blink and you'll miss it (1a/?)
anonymous
August 14 2010, 04:41:19 UTC
This turned out different from what the OP asked for, I think, so I apologize in advance for any dissatisfaction that results, and hope the OP will forgive me. At the same time, though, I preferred this story to the one I was planning, so…thank you for providing the prompt, at least. <3
Trigger Warnings: The following fill will include, but not be limited to: non-con, headcanon for Nations and psychological trauma, dissociation, exploring self-injury disorder/cutting and its relationship to sexual abuse, Your Mileage May Vary characterization, and examination of Nationhood and the noncon/revenge dynamic.
All right. Here we go.
In Paris, in a cluster of suburbs within driving distance of the Élysée Palace, there is a street where the houses stand close, like baby birds huddling together for warmth on a cool summer morning. Tourists admire the vibrant colors and architecture; at night, the streets fill with the soft glow from inside as families wind down from a long day
( ... )
blink and you'll miss it (1b/?)
anonymous
August 14 2010, 04:43:55 UTC
“We’ll see,” Gilbert cackles, but shudders as he clicks the mouse buttons. “Here it is! I found the thing that’s gonna make you crack, and then you will kiss my awesome boots for a week
( ... )
blink and you'll miss it (1c/?)
anonymous
August 14 2010, 04:45:50 UTC
The butterflies turn into a punch to the gut when Francis sees Arthur’s thumb forcing Alfred’s mouth open as he shoves his cock inside, pulls out and then -
Cold little shivers wash all over Francis’s fingers, legs, neck, body. “Turn up the thermostat, please,” his mouth says, his mouth speaking for him.
“Fuck that, man, it’s hot outside. Ten seconds, you can change now.”
Click. Click.
Ice fills his veins when Francis sees Alfred’s terrified face, his eyes as Francis’s drawing steps up, shoves himself inside. His lunch burns at his esophagus when he sees himself laughing at Alfred’s arousal and tears, at Alfred’s bright blue eyes wide with terror as Feliciano shoves himself into Alfred’s mouth.
(And he knows that smile from nightmares. Monsters come to him and claw his body, force their way inside and crawl under his skin, and the only thing he remembers when he wakes is that fucking smile.)
Click. Click. Click. Click.Gilbert’s snickering, shaking his head. Francis doesn’t hear anything he says
( ... )
blink and you'll miss it (1d/?)
anonymous
August 14 2010, 04:48:06 UTC
He’ll make something simple, perhaps - he has fresh vegetables and leftover chicken in the refrigerator. He hums a few random, floating notes and pulls a knife from the holding stand, thinking of the ripe tomatoes and iceburg lettuce begging to be cut.
He pauses, knife brandished up towards the ceiling. He squints at the edge, at the little sliver of metal angled to a sharp point. The light seems different on it - brighter, somehow.
Francis lowers his arm and just stares, wondering. When was the last time I sharpened these? …Maybe I need to check the sharpness. Just a little. Shouldn’t I be making dinner? But -
Francis almost screams when the phone rings behind him.
The knife clatters to the floor. A heartbeat pounds in his skull, and he thinks of a sparrow trying to break free of a cage. But his body doesn’t seem as fast; four rings shrill through the kitchen before Francis can curl his fingers around it and pluck the phone from its cradle. “’Allo?”
“Francis? Francis, is that youThe world brightens, as if someone
( ... )
blink and you'll miss it (1e/?)
anonymous
August 14 2010, 04:49:54 UTC
“Listen,” Alfred says, and his voice still curls with his smile even as disappointment bleeds through the phone’s earpiece. “It’s not a big deal - we’re just meeting for business and sex before the UN meeting today, right? And I want you to be in tip-top shape for both of those so we can get stuff done. Just get some rest tonight and make it up to me tomorrow, okay?” Francis wishes he could appreciate the teasing curl in Alfred’s voice, the dark-chocolate promise of a few days to themselves on the road and between soft, 300-threadcount sheets.
Instead, Francis sighs, pressing his head to the door. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, his eyes fluttering a little.
“Just feel better, okay? I have to be here, anyway, and this isn’t the first time I’ve been to Lorraine, Francis - I know the area pretty well. I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow?“Yes,” Francis says, and before he can stop himself, he kisses the mouthpiece before wishing Alfred goodnight and ending the call
( ... )
blink and you'll miss it (notes)
anonymous
August 14 2010, 04:51:26 UTC
____
Notes:
- Why are the chapter numbers in French? Because this is a France-centric story and I wanted to try something a bit different from Roman numerals. <3
- “ If I can sit through myself carrying on a forbidden, possibly illegal romance with a teenaged New York on the astral plane and getting him pregnant with twin daughters…” Mmm, anachronism stew. Fics referenced are Little Miss Mary, My Inner Life, and My Immortal a little later on.
