any nation - a human lifetime after the "end" of the world
anonymous
June 30 2009, 02:14:11 UTC
Here's the set-up: The apocalypse has come and gone, leaving the world profoundly changed. Please note that Anon is not looking for a traditional post-apocalyptic story where the survivors of a great disaster are struggling for survival; Anon subscribes to the "velvet apocalypse" theory, which supposes a much more gentle turn of events that nonetheless effects dramatic change.
One of these changes is that nations as we know them no longer exist. Consequently, the Nation-tans we have come to know and love no longer have a role to fulfill--but they aren't obliterated. They're granted the length of a human lifetime. Anon would really like to see what a former Nation-tan or two (or more) chooses to do with that lifetime. Anon imagines each Nation-tan being given the choice of whether or not to retain memories of their former existence, but leaves that entirely up to any author!anon kind enough to take this on.
Anon kind of desperately wants to see Alfred with Matthew, Arthur, Ivan, or Kiku involved in some way, but to save comment
( ... )
Re: Forty [2/2]
anonymous
July 1 2009, 21:30:37 UTC
Not OP is pleased with how this was done. Such a different take on this prompt. Just the simple thing in life, the aging process. Getting grey hairs, wrinkles, slight balding. XD
Ivan~~~~~~~~ It feels like such a relief to him, none of those harsh things raining down on him. ;A;
very late op is very late
anonymous
July 7 2009, 20:12:32 UTC
OP loves this! For some reason, I hadn't pictured any of them having such ambitions once they became human--but this fits Alfred really well. And maybe I'm in the minority on this, but I have high hopes for his political career.
I also loved the mentions of the others, most especially hearing about a contented Ivan. That image of him strolling about with his sisters will linger with me for a while. ♥
Thank you so much for writing this!
I don't know if you'll see this reply, author!anon, but I hope so.
Untitled (1/2)
anonymous
July 3 2009, 11:36:32 UTC
Stomach churning, he steps off the airplane.
"Hey, Matt, where am I going?" "To see Kiku, an old friend." "Why?" "Don't you...He's dying." Alfred does not reply, images of mushroom clouds flashing before his eyes. He doesn't have to ask what this friend (stranger now?) is dying of.
Mind racing, he walks through the city.
"Why...why don't I remember him? I should remember, shouldn't I?" Alfred worries, wracking his brains for something. A face, a feeling, anything to identify this Kiku other than those dreadful mushroom clouds that aren't supposed to be part of his memory anyway. "There's a reason, Al. Don't think about it, just go. Yong Soo told me there wasn't much time...">/i>
Heartbeat quickening, he enters the hospital.
"Is...Is it my fault? That he's...?" He asks without thinking as his brother pulls him into a hug. Matthew hesitates before answering
( ... )
Untitled (1/2) repost because I fail
anonymous
July 3 2009, 11:43:15 UTC
*insert profanity here* HTML fail. D: Repost because, well, I can't stand HTML fails. ---
"Why...why don't I remember him? I should remember, shouldn't I?" Alfred worries, wracking his brains for something. A face, a feeling, anything to identify this Kiku other than those dreadful mushroom clouds that aren't supposed to be part of his memory anyway. "There's a reason, Al. Don't think about it, just go. Yong Soo told me there wasn't much time..."
Heartbeat quickening, he enters the hospital.
"Is...Is it my fault? That he's...?" He asks without thinking as his brother pulls him into a hug. Matthew hesitates before answering. "No. No Al. You did...You did what you had to." The puzzling reply is followed by a comment about the human mind and for some reason, the word 'human' seems far too significant.Eyes closing, hands tightening around the bouquet of flowers he's brought, he opens the door
( ... )
Untitled (2/2)
anonymous
July 3 2009, 11:46:55 UTC
They are no longer nations, but there is still a deep bond between them that Alfred, no matter how many years of death and destruction he wants to let fade, will not forget. Kiku laughs quietly as the blonde begins to doze off. "You have forgotten my words before, so remember these now: I do not blame you."
