My Brain is a Scary Place

{ Fic } 32. Linger

2010-04-05T21:21:50Z

Character(s): Gilbert Weillschmidt (Prussia), mentions of Ludwig (Germany) and Ivan Braginski (Russia).
Rating: T
Warnings: Very vague mentions of abuse, Prussia's mouth (recurring theme~)
Summary: Prussia having a flashback moment to when he was the GDR and part of the Warsaw Pact (Read: USSR).

Prussia (Gilbert Weillschmidt), Russia (Ivan Braginski), Germany (Ludwig) & Hetalia copyright to Hidekaz Himaruya

***

32. Linger

One of the dirtier parts of his life, to be sure. One that he and his brother -- hell the entire world -- tried to hide behind their backs; sanitize the whole period, altogether. Gilbert mused as he rubbed lightly at his wrists, more in memory than for any real purpose. There were no marks there anymore, only the constant itch and burn because his skin remembered whether it was visible or not. Everyone remembered.

He remembered the way people flinched when they saw him. Heh, only it was no longer from fear. No, he lost that respect in 1918 when the title of nation was taken from him. This was just another show. ‘A lesson that went wrong,’ as the Allies loved to put it. 'Wrong.' As if the daily abuse that left more then his body seared could be summed up in the word 'wrong.' And yet…

All eyes were drawn to him still, and that same magnetism repelled everyone moments later. He was a show, and a barrier. He could accept and was almost sickly proud of his job guarding his strong, lucid, clear blue and golden Ludwig; keeping the claws of the Soviets out of his brother, even if that meant diverting the pipe and broad, childish smile onto himself.

Throughout his musings Gilbert did his best to distract himself from the itching and burning of his skin; turn the TV on, pace, anything. Take his attention away, so he couldn't concentrate on his recent past playing out behind his eyes in disturbing detail.

His mind was a fucking sadist.

It was a hard thing to explain, what had happened to him. Not truly a nation, even during the war, before his separation. Now his centre had shifted again, this time to a colder, Russian core. He lived like that; forcibly pushed into the position of a communist-Germany's personification. At first he was sickeningly excited, almost grateful to feel the thrum of a nation's people against his own heartbeat; but it was nothing like the empowering feeling he remembered it being. Stuttering, and often frozen in fear the people of the GDR were. The events his people went through hit him like a punch to the gut. Every time a damn, fucking Soviet soldier -- not that they even deserved to be called that -- did...hell, whatever they wanted. They called it karma for what Gilbert's own regiment had done when the roles were reversed and his boots were the one's crushing, grinding Russian cities and Russian bodies into the ground.

Gilbert was a sinner. So, maybe it was karma... But if Gott didn't care about his well being, why bother punishing him?

Fuck it.

Either way he lived out his years behind the wall. Oh, he resisted. Clung to his uniform and his cross, walked up and down his side of the wall, screamed at Gott; he knew praying didn't work. Long as it was, he did get to take pleasure in the crumbling of the USSR. Ivan's slow side downwards from his throne as a superpower.

Gilbert sighed long and heavy, hanging his head forward, his fingers twitched, but that along with the itching of his skin and tensing of his muscles subsided. He knew it wasn't going to ever, ever fucking happen again. He and West would make sure; and Ivan wasn't even the same person as he was then. That was over.

Over.

***

3/64

{ Fic } 41. Tragedy

2010-04-05T20:26:22Z

Another drabble from the 64 prompt list

Characters: Gilbert Weillschmidt (Prussia)
Rating: ...T? Maybe? Probably.
Warnings: Mention of death, (kinda the theme, actually) Prussia's mouth,
Summary: Prussia learns of Fritz's death, mass freak out/breakdown occurs.

Prussia (Gilbert Weillschmidt) & Hetalia copyright to Hidekaz Himaruya
Frederick II of Prussia DOESN'T BELONG TO ME.

***

41. Tragedy

He promised.

He fucking promised he'd always he around.

