Erm. What can I say? This is probably not what OP wanted, but I hope it will be entertaining to read while we wait for someone actually talented write a fill.
Warning: There’s an India OC, lots of fragmented sentences - I claim artistic license, but tell me if it gets too annoying - and while I tried to make a few historical references here and there, this wont be a good source for your history test. Just saying. Don’t kill me, I tried.
Other Side of Time [1/?]
anonymous
June 19 2009, 00:02:39 UTC
Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair. T. S. Eliot
1.
Arthur always thought it would be Alfred who, in the end, would break him beyond repair.
Funny how wrong people can be. How, in the end, Alfred hadn’t done a thing, nothing besides setting up the foundations for what happened next. Funny how, in the end, the one who destroyed him was her.
Funny how in the end there was Maya.
In Arthur’s mind Maya was many things. She was color, strong and alive, she was sound, histories and poetry and verses that, in English sounded broken, as if his language wasn't quite enough to grasp her meaning, not the meanings of her words, but her meaning - and she was smell, a cloud of scents that were colors that had sounds that had smells
( ... )
Uk/Us Other Side of Time [2/?]
anonymous
June 19 2009, 00:05:26 UTC
“She’s leaving me,” Arthur says, and he’s not quite sure why he decided to put it like that. He could have said I’m letting her go, or I’m done with this or anything that wouldn’t make him sound so defeated.
But no, that’s the only thing he says. She’s going to leave me.
Francis nods, but doesn’t offer any comment. Matthew hides his smile behind the tea-cup, and Alfred burst in a joyful celebration that ends with the line Arthur knew was coming:
“About damm time”, he says, and it’s Arthur’s turn to nod in silence. About damm time.
Time.
“Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re going to be all depressed over this! For Chrissakes, Arthur, let the poor girl breathe
( ... )
OP UTTERLY LOVES THIS, AUTHOR!ANON. Not only does it have England/India, which is one of this anon's pet pairings and protective!France, but aeryjshgm, how can you say it's not talented enough? It's gorgeous, and I'll be waiting for the next parts anxiously~ ♥♥♥♥
Re: Uk/Us Other Side of Time [2/?]
anonymous
June 20 2009, 19:25:00 UTC
I love your India, and your Canada, and France, and America and England. I almost wish this wasn't going to end up UK/US just because everything is so balanced and beautiful right now.
Uk/Us Other Side of Time [3/10]
anonymous
June 20 2009, 20:49:30 UTC
Thank you so, so very much for your kind comments! I’m so glad you liked it, I really hope you’ll enjoy this too. ^_^”
3.
“So, when are you going to pay me back?”
It’s the first thing Alfred says after breaking into his office. Arthur doesn’t even have to turn and see to know he’s smiling, way to happy for this quiet room.
So he doesn’t turn.
He’s sitting by the window, but he’s not looking outside either. He’s not looking at anything.
“Arthur? Arthur!” Alfred grasps his shoulder, trying to get his attention. “You didn’t think it was a gift, right? You need to pay me back! Arthur, are you listening?”
Arthur considers answering. Then he thinks it’s not worth it, his boss will take care of this and - and. He doesn’t want to think about it.
“What, you won’t talk to me anymore? You know, I’m getting tired of this shit, that’s not how you treat a war hero, you know? After all I did for you, after I saved you from Germany and all, you should be kissing my feet in gratitude!”
He is grateful. Or he would be, if he actually
( ... )
Uk/Us Other Side of Time [4/10]
anonymous
June 20 2009, 20:53:46 UTC
4.
Francis also comes to see him.
Arthur turns when he enters the room and sees, for half a second, the hair a little too short, the eyes a little too weary, the unhealed scars still on his face. The only thing unchanged is Francis’ smile.
He turns again to the window.
“How long are you planning to stay like this, mon cher?’ Francis pulls a chair for himself and sits by Arthur’s side “Not even you can so much isolation. Glorious or not.”
Arthur will answer, he has an answer. But the words disappear before reaching his tongue and, come to think about it, it wasn’t that important anyway.
