http://chibi-spork.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
chibi-spork.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hetalia2009-11-06 08:17 pm
chibi-spork.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2009-11-06 08:17 pm
Entry tags:
[Fanfic] Vengeance is a Beautiful Thing
Title: Vengeance is a Beautiful Thing
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Prussia, England, mentions of Germany
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Quite a bit of swearing and gruesome details about Guy Fawkes' execution
Summary: Gilbert asks Arthur about Bonfire Night and comes to the conclusion that it is severely messed up. Maybe that's why he enjoys it so much. After all, you have to respect a country that celebrates someone's death for four hundred years.
Notes: I know that Bonfire Night was yesterday, but I didn't get chance to write it last night so here it is, a day late. This is only a short drabble-ish thing, but hopefully it'll amuse you a little. If you don't know much about Bonfire Night, there's a brief explanation under the cut.
A brief history lesson
Bonfire Night (or Guy Fawkes Night) is celebrated in the UK and some of its former colonies on the 5th of November in remembrance of a plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament. Guy Fawkes is the man who was supposed to carry out the dirty work of lighting the fuse, but he was caught by guards and the plot failed. The day is celebrated with fireworks and by burning 'guys', which are models (kind of like scarecrows) meant to resemble Guy, on bonfires, though these days not many people still burn a guy. And now that you're thoroughly educated, read on.
The sky was a sizzling, crackling shower of sparks; colours exploding and fizzing into the night, swallowed by the darkness. The smell of burning and gunpowder floated down, acrid but not unpleasant, and a thin haze of smoke drifted over the field. Below the fireworks, a bonfire spat tiny sparks onto the grass where they glimmered briefly and died. The silhouette of a guy burned in the centre of the inferno, blackening and slowly crumbling as parts of its body peeled away in ashy flakes.
A little way back from the bonfire, among the crowd that had gathered to see the show, two figures stood with their heads tilted back to watch the fireworks. The shorter of the two looked mildly impressed, but the taller looked far more excited, the fire reflecting in his unearthly crimson eyes causing the illusion that there were also flames flickering behind the irises.
“Hey, wow, Arthur, look at those!” the taller man said, tugging on his companion’s arm and pointing up at several white fireworks that twirled through the air before exploding with a pop.
“They are quite good this year,” Arthur agreed, looking faintly amused by his friend’s enthusiasm. “Honestly, Gilbert, you’re acting like you’ve never been to a fireworks display before.” Gilbert shrugged, taking a piece of treacle toffee out of the paper bag in his hand and popping it into his mouth.
“I like fireworks,” he explained around the toffee. “As well as anything else that goes boom!” Arthur smacked him lightly on the arm.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he admonished in the manner of a parent for whom it is second nature to correct their child’s appalling manners. Gilbert pouted, but was forced to obey as he struggled to chew the sweet.
“So, this whole Bonfire Night thing,” he said when he had swallowed the toffee and made sure that all his teeth were still intact. “It’s all about some guy called...Guy, who thought the king was a bit of a bastard and decided to blow him up, yeah? Seems like a bit of an overreaction to me, but what I want to know is, why do you celebrate an attempted act of treason? That’s a little fucked up, don’t you think?”
“We’re not celebrating the Gunpowder Plot,” Arthur corrected, watching the ascent of a rocket. “We’re commemorating the inhumane and gruesome execution of Guy Fawkes.” Gilbert perked up at the word ‘gruesome’.
“Well that’s all right then,” he said. “Nothing wrong with that.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, as if trying to remember something, but then he gave up. “How was he killed?”
“He was hanged, drawn and quartered,” Arthur replied. He noticed Gilbert’s blank look and expanded. “That’s when you’re hanged by the neck until almost dead, then taken down to be disembowelled and castrated-”
“Ouch,” Gilbert interrupted, wincing.
“Oh, it gets worse,” Arthur assured him. “You then have to watch your genitals and entrails be burnt before you’re beheaded and cut into four pieces, which are usually strung up around the town as a warning to others”
“Holy fuck,” Gilbert said, an expression of utter awe on his face. “You Brits take treason pretty damn seriously. That’s a hardcore execution! It’s like putting Hell in a sandwich and making somebody eat it. Whoever thought it up must have been a grade A psychopath, although you have to admire their creativity.” Arthur looked at him bemusedly but decided not to question Gilbert’s choice of simile.
“It was certainly a very inventive method,” he agreed diplomatically. “Although Guy Fawkes was smart; he jumped off the gallows and broke his neck so he didn’t have to suffer the latter parts of the sentence.”
