but I do not like games.”
“Games?” America laughed weakly, unable to tell if Lithuania had made it outside, but doing his best to keep Russia distracted. “You think this is a game?” He couldn't stop laughing, choking and gasping as Russia pressed harder, tears running down his face as he prayed to every deity he could think of that Lithuania didn't notice that he wasn't right behind them, that Lithuania just kept running. “You couldn't tell a game if it walked up and punched you in the face, you slimy bastard!”
Substitutes - 4c/??
anonymous
March 5 2013, 07:54:27 UTC
Russia would torture him, might even kill him, but Canada would be safe.
“Why do you say such horrible things? I think you will be needing much more teaching, Latvii.” The pressure on America's ribs vanished as Russia lashed out, kicking him in the side with each syllable, “Much, much, more teach-ing.”
Bent over double, America clutched at his stomach, cringing as the taste of blood filled his mouth. Still, a smile touched his lips for the briefest of moments as Russia gathered up the broken chains of his shackles and moved to drag him back down into the basement.
It had worked.
By the time Russia was done with him, Lithuania would have Canada with England, and England protected his own. Russia would be dead before he stole Canada away from England's protective grasp.
Almost wistfully, America wondered if ensuring their escape would be enough for him to be remembered fondly, rather than as the rapist he was. Maybe England would even shed a tear for him. Not that it mattered.
Spitting out a mouthful of blood, America let his mask fall as his eyes fell shut.
He didn't have to be strong anymore.
With luck, Russia would kill him, and the new America would not remember what he had done.
**
Lithuania didn't dare run, not with Canada looking as though the slightest wind would scatter his body like dust, but as the door fell shut behind him, he moved as quickly as he could toward his car at the end of the driveway. It was a small thing, rather old as well, but it would get them far enough away that Lithuania could breath again.
“Al?” Canada stirred as Lithuania set him down in the passenger's seat, his eyes hooded and dark with pain.
“He's coming,” Lithuania whispered, not daring to believe otherwise. America was just giving them time, waiting for them to be ready before he came running out of the door. “He'll be here.”
But when the car was started, and Lithuania had his foot on the gas, there was still no sign of America.
Swearing, Lithuania turned the car off, only to freeze with his hand on the door. If Russia was strong enough to keep America from leaving, then what would he accomplish by storming back in on the hope that Russia was still confused enough to let him through? He could fight, it might simply be that America had been weakened by Russia's torture, but that would leave Canada helpless.
If Russia got his hands on Canada again, the young Nation would not survive-
“No matter what happens, you get Canada out of here.”
-and America would never forgive him.
Squeezing his eyes shut and choking down a sob, Lithuania turned the key. England was on his way, and if Estonia had been clear about what was happening, he would not be alone.
Russia would pay for what he had done, for the tatters of skin that clung to Lithuania's clothes, for the blood and semen on America's thighs and groin, for the horrible empty look in America's eyes.
Pressing down on the gas, Lithuania had to fight the urge to look back, though he could hardly see the road for the tear flowing unchecked down his cheeks.
Russia would pay, but it would not be at Lithuania's hands.
** Yes. I've been getting better at finding time to write between Life and School, so hopefully I'll have the next bit up sooner. Thanks for reading!
Re: Substitutes - 4c/??
anonymous
March 6 2013, 03:59:46 UTC
I just found this, and I must say I love your writing and I am very interested to see what happens next! I have a kink for torture and I think that it is ingeniously cruel to make America hurt his own brother. Also I am very curious what England will do. I liked the magic scene very much, very ominous!
I do have a small critique though. It seems a little inconsistent in the story about how strong America is. He was unable to break the chains earlier, when he was struggling his hardest, but then after going through all the trauma and with a dislocated shoulder he's able to break the chains and even corner Russia against the wall? That makes it seem strange that he felt he couldn't fight Russia before. If he is afraid of Russia trying to stop them, now that his hands aren't chained it seems like the best move would be to punch Russia or push Russia down the stairs to buy time, not talk to Russia. It also seems strange that he then goes weak again and Russia is able to drag him back down to the basement.
**
What was Russia thinking?
England thanked Estonia with a calmness he did not feel, setting the phone down gently before allowing the fear and anger to consume him.
To kidnap another Nation, when there was no war, no occupation, no excuse.
