Russia/America: Prison AU
anonymous
August 20 2010, 02:38:42 UTC
I feel like a horrible person for requesting this.
Alfred is arrested and convicted for a crime he didn't commit. I want an innocent Alfred in a human!AU in which the wardens run a bit of a corrupt institution; they put the pretty inmates up for "sale" basically, in which the inmates bid to have him in the cell with him.
I want mafia!Ivan, who is in there for various mob dealings (though his underlings took most of the fall so he's not in there for life or anything) to win the bidding, but not act on any of his impulses for Alfred. But I want him seriously possessive over him, and Alfred doesn't know how to react. Things get really tense between them until Ivan admits exactly what he wants from Alfred
( ... )
transcoding [1a/?]
anonymous
August 20 2010, 12:08:39 UTC
coto)
It starts with a bang.
It ends with a bang, and his head smashing into the pavement as he falls.
And Alfred is cold, cold, feeling dead to the world now-- falling into that state of unconsciousness for what feels like forever, but all of a sudden there are arms shaking him and shoving him and pushing him against the floor that he just wants to lie against. His head is spinning, mind reeling, stomach churning with slight nausea and he faintly feels the wet ground under his cheek, gravel scraping into his skin. (Is it raining?.) There are hands all over his body, people talking, yelling-- their voices meshing into one another like the bright lights being shined in his eyes and please, please just go away. Let him sleep in peace
( ... )
transcoding [1b/?]
anonymous
August 20 2010, 12:09:28 UTC
stella)
Now they're yelling at Alfred-- newly turned eighteen-year-old Alfred, newly graduated Alfred, newly legal Alfred, and this is all extremely important because they have him in a police station, demanding to know where he stashed the gun.
"What gun?" Alfred slurrs, the words not being quite able to form on his lips because everything is so fuzzyand unclear. Where are his glasses? Maybe that's the reason he can't see well. His hand goes up to push his glasses up his nose, but there are two problems.
One, he isn't wearing his glasses.
Two, he's in handcuffs.
The fact alerts him, his mind clearing for a quick moment to swallow the dry lump in his throat and stare at his surroundings.
"W-what? Why am I here?" He looks around wildly, the actions turning his head into a shaky mess and all he wants is to be homeAlfred doesn't even want to believe what they say next, as they tell him he has just murdered the mayor and his whole family and then ran, that they have the proof, they caught him redhanded. He tries to listen, tries
( ... )
transcoding [1c/?]
anonymous
August 20 2010, 12:11:07 UTC
rabbit's quartet)
It's a few days later that he wakes up with enough sense to form a complete sentence, and he gets a quick moment with his father before the police come in to get answers.
"Dad, I swea-" Alfred's already near tears as he sees the tired, stressed look on his father's face.
"I know, Alfred." Alfred's breath hitches in his chest, because he is "Alfred", not "Al" or "son" right now, Not when he wants to be. "Just... answer the men. Tell them everything. I've got you a lawyer, but this is a public scare. It's all over the news, and--... And well. You're the only suspect they've got."
Alfred wants to get out of the bed, wants to go to his father to tell him no no no they've got the wrong person it wasn't me but his arm jerks in resistence. They've handcuffed him to the hospital bed. Alfred closes his eyes with a tired sigh, and leans back into the bed. He and his father share a few more parting words, but it's a tense, trivial matter to what comes up next
( ... )
Re: transcoding [1b/?]
anonymous
August 20 2010, 12:15:33 UTC
I'd imagine it would seem like his doing drug (thank godness for drug tests an-wait nevermind these cops seems pretty corrupt) with his loopy movements!
oh pooooor pooor guy;A;
That being said you HAVE NO IDEA how much I love you for filling this with such well written chapters! No really I do here have internetz and cyber!cookies >.<
transcoding [2a/?]
anonymous
August 20 2010, 12:59:23 UTC
red moon)
He doesn't want to think about the month. He's been rushed through test after test, interrogation after interrogation just trying to make him confess. He's been on the stand and told anything and everything. How he didn't do it. But they aren't listening, no one is listening. No one is listening to the golden boy gone bad, he's seen the papers-- the tabloids. They gossip about "leaked stories of his life", about how his mother left their family a few weeks after he was born, how he was a "troubled" child in school. His "scandals" and what went wrong in his childhood to make him do such a thing, he's seen snippets of theories but no one is defending him.