Gilbert holed himself away uncharacteristically once he was told. Gott knows if he had a gun he would have shot the messenger when he was told. Again, and again. Again.. And he couldn't fathom stopping there. The body of the poor man burdened with relaying the message would be mutilated; Against the wishes of the one he was (mentally) honoring in this twisted way.

He would have chastised the Prussian in the quiet voice; with the quiet anger, the complete disapproval, the calm melody of his voice, and the stupid, unending reassurance and forgiveness. The everything the albino had grown so accustomed to.

Gone. Gone without him every saying goodbye. Thank you. Sorry.

..And I fucking love you.

Gilbert had never experienced the kind of rage and complete loss of his everything before.

It was so easy to recall the hundreds of times he was teasingly called young, unexperienced, childish, rash because of naiveté. He remembered all of his quickly snapped retorts, that probably dug deeper into one of the only people he'd rather claw into himself then hurt.

And there wasn't a hell of a lot of people like that for him.

The Prussian laughed loudly, over the edge in this unknown level of hysterics, clawed at the wood of the furniture nearest to him, unaware of why small dots of liquid stained the fabric shades darker in some places. Didn't know or care why his eyes burned and his vision blurred the more time pasted.

He ripped and tore, shredded and screamed, and he knew it still wasn't going to be enough. (Never enough.) Even when his chest started to heave and his attempts at vocalizing were swallowed by sobs and the desperate need for air. (He hadn't done enough.)

"F-Fritz.. Fritz, Fritz, Fritz.." He muttered the name for his leader over and over; As if he could breath life back into the man that way.

And what a fucking pussy way to die! In a fucking armchair! Gilbert wanted to yell, shake and provoke that damn corpse back into life, but he couldn't. Didn't-- Couldn't bring himself to do more than shake and stay plastered to the floor.

('It's a tragedy, really..')

He could hear the voices ringing from outside the heavy wood door. He wanted to laugh, if it didn't hurt so damn much. Wanted to cry, but that was so fucking degrading.. Definitely wanted to scream at the damned people thinking they understood anything or could emphasize with what this meant to him.

A tragedy.

If this was a fucking tragedy--

..Why the hell did it only seem like the first act?

***
2/64

{ Fic } 11. Animal

2010-04-01T05:32:19Z

First of hopefully 64 drabbles in total!

Characters: Gilbert Weillschmidt (Prussia), Gilbird..?
Rating: T
Warnings: Prussia's mouth, my lame attempt at something hopefully resembling fluff, or at least something other then angst.
Summary: Germany kicks Prussia out so he can really clean the house, our favourite Prussian grumbles, swears, reminisces with an old friend. (AKA: Horrible, horrible, wannabe fluff.)

Prussia (Gilbert Weillschmidt) & Hetalia copyright to Hidekaz Himaruya

***

11. Animal

Today was going to be another fucking awesome day. Well, awesome because he was Gilbert, another because it was the same as the last.

Shrugging, he slipped off the coat his brother had thrown at him out the window after the Prussian was out the door. It wasn't as if the brothers had a fight; more ritual than anything. The habitual throwing of the elder sibling out whenever the house was in need of a true (as West liked to call it) cleaning.

The Prussian had no room to be offended, his room was starting to smell like corn chips and ass, and his daily abuse of air fresheners wasn't helping the situation any by this point.

So Gilbert walked on, making sure to avoid the parts of town he, Antonio and Francis had last been to. They were often banned for months from restaurants, bars, clubs, cafes-- anywhere they went, just because they tended to have more fun than the places liked their patrons to have. Sucked balls, but that was life. And he, because of his red eyes and platinum (closing in on white) hair, had the worst luck as it was a hard combination to forget.

So, town was out. Gilbert groaned and shifted his route to the park, making his strides slower, taking the longest, most winding route there. Because what was more faggy than a full grown man going to the park by himself?

Dammit.

The albino stalked somewhat angrily into the fairly suburban park. The hell was this? Swings, jungle gyms and hobos. Some fucking park. It was all screeching children, short, perfectly trimmed grass and a few beds of cornflowers. Gilbert snorted, ignoring the odd looks he received and roamed farther into the sad excuse of 'preserved wildlife'.