“And that pissed you off so much that now you celebrate his death every year?” Gilbert asked disbelievingly. “I mean, you have to admit that it takes a lot of bitterness to carry out vengeance for four hundred years. You even burn his image on a bonfire!” He waved a hand towards the guy.
“That’s what happens,” Arthur said calmly, “when you play silly buggers with gunpowder underneath the Houses of Parliament.”
“You are so messed up,” Gilbert said, looking rather impressed. “Your whole country is messed up.”
“Maybe that’s why we get along so well,” Arthur deadpanned, and Gilbert laughed. Up in the sky, the final burst of colour and explosions lit up the darkness in a spectacular shower of glittering light.
“Well that was cool,” Gilbert said after a moment. “So what happens now? Do you do anything else to celebrate? Arson, maybe? Or taking a piss on poor Guy’s grave, because I don’t think you’ve been quite brutal enough.” Arthur ignored the sarcasm.
“No, I did that earlier,” he said in such a serious tone that Gilbert wasn’t entirely sure that he was joking. “Let’s go back to my place and get something to eat. It’s traditional to have jacket potatoes or roast chestnuts on Bonfire Night.”
“Why?” Gilbert asked, frowning as he tried to make sense of what significance potatoes and nuts could possibly have.
“It’s a small mercy to Guy’s memory,” Arthur said. “See, if you’re not careful when you cook them, you’ll end up blowing up your microwave in a mini re-enactment of what could have happened to the Houses of Parliament. It evens out the karma a little.” Gilbert laughed loudly.
“That’s utter bullshit!” he accused. “But it sounds fun.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” Arthur said sharply.
“Oh, I would never destroy your kitchen appliances,” Gilbert reassured him. “But, you know, for some reason I just remembered that West is spending the week in Italy.” He tried to smile innocently, but it appeared as a frighteningly ominous grin.
“I don’t think Ludwig would –“ Arthur tried to protest, but Gilbert slung an arm around his shoulders and started to steer him back towards where they had parked the car.
“Relax,” he said soothingly. “We can blame the dogs. After all, dogs don’t know how to cook food properly, so obviously they’d fuck it up. West will never suspect a thing.”
As the bonfire continued to crackle and lick the smoky air with tongues of flame, a manic laugh rang out across the field, causing several people to turn and stare in alarm at two retreating figures treading a path across the grass. One of the figures seemed to be trying to resist, but he was pulled along mercilessly until he gave up and acquiesced, resigning himself to the fact that the festivities of the night had only just begun.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Prussia, England, mentions of Germany
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Quite a bit of swearing and gruesome details about Guy Fawkes' execution
Summary: Gilbert asks Arthur about Bonfire Night and comes to the conclusion that it is severely messed up. Maybe that's why he enjoys it so much. After all, you have to respect a country that celebrates someone's death for four hundred years.
Notes: I know that Bonfire Night was yesterday, but I didn't get chance to write it last night so here it is, a day late. This is only a short drabble-ish thing, but hopefully it'll amuse you a little. If you don't know much about Bonfire Night, there's a brief explanation under the cut.
A brief history lesson
Bonfire Night (or Guy Fawkes Night) is celebrated in the UK and some of its former colonies on the 5th of November in remembrance of a plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament. Guy Fawkes is the man who was supposed to carry out the dirty work of lighting the fuse, but he was caught by guards and the plot failed. The day is celebrated with fireworks and by burning 'guys', which are models (kind of like scarecrows) meant to resemble Guy, on bonfires, though these days not many people still burn a guy. And now that you're thoroughly educated, read on.
The sky was a sizzling, crackling shower of sparks; colours exploding and fizzing into the night, swallowed by the darkness. The smell of burning and gunpowder floated down, acrid but not unpleasant, and a thin haze of smoke drifted over the field. Below the fireworks, a bonfire spat tiny sparks onto the grass where they glimmered briefly and died. The silhouette of a guy burned in the centre of the inferno, blackening and slowly crumbling as parts of its body peeled away in ashy flakes.
A little way back from the bonfire, among the crowd that had gathered to see the show, two figures stood with their heads tilted back to watch the fireworks. The shorter of the two looked mildly impressed, but the taller looked far more excited, the fire reflecting in his unearthly crimson eyes causing the illusion that there were also flames flickering behind the irises.
“Hey, wow, Arthur, look at those!” the taller man said, tugging on his companion’s arm and pointing up at several white fireworks that twirled through the air before exploding with a pop.
“They are quite good this year,” Arthur agreed, looking faintly amused by his friend’s enthusiasm. “Honestly, Gilbert, you’re acting like you’ve never been to a fireworks display before.” Gilbert shrugged, taking a piece of treacle toffee out of the paper bag in his hand and popping it into his mouth.
