50 Sentences of Jersey
Title: 50 Sentences of Jersey
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: PG
Timeframe: ...any time in the near future?
Word Count: 2136
Summary: A collection of one sentence prompts centering on the eldest of Ireland's children, Frederich Tristan Mihael Beilschmidt, AKA Jersey.
Notes/Warnings: Using table Gamma from 1sentence. Some bad accents, OC POV.
RING: She had her old wedding ring, and that ring from her saint fellow; why didn’t his mutti have one from his vater?
HERO: Every time his uncle America declared himself a hero he had to laugh; wondering what his uncle would think if he knew his nephew considered him one of his greatest rivals?
MEMORY: He thought he remembered one moment, just one, where it looked like his father loved his mother as much as she loved him; sadly childhood memories were never the most reliable.
BOX: There was a box in his mother’s attic he’d gotten into once, filled with photographs of someone he’d never seen before, a name of someone he’d never heard of; when he asked her about him it was the closest he’d ever seen her to tears as she ordered him to never go near it again.
RUN: He would always run towards a fight, a battle, any kind of scuffle where blood was sure to be drawn; running away, however, was something he could never do, could never dishonor his parents or his heritage by doing.
HURRICANE: He loved the power of a hurricane, the fact that something so insubstantial as wind and water could cause that much damage in such a short amount of time; he hoped that he himself could have that power for his own.
WINGS: When he was young, his mother had explained how birds were fortunate, that they had the freedom from birth that she had spent so long to achieve for herself; he believed that wings meant only that it was easier for the pursued to escape the pursuer.
COLD: He never understood how his mother and father stood the cold of their respective lands, or how he had been born bound to a place of such warmth.
RED: His earliest memories were of red: the red of his mother’s hair, his father’s eyes, the red blanket he’d carried around everywhere as a baby that his mother had made for him; perhaps that was why he’d grown up with as much a fondness for war and warfare as the red that had given him life.
DRINK: When he got older, he wasn’t content to just drink the booze, oh not at all, he had to make the booze; from the first drink of his shine, his uncle Connor declared him best nephew ever.
MIDNIGHT: He hoped his uncles Arthur and Luís never found out how often he managed to talk Isabella into sneaking out of the house at midnight; he also hoped to every single god that ever existed or ever would exist that Belarus never found out how often Natasha dragged him out.
TEMPTATION: It wasn’t that things never tempted him, it was that there wasn’t any temptation to give into when he just took whatever took his fancy without guilt.
VIEW: He would never admit that it was solely his view on the matter, but he quite firmly believed that the Prussian Empire had ended far too soon for it to be anything approaching fair.
MUSIC: Music was a family trait on his mother’s side, so of course it was only fitting that he had a fondness for it as well; though if there was a truth to be told of the affair, he had as equal a fondness for the piano as his harp.
SILK: He never really found the point of silk, it wasn’t as though it was useful for anything practical for war or combat of any sort; finding one of his mother’s silk nightgowns really didn’t help matters.
COVER: The three of them (Himself and his half brother and sister) had never really understood the point of laying low, pretending to be normal humans to everyone but their governments; they weren't, so why pretend that way and waste all the possible things they could do with their status?
PROMISE: His mother long ago taught him that a person is only as good as their word, and that it shouldn’t be given out lightly; he’d taken that lesson to heart in an instant.
DREAM: He’d had a dream once, a long time ago, where a young man with blond hair and a scar over half his face had looked him over with this contemplative look on his face, smiled wryly and nodded, saying “Yeah, you deserve to have my name.”
CANDLE: He knew he’d never hold a candle to the epicness of his parents, there was just far too much to live up to in that regard (And they’d had quite a bit of time to do it in at that), but by God, Saint Patrick, and Saint Helier, he’d certainly try.
TALENT: He knew he had an incredible talent for strategy and warfare, he was, after all, the absolute worst possible combination of his parents, and he took that as the highest compliment possible to be paid to him.
SILENCE: Silence was for mourning, for church, for seriousness; Fritz was anything but serious and so he hated it, hated silence outside of its proper places.