- Dissociation is a coping mechanism where an individual who has been through trauma sort of “detaches” their mind from their body in an attempt to distance themselves from painful or overwhelming memories. Symptoms include numbness, emotionlessness, and feeling like you’re watching something from a distance. It also causes lapses in memory; there are cases where a person will dissociate when they hurt themselves, while other people actually self-injure to get away from that feeling. (Source: PAAR Workbook on Understanding Self-Injury)
- Third Reich: Yeah, I went there. I think the
( ... )
Obnoxious anon is obnoxious
anonymous
August 14 2010, 15:44:12 UTC
There's a little voice in my head telling me not to read this cause it's just gonna make me feel bad, but I don't think I'll be able to help myself, cause your stuff is cool and I'm curious.
But Obnoxious anon would also like to hear about the other big fic you mentioned. Because she is obnoxious. And curious.
Whatever you choose, anon, you have to make sure that it's the best decision for you, okay? I don't want you feeling bad or getting triggered by something I wrote.
Trigger Warnings: The following fill will include, but not be limited to: non-con, headcanon for Nations and psychological trauma, dissociation, exploring self-injury disorder/cutting and its relationship to sexual abuse, Your Mileage May Vary characterization, and examination of Nationhood and the noncon/revenge dynamic.
All right. Here we go.
In Paris, in a cluster of suburbs within driving distance of the Élysée Palace, there is a street where the houses stand close, like baby birds huddling together for warmth on a cool summer morning. Tourists admire the vibrant colors and architecture; at night, the streets fill with the soft glow from inside as families wind down from a long day ( ... )
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Cold little shivers wash all over Francis’s fingers, legs, neck, body. “Turn up the thermostat, please,” his mouth says, his mouth speaking for him.
“Fuck that, man, it’s hot outside. Ten seconds, you can change now.”
Click. Click.
Ice fills his veins when Francis sees Alfred’s terrified face, his eyes as Francis’s drawing steps up, shoves himself inside. His lunch burns at his esophagus when he sees himself laughing at Alfred’s arousal and tears, at Alfred’s bright blue eyes wide with terror as Feliciano shoves himself into Alfred’s mouth.
(And he knows that smile from nightmares. Monsters come to him and claw his body, force their way inside and crawl under his skin, and the only thing he remembers when he wakes is that fucking smile.)
Click. Click. Click. Click.Gilbert’s snickering, shaking his head. Francis doesn’t hear anything he says ( ... )
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He pauses, knife brandished up towards the ceiling. He squints at the edge, at the little sliver of metal angled to a sharp point. The light seems different on it - brighter, somehow.
Francis lowers his arm and just stares, wondering. When was the last time I sharpened these? …Maybe I need to check the sharpness. Just a little. Shouldn’t I be making dinner? But -
Francis almost screams when the phone rings behind him.
The knife clatters to the floor. A heartbeat pounds in his skull, and he thinks of a sparrow trying to break free of a cage. But his body doesn’t seem as fast; four rings shrill through the kitchen before Francis can curl his fingers around it and pluck the phone from its cradle. “’Allo?”
“Francis? Francis, is that youThe world brightens, as if someone ( ... )
Reply
Instead, Francis sighs, pressing his head to the door. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, his eyes fluttering a little.
“Just feel better, okay? I have to be here, anyway, and this isn’t the first time I’ve been to Lorraine, Francis - I know the area pretty well. I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow?“Yes,” Francis says, and before he can stop himself, he kisses the mouthpiece before wishing Alfred goodnight and ending the call ( ... )
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Notes:
- Why are the chapter numbers in French? Because this is a France-centric story and I wanted to try something a bit different from Roman numerals. <3
- “ If I can sit through myself carrying on a forbidden, possibly illegal romance with a teenaged New York on the astral plane and getting him pregnant with twin daughters…” Mmm, anachronism stew. Fics referenced are Little Miss Mary, My Inner Life, and My Immortal a little later on.
- Dissociation is a coping mechanism where an individual who has been through trauma sort of “detaches” their mind from their body in an attempt to distance themselves from painful or overwhelming memories. Symptoms include numbness, emotionlessness, and feeling like you’re watching something from a distance. It also causes lapses in memory; there are cases where a person will dissociate when they hurt themselves, while other people actually self-injure to get away from that feeling. (Source: PAAR Workbook on Understanding Self-Injury)
- Third Reich: Yeah, I went there. I think the ( ... )
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The slow mutation of Francis's wit for fanfiction and joy of Alfred's arrival to utter horror seems so palatable.
To think, I'm considering putting the Financial Gangbang Fill-- that and General Relativity on the Tvtropes Hetalia fan fic recommendation page.
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I just added the Financial Gangbang fill there myself yesterday
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I'm glad that the switch from happiness to horror seemed realistic! Thank you very much for your comment.
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But Obnoxious anon would also like to hear about the other big fic you mentioned. Because she is obnoxious. And curious.
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It's "Alegria" on page 12
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