(Not the other potential writer-anon, but this one intrigued me. And hey, we can always use more of this pairing, even the nasty parts.)
It is damn hard to kill a nation.
People, now, they're easy. People go down just like that, poof, no trouble at all, and half the time all he has to do is sit back and wait awhile and they're out of his hair all on their own. They're just not built to last very long. But nations are trickier. Nations are thought and language and people (even the dead ones sometimes) and so many different things that take a fucking long time to ever totally wipe out, which is why the Ottoman Empire doesn't worry too much about exactly how long he's been crushing Greece's windpipe.
"Y'know," he offers, readjusting his grip, "This is all sorta pointless." But Greece doesn't seem to agree, even if he can't say as much at the moment, so he keeps an eye out and when the brat grabs a stone from the rubble beneath them and swings up to attack with it, he sees it coming and grabs the arm by the wrist, slams it back down into the concrete. Again. And again, until he's sure it's broken in a couple of places, and then he hauls up and smacks the idiot's skull back to the ground just to drive the point home. Greece grunts from the impact, then snarls, or tries to. Whatever you'd call the noise that does manage to squeeze out between his bared teeth, it's scary enough. The Empire puts both hands back around the tanned throat and digs his thumbs in deeper.
"Like I was saying--"
(Shit, he probably could have done this one-handed once, when did the scrawny little kid grow up so much? Maybe that's what turned him all stupid.)
"--Like I was saying," he repeats, shifting his weight to press his knees more firmly against either side of Greece's ribcage, "Pointless. You're only gonna make it worse for yourself carrying on like this. Thought you knew better, kid."
Behind him, Greece's boots scrape on stone, scrabbling for leverage he'll never get. Before him, Greece squirms and arches, lungs still trying to do their job despite having nothing to do it with. His eyes squeeze shut against the pressure. His mouth, wide, works hard to take in more air. The Empire watches him struggle awhile, like it's something almost amusing. And it is, now that he has the upper hand again.
His jaw's gotten squarer, he thinks, looking at where his own hands draw a darker line between Greece's head and neck, a boundary of flesh on flesh. Cheeks are less rounded, too. Then his gaze wanders up and he sees Greece's eyes are cracked open, the defiant glare from the height of the siege earlier narrowed to a hateful green squint. God, even that's grown up somehow. Greece's lips move again, with more purpose this time even as they turn darker.
"What's up? Something you wanna say?" He eases up just barely and makes sure to flash his teeth when he grins. "Be my guest."
Greece still has the other, non-broken hand twisted in the fabric on his shoulder where he tried to push him away. It clenches now, bunching cloth and skin together in a grip almost savage enough to make the Empire wince. Almost, but not quite. But those eyes are on fucking fire when they open wider, and even the wheezing sound he makes when he pulls in a desperate, rattling breath doesn't sound nearly as pathetic as it ought to.
Not even the little scary noises find a way out when the Empire re-tightens his grip this time.
"I am getting damn impatient with this, brat." He leans in close until he's practically on top of the boy, brushes his cheek briefly against a smoother one. "And trust me, I could keep this up a hell of a lot longer than you probably realize." Under his hands, Greece swallows. Tries to, anyway. "But what about you? How long can you last?" Greece flinches when the Empire blows lightly into his ear, not that there's anywhere for him to go. "How many of your little soldiers can mine take out before you've had it?"
It's something about that last bit, he thinks, something in there that goes through Greece like a shot and revives the struggle in earnest. It's unexpected enough that he actually has to pull back and straighten up to stay in control. The eyes are narrow and fuming again and the brat still can't make any sound, but if he could, man, if he could it'd be something to hear, wouldn't it?
Greece scrapes his feet along the new ruins of Messolonghi like he's trying to push himself out of the way, gives a couple of violent jerks to the side to throw his captor's weight off, clutches and digs at the fingers around his neck with his one working arm to loosen the deathgrip. And meanwhile the Ottoman Empire grits his teeth against his own knees sliding on debris, wills himself to be just as heavy as he damn well pleases, and settles in to hold on for as long as either of them can stand it.
Clearly this war ain't over yet. So why are his hands cramping up already? Fuck's sake.
Holy fuck anon, your writing is amazing. The combination of Ottoman Empire's aggression and Greece's defiance is just UNFFFFFF! (And oh god I love how you describe Greece *nosebleeds*) Thanks to you, I'm gonna start shipping these guys like there's no tomorrow.