The next day Alfred wakes to a crying nurse and a deathly cold hand.
The day of Kiku Honda's funeral is the last day that Alfred remembers his time as the United States of America. He goes back to the blissful ignorance of the past few years, back to his existence as Alfred F. Jones the kindergarten teacher with only Matthew's knowing looks and Kiku's last words to make him question his memories.
Author's Notes: Not any of the anons who said they'd write something. Oh, and this is my first fill ever and only my second Hetalia fic. I'm not used to writing Kiku
( ... )
late op is late
anonymous
July 7 2009, 20:30:26 UTC
Oh, author!anon -- I assure this, this is not fail in any way, and really, it is what I want. I mean, I didn't know what I wanted beyond the initial idea and I've been ever so delighted with the different ways the request has been interpreted. This is so sad and somehow beautiful. I really like the reason you gave for Alfred and others choosing not to remember, and I absolutely love that the human mind could not quite forget some things.
As further proof that this is not a failure: I feel myself getting closer to tears with each passing moment, the more I linger on the story and look back up at it. Thank you very, very much.
Re: Untitled (2/2)
anonymous
July 7 2009, 21:01:53 UTC
No... This is not fail, at all. This brought me close to tears, one remembering and already dying, while the other alive, confused and slowly regaining bits of who they were. In a way that sometimes even if the mind doesn't remember, the body never forgets and it's still familiar to them. Beautiful written writer!anon... ^^
What the Heart Forgets [1]
anonymous
July 9 2009, 17:16:42 UTC
Something very quick that I typed up, and I have a feeling everybody’s going to know who I am just from what’s written here oh god why do I do this to myself. Hope the OP and others enjoy, anyway. ___
He finds himself in front of a shop positioned on the edge of time and space, in front of a woman with witch-red eyes and power that sets the hairs of his neck on edge.
What is this place?
It is a shop that grants wishes.
Can you grant my wish?
That depends.
On what?
Your willingness to pay the price.The first time Francis Bonnefoy sees Arthur Kirkland is in a coffee shop somewhere in London, in spring of the year 2013
( ... )
Re: What the Heart Forgets [2]
anonymous
July 9 2009, 17:19:34 UTC
I’ll pay. I’ll pay anything. It’s just - this world, the lines between us are fading. Francis and Antonio - they’re dying, they’re almost gone, and I’m just so afraid that -
- your other friends will disappear.
…Please. There must be something you can do.
Inhale. Exhale. Smoke on the air, curling and ethereal, there one moment, gone the next.
You have come to me, she says, because you know I can grant wishes. Because you’ve heard from your Mab and your Clover and your Peaseblossom that as long as you stay within certain rules, I have the power to give anybody what they most desire. You desire the life and the safety of your friends.
The problem, she continues, is that I don’t know if you have enough to pay.The second time they meet that year is the first time they kiss
( ... )
Re: What the Heart Forgets [3]
anonymous
July 9 2009, 19:42:18 UTC
Francis can’t quite think of a good rebuttal for that, nor does he really want to. He enjoys the time he spends with Arthur, can’t wait for breaks when they text, e-mail one another, or even exchange a rare phone call.
Still, sitting here with England, watching old Christmas classics and sipping wine, is infinitely preferable to the alternative of spending Christmas alone.
At some point, Arthur’s neck becomes more appealing than It’s a Wonderful Life. Kissing it, licking it, and planting little nips along it becomes more important than the sound from the television
( ... )
Re: What the Heart Forgets [4]
anonymous
July 9 2009, 19:43:53 UTC
Francis moves on, stumbles and curses as he almost trips over something. Frowning, he reaches down to pick it up. It looks like a rag, a little - but no, it’s too nice to be a rag.
Francis unfolds it to discover a green shirt with yellow embroidery.
“Oh, you don’t want this? I guess I’ll just wear it on my head, then~”
“Y-you bastard, give it back!”