Only his lawyer, Joseph, and... And he's thankful for Joseph, he really is, but...
Everyone, including Joseph, keeps telling him to just fess up to the crime. But he didn't do it, is what he tells them. Joseph just says to admit to it, that they'll possibly lighten his sentence. (They both know that it's not going to happen.) They give him the same tense, unsure, scared
( ... )
transcoding [2b/?]
anonymous
August 20 2010, 13:00:38 UTC
aqua regia)
Alfred only listens half heartedly as they tell him about the prison he will be sent to. It feels like an honest to god dream. Something that he'll wake up from in a few hours, just as he manages to learn how to fly. But he knows it's not a dream, and he knows it's useless to wish for it to be.
He can't help it.He misses his laptop. They took that away. He misses his bed. He can't go back there. He misses his iPod. They took that away too, he may or may not get that back. He misses his favorite stars and stripes hoodie. They took that away as evidence since he was wearing it the night they caught him. He misses his glasses. He doesn't know where those are any more. Maybe they're somewhere on the ground, cracked glass and twisted wire frames only. He misses his friends
( ... )
OP finally sees this~
anonymous
August 20 2010, 18:17:41 UTC
And oh, this is more than I could have asked for, author!anon. I truly adore the thoughts of each character, and the realism, oh it's so poignant. You had me in tears for Alfred, dear. I can't wait to read more of this, and I'm so glad such a beautiful writer as yourself decided to take this on. <3
transcoding [3/?]
anonymous
August 21 2010, 11:15:37 UTC
artificial)
Ivan brings the cigarette to his lips, inhaling the sharp taste and letting it fill his lungs like a cancer. The cards are smooth-textured under his fingertips, and he slides them back onto the table, leaning back a little as he exhales smoke, letting it disperse into the air. He watches the smoke idly through lidded eyes, before letting his gaze flicker back to the table. There are four of them right now, only four that wanted to play. Then again, Ivan assumes that they four are some of the only men who could play, considering they're playing for cash.
Arthur Kirkland glances at him through the corner of his eye, hands not failing from their skilled shuffling, and they make eye contact, "Playing this round, Braginski?"
Ivan shakes his head, pushing the cards away from him and takes another suck of the cancer stick, "I fold."
"That's the third time you've folded in four rounds, Ivan. I'm guessing Lady Luck isn't on your side tonight, is she?" Francis purrs from behind a newly opened beer bottle, before tilting it
( ... )
Alfred is arrested and convicted for a crime he didn't commit. I want an innocent Alfred in a human!AU in which the wardens run a bit of a corrupt institution; they put the pretty inmates up for "sale" basically, in which the inmates bid to have him in the cell with him.
I want mafia!Ivan, who is in there for various mob dealings (though his underlings took most of the fall so he's not in there for life or anything) to win the bidding, but not act on any of his impulses for Alfred. But I want him seriously possessive over him, and Alfred doesn't know how to react. Things get really tense between them until Ivan admits exactly what he wants from Alfred ( ... )
Reply
It starts with a bang.
It ends with a bang, and his head smashing into the pavement as he falls.
And Alfred is cold, cold, feeling dead to the world now-- falling into that state of unconsciousness for what feels like forever, but all of a sudden there are arms shaking him and shoving him and pushing him against the floor that he just wants to lie against. His head is spinning, mind reeling, stomach churning with slight nausea and he faintly feels the wet ground under his cheek, gravel scraping into his skin. (Is it raining?.) There are hands all over his body, people talking, yelling-- their voices meshing into one another like the bright lights being shined in his eyes and please, please just go away. Let him sleep in peace ( ... )
Reply
Now they're yelling at Alfred-- newly turned eighteen-year-old Alfred, newly graduated Alfred, newly legal Alfred, and this is all extremely important because they have him in a police station, demanding to know where he stashed the gun.
"What gun?" Alfred slurrs, the words not being quite able to form on his lips because everything is so fuzzyand unclear. Where are his glasses? Maybe that's the reason he can't see well. His hand goes up to push his glasses up his nose, but there are two problems.
One, he isn't wearing his glasses.
Two, he's in handcuffs.
The fact alerts him, his mind clearing for a quick moment to swallow the dry lump in his throat and stare at his surroundings.
