Unable to feel. Anyone/Anyone.
anonymous
December 3 2010, 07:12:38 UTC
Nation A becomes completely numb. He/She becomes unable to feel love, happiness, sorrow ... pain. That nation doesn’t react to anything, it’s like he/she has become an empty shell and some other nations try to figure out what is wrong with him/her and how they could help him/her to turn back to normal.
If possible no USUK or FrUk please. And not so fond of Germany/Italy either...
Cornflowers [1a/?]
anonymous
December 5 2010, 11:43:00 UTC
okay, here's that AU :) warnings: angst. character death. language. rage. depression, but not of the character you'd expect. past russpruss, current aushun. hope OP likes!
It's raining when they bury him, a wet January afternoon. The sky's dark and gloomy and the wind's cold and biting, ripping right through your coat and your bones. It's fitting - Mother Nature crying for the loss of one of her brightest and best.
You can hear him scoffing. Why's it raining? he would grumble, crossing his arms and pouting. I hate rain. Gilbird can't come out with me when it rains!The little yellow ball of fluff sits on your shoulder, shielded by the black umbrella Roderich holds over the two of your and chirps mournfully. Even Roderich has a melancholic expression on his face, and you clutch his hand tightly
( ... )
Cornflowers [1b/?]
anonymous
December 5 2010, 11:43:45 UTC
"Please don't move it," he murmurs. "He liked them."
And you know Gilbert liked them. They were his favorite flowers, because they were Prussia's natural flower and Uncle Fritz was Prussian and Gilbert called himself Prussian even though it was more accurate to call him East German, and you're furious that he told someone else that he liked the flower because it was supposed to be something between the two of you, not between you and him and BraginskiYou glare as the Russian straightens up, eyes closed, and drill holes in his back with your eyes as he leaves. You must have imagined his shoulders to be shaking, because there's no way Braginski would cry
( ... )
Cornflowers [2a/?]
anonymous
December 6 2010, 01:19:36 UTC
School is the same as ever. It wasn't like the whole university would shut down just because their best tennis play was dead. It wasn't like life would just stop and let you gather your bearings. You wake up on Wednesday morning, eyes opening blearily to the gray light streaming in through your window, and climb out of bed, walking to the bathroom and plugging in your hair straightener for your bangs, brushing your teeth, pinning back your hair and washing your face and doing the foundation and reaching for the eyeliner and - ohThe gravity hits you like a train, and you're amazed that you didn't collapse from the jolt
( ... )
Cornflowers [2b/?]
anonymous
December 6 2010, 01:20:21 UTC
That night, when you finally return home, it's well past midnight. You brush your teeth, let your brown hair fall loose, and climb into his creaky old bed. The bedsprings are long busted, but the mattress is soft and whenever the two of your shared it, you had the best sleep ever. A twin-size bed that you guys had to snuggle up in on cold winter nights, so small that the two of you had to intertwine your legs and face each other before talking about everything that had happened that day. His breath always smelled of maple syrup because even though you made him brush his teeth four times, to get rid of the sweet, cloying smell, it stayed on him just the way lavender and freesia clung to your skin. There was nothing romantic between you two; he was completely gay, you were completely in love with Roderich, and the two of you had been friends for fifteen years
( ... )
Cornflowers [2c/?]
anonymous
December 6 2010, 01:21:41 UTC
All of you have somehow mended the hole Gilbert created when he killed himself. It was a big hole; he'd been so important to so many people, from that bright, dependable personality to his mischevious grin and irritatingly lovable nature. It's hard, but nearly done. There's one gaping corner, but you can't figure out what it is.
A few weeks later, in the middle of your advanced music theory class, your phone goes off. You don't recognize the number, so you turn it off and apologize; whoever it is keeps ringing until you finally excuse yourself to answer.
"Hello?" you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall outside.
"Is this Elizaveta Héderváry?" asked the man on the other line. He has a kind-sounding voice, gentle and soft.
"Yes. Who's this?"
"Ah! Wonderful. I'm Toris Lorinaitis. I was wondering if I could meet you for lunch in thirty minutes, at the café just outside of your university?"You blinked in shock. "Wait, but -" The dial clicks dead, and you frown. Either way, when class gets out twenty minutes later,
( ... )
Cornflowers [2d/?]
anonymous
December 6 2010, 01:22:16 UTC
That's all you can take. You stand up, fists clenched so hard that your arms quiver. "It was nice to meet you, Toris," you hiss, angrier than you can ever remember being. "Goodbye
( ... )
Author!anon I love you and your writing style. The way you describe every little detail through Elizaveta's eyes is just fabulous. And I think you just won the jackpot by choosing Ivan to be the one who's in depression. A great choice, a really really great choice. <3
Phantasmagoria 1a/?
anonymous
December 26 2010, 12:22:17 UTC
Hiyah, I hope OP doesn't mind that I took forever with this, life kinda got in the way, but most importantly it's done. I hope it's close enough to what you wanted!