Not only kidnapping, but torture and rape, and enough blood that Estonia seemed to cringe just retelling the scene that he hadn't even been there to see.
“America...” The name slipped from his lips, as though it would erase what had happened.
Every fiber of England's being wanted to burn Russia's cities to the ground, to slaughter his children and ensure that the world knew what happened to those who hurt the ones England loved.
But America would never forgive him for that. For harming the innocent in the name of vengeance.
And before he could even think of revenge, he had to make sure that Russia did not add another victim to his list.
“I call upon the Dark Ones,” England spoke softly, channeling his rage and his need into the words as he made his way down past the basement into the room where he kept his Craft. “The Ones who Dwell in the Shadows, who Still the Fearful Hearts. In the Name of Albion and King Arthur's Bane, I call upon thee, whose oath is mine, to aid in the destruction of my enemy.”
Russia..
The flickering bulb did little against the Shadows that seemed to rise like smoke, circling England until it coalesced into three figures, resembling hooded men save for the flickering of their bodies.
“WE CANNOT TRESPASS UPON THE LANDS OF THE COLD ONE.”
England cursed, trembling with rage. What good was being owed a favor from the Dark Fae if they couldn't help when he most needed them?
“HOWEVER, WITH NICNIVIN'S BLADE,OUR OATH WILL BE DONE AND THY WISH FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF HE WHO HAS THE COLD ONE'S FAVOR EASILY FULFILLED.”
The foremost figure stretched forth an arm, the shadows rising and twisting until they vanished, leaving behind a dark blade that England reached out to take. It was a beautiful blade, and if the legends were true, it would cut through even the hardest of metals without a scratch and bring unnatural strength to the wielder.
“I thank the, Dark Ones, for thy favor and thy aid. Thy oath is fulfilled.”
“SHOULD YOU CALL UPON US AGAIN, THE PRICE WILL BE HEAVY.” With that, the Shadows vanished, leaving England feeling as though he had stepped out into the sun, though the only light was the same dull bulb.
Using the blade to draw the Ritual Circle in the packed dirt, England checked and double-checked every detail before stepping into the circle. Carelessness and impatience were his greatest weaknesses when it came to the Art of Magic, but there was no place for error here.
Carefully reading the ancient script, England chanted the words out loud, closing his eyes as the Magic swept him up in a rush of fire.
**
“Latvii?” Russia stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the trio as they made their way up. “What do you think you are doing?”
“We're leaving.” America had to force the words from his lips, but he didn't have to work for the glare of pure hatred that shone from his eyes. “And I'm not Latvii,” he spat, the words flowing easier. “I am the United States of America. Now get out of the way.”
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Unable to help himself, America flinched, nearly falling as he clutched at the railing and twisted to see Canada better, hardly caring that Russia might take advantage of his inattention.
Canada couldn't die. Not like this.
"Is he...?" America searched Canada's face, looking for even a tiny spark of life in the pale, blood-stained cheeks and the closed eyelids. He couldn't say it. He couldn't let it be true, not even for a moment. "Mattie?"
"He's alive," Lithuania reassured him. "He's still alive, but we have to get him help now."
"Litva?" Russia reached an arm out, confusion and fear warring in his gaze. "How...?" His gaze dropped to the body in Lithuania's arms. "What. . .?”
"Don't!” Reassured that Canada was still alive, America turned back to Russia, stepping up and blocking any view Russia might have had of Canada. “I won't let you hurt him any more.”
“L-Latvii?” Disbelief flashed across Russia's face.
“I. Am. Not. Your. Fucking. Latvy. Now, move.” America took another step up, quelling the shiver of terror that rose in his chest as he came closer to Russia with a rattle of chains.. “Or I will do it for you.”
Russia stumbled backwards, to America's surprise and relief, a look of utter confusion on his face. America didn't bother trying to wonder what he was confused about, instead rushing forward to make sure that Russia didn't change his mind, gathering his strength and snapping the chain between his shackles as he cornered Russia against the wall, meeting the confused gaze with a vicious glare that had Russia frowning.
“I will kill you if I have to,” America whispered. He didn't know if he could - heart racing at just being in such close proximity to his tormentor - but all that mattered was that Russia believed him, and it looked like he did.
“Come on,” America called to Lithuania, not taking his eyes off of Russia. “Get Matt out of here!”
