International Scandal 2012: The End of the World (1a/?)
anonymous
August 14 2011, 18:46:45 UTC
China sat down to his breakfast table with a bowl of rice and a cup of tea, facing the window. The rising sun cast sharp shadows across the streets and cast everything in a yellow light that almost hurt his eyes, but he smiled: waking with the dawn was peaceful and beautiful, and as ever, China valued his alone time. Frost arced against the edges of the panes, the only indication the light was cold and harsh, not warm and inviting. China would be sure to wear his coat to the government building today. He lifted his cup with both hands and inhaled the scent.
A great golden and red mane, led by a flared snout and trailing whiskers, flashed by the window; 15-centimeter long claws scraped the pane, leathery wings blotting out the sun for an instant, and a long, sinuous line of blood-colored scales followed. A glimpse of a spiked tail followed, and it was gone.
China dropped his teacup into his rice.
*
Japan prided himself on his hospitality and responsiveness, but he ignored his ringing phone as he stared at the guest standing on his porch. It was a fox - a fox balanced on its hind legs, dressed in traditional merchant's clothes; a medicine man's basket was slung across its back. One paw was raised in greeting.
"Kitsune?" Japan said, half to himself. Once he had seen such creatures regularly, but he had long ago convinced himself they were merely illusions, friends he had made up during his long isolation in some sort of odd madness. Perhaps he was dreaming?
"Indeed," intoned the fox, its chin tucked in such a way that Japan could not see its mouth move. "You had forgotten me. That is dangerous, Root of the Day."
"I have no nostalgia for the days when I imagined you," Japan lied.
"Hah! That is funny," the fox spirit responded. "You long for nothing else, sometimes! But that is not why I came."
Kitsune are tricky, Japan remembered. He folded his arms into his yukata and waited.
"The Oni are coming down from the mountains." The fox spirit pointed towards Fujiyama, and northwards. "Your people have played long enough, they say. I am running, Root of the Day, but you cannot: so, make your choice!"
It could all be lies. Japan (did not) believe in Oni, regardless. "Ah," he said, noncommittal.
"Your forgetfulness has been most hospitable." The fox spirit bowed. "The best of luck to yours!" And it dropped to all fours and scampered away into the brush behind the koi pond.
The phone rang for the fourth time. Japan ignored it: answering now would just be bad luck.
*
Russia would have been knee-deep in the snow out in the woods far north of his home in Moscow, but he was wearing snowshoes.
It had been unusually warm lately; of course, one of the biggest concerns of the nations and their leaders of late had been global warming. Russia's temperature had spiked unusually in the last few years, and so he was more inclined to believe it, but he couldn't be certain he minded the retreat of General Winter into Siberia. Winters were cold enough without him, after all.
But it was good to be in the woods, in the cold that never bothered him much, and far away from the shouts of his children demanding this and that in the wake of elections. "How does Amerika do it?" he asked aloud, and chuckled. "Like going mad!" He did not miss being the Soviet Union, but oh, he missed the stability of his leadership. There was a certain comfort in being steadily miserable, after all, and he had been used to such things for so long.
International Scandal 2012: The End of the World (1b/?)
anonymous
August 14 2011, 18:49:24 UTC
His thoughts were interrupted by the cry of a small child. Russia looked up, alarmed: what would a little child be doing in the woods at this late hour? "Hello?" he called out into the dark, cupping gloved hands around his mouth.
"Help me!" screamed the child.
Russia ran towards the voice as fast as snowshoes would allow. "I am coming!" he called. There were still wolves in this forest, but they were shy of humans; perhaps the child was just lost? He ducked under tree branches and picked his way through a bush. "Shout, child, so I can hear you!" he commanded.
"She's coming, she's -- help me, please, mister, help!" the child sobbed, her voice quite close now.
Russia ducked around one tree and found the child, a little girl in pigtails, struggling through snow to her waist. "I am here!" he cried, crouching and sweeping her up into his arms; she sobbed into his shoulder, shivering despite her thick mittens and fur-lined coat. "Shh, shh," he comforted. "You are all right now. Shh."
She was one of his, and so his voice comforted her easily. She lifted her head, her breathing still rapid. "Rossiya Motherland?" she asked, staring.