JOURNEY: One of the advantages of being what he was, Fritz always thought, was the chance to go all over the world and see all these different people and lands; lands that, of course, would become the New Prussian Empire if he had anything to say about it.
FIRE: Oh he loved fire, the heat of it, the power of it; so of course every time his still blew up in his face he had to stand there and watch it in fascination as his uncle Ludwig pitched a fit about it and his father took as many pictures as possible to send to his mother and Uncle Connor.
STRENGTH: It took strength to be who they were, Fritz realized one day when the economy tumbled and his mother’s health tumbled along with it well before his own or saw the blood spread across his uncle’s back at yet another attack on one of his cities; he wondered sometimes how they managed for so long like that.
MASK: So many times he thought that his uncle Alfred’s attitude was all a mask, something to put people off guard and hide what had to be something brilliant and cunning, and then he finally realized that no, his uncle really was that dimwitted and happy go lucky.
ICE: There was an ice to Natasha, a cold impassable plain of ice not unlike the Helcaraxë of the books his family were so fond of, and he really wasn’t sure why it was there; he made it part of his life’s goals to break through that ice and find the warmth that he knew had to be there.
FALL: All Empires had to fall, he knew that, knew his history; still, that didn’t stop him from wanting one of his own, to make his father proud.
FORGOTTEN: Every day his father came closer to being forgotten: he wasn’t mentioned in schools, most of his achievements relegated to Germany or mistaken for an archaic name for Russia, and even though his father never really seemed to notice, Fritz did and it bothered him.
DANCE: At first he wouldn’t learn how to dance, quite frankly nearly fought tooth and nail to avoid being taught; when he discovered Irish step dancing, however, he insisted on learning it, attracted by the similarities the sounds had to marching.
BODY: It was an interesting experience, trying to figure out which part of his body was connected to what city, what town, what landmark; he’d managed to figure out that his heart was connected to Saint Helier before his father caught him and he got any further.
SACRED: There weren’t many things sacred to Fritz, despite his father being a former church-backed military state, he didn’t really see the point in quite a bit of it; but he knew that one never said anything against his mother’s Saint Patrick unless they wanted a knife at their throat.
FAREWELLS: He didn’t do farewells, didn’t see the point in saying goodbye to someone he was going to see again; farewells were for finality, for endings and very few things in his life were final.
WORLD: Sometimes he found it strange, that a little over two hundred people could in fact represent over six billion and the lands they inhabited, but then it was the life and world he had been born into, and he would never trade it for anything.
FORMAL: “Oh come on Mutti, you know I hate tuxedos, they’re so… stiff and stupid and Scheiße; you know what I mean, ja?”
FEVER: It was that he had a fever and no other sign of illness during a drought in Jersey that clued his parents in as to his nature as a fellow Nation; until then they had been preparing themselves for the possibility that they would outlive him.
LAUGH: The first time he’d laughed he’d sent shivers down everyone’s spines except for his parents’, who instead laughed right along with him; his laugh and his father’s were eerily similar, to the point of confusing people as to who was laughing.
LIES: He may have been out to take over the world (His mother had even taken to calling the teenage years the Empire phase, it was close enough anyway) with the intent to prove he was worthy of the parentage and histories he’d been born to, but if there was anything he was not, it was a liar, as his mother said, a man was only as good as his word.
FOREVER: While his mother fretted over the possibility that Nations were not forever, Fritz chose to focus on the fact that apparently, most were, as she herself, his uncles, and his father proved, among others.
OVERWHELMED: Frederich Tristan Mihael Beilschmidt never got overwhelmed, he would insist, in fact he took on exactly what he could handle, though it only took one pitiful look towards Isabella and Natasha to get them to help him out when he needed it.
WHISPER: It was never a good thing when those girls started whispering to each other, Fritz realized very quickly once he’d become friends with them, it usually meant that they were planning something he had to be left out of, especially when that something was a prank he was the victim of.