"W-what? Why am I here?" He looks around wildly, the actions turning his head into a shaky mess and all he wants is to be homeAlfred doesn't even want to believe what they say next, as they tell him he has just murdered the mayor and his whole family and then ran, that they have the proof, they caught him redhanded. He tries to listen, tries ( ... )
Reply
It's a few days later that he wakes up with enough sense to form a complete sentence, and he gets a quick moment with his father before the police come in to get answers.
"Dad, I swea-" Alfred's already near tears as he sees the tired, stressed look on his father's face.
"I know, Alfred." Alfred's breath hitches in his chest, because he is "Alfred", not "Al" or "son" right now, Not when he wants to be. "Just... answer the men. Tell them everything. I've got you a lawyer, but this is a public scare. It's all over the news, and--... And well. You're the only suspect they've got."
Alfred wants to get out of the bed, wants to go to his father to tell him no no no they've got the wrong person it wasn't me but his arm jerks in resistence. They've handcuffed him to the hospital bed. Alfred closes his eyes with a tired sigh, and leans back into the bed. He and his father share a few more parting words, but it's a tense, trivial matter to what comes up next ( ... )
Reply
...He was set up wasn't he? ;A; Oh Alfred! I blame the Italys mob /gansters
Reply
oh pooooor pooor guy;A;
That being said you HAVE NO IDEA how much I love you for filling this with such well written chapters! No really I do here have internetz and cyber!cookies >.<
Reply
He doesn't want to think about the month. He's been rushed through test after test, interrogation after interrogation just trying to make him confess. He's been on the stand and told anything and everything. How he didn't do it. But they aren't listening, no one is listening. No one is listening to the golden boy gone bad, he's seen the papers-- the tabloids. They gossip about "leaked stories of his life", about how his mother left their family a few weeks after he was born, how he was a "troubled" child in school. His "scandals" and what went wrong in his childhood to make him do such a thing, he's seen snippets of theories but no one is defending him.
Only his lawyer, Joseph, and... And he's thankful for Joseph, he really is, but...
Everyone, including Joseph, keeps telling him to just fess up to the crime. But he didn't do it, is what he tells them. Joseph just says to admit to it, that they'll possibly lighten his sentence. (They both know that it's not going to happen.) They give him the same tense, unsure, scared ( ... )
Reply
Alfred only listens half heartedly as they tell him about the prison he will be sent to. It feels like an honest to god dream. Something that he'll wake up from in a few hours, just as he manages to learn how to fly. But he knows it's not a dream, and he knows it's useless to wish for it to be.
He can't help it.He misses his laptop. They took that away. He misses his bed. He can't go back there. He misses his iPod. They took that away too, he may or may not get that back. He misses his favorite stars and stripes hoodie. They took that away as evidence since he was wearing it the night they caught him. He misses his glasses. He doesn't know where those are any more. Maybe they're somewhere on the ground, cracked glass and twisted wire frames only. He misses his friends ( ... )
Reply
The thought hits him a few hours later, and nearly makes him sob as they march him to the bus that will take him to the prison, four hours away.
How can he stay positive when he's being locked away for the rest of his life?
Reply
I really like how the thoughts of the characters are molded.
the mini-titles on the parts are so very pretty.
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Me like fill <3
continue, s'il vous plaît? It moves really smoothly, and characterization is very strong.
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Reply
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Reply
Ivan brings the cigarette to his lips, inhaling the sharp taste and letting it fill his lungs like a cancer. The cards are smooth-textured under his fingertips, and he slides them back onto the table, leaning back a little as he exhales smoke, letting it disperse into the air. He watches the smoke idly through lidded eyes, before letting his gaze flicker back to the table. There are four of them right now, only four that wanted to play. Then again, Ivan assumes that they four are some of the only men who could play, considering they're playing for cash.
Arthur Kirkland glances at him through the corner of his eye, hands not failing from their skilled shuffling, and they make eye contact, "Playing this round, Braginski?"
Ivan shakes his head, pushing the cards away from him and takes another suck of the cancer stick, "I fold."
"That's the third time you've folded in four rounds, Ivan. I'm guessing Lady Luck isn't on your side tonight, is she?" Francis purrs from behind a newly opened beer bottle, before tilting it ( ... )
Reply
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