"Mm, yes - and now I must get you home." Russia propped her up against his chest so she was balanced against his shoulder. "Why are you out in the woods so late?"
"It was a d-dare," she whispered in his ear, her shivers coming back. "It was really stupid! Th-there's an abandoned house in the w-woods and my brothers said it was--"
She was interrupted by a horrible, inhuman scream, a terrifying cackle on its heels. All the hair on the back of Russia's neck stood up. "Come back, come back!" cried a leathery voice, a screech like nails on a chalkboard in the words. "Your motherland cannot hide you now!"
"Baba Yaga," Russia said.
"She's real!" the girl sobbed, wrapping her arms tightly around Russia's neck. "H-help!"
Russia turned and tore off through the woods, hugging the child to his chest, shoes kicking up the snow behind him.
*
Lithuania woke up because something was wrapped around his upper thigh.
He froze, staring at his bedroom ceiling. It was not an arm. It was thin and wiry and cool against his skin, constricting only slightly. Something lightly tickled the hem of his boxer shorts.
"Lietuva - that is ssstill your name, yes? You've ssstopped offering me the coals after you ssleep."
It's a stress dream, Lithuania thought. It's just a stress dream. I'll just close my eyes and--
"Are you lisstening?" the thing - snake - hissed, and that light flicker moved an inch higher on his thigh; Lithuania shrieked and threw off the covers.
A man with long, black hair, colorful robes of green, gold and red, with emerald slit-pupil eyes looked back, resting on Lithuania's legs. "Is that any way to greet the Ssnake King?" the man hissed, grinning and showing fangs.
"You're - you're just a ... I've gone mad?" Lithuania asked, staring.
"Mn, how quickly your people forgot me!" the Snake King grumbled, sitting up. "But I am generouss. Your new godss--"
"God," Lithuania corrected absently.
The pagan god sneered. "They seem to want your human typesss wiped out. Just today I heard once again the pounding of great monsterss from the deep while in my den. Have you ever seen a goblin uprising? It'sss not pretty."
"I - what? Again?"
"Get up, nation, get up!" the Snake King said irritably, raising his hands in sharp motions to encourage him. "Warn those heretic friendsss of yours. And perhaps, if I feel generousss, the trees will help you!"
Lithuania blinked, and a garter snake was unwinding itself from his thigh. It slithered until it fell off the bed, and disappeared through a small crack in the floorboards.
"Thank you?" he said aloud, but he regretted no longer having a wood furnace with which to thank him properly.
International Scandal 2012: The End of the World (1c/?)
anonymous
August 14 2011, 18:50:30 UTC
*
Sweden, an axe swung over his shoulder and warm cap and coat in place, stood squarely in the middle of the dirt road through the woods. The twelve-foot-tall troll looked down at him with its wide mouth spread into a thin smile.
"Y'don't usually appear like this," Sweden observed. "'S been a while."
"Your perception of us has changed, human," the troll snarled. "But you still remember the old tales, I see!"
"Mn. 'M not human," Sweden observed. He hefted his axe. "But you n'your friends can go back home. I'll cut down th'whole forest if need be."
"Not human?" The troll sniffed the air. "So you're not! Well, the time has come to take this place back. So stand in my way, but I will crush you and your people!"
"Yer gonna do that anyway," Sweden said calmly. "We'll see how y'walk with one leg."
"And we'll see how Sverige fares when digested!" The troll snarled. "Shall I wear your skin today? What a joke that will be!"
*
Seven horses pranced by Spain's house, their leathery wings flared and arced: red, blue, black, green, white, yellow, and orange. It was too dark outside to properly see their colors, but Spain knew anyway. He peeked through the curtain; he had never actually seen the Devil's Small Horses before. They weren't real, after all, and being faithfully Catholic, the whole demons thing had gone out of style long ago.
The rider of the white steed turned his cloaked head to look Spain's way and the former conquistador ducked back, his heart pounding. "Oh, Lord," he breathed, laughing nervously. "I'm really scared of them!"
At least they would be after four-leaf clovers, not humans. Right?
When he heard a far-off howl though, he shivered. Chupacabras all moved to America and Mexico's place, he reminded himself. My people have nothing to fear.