Phantasmagoria- noun. 1.A fantastic sequence of haphazardly associative imagery, as seen in dreams or fever. 2. A dreamlike state where real and imagined elements are blurred together. --- Lady Silla stares out the window and screams. The white hot pain that is coursing through her abdomen is growing in intensity and she is barely able to stand it. Still, she watches the clouds roll in as if her life depended on it
( ... )
Re: Phantasmagoria 1c/?
anonymous
December 26 2010, 12:28:28 UTC
“My brothers.” Her voice is broken and deadly quiet, her face has lost it’s luster and her beautify while there, was fleeting. Im Na-bi, the Lady Silla, was nothing but an empty shell, shattered beyond repair.
“I want my brothers back.”
Yao flinches at the words. He is unable to do anything to save her, to even help her. He was not the brother she wanted.
“Hand me the child.” he demands, with a steel quality to his voice. China turns away from Nabi, he can no longer stand to look at her. Even in this state, fragile and lifeless, Silla still managed to invoke feelings in him. Yao hated her for it.
“But Yao Gonzhu, what of Lady Nabi?” the midwife asked.
“Make her comfortable. Do not allow her to leave aru.” ‘Not that she will go anywhere.’ Yao pushed back his long silken sleeves and reached for the child, who still filled the room with it’s unimaginably loud crying. The lady lays the child in his arms with apprehension
( ... )
Nation A becomes completely numb. He/She becomes unable to feel love, happiness, sorrow ... pain. That nation doesn’t react to anything, it’s like he/she has become an empty shell and some other nations try to figure out what is wrong with him/her and how they could help him/her to turn back to normal.
If possible no USUK or FrUk please. And not so fond of Germany/Italy either...
Reply
warnings: angst. character death. language. rage. depression, but not of the character you'd expect. past russpruss, current aushun.
hope OP likes!
It's raining when they bury him, a wet January afternoon. The sky's dark and gloomy and the wind's cold and biting, ripping right through your coat and your bones. It's fitting - Mother Nature crying for the loss of one of her brightest and best.
You can hear him scoffing. Why's it raining? he would grumble, crossing his arms and pouting. I hate rain. Gilbird can't come out with me when it rains!The little yellow ball of fluff sits on your shoulder, shielded by the black umbrella Roderich holds over the two of your and chirps mournfully. Even Roderich has a melancholic expression on his face, and you clutch his hand tightly ( ... )
Reply
And you know Gilbert liked them. They were his favorite flowers, because they were Prussia's natural flower and Uncle Fritz was Prussian and Gilbert called himself Prussian even though it was more accurate to call him East German, and you're furious that he told someone else that he liked the flower because it was supposed to be something between the two of you, not between you and him and BraginskiYou glare as the Russian straightens up, eyes closed, and drill holes in his back with your eyes as he leaves. You must have imagined his shoulders to be shaking, because there's no way Braginski would cry ( ... )
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That was so sad! >o< I can't wait to see more!
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A few weeks later, in the middle of your advanced music theory class, your phone goes off. You don't recognize the number, so you turn it off and apologize; whoever it is keeps ringing until you finally excuse yourself to answer.
"Hello?" you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall outside.
"Is this Elizaveta Héderváry?" asked the man on the other line. He has a kind-sounding voice, gentle and soft.
"Yes. Who's this?"
"Ah! Wonderful. I'm Toris Lorinaitis. I was wondering if I could meet you for lunch in thirty minutes, at the café just outside of your university?"You blinked in shock. "Wait, but -" The dial clicks dead, and you frown. Either way, when class gets out twenty minutes later, ( ... )
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^^
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Phantasmagoria- noun.
1.A fantastic sequence of haphazardly associative imagery, as seen in dreams or fever.
2. A dreamlike state where real and imagined elements are blurred together.
---
Lady Silla stares out the window and screams. The white hot pain that is coursing through her abdomen is growing in intensity and she is barely able to stand it. Still, she watches the clouds roll in as if her life depended on it ( ... )
Reply
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“I want my brothers back.”
Yao flinches at the words. He is unable to do anything to save her, to even help her. He was not the brother she wanted.
“Hand me the child.” he demands, with a steel quality to his voice. China turns away from Nabi, he can no longer stand to look at her. Even in this state, fragile and lifeless, Silla still managed to invoke feelings in him. Yao hated her for it.
“But Yao Gonzhu, what of Lady Nabi?” the midwife asked.
“Make her comfortable. Do not allow her to leave aru.” ‘Not that she will go anywhere.’ Yao pushed back his long silken sleeves and reached for the child, who still filled the room with it’s unimaginably loud crying. The lady lays the child in his arms with apprehension ( ... )
Reply
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