WAIT: He didn’t like waiting, didn’t have the patience that apparently his mother, Uncle Matthew, and Uncle Llewellyn had; he’d spent many times in his childhood shifting restlessly, wanting to go out and DO things, not sit around while people droned on uselessly; church of course was always the exception.
TALK: The closest he’d ever come to getting “The Talk” from his parents was the time he nearly walked in on his mother straddling his father’s lap with his teeth set firmly into her neck; after that all involved were too embarrassed to do more than look awkwardly at each other before passing him over to his Uncle Francis.
SEARCH: According to the internet, that great repository of information, his father was not quite as forgotten as he had once thought; a “google search” quickly turned up eighteen million nine hundred thousand results for “Prussia” and three hundred twenty thousand results for “Kingdom of Prussia.”
HOPE: His mother was the one that held the hope that her son -- and all three of her children, once Aodh and Aodhán had been born -- would aspire to and achieve great things; it was his father and himself that knew he would achieve those great things; it was in his blood, after all.
ECLIPSE: His Uncle Llewellyn told him that he’d been born on the day of an eclipse, an no one really quite knew what that would mean for his future; Fritz was certain that it meant great things were in store for him, that perhaps he would even eclipse his parents, however unlikely it seemed.
GRAVITY: “Fucking gravity; Newton wasn’t even one of mine!”
HIGHWAY: After going down the Autobahn on the back of his brother’s motorcycle at what even his Uncle Feliciano could call ridiculous speeds, Fritz swore to do it as often as was humanly or Nationally possible; the rush was incredible!
UNKNOWN: He was an unknown entity, an anomaly in Nation history as it had been over two thousand years since a Nation had been born in the traditional sense and no one knew quite what to make of him, or what to make of his cousins and half siblings that had come after him.
LOCK: Certain things were always locked when Fritz was around: The liquor cabinet and the weapons locker were the top priority places; these same things were always broken into and usually ended with a drunken teen trying to find the treble G string on his mother or uncle’s harps.
BREATHE: He’d tried once, when he was young and his only Nation his own age companion was Isabella, to prove that Nations didn’t need to breathe; she’d laughed herself blue in the face as his own turned a shade amazingly close to Prussian blue.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: PG
Timeframe: ...any time in the near future?
Word Count: 2136
Summary: A collection of one sentence prompts centering on the eldest of Ireland's children, Frederich Tristan Mihael Beilschmidt, AKA Jersey.
Notes/Warnings: Using table Gamma from 1sentence. Some bad accents, OC POV.
RING: She had her old wedding ring, and that ring from her saint fellow; why didn’t his mutti have one from his vater?
HERO: Every time his uncle America declared himself a hero he had to laugh; wondering what his uncle would think if he knew his nephew considered him one of his greatest rivals?
MEMORY: He thought he remembered one moment, just one, where it looked like his father loved his mother as much as she loved him; sadly childhood memories were never the most reliable.
BOX: There was a box in his mother’s attic he’d gotten into once, filled with photographs of someone he’d never seen before, a name of someone he’d never heard of; when he asked her about him it was the closest he’d ever seen her to tears as she ordered him to never go near it again.
RUN: He would always run towards a fight, a battle, any kind of scuffle where blood was sure to be drawn; running away, however, was something he could never do, could never dishonor his parents or his heritage by doing.
HURRICANE: He loved the power of a hurricane, the fact that something so insubstantial as wind and water could cause that much damage in such a short amount of time; he hoped that he himself could have that power for his own.
WINGS: When he was young, his mother had explained how birds were fortunate, that they had the freedom from birth that she had spent so long to achieve for herself; he believed that wings meant only that it was easier for the pursued to escape the pursuer.
COLD: He never understood how his mother and father stood the cold of their respective lands, or how he had been born bound to a place of such warmth.
RED: His earliest memories were of red: the red of his mother’s hair, his father’s eyes, the red blanket he’d carried around everywhere as a baby that his mother had made for him; perhaps that was why he’d grown up with as much a fondness for war and warfare as the red that had given him life.
DRINK: When he got older, he wasn’t content to just drink the booze, oh not at all, he had to make the booze; from the first drink of his shine, his uncle Connor declared him best nephew ever.