Fuck that was badass. Holy shit Greece. Whoa Turkey. Love how he went gradually irritated that he can no longer fully keep the brat under his yoke. Also, Messolonghi.
psh don't worry about it. XD I like to draw as well, but a lot of the requests oddly don't give a lot of inspiration for that, but your fill (and the following one owo) has. <3
It is damn hard to kill a nation.
People, now, they're easy. People go down just like that, poof, no trouble at all, and half the time all he has to do is sit back and wait awhile and they're out of his hair all on their own. They're just not built to last very long. But nations are trickier. Nations are thought and language and people (even the dead ones sometimes) and so many different things that take a fucking long time to ever totally wipe out, which is why the Ottoman Empire doesn't worry too much about exactly how long he's been crushing Greece's windpipe.
"Y'know," he offers, readjusting his grip, "This is all sorta pointless." But Greece doesn't seem to agree, even if he can't say as much at the moment, so he keeps an eye out and when the brat grabs a stone from the rubble beneath them and swings up to attack with it, he sees it coming and grabs the arm by the wrist, slams it back down into the concrete. Again. And again, until he's sure it's broken in a couple of places, and then he hauls up and smacks the idiot's skull back to the ground just to drive the point home. Greece grunts from the impact, then snarls, or tries to. Whatever you'd call the noise that does manage to squeeze out between his bared teeth, it's scary enough. The Empire puts both hands back around the tanned throat and digs his thumbs in deeper.
"Like I was saying--"
(Shit, he probably could have done this one-handed once, when did the scrawny little kid grow up so much? Maybe that's what turned him all stupid.)
"--Like I was saying," he repeats, shifting his weight to press his knees more firmly against either side of Greece's ribcage, "Pointless. You're only gonna make it worse for yourself carrying on like this. Thought you knew better, kid."
Behind him, Greece's boots scrape on stone, scrabbling for leverage he'll never get. Before him, Greece squirms and arches, lungs still trying to do their job despite having nothing to do it with. His eyes squeeze shut against the pressure. His mouth, wide, works hard to take in more air. The Empire watches him struggle awhile, like it's something almost amusing. And it is, now that he has the upper hand again.
His jaw's gotten squarer, he thinks, looking at where his own hands draw a darker line between Greece's head and neck, a boundary of flesh on flesh. Cheeks are less rounded, too. Then his gaze wanders up and he sees Greece's eyes are cracked open, the defiant glare from the height of the siege earlier narrowed to a hateful green squint. God, even that's grown up somehow. Greece's lips move again, with more purpose this time even as they turn darker.
"What's up? Something you wanna say?" He eases up just barely and makes sure to flash his teeth when he grins. "Be my guest."
Greece still has the other, non-broken hand twisted in the fabric on his shoulder where he tried to push him away. It clenches now, bunching cloth and skin together in a grip almost savage enough to make the Empire wince. Almost, but not quite. But those eyes are on fucking fire when they open wider, and even the wheezing sound he makes when he pulls in a desperate, rattling breath doesn't sound nearly as pathetic as it ought to.
"Yeah," he gasps. "Go to hell."
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"I am getting damn impatient with this, brat." He leans in close until he's practically on top of the boy, brushes his cheek briefly against a smoother one. "And trust me, I could keep this up a hell of a lot longer than you probably realize." Under his hands, Greece swallows. Tries to, anyway. "But what about you? How long can you last?" Greece flinches when the Empire blows lightly into his ear, not that there's anywhere for him to go. "How many of your little soldiers can mine take out before you've had it?"
It's something about that last bit, he thinks, something in there that goes through Greece like a shot and revives the struggle in earnest. It's unexpected enough that he actually has to pull back and straighten up to stay in control. The eyes are narrow and fuming again and the brat still can't make any sound, but if he could, man, if he could it'd be something to hear, wouldn't it?
Greece scrapes his feet along the new ruins of Messolonghi like he's trying to push himself out of the way, gives a couple of violent jerks to the side to throw his captor's weight off, clutches and digs at the fingers around his neck with his one working arm to loosen the deathgrip. And meanwhile the Ottoman Empire grits his teeth against his own knees sliding on debris, wills himself to be just as heavy as he damn well pleases, and settles in to hold on for as long as either of them can stand it.
Clearly this war ain't over yet. So why are his hands cramping up already? Fuck's sake.
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Well-played, anon! Very well-played. Definitely hoping to see more of these two from you.
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Now if you'll excuse me... fapfapfapfap
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This has got to be one of the most intense stories I've ever read. And it's freaking scary.
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Also, Messolonghi.
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Damn that was hot... o.o I doubt I could do more than restate what you've said, so I shall become an Artist!Anon based on your fic. =3
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