Francis shakes his head. The whispers in his head do not help his headache. He puts the shirt down and moves on, just looking now. Presents are the farthest thing from his mind, and -
His eyes land on a frame. He pauses. He reaches up and lifts it off the wall.
His fingers trace over the glass, and the daisy chain the frame holds.
God.
Oh, God.
He is granted a single, clear moment of comprehension, of memories of warm evenings in a field - with a little boy, who looked just like Arthur, but that’s ridiculous, because Arthur’s just a human name, he’s really England, and
( ... )
Re: What the Heart Forgets [Final]
anonymous
July 9 2009, 19:46:17 UTC
(Arthur never tells Francis how he took the daisy chain out from its frame, the petals breaking under his fingers. He crushed it in his fist, into something finer than dust, and took the ashes of his old life down to their bedroom. Francis was fast asleep, and he never saw how Arthur pressed one tear-stained cheek to the pile before opening the window and casting it out on the wind, scattering it, reminding himself that he loved France, but France was dead; and he loved Francis, so he just focused on the jewelry box in his pocket while making a note to himself to run by the hardware store and get something to keep Francis away from those memories for good.)
Re: What the Heart Forgets [Final]
anonymous
July 9 2009, 20:59:42 UTC
Yuuko~~~~~~~~~~~ 8DDDDDDDDDDDDDD The moment I read the 'shop that grants wishes'... *cough*
This is all kinds of sad and sweet and and and... ;A; This anon's heart was ripped and mended and cracked and patched back again and again. I always love the thought of 'heart forgets, body remembers'. ^^ Ahhhhhhhhhh~ This is just too wonderful!!!
For part three, this sentence: Still, sitting here with England, watching old Christmas classics and sipping wine... It's supposed to be Arthur right? =]
<3333333333333 Love love this fill, and Matt and Al... Also, not OP though a massive FrUK fan.
One of these changes is that nations as we know them no longer exist. Consequently, the Nation-tans we have come to know and love no longer have a role to fulfill--but they aren't obliterated. They're granted the length of a human lifetime. Anon would really like to see what a former Nation-tan or two (or more) chooses to do with that lifetime. Anon imagines each Nation-tan being given the choice of whether or not to retain memories of their former existence, but leaves that entirely up to any author!anon kind enough to take this on.
Anon kind of desperately wants to see Alfred with Matthew, Arthur, Ivan, or Kiku involved in some way, but to save comment ( ... )
Reply
Ivan~~~~~~~~ It feels like such a relief to him, none of those harsh things raining down on him. ;A;
Massively love this!!!
Alfred for senator? 8D
Reply
And yet, he would run for president in a heartbeat if he could.
Reply
I also loved the mentions of the others, most especially hearing about a contented Ivan. That image of him strolling about with his sisters will linger with me for a while. ♥
Thank you so much for writing this!
I don't know if you'll see this reply, author!anon, but I hope so.
Reply
"Hey, Matt, where am I going?"
"To see Kiku, an old friend."
"Why?"
"Don't you...He's dying."
Alfred does not reply, images of mushroom clouds flashing before his eyes. He doesn't have to ask what this friend (stranger now?) is dying of.
Mind racing, he walks through the city.
"Why...why don't I remember him? I should remember, shouldn't I?" Alfred worries, wracking his brains for something. A face, a feeling, anything to identify this Kiku other than those dreadful mushroom clouds that aren't supposed to be part of his memory anyway.
"There's a reason, Al. Don't think about it, just go. Yong Soo told me there wasn't much time...">/i>
Heartbeat quickening, he enters the hospital.
"Is...Is it my fault? That he's...?" He asks without thinking as his brother pulls him into a hug. Matthew hesitates before answering ( ... )
Reply
HTML fail. D: Repost because, well, I can't stand HTML fails.
---
"Why...why don't I remember him? I should remember, shouldn't I?" Alfred worries, wracking his brains for something. A face, a feeling, anything to identify this Kiku other than those dreadful mushroom clouds that aren't supposed to be part of his memory anyway.