*
By the time America woke up, the world was in chaos. China had had six towns burned to the ground. Japan, Latvia, France (?) and Poland (!??) had all suffered earthquakes. Russia was having a very sudden, very intense cold snap, and six children had gone missing near Moscow. Greece had a tsunami. Swedish newscasters had footage of some unseen force crushing buildings; Norway and the Netherlands were both having freak lightning storms that had not let up. And England had apparently been blowing up America's phone all night, leaving frantic messages about Scottish faeries and the Loch Ness Monster or something.
America himself had woken up in the middle of the night to a series of massive tornadoes across the Great Plains; in the morning he found out New York had a flash flood, and Mt. Rainer may or may not have become active again. America already had a headache, and--
He looked at the calendar.
He looked back at the report.
"Hey, the Mayans were right!" he exclaimed.
But like hell he was letting the world go down without a fight.
tbc
I'm trying to go for equal parts humor and serious, because folklore freaking rocks. Please forgive me for any massive inaccuracies. I will do my best to represent everyone at some point in this story.
Russia carrying the little girl! THE FOX SPIRIT! The dragon, omg the dragon is so cool, I just. You're an awesome artist! All the details, and the realistic designs! I love seeing un-moe-fied Hetalia art.
You have increased my motivation to write more of this story times a billion - it's already fun, but I just pretty much shat myself upon seeing this. THANK YOU =DDDDDD
And it's really flattering that you were thinking about it all day, ahaha. ♥!
Lately I've just found Sweden is one of my favorite characters ... which is weird because he's usually not the type I like ... but I'm glad you liked him being badass!
Oh, America. Wait until you see your first dragon. ;)
Re: International Scandal 2012: The End of the World (1c/?)
anonymous
August 17 2011, 01:44:36 UTC
You, sir or madam, are seriously awesome. Please have a billion internetz for this amazing first chapter!
Just one small thing I'd like to point out: Chinese dragons were rain summoners and usually weren't associated with fire the way western dragons are, and most were benevolent. Of course there were always evil dragons as well, though the good ones were supposed to keep the evil ones in check.
A great golden and red mane, led by a flared snout and trailing whiskers, flashed by the window; 15-centimeter long claws scraped the pane, leathery wings blotting out the sun for an instant, and a long, sinuous line of blood-colored scales followed. A glimpse of a spiked tail followed, and it was gone.
China dropped his teacup into his rice.
*
Japan prided himself on his hospitality and responsiveness, but he ignored his ringing phone as he stared at the guest standing on his porch. It was a fox - a fox balanced on its hind legs, dressed in traditional merchant's clothes; a medicine man's basket was slung across its back. One paw was raised in greeting.
"Kitsune?" Japan said, half to himself. Once he had seen such creatures regularly, but he had long ago convinced himself they were merely illusions, friends he had made up during his long isolation in some sort of odd madness. Perhaps he was dreaming?
"Indeed," intoned the fox, its chin tucked in such a way that Japan could not see its mouth move. "You had forgotten me. That is dangerous, Root of the Day."
"I have no nostalgia for the days when I imagined you," Japan lied.
"Hah! That is funny," the fox spirit responded. "You long for nothing else, sometimes! But that is not why I came."
Kitsune are tricky, Japan remembered. He folded his arms into his yukata and waited.
"The Oni are coming down from the mountains." The fox spirit pointed towards Fujiyama, and northwards. "Your people have played long enough, they say. I am running, Root of the Day, but you cannot: so, make your choice!"
It could all be lies. Japan (did not) believe in Oni, regardless. "Ah," he said, noncommittal.
"Your forgetfulness has been most hospitable." The fox spirit bowed. "The best of luck to yours!" And it dropped to all fours and scampered away into the brush behind the koi pond.
The phone rang for the fourth time. Japan ignored it: answering now would just be bad luck.
*
Russia would have been knee-deep in the snow out in the woods far north of his home in Moscow, but he was wearing snowshoes.
It had been unusually warm lately; of course, one of the biggest concerns of the nations and their leaders of late had been global warming. Russia's temperature had spiked unusually in the last few years, and so he was more inclined to believe it, but he couldn't be certain he minded the retreat of General Winter into Siberia. Winters were cold enough without him, after all.