Outside, weather’s still grey. Arthur thinks of blue skies (Maya, he thinks, but not only her, America, Australia, New Zealand too. Africa. India. Blue sky above and warm sun on his skin and running water, clove and cinnamon scents, golden rings and pearly necklaces on a dark neck soft to his touch- )
“Arthur” Francis is shaking his arm, holding him a little too tight for comfort “Arthur, cher, don’t do this to yourself
( ... )
Oh, oh my god, anon. England is breaking my heart in this. And France ♥ So, so much love for France. I wonder when America will realize this isn't all about him; I loved how desperate he was in this, however, because England wasn't looking at him. It fits. Author!anon, this is wonderful ♥♥
AUTHOR!ANON HERE
anonymous
June 24 2009, 20:38:36 UTC
I'm so glad you´re enjoying! I wasn't sure if I was missing the point here, what with America not being, er, really comforting right now. Thank you for reading and commenting, it makes me really happy. ^_^
Other Side of Time [5/10]
anonymous
June 23 2009, 23:22:48 UTC
again, thank you so much for your kind comments!
5.
Matthew also pays him a visit.
“I know you don’t want to see anyone,” he says shyly “But I thought maybe I could... maybe you'd talk to me...”
The words flicker on and off. Arthur is looking at him, this tall, beautiful young man, always so polite, always walking on Alfred’s shadow, and his lips are moving but there’s no sound. His child.
No.
He’s not a child anymore, is he?
Matthew’s lips are trembling. Arthur hears him again, muffled, as if coming from very far away.
“I... I don’t want to see you like this, but- not that I don’t want to see you, that’s not what I mean, I just thought - I know is dumb, because you’re not speaking with anyone, why would I be any different, eh? But I thought maybe I'd just-”
The words tumbles faster and faster. Matthew’s accent becomes hard to decipher and then he stops. What comes from his mouth it a “oh, Arthur” that sounds too much like a whimper, and then he sits on the floor and lays his head on Arthur’s knees
( ... )
Other Side of Time [6/10]
anonymous
June 23 2009, 23:33:02 UTC
6.
And then there’s this memory, playing over and over in his mind. They’re walking together and he holds her arm, the sun is bright against his skin and Maya talks about love.
“You have to follow the rules,” she says.
Arthur nods. It’s been way too soon since Alfred’s independence. The pain and shame are still too close, almost overwhelming, and he can’t quite focus on her. But her voice is soft and deep, and he wants to hear the sound, if not the words.
“No, not rules, that’s not right... but something like that, something that you need to learn.
“I see,” Arthur says “And what do you know of love, my dear? You’re just a child.”
“I’m older than you think,” she pouts “And wiser, too. But then, it would be almost impossible not to be.”
He smiles. He doesn’t see any shadow of resentment in her voice. Maybe that had been his mistake. She was such a fighter, his Maya. He had to keep an eye on her; he couldn't leave her alone now, could he? Like Alfred. For year and years he saw the anger, the blind rage in his blue eyes, and
( ... )
Erm. What can I say? This is probably not what OP wanted, but I hope it will be entertaining to read while we wait for someone actually talented write a fill.
Warning: There’s an India OC, lots of fragmented sentences - I claim artistic license, but tell me if it gets too annoying - and while I tried to make a few historical references here and there, this wont be a good source for your history test. Just saying. Don’t kill me, I tried.
(reCaptha = seigenfeld getapo wtf? WTF?)
Reply
T. S. Eliot
1.
Arthur always thought it would be Alfred who, in the end, would break him beyond repair.
Funny how wrong people can be. How, in the end, Alfred hadn’t done a thing, nothing besides setting up the foundations for what happened next. Funny how, in the end, the one who destroyed him was her.
Funny how in the end there was Maya.
In Arthur’s mind Maya was many things. She was color, strong and alive, she was sound, histories and poetry and verses that, in English sounded broken, as if his language wasn't quite enough to grasp her meaning, not the meanings of her words, but her meaning - and she was smell, a cloud of scents that were colors that had sounds that had smells ( ... )
Reply
But no, that’s the only thing he says. She’s going to leave me.
