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hetalia2009-10-21 08:15 am
hiddenmeghanis.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2009-10-21 08:15 am
Entry tags:
[fanfic] Falling Apart f. America
Title: Falling Apart
Author: yours truly
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, others featured.
Rating: …pg13?
Warnings: angst.
Summary: [[see below]]
America tries too hard.
His eyes are bright and his smile is as genuine as it can be as he soaks into himself like a sponge the cultures of the other countries around him – he’s as aware of Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, Wiccan, Satanism, and every other religion that any other country could name. He practices all of them. He celebrates Christmas and Kwanzaa and Hanukkah and the Chinese New Year. He sends gifts on Valentine’s day and both gives and receives presents on July fourth, his birthday. His calendar is almost nothing but a list of holidays for him to celebrate.
Any given day will find him wearing clothes derived from historical costumes of Japan, England, Egypt, China, Russia, Everywhere. Gone is his bomber jacket, gone are his glasses. He wears contacts, to change the colors of his eyes, and colors his hair to whatever he wishes to look like.
America is stretching out – too thin, not enough space and too much to take in. He finds himself stuttering in other languages – Spanish, Japanese, Russian, French, Chinese, German, Italian. He has trouble remembering what day it is, and he panics when he realizes that it’s not the day he thought it was, or it is the day he thought it was and he just can’t remember.
England is concerned. As is Canada. But while England watches, Canada reaches out to try and support the failing country, guiding him through the most rudimentary of tasks – getting out of bed, brushing his teeth, getting dressed. England can’t bear to watch what’s happening to him.
And even Canada, eventually, has to stop trying. America is collapsing in on himself – a melting pot of hate and love and destruction and creation – he can’t seem to stop the spiral, no matter how hard any of his citizens pull in any direction; they’re just tearing him apart, further.
No one else knows what to do, because no one else has ever been through what America volunteered to put himself through. He wanted to be the one to bring everyone together – and now, everyone was ripping him to pieces.
It is China, who says something – You’re being foolish. You’re going to die.
A shaky smile, a wave of a trembling hand.
It’s fine. A little internal unrest never hurt anybody. But even the Civil War wasn’t this hard on him. Even all of the stress that had been building up…
America brings two of his little brothers – New England, and West Coast – with him to the summit meeting. They’ve become further apart from him as the years went by, as they all have. New England diligently takes notes while West Coast watches with lazy, but suspicious eyes. New England is silent through the entire meeting, and West Coast does not hesitate to voice his opinion.
The next summit is attended by New England, West Coast, Midwest, South States, North States, and East Coast. All of them serious little ones with joyless faces.
America’s been torn apart, and anyone can see that even the little ones are having trouble keeping in control. Each has their own set of problems that would be easily remedied by helping one another, but none of them can see it.
It’s New England who speaks for them – as he’s the oldest. He is firm in his speech, his dark hair and light eyes stalwart and steady. East Coast holds his hand and says nothing as the summit is dismissed.
“Where’s America?” England asks, looking harried as France runs over to hear, too – followed by China and Canada, all eyes in the hallway subtly turning to look at the little ones that have taken the place of what was once a great nation, despite his faults, or perhaps, because of them.
“…He’s gone.” New England replies.
“The king is dead.” West Coast announces dejectedly, placing a hand over his heart. “Long live the king.”
….not sure if this makes sense to anybody else, but it is very early, and I haven’t slept in 36 hours. also not sure if the little parts of america constitute original nations or not, since... technically they're not nations? idk, if it's inappropriate, plz delete & let me know ♥ please leave comment? –goes to sleepies-
Author: yours truly
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, others featured.
Rating: …pg13?
Warnings: angst.
Summary: [[see below]]
America tries too hard.
His eyes are bright and his smile is as genuine as it can be as he soaks into himself like a sponge the cultures of the other countries around him – he’s as aware of Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, Wiccan, Satanism, and every other religion that any other country could name. He practices all of them. He celebrates Christmas and Kwanzaa and Hanukkah and the Chinese New Year. He sends gifts on Valentine’s day and both gives and receives presents on July fourth, his birthday. His calendar is almost nothing but a list of holidays for him to celebrate.
Any given day will find him wearing clothes derived from historical costumes of Japan, England, Egypt, China, Russia, Everywhere. Gone is his bomber jacket, gone are his glasses. He wears contacts, to change the colors of his eyes, and colors his hair to whatever he wishes to look like.
America is stretching out – too thin, not enough space and too much to take in. He finds himself stuttering in other languages – Spanish, Japanese, Russian, French, Chinese, German, Italian. He has trouble remembering what day it is, and he panics when he realizes that it’s not the day he thought it was, or it is the day he thought it was and he just can’t remember.
England is concerned. As is Canada. But while England watches, Canada reaches out to try and support the failing country, guiding him through the most rudimentary of tasks – getting out of bed, brushing his teeth, getting dressed. England can’t bear to watch what’s happening to him.
And even Canada, eventually, has to stop trying. America is collapsing in on himself – a melting pot of hate and love and destruction and creation – he can’t seem to stop the spiral, no matter how hard any of his citizens pull in any direction; they’re just tearing him apart, further.
No one else knows what to do, because no one else has ever been through what America volunteered to put himself through. He wanted to be the one to bring everyone together – and now, everyone was ripping him to pieces.
It is China, who says something – You’re being foolish. You’re going to die.
A shaky smile, a wave of a trembling hand.
It’s fine. A little internal unrest never hurt anybody. But even the Civil War wasn’t this hard on him. Even all of the stress that had been building up…
America brings two of his little brothers – New England, and West Coast – with him to the summit meeting. They’ve become further apart from him as the years went by, as they all have. New England diligently takes notes while West Coast watches with lazy, but suspicious eyes. New England is silent through the entire meeting, and West Coast does not hesitate to voice his opinion.
The next summit is attended by New England, West Coast, Midwest, South States, North States, and East Coast. All of them serious little ones with joyless faces.
America’s been torn apart, and anyone can see that even the little ones are having trouble keeping in control. Each has their own set of problems that would be easily remedied by helping one another, but none of them can see it.
It’s New England who speaks for them – as he’s the oldest. He is firm in his speech, his dark hair and light eyes stalwart and steady. East Coast holds his hand and says nothing as the summit is dismissed.
“Where’s America?” England asks, looking harried as France runs over to hear, too – followed by China and Canada, all eyes in the hallway subtly turning to look at the little ones that have taken the place of what was once a great nation, despite his faults, or perhaps, because of them.
“…He’s gone.” New England replies.
“The king is dead.” West Coast announces dejectedly, placing a hand over his heart. “Long live the king.”
….not sure if this makes sense to anybody else, but it is very early, and I haven’t slept in 36 hours. also not sure if the little parts of america constitute original nations or not, since... technically they're not nations? idk, if it's inappropriate, plz delete & let me know ♥ please leave comment? –goes to sleepies-
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(I've been thinking of coming up with a Cascadia avatar but am too lazy. XD Did I say lazy? I meant busy.)
(Have you read the Nine Nations of North America? It's a neat book.)
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