But it was good to be in the woods, in the cold that never bothered him much, and far away from the shouts of his children demanding this and that in the wake of elections. "How does Amerika do it?" he asked aloud, and chuckled. "Like going mad!" He did not miss being the Soviet Union, but oh, he missed the stability of his leadership. There was a certain comfort in being steadily miserable, after all, and he had been used to such things for so long.
Reply
"Help me!" screamed the child.
Russia ran towards the voice as fast as snowshoes would allow. "I am coming!" he called. There were still wolves in this forest, but they were shy of humans; perhaps the child was just lost? He ducked under tree branches and picked his way through a bush. "Shout, child, so I can hear you!" he commanded.
"She's coming, she's -- help me, please, mister, help!" the child sobbed, her voice quite close now.
Russia ducked around one tree and found the child, a little girl in pigtails, struggling through snow to her waist. "I am here!" he cried, crouching and sweeping her up into his arms; she sobbed into his shoulder, shivering despite her thick mittens and fur-lined coat. "Shh, shh," he comforted. "You are all right now. Shh."
She was one of his, and so his voice comforted her easily. She lifted her head, her breathing still rapid. "Rossiya Motherland?" she asked, staring.
"Mm, yes - and now I must get you home." Russia propped her up against his chest so she was balanced against his shoulder. "Why are you out in the woods so late?"
"It was a d-dare," she whispered in his ear, her shivers coming back. "It was really stupid! Th-there's an abandoned house in the w-woods and my brothers said it was--"
She was interrupted by a horrible, inhuman scream, a terrifying cackle on its heels. All the hair on the back of Russia's neck stood up. "Come back, come back!" cried a leathery voice, a screech like nails on a chalkboard in the words. "Your motherland cannot hide you now!"
"Baba Yaga," Russia said.
"She's real!" the girl sobbed, wrapping her arms tightly around Russia's neck. "H-help!"
Russia turned and tore off through the woods, hugging the child to his chest, shoes kicking up the snow behind him.
*
Lithuania woke up because something was wrapped around his upper thigh.
He froze, staring at his bedroom ceiling. It was not an arm. It was thin and wiry and cool against his skin, constricting only slightly. Something lightly tickled the hem of his boxer shorts.
"Lietuva - that is ssstill your name, yes? You've ssstopped offering me the coals after you ssleep."
It's a stress dream, Lithuania thought. It's just a stress dream. I'll just close my eyes and--
"Are you lisstening?" the thing - snake - hissed, and that light flicker moved an inch higher on his thigh; Lithuania shrieked and threw off the covers.
A man with long, black hair, colorful robes of green, gold and red, with emerald slit-pupil eyes looked back, resting on Lithuania's legs. "Is that any way to greet the Ssnake King?" the man hissed, grinning and showing fangs.
"You're - you're just a ... I've gone mad?" Lithuania asked, staring.
"Mn, how quickly your people forgot me!" the Snake King grumbled, sitting up. "But I am generouss. Your new godss--"
"God," Lithuania corrected absently.
The pagan god sneered. "They seem to want your human typesss wiped out. Just today I heard once again the pounding of great monsterss from the deep while in my den. Have you ever seen a goblin uprising? It'sss not pretty."
"I - what? Again?"
"Get up, nation, get up!" the Snake King said irritably, raising his hands in sharp motions to encourage him. "Warn those heretic friendsss of yours. And perhaps, if I feel generousss, the trees will help you!"
Lithuania blinked, and a garter snake was unwinding itself from his thigh. It slithered until it fell off the bed, and disappeared through a small crack in the floorboards.
"Thank you?" he said aloud, but he regretted no longer having a wood furnace with which to thank him properly.
Reply
Sweden, an axe swung over his shoulder and warm cap and coat in place, stood squarely in the middle of the dirt road through the woods. The twelve-foot-tall troll looked down at him with its wide mouth spread into a thin smile.
"Y'don't usually appear like this," Sweden observed. "'S been a while."
"Your perception of us has changed, human," the troll snarled. "But you still remember the old tales, I see!"