“I like fireworks,” he explained around the toffee. “As well as anything else that goes boom!” Arthur smacked him lightly on the arm.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he admonished in the manner of a parent for whom it is second nature to correct their child’s appalling manners. Gilbert pouted, but was forced to obey as he struggled to chew the sweet.
“So, this whole Bonfire Night thing,” he said when he had swallowed the toffee and made sure that all his teeth were still intact. “It’s all about some guy called...Guy, who thought the king was a bit of a bastard and decided to blow him up, yeah? Seems like a bit of an overreaction to me, but what I want to know is, why do you celebrate an attempted act of treason? That’s a little fucked up, don’t you think?”
“We’re not celebrating the Gunpowder Plot,” Arthur corrected, watching the ascent of a rocket. “We’re commemorating the inhumane and gruesome execution of Guy Fawkes.” Gilbert perked up at the word ‘gruesome’.
“Well that’s all right then,” he said. “Nothing wrong with that.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, as if trying to remember something, but then he gave up. “How was he killed?”
“He was hanged, drawn and quartered,” Arthur replied. He noticed Gilbert’s blank look and expanded. “That’s when you’re hanged by the neck until almost dead, then taken down to be disembowelled and castrated-”
“Ouch,” Gilbert interrupted, wincing.
“Oh, it gets worse,” Arthur assured him. “You then have to watch your genitals and entrails be burnt before you’re beheaded and cut into four pieces, which are usually strung up around the town as a warning to others”
“Holy fuck,” Gilbert said, an expression of utter awe on his face. “You Brits take treason pretty damn seriously. That’s a hardcore execution! It’s like putting Hell in a sandwich and making somebody eat it. Whoever thought it up must have been a grade A psychopath, although you have to admire their creativity.” Arthur looked at him bemusedly but decided not to question Gilbert’s choice of simile.
“It was certainly a very inventive method,” he agreed diplomatically. “Although Guy Fawkes was smart; he jumped off the gallows and broke his neck so he didn’t have to suffer the latter parts of the sentence.”
“And that pissed you off so much that now you celebrate his death every year?” Gilbert asked disbelievingly. “I mean, you have to admit that it takes a lot of bitterness to carry out vengeance for four hundred years. You even burn his image on a bonfire!” He waved a hand towards the guy.
“That’s what happens,” Arthur said calmly, “when you play silly buggers with gunpowder underneath the Houses of Parliament.”
“You are so messed up,” Gilbert said, looking rather impressed. “Your whole country is messed up.”
“Maybe that’s why we get along so well,” Arthur deadpanned, and Gilbert laughed. Up in the sky, the final burst of colour and explosions lit up the darkness in a spectacular shower of glittering light.
“Well that was cool,” Gilbert said after a moment. “So what happens now? Do you do anything else to celebrate? Arson, maybe? Or taking a piss on poor Guy’s grave, because I don’t think you’ve been quite brutal enough.” Arthur ignored the sarcasm.
“No, I did that earlier,” he said in such a serious tone that Gilbert wasn’t entirely sure that he was joking. “Let’s go back to my place and get something to eat. It’s traditional to have jacket potatoes or roast chestnuts on Bonfire Night.”
“Why?” Gilbert asked, frowning as he tried to make sense of what significance potatoes and nuts could possibly have.
“It’s a small mercy to Guy’s memory,” Arthur said. “See, if you’re not careful when you cook them, you’ll end up blowing up your microwave in a mini re-enactment of what could have happened to the Houses of Parliament. It evens out the karma a little.” Gilbert laughed loudly.
“That’s utter bullshit!” he accused. “But it sounds fun.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” Arthur said sharply.
“Oh, I would never destroy your kitchen appliances,” Gilbert reassured him. “But, you know, for some reason I just remembered that West is spending the week in Italy.” He tried to smile innocently, but it appeared as a frighteningly ominous grin.
“I don’t think Ludwig would –“ Arthur tried to protest, but Gilbert slung an arm around his shoulders and started to steer him back towards where they had parked the car.
“Relax,” he said soothingly. “We can blame the dogs. After all, dogs don’t know how to cook food properly, so obviously they’d fuck it up. West will never suspect a thing.”
As the bonfire continued to crackle and lick the smoky air with tongues of flame, a manic laugh rang out across the field, causing several people to turn and stare in alarm at two retreating figures treading a path across the grass. One of the figures seemed to be trying to resist, but he was pulled along mercilessly until he gave up and acquiesced, resigning himself to the fact that the festivities of the night had only just begun.
no subject
SplodyBoom nightBonfire Night.The English are bloody creative with their punishments. I'm so proud of us. ^^
Nice fic, though England/Prussia isn't my pairing, I did like it. Keep it up~!
no subject
I'm proud of us too! I think whoever thought up that people should be hanged, drawn and quartered should have been given some sort of medal. And then locked away somewhere. Forever.