“Be careful,” Lithuania seemed to beg, moving quickly to the door.
“Will do.” The confidence in the words was empty, nothing but a simple platitude to keep Lithuania from doing anything stupid that might endanger Canada. He didn't matter. Careful or not, nothing mattered but getting Canada away from harm.
Away from him.
America stumbled back a step, choking down the bile that surged up as he remembered what he had done, and something in Russia's eyes brightened.
Before America even knew what was happening, he was on the ground with Russia standing over him, one foot pressing down on his ribs. “You pretend to be strong, yes? I almost wondered if you were telling the truth, but you are weak, my Latvii. I do not know what you are playing at, but I do not like games.”
“Games?” America laughed weakly, unable to tell if Lithuania had made it outside, but doing his best to keep Russia distracted. “You think this is a game?” He couldn't stop laughing, choking and gasping as Russia pressed harder, tears running down his face as he prayed to every deity he could think of that Lithuania didn't notice that he wasn't right behind them, that Lithuania just kept running. “You couldn't tell a game if it walked up and punched you in the face, you slimy bastard!”
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“Why do you say such horrible things? I think you will be needing much more teaching, Latvii.” The pressure on America's ribs vanished as Russia lashed out, kicking him in the side with each syllable, “Much, much, more teach-ing.”
Bent over double, America clutched at his stomach, cringing as the taste of blood filled his mouth. Still, a smile touched his lips for the briefest of moments as Russia gathered up the broken chains of his shackles and moved to drag him back down into the basement.
It had worked.
By the time Russia was done with him, Lithuania would have Canada with England, and England protected his own. Russia would be dead before he stole Canada away from England's protective grasp.
Almost wistfully, America wondered if ensuring their escape would be enough for him to be remembered fondly, rather than as the rapist he was. Maybe England would even shed a tear for him. Not that it mattered.
Spitting out a mouthful of blood, America let his mask fall as his eyes fell shut.
He didn't have to be strong anymore.
With luck, Russia would kill him, and the new America would not remember what he had done.
**
Lithuania didn't dare run, not with Canada looking as though the slightest wind would scatter his body like dust, but as the door fell shut behind him, he moved as quickly as he could toward his car at the end of the driveway. It was a small thing, rather old as well, but it would get them far enough away that Lithuania could breath again.
“Al?” Canada stirred as Lithuania set him down in the passenger's seat, his eyes hooded and dark with pain.
“He's coming,” Lithuania whispered, not daring to believe otherwise. America was just giving them time, waiting for them to be ready before he came running out of the door. “He'll be here.”
But when the car was started, and Lithuania had his foot on the gas, there was still no sign of America.
Swearing, Lithuania turned the car off, only to freeze with his hand on the door. If Russia was strong enough to keep America from leaving, then what would he accomplish by storming back in on the hope that Russia was still confused enough to let him through? He could fight, it might simply be that America had been weakened by Russia's torture, but that would leave Canada helpless.
If Russia got his hands on Canada again, the young Nation would not survive-
“No matter what happens, you get Canada out of here.”
-and America would never forgive him.
Squeezing his eyes shut and choking down a sob, Lithuania turned the key. England was on his way, and if Estonia had been clear about what was happening, he would not be alone.
Russia would pay for what he had done, for the tatters of skin that clung to Lithuania's clothes, for the blood and semen on America's thighs and groin, for the horrible empty look in America's eyes.
Pressing down on the gas, Lithuania had to fight the urge to look back, though he could hardly see the road for the tear flowing unchecked down his cheeks.
Russia would pay, but it would not be at Lithuania's hands.
**
Yes. I've been getting better at finding time to write between Life and School, so hopefully I'll have the next bit up sooner.
Thanks for reading!
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Did Russia almost have a lucid moment?
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I do have a small critique though. It seems a little inconsistent in the story about how strong America is. He was unable to break the chains earlier, when he was struggling his hardest, but then after going through all the trauma and with a dislocated shoulder he's able to break the chains and even corner Russia against the wall? That makes it seem strange that he felt he couldn't fight Russia before. If he is afraid of Russia trying to stop them, now that his hands aren't chained it seems like the best move would be to punch Russia or push Russia down the stairs to buy time, not talk to Russia. It also seems strange that he then goes weak again and Russia is able to drag him back down to the basement.
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