"Mn. 'M not human," Sweden observed. He hefted his axe. "But you n'your friends can go back home. I'll cut down th'whole forest if need be."
"Not human?" The troll sniffed the air. "So you're not! Well, the time has come to take this place back. So stand in my way, but I will crush you and your people!"
"Yer gonna do that anyway," Sweden said calmly. "We'll see how y'walk with one leg."
"And we'll see how Sverige fares when digested!" The troll snarled. "Shall I wear your skin today? What a joke that will be!"
*
Seven horses pranced by Spain's house, their leathery wings flared and arced: red, blue, black, green, white, yellow, and orange. It was too dark outside to properly see their colors, but Spain knew anyway. He peeked through the curtain; he had never actually seen the Devil's Small Horses before. They weren't real, after all, and being faithfully Catholic, the whole demons thing had gone out of style long ago.
The rider of the white steed turned his cloaked head to look Spain's way and the former conquistador ducked back, his heart pounding. "Oh, Lord," he breathed, laughing nervously. "I'm really scared of them!"
At least they would be after four-leaf clovers, not humans. Right?
When he heard a far-off howl though, he shivered. Chupacabras all moved to America and Mexico's place, he reminded himself. My people have nothing to fear.
*
By the time America woke up, the world was in chaos. China had had six towns burned to the ground. Japan, Latvia, France (?) and Poland (!??) had all suffered earthquakes. Russia was having a very sudden, very intense cold snap, and six children had gone missing near Moscow. Greece had a tsunami. Swedish newscasters had footage of some unseen force crushing buildings; Norway and the Netherlands were both having freak lightning storms that had not let up. And England had apparently been blowing up America's phone all night, leaving frantic messages about Scottish faeries and the Loch Ness Monster or something.
America himself had woken up in the middle of the night to a series of massive tornadoes across the Great Plains; in the morning he found out New York had a flash flood, and Mt. Rainer may or may not have become active again. America already had a headache, and--
He looked at the calendar.
He looked back at the report.
"Hey, the Mayans were right!" he exclaimed.
But like hell he was letting the world go down without a fight.
tbc
I'm trying to go for equal parts humor and serious, because folklore freaking rocks. Please forgive me for any massive inaccuracies. I will do my best to represent everyone at some point in this story.
Reply
I'm so excited already! Keep up the awesomeness!
Reply
Reply
And did I mention how much I like Sweden's and Russia's parts? And wow, I feel bad for Greece.
Reply
writing Russia's part was my favorite - he should be a heroic character more often! And lately I've been a bit in love with Sweden, haha.
Greece has a sudden Cyclops from the deep. Er.
Reply
but here, you've only put up a chapter but have some art
http://i679.photobucket.com/albums/vv151/sapphirefire/CCF14082011_00001.jpg
http://i679.photobucket.com/albums/vv151/sapphirefire/CCF14082011_00002.jpg
http://i679.photobucket.com/albums/vv151/sapphirefire/CCF14082011_00000.jpg
This is really really fun and I'm so happy this exists. I'll probably give you more with each update :)
Reply
OH MY GOD YOU ARE AWESOME
Russia carrying the little girl! THE FOX SPIRIT! The dragon, omg the dragon is so cool, I just. You're an awesome artist! All the details, and the realistic designs! I love seeing un-moe-fied Hetalia art.
You have increased my motivation to write more of this story times a billion - it's already fun, but I just pretty much shat myself upon seeing this. THANK YOU =DDDDDD
And it's really flattering that you were thinking about it all day, ahaha. ♥!
Reply
Reply
I hope you enjoy the story all the way through!
Reply
Reply
Reply
I seriously loved Sweden's part the most. haha, he was so calm and collected. Plus protective!/badass!Sweden is super hot.
Also this seriously made me lol. Oh America.
"Hey, the Mayans were right!" he exclaimed.
Reply
Oh, America. Wait until you see your first dragon. ;)
I hope you enjoy this to the end!
Reply
Just one small thing I'd like to point out: Chinese dragons were rain summoners and usually weren't associated with fire the way western dragons are, and most were benevolent. Of course there were always evil dragons as well, though the good ones were supposed to keep the evil ones in check.
Reply
Leave a comment