As he strode farther away from the main area of the park, the foliage was still just sparse, but at least it was quieter. He took a seat on an empty bench, heaving a heavy sigh and leaning his head back, squinting as it actually was a nice day out. Pulling an arm up to shade his face (Gott knows he’d burn to a crisp in less than five minutes), he glanced at his watch and groaned. Half-a-fucking-hour. It took West at least a day to get the house done to his anal-retentive standard of cleanliness.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

Gilbert growled. Time always had to pass so goddamn slowly when there was nothing to do, didn't it?

He bent down again to get up off the bench, find something a least a bit more entertaining to do for the day when he noticed the shrill cry of a fairly perturbed bird next to his hand. The Prussian blinked; his expression softening quickly, only to snap back to glance around himself quickly to make sure no one was close enough to see him. When his assessment was over, he grinned down at the small, frail animal, offering his hand to it.

The albino softened (once more) when the bird pecked him, but that was to be expected. He had almost crushed the thing with his palm seconds beforehand. Crooking his fingers up, he made a makeshift nest out of his hand; And, as expected, the tiny animal made itself comfortable there.

Heh, he was always told that he had a sort of animal magnetism about him, in the most literal of senses.

Gilbert couldn't help as the memories bubbled up; Hungary laughing at him when the were younger for the way animals of all sorts would follow him around. Or members of the Order smiling at him, patronizing him when they saw how he coddled the small animals.

But they didn't get it. Faggy as it was, they probably knew more about him than anything; saw a lot more of his personality than the parts he gave to other people. He used a finger to lightly trace the wing of the small bird-- Gott they were so fucking fragile. Press too hard and he'd crush it easily; unknowingly.

The albino's grin softened when the bird chirped back in response. "Yeah?"

Well damn. Now he looked crazy, and he was old enough that his childhood habit of talking to animals was no longer endearing. He lifted the hand to shoulder height; And without the spoken command it hopped up to his shoulder; It's feet digging into the fabric of his shirt to gain good purchase, eventually giving up with an indignant squawk and fluttering up to nestle in his hair.

Gilbert smiled and scratched his neck as he rose from sitting once he was sure the small bird was comfortable, making sure to swipe the discarded coat from the bench for fear of what other restrictions his brother would place on him for yet another lost garment.

He then took a path in the opposite direct he had come from, hands in his pockets with the coat flung over his shoulder; Gott knows how much time he still had to waste, but it didn't really matter at this point.

"Hope you’re fucking comfortable, because I've got a helluva lot to say."

The Prussian laughed out into what anyone else would assume to be nothing; but he knew the day was about to get a hell of a lot more awesome.

***

1/64

64 prompt Challenge

2010-03-23T04:31:36Z

So, ganked this so I can make sure my Prussia!Muse never dies. <3 (Why yes, I do rp Hetalia.) I'll cross of them off as I finish each prompt.

The Theme List

1. 2 a.m.
2. metaphor
3. sky
4. lost scene
5. degrees
6. seize the day
7. opposite
8. passions run
9. connection
10. lull and storm
~~11. animal~~
12. children
13. we all float on
14. chess
15. duty
16. rip
17. missing time
18. crest
19. itch
20. explode
21. rise
~~22. crumble~~
23. range
24. fight/flight
25. acid
26. color
27. give
28. needle
29. locks
30. slope
31. correspondence
~~32. linger~~
33. charm
34. roads
35. hunger
36. reciprocity
37. kind
38. fruity
39. half-life
40. comedy of errors
~~41. tragedy~~
42. hope is the thing with feathers
43. empire
44. turpentine kisses and mistaken blows
45. rings
46. dust
47. every you, every me
48. project
49. adore
50. murmur
51. above
52. below
53. incalculable
54. wire
55. landslide
56. the beginning is the end is the beginning
57. door
58. enemy gate
59. stone
60. bright
61. stories
62. chime
63. laugh
64. hold