MIDNIGHT: He hoped his uncles Arthur and Luís never found out how often he managed to talk Isabella into sneaking out of the house at midnight; he also hoped to every single god that ever existed or ever would exist that Belarus never found out how often Natasha dragged him out.
TEMPTATION: It wasn’t that things never tempted him, it was that there wasn’t any temptation to give into when he just took whatever took his fancy without guilt.
VIEW: He would never admit that it was solely his view on the matter, but he quite firmly believed that the Prussian Empire had ended far too soon for it to be anything approaching fair.
MUSIC: Music was a family trait on his mother’s side, so of course it was only fitting that he had a fondness for it as well; though if there was a truth to be told of the affair, he had as equal a fondness for the piano as his harp.
SILK: He never really found the point of silk, it wasn’t as though it was useful for anything practical for war or combat of any sort; finding one of his mother’s silk nightgowns really didn’t help matters.
COVER: The three of them (Himself and his half brother and sister) had never really understood the point of laying low, pretending to be normal humans to everyone but their governments; they weren't, so why pretend that way and waste all the possible things they could do with their status?
PROMISE: His mother long ago taught him that a person is only as good as their word, and that it shouldn’t be given out lightly; he’d taken that lesson to heart in an instant.
DREAM: He’d had a dream once, a long time ago, where a young man with blond hair and a scar over half his face had looked him over with this contemplative look on his face, smiled wryly and nodded, saying “Yeah, you deserve to have my name.”
CANDLE: He knew he’d never hold a candle to the epicness of his parents, there was just far too much to live up to in that regard (And they’d had quite a bit of time to do it in at that), but by God, Saint Patrick, and Saint Helier, he’d certainly try.
TALENT: He knew he had an incredible talent for strategy and warfare, he was, after all, the absolute worst possible combination of his parents, and he took that as the highest compliment possible to be paid to him.
SILENCE: Silence was for mourning, for church, for seriousness; Fritz was anything but serious and so he hated it, hated silence outside of its proper places.
JOURNEY: One of the advantages of being what he was, Fritz always thought, was the chance to go all over the world and see all these different people and lands; lands that, of course, would become the New Prussian Empire if he had anything to say about it.
FIRE: Oh he loved fire, the heat of it, the power of it; so of course every time his still blew up in his face he had to stand there and watch it in fascination as his uncle Ludwig pitched a fit about it and his father took as many pictures as possible to send to his mother and Uncle Connor.
STRENGTH: It took strength to be who they were, Fritz realized one day when the economy tumbled and his mother’s health tumbled along with it well before his own or saw the blood spread across his uncle’s back at yet another attack on one of his cities; he wondered sometimes how they managed for so long like that.
MASK: So many times he thought that his uncle Alfred’s attitude was all a mask, something to put people off guard and hide what had to be something brilliant and cunning, and then he finally realized that no, his uncle really was that dimwitted and happy go lucky.
ICE: There was an ice to Natasha, a cold impassable plain of ice not unlike the Helcaraxë of the books his family were so fond of, and he really wasn’t sure why it was there; he made it part of his life’s goals to break through that ice and find the warmth that he knew had to be there.
FALL: All Empires had to fall, he knew that, knew his history; still, that didn’t stop him from wanting one of his own, to make his father proud.
FORGOTTEN: Every day his father came closer to being forgotten: he wasn’t mentioned in schools, most of his achievements relegated to Germany or mistaken for an archaic name for Russia, and even though his father never really seemed to notice, Fritz did and it bothered him.
DANCE: At first he wouldn’t learn how to dance, quite frankly nearly fought tooth and nail to avoid being taught; when he discovered Irish step dancing, however, he insisted on learning it, attracted by the similarities the sounds had to marching.
BODY: It was an interesting experience, trying to figure out which part of his body was connected to what city, what town, what landmark; he’d managed to figure out that his heart was connected to Saint Helier before his father caught him and he got any further.
SACRED: There weren’t many things sacred to Fritz, despite his father being a former church-backed military state, he didn’t really see the point in quite a bit of it; but he knew that one never said anything against his mother’s Saint Patrick unless they wanted a knife at their throat.