"There's a reason, Al. Don't think about it, just go. Yong Soo told me there wasn't much time..."
Heartbeat quickening, he enters the hospital.
"Is...Is it my fault? That he's...?" He asks without thinking as his brother pulls him into a hug. Matthew hesitates before answering.
"No. No Al. You did...You did what you had to." The puzzling reply is followed by a comment about the human mind and for some reason, the word 'human' seems far too significant.Eyes closing, hands tightening around the bouquet of flowers he's brought, he opens the door ( ... )
Reply
"You have forgotten my words before, so remember these now: I do not blame you."
The next day Alfred wakes to a crying nurse and a deathly cold hand.
The day of Kiku Honda's funeral is the last day that Alfred remembers his time as the United States of America. He goes back to the blissful ignorance of the past few years, back to his existence as Alfred F. Jones the kindergarten teacher with only Matthew's knowing looks and Kiku's last words to make him question his memories.
Author's Notes: Not any of the anons who said they'd write something. Oh, and this is my first fill ever and only my second Hetalia fic. I'm not used to writing Kiku ( ... )
Reply
As further proof that this is not a failure: I feel myself getting closer to tears with each passing moment, the more I linger on the story and look back up at it. Thank you very, very much.
Reply
Reply
___
He finds himself in front of a shop positioned on the edge of time and space, in front of a woman with witch-red eyes and power that sets the hairs of his neck on edge.
What is this place?
It is a shop that grants wishes.
Can you grant my wish?
That depends.
On what?
Your willingness to pay the price.The first time Francis Bonnefoy sees Arthur Kirkland is in a coffee shop somewhere in London, in spring of the year 2013 ( ... )
Reply
- your other friends will disappear.
…Please. There must be something you can do.
Inhale. Exhale. Smoke on the air, curling and ethereal, there one moment, gone the next.
You have come to me, she says, because you know I can grant wishes. Because you’ve heard from your Mab and your Clover and your Peaseblossom that as long as you stay within certain rules, I have the power to give anybody what they most desire. You desire the life and the safety of your friends.
The problem, she continues, is that I don’t know if you have enough to pay.The second time they meet that year is the first time they kiss ( ... )
Reply
... and yes, you are totally obvious. Hi thar, Yuuko.
Reply
Still, sitting here with England, watching old Christmas classics and sipping wine, is infinitely preferable to the alternative of spending Christmas alone.
At some point, Arthur’s neck becomes more appealing than It’s a Wonderful Life. Kissing it, licking it, and planting little nips along it becomes more important than the sound from the television ( ... )
Reply
Francis unfolds it to discover a green shirt with yellow embroidery.
“Oh, you don’t want this? I guess I’ll just wear it on my head, then~”
“Y-you bastard, give it back!”
Francis shakes his head. The whispers in his head do not help his headache. He puts the shirt down and moves on, just looking now. Presents are the farthest thing from his mind, and -
His eyes land on a frame. He pauses. He reaches up and lifts it off the wall.
His fingers trace over the glass, and the daisy chain the frame holds.
God.
Oh, God.
He is granted a single, clear moment of comprehension, of memories of warm evenings in a field - with a little boy, who looked just like Arthur, but that’s ridiculous, because Arthur’s just a human name, he’s really England, and ( ... )
Reply
…I will pay it ( ... )
Reply
This is all kinds of sad and sweet and and and... ;A; This anon's heart was ripped and mended and cracked and patched back again and again. I always love the thought of 'heart forgets, body remembers'. ^^ Ahhhhhhhhhh~ This is just too wonderful!!!
For part three, this sentence: Still, sitting here with England, watching old Christmas classics and sipping wine... It's supposed to be Arthur right? =]
<3333333333333 Love love this fill, and Matt and Al... Also, not OP though a massive FrUK fan.
recaptcha: parently moroni. =D
Reply
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