Francis nods, but doesn’t offer any comment. Matthew hides his smile behind the tea-cup, and Alfred burst in a joyful celebration that ends with the line Arthur knew was coming:
“About damm time”, he says, and it’s Arthur’s turn to nod in silence. About damm time.
Time.
“Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re going to be all depressed over this! For Chrissakes, Arthur, let the poor girl breathe ( ... )
Reply
*drops dead*
*revives*
Do please continue this. It's just beautiful and heartwrenching.
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Eagerly waiting for more, authoranon!
Reply
3.
“So, when are you going to pay me back?”
It’s the first thing Alfred says after breaking into his office. Arthur doesn’t even have to turn and see to know he’s smiling, way to happy for this quiet room.
So he doesn’t turn.
He’s sitting by the window, but he’s not looking outside either. He’s not looking at anything.
“Arthur? Arthur!” Alfred grasps his shoulder, trying to get his attention. “You didn’t think it was a gift, right? You need to pay me back! Arthur, are you listening?”
Arthur considers answering. Then he thinks it’s not worth it, his boss will take care of this and - and. He doesn’t want to think about it.
“What, you won’t talk to me anymore? You know, I’m getting tired of this shit, that’s not how you treat a war hero, you know? After all I did for you, after I saved you from Germany and all, you should be kissing my feet in gratitude!”
He is grateful. Or he would be, if he actually ( ... )
Reply
Francis also comes to see him.
Arthur turns when he enters the room and sees, for half a second, the hair a little too short, the eyes a little too weary, the unhealed scars still on his face. The only thing unchanged is Francis’ smile.
He turns again to the window.
“How long are you planning to stay like this, mon cher?’ Francis pulls a chair for himself and sits by Arthur’s side “Not even you can so much isolation. Glorious or not.”
Arthur will answer, he has an answer. But the words disappear before reaching his tongue and, come to think about it, it wasn’t that important anyway.
Outside, weather’s still grey. Arthur thinks of blue skies (Maya, he thinks, but not only her, America, Australia, New Zealand too. Africa. India. Blue sky above and warm sun on his skin and running water, clove and cinnamon scents, golden rings and pearly necklaces on a dark neck soft to his touch- )
“Arthur” Francis is shaking his arm, holding him a little too tight for comfort “Arthur, cher, don’t do this to yourself ( ... )
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5.
Matthew also pays him a visit.
“I know you don’t want to see anyone,” he says shyly “But I thought maybe I could... maybe you'd talk to me...”
The words flicker on and off. Arthur is looking at him, this tall, beautiful young man, always so polite, always walking on Alfred’s shadow, and his lips are moving but there’s no sound. His child.
No.
He’s not a child anymore, is he?
Matthew’s lips are trembling. Arthur hears him again, muffled, as if coming from very far away.
“I... I don’t want to see you like this, but- not that I don’t want to see you, that’s not what I mean, I just thought - I know is dumb, because you’re not speaking with anyone, why would I be any different, eh? But I thought maybe I'd just-”
The words tumbles faster and faster. Matthew’s accent becomes hard to decipher and then he stops. What comes from his mouth it a “oh, Arthur” that sounds too much like a whimper, and then he sits on the floor and lays his head on Arthur’s knees ( ... )
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And then there’s this memory, playing over and over in his mind. They’re walking together and he holds her arm, the sun is bright against his skin and Maya talks about love.
“You have to follow the rules,” she says.
Arthur nods. It’s been way too soon since Alfred’s independence. The pain and shame are still too close, almost overwhelming, and he can’t quite focus on her. But her voice is soft and deep, and he wants to hear the sound, if not the words.
“No, not rules, that’s not right... but something like that, something that you need to learn.
“I see,” Arthur says “And what do you know of love, my dear? You’re just a child.”
“I’m older than you think,” she pouts “And wiser, too. But then, it would be almost impossible not to be.”
He smiles. He doesn’t see any shadow of resentment in her voice. Maybe that had been his mistake. She was such a fighter, his Maya. He had to keep an eye on her; he couldn't leave her alone now, could he? Like Alfred. For year and years he saw the anger, the blind rage in his blue eyes, and ( ... )
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