FAREWELLS: He didn’t do farewells, didn’t see the point in saying goodbye to someone he was going to see again; farewells were for finality, for endings and very few things in his life were final.
WORLD: Sometimes he found it strange, that a little over two hundred people could in fact represent over six billion and the lands they inhabited, but then it was the life and world he had been born into, and he would never trade it for anything.
FORMAL: “Oh come on Mutti, you know I hate tuxedos, they’re so… stiff and stupid and Scheiße; you know what I mean, ja?”
FEVER: It was that he had a fever and no other sign of illness during a drought in Jersey that clued his parents in as to his nature as a fellow Nation; until then they had been preparing themselves for the possibility that they would outlive him.
LAUGH: The first time he’d laughed he’d sent shivers down everyone’s spines except for his parents’, who instead laughed right along with him; his laugh and his father’s were eerily similar, to the point of confusing people as to who was laughing.
LIES: He may have been out to take over the world (His mother had even taken to calling the teenage years the Empire phase, it was close enough anyway) with the intent to prove he was worthy of the parentage and histories he’d been born to, but if there was anything he was not, it was a liar, as his mother said, a man was only as good as his word.
FOREVER: While his mother fretted over the possibility that Nations were not forever, Fritz chose to focus on the fact that apparently, most were, as she herself, his uncles, and his father proved, among others.
OVERWHELMED: Frederich Tristan Mihael Beilschmidt never got overwhelmed, he would insist, in fact he took on exactly what he could handle, though it only took one pitiful look towards Isabella and Natasha to get them to help him out when he needed it.
WHISPER: It was never a good thing when those girls started whispering to each other, Fritz realized very quickly once he’d become friends with them, it usually meant that they were planning something he had to be left out of, especially when that something was a prank he was the victim of.
WAIT: He didn’t like waiting, didn’t have the patience that apparently his mother, Uncle Matthew, and Uncle Llewellyn had; he’d spent many times in his childhood shifting restlessly, wanting to go out and DO things, not sit around while people droned on uselessly; church of course was always the exception.
TALK: The closest he’d ever come to getting “The Talk” from his parents was the time he nearly walked in on his mother straddling his father’s lap with his teeth set firmly into her neck; after that all involved were too embarrassed to do more than look awkwardly at each other before passing him over to his Uncle Francis.
SEARCH: According to the internet, that great repository of information, his father was not quite as forgotten as he had once thought; a “google search” quickly turned up eighteen million nine hundred thousand results for “Prussia” and three hundred twenty thousand results for “Kingdom of Prussia.”
HOPE: His mother was the one that held the hope that her son -- and all three of her children, once Aodh and Aodhán had been born -- would aspire to and achieve great things; it was his father and himself that knew he would achieve those great things; it was in his blood, after all.
ECLIPSE: His Uncle Llewellyn told him that he’d been born on the day of an eclipse, an no one really quite knew what that would mean for his future; Fritz was certain that it meant great things were in store for him, that perhaps he would even eclipse his parents, however unlikely it seemed.
GRAVITY: “Fucking gravity; Newton wasn’t even one of mine!”
HIGHWAY: After going down the Autobahn on the back of his brother’s motorcycle at what even his Uncle Feliciano could call ridiculous speeds, Fritz swore to do it as often as was humanly or Nationally possible; the rush was incredible!
UNKNOWN: He was an unknown entity, an anomaly in Nation history as it had been over two thousand years since a Nation had been born in the traditional sense and no one knew quite what to make of him, or what to make of his cousins and half siblings that had come after him.
LOCK: Certain things were always locked when Fritz was around: The liquor cabinet and the weapons locker were the top priority places; these same things were always broken into and usually ended with a drunken teen trying to find the treble G string on his mother or uncle’s harps.
BREATHE: He’d tried once, when he was young and his only Nation his own age companion was Isabella, to prove that Nations didn’t need to breathe; she’d laughed herself blue in the face as his own turned a shade amazingly close to Prussian blue.