Thanks! :) I'm glad you enjoyed it~
no subject
Okay, so I made that date up. Shush.
no subject
Maybe we're just too insane to know the correct dateno subject
England is a giant collective funny farm. They're coming to take us away, haha, they're coming to take us away, hoho.no subject
I love Gilbert's reactions, and how messed up Arthur really does sound. I honestly didn't know that's how Guy Fawkes was executed, but damn.
“Relax,” he said soothingly. “We can blame the dogs. After all, dogs don’t know how to cook food properly, so obviously they’d fuck it up. West will never suspect a thing.”
LOL. Yes, no one would ever expect that it was actually you that wrecked the kitchen, Gilbert. XD
no subject
Yeah, I learnt about Guy Fawkes from 'Horrible History' books I used to read as a kid. It's amazing how children immediately become interested if they're learning about something gruesome XD
Of course not. It's a completely believable excuse. It uses logic, after all. And Gilbert's logic is the most special kind out there~ XD
no subject
But still, great fic. XD
This made me laugh:
“Well that was cool,” Gilbert said after a moment. “So what happens now? Do you do anything else to celebrate? Arson, maybe? Or taking a piss on poor Guy’s grave, because I don’t think you’ve been quite brutal enough.” Arthur ignored the sarcasm.
“No, I did that earlier,” he said in such a serious tone that Gilbert wasn’t entirely sure that he was joking.
no subject
Thanks! =D
Yeah, I'm not sure if Arthur was joking or not either XD But I think it's a possibility...XD
no subject
This is awesome though. Totally made my day :D Nothing like a gruesome execution to lighten the mood.
no subject
Thanks so much! =D I'm glad you also think so~ XD
no subject
“You Brits take treason pretty damn seriously."
Treason is the one thing you can still get hanged for! Oh Arthur <3
Loved the story! It was so fantastically written and interesting, look forward to more from you!
no subject
Thanks! =D I've already written a few more fics, so if you're interested you can look on my journal where I've made a post linking to all my fanfics :)
no subject
Really, those 2! When I don't ship them as a pairing, I totally love them as friends xD they're both so messed up xDD
I loved:
"Whoever thought it up must have been a grade A psychopath"
-> here I really thought that Arthur would say something like "I'm not" or so xD
When Arthur explained the execution, and Gilbert was like "Holy fuck!" because I, too, was like "HOLY FUCK!!" xD
And Arthur... oh, Arthur... you really shouldn't mention explosions around Gilbert... especially when you can make them without any dangerous stuff but just some potatoes and microwaves xD
And Gilbert... his logic is just... irrevocable? Noone can deny it xD Though... Ludwig MIGHT get the truth, because his dogs are way too well-trained to mess with his kitchen ;DD (and that's of course the ONLY reason why he would see through Gilbert's perfect web of lies...)
no subject
Yeah, me too! These two just belong together, whether as a pairing or as best friends~ They really messed up XD But that's why we love them~ <33
LOL well it might not have been Arthur who came up with the execution style...though I'm sure he probably didn't disapprove of it too much XD He knows that he doesn't have to deny his psychopathy around Gilbert, because Gilbert is a grade A psychopath too XD
Yeah XD I think when I learnt it I was like 'Holy fuck! ...That's so cool!' XD I was a messed up child...XD
He really shouldn't XD He should KNOW that by now! The fool! XD
You're right, Ludwig might figure it out based on that fact! Ahh, if only Gilbert had thought his plan through a little more XD Because he's clearly a genius when it comes to making believable lies...XD
no subject
yeah, maybe he didn't but he didn't disapproave it
no, he doesn't have to deny it... both psychics!!
Yes! He has known Gilbert for long enough, don't you think so???
Ah, what a pity xD and, yes, he's the MASTER of believable lies x'DDD what a joke!
no subject
(Also, I remember back when we read about the said punishment in our history books. I think me and my friend even made an essay and a presentation about different "traditional" torture forms. It was awesome. *smiles like Gilbert*)
no subject
Thanks a lot! :)
(LOL awesome XD That sounds like a fun lesson~ XD)
no subject
I love how calm England is in this.
Especially this line:
“That’s what happens,” Arthur said calmly, “when you play silly buggers with gunpowder underneath the Houses of Parliament.”
So yes. Bookmarked for justice.
no subject
Yeah, nothing much bothers England - he's been there and done that
and pissed on the gravestone.Thanks so much for the comment, I'm glad you enjoyed my fic :)