For I am crystal chrome

In Your Dreams (Beyblade/APH - Yuriy/Prussia, #28)

2008-12-30T16:36:59Z

Title: In your Dreams
Author: xtirpate
Pairing:Yuriy/Prussia
Fandom: Beyblade/APH
Rating: R for violence; language; sexual tension; ust
Theme: 28. Want.
Summary: Prussia gets retaliation for the humiliation Yuriy put him through... or so he thinks.
Disclaimer: Beyblade and Axis Powers Hetalia do not belong to me. Discedo setting does not belong to me. For more information on how and where, click here.

Instalments: 1st + 2nd + 3rd + 4th + 5th + 6th

++++++++++++++++++++

Crimson splattered the dark floor and once white boots fumbled back until the body fell against the wall. The boy fought to keep his balance but didn't succeed. He was so exhausted that his knees collapsed no matter how much he willed them not to and his body fell to the ground. There was blood and dirt in his hair and on his face and over his uniform. Some of it was his and some of it was Prussia's; and as went with the Nation who was now crouched down - his weight leaned on a forearm that he had over one knee. Glass was shattered all over the dirty cement ground they were now battling on. Planks of old wood, pipes, hooks, ropes, wires, crates and so on. They both were panting, and for the first time in two hours, maybe even three, Prussia's eyes looked away from his target and to the ground. He too was exhausted, but this fight was not over. Platinum hair also stained with blood and dirt; some of that was old and some was new. There was no water system here except for the lake which was now frozen but the Nation had gone through worse times.

Yuriy's eyes moved from the Nation to wonder around the warehouse in search for something, anything, that could make an advantage in this battle. He could finish it quickly with one bullet or two but he didn't want to end it quickly. Though desperate times called for desperate measures. It was a last resort for the boy. He wanted to finish this with makeshift weapons made from hand or with his hands on their own. So slowly, Yuriy climbed to his feet. He reached in front and slid down the zipper that was hidden at the side of the orange panel down his chest and abdomen. He let the top drop down so it hung around the belt at his waist. A tight blue sleeveless revealed beneath the snowsuit. Scarlets looked up. Son of a bitch didn't go down easily, he chuckled - laughed, and rose to his feet.

"Lets go, pighead," The redhead spoke with a fierce grin; his exhaustion making way for adrenalin once more.

The Nation took a step forward. Red tarnished the blue uniform he wore; his face and his hands.

"Bring it," he said low; prepared for incoming blows.

Prussia took a defencive side. He was just as exhausted as the boy was but he was determined to not be the one humiliated this time. He wanted to -- needed to finish this match right now if he wanted to win. That was the only option there was and losing to this dirty Russian again was not a choice. He saw leverage that the boy had created himself. Hahaha. HAHAHAHA. AAAHAHAHAHAHA!! Prussia's smile grew more wicked by the second as he swooped down almost too late to when Yuriy came in with a strong looking hook. He grabbed the hanging part of Yuriy's uniform and pulled back as he turned to power the momentum. Breath caught in the redhead's throat as he could do nothing against being tossed into a large pile of old rotting wooden crates. The large crash muffled any noise that the boy made and quickly buried him along with it.

The Nation took a step toward the pile of crates and fought off his knees wish to buckle in. His shoulders heavy, his head heavy, his everything heavy and so ready to do it but Prussia would not allow it. Not yet. He couldn't yet. Not until he saw what was of the boy, and saw his victory. Not until he looked down into the eyes of the defeated. He needed to see it, and only that relentless need kept him moving forward now toward that pile. For a moment, when he heard and saw no movement, he felt something thud. Although Prussia pushed it aside and continued forward.

"That's it?" The Nation mocked and kicked away one of the rotting crates - almost lost his balance in doing so but forced himself to refocus.

Was the boy dead? Unconscious? A strong strike against the side-back of Prussia's knee told him neither. The bastard was just fucking waiting. The Nation fell to his knees right into another blow to his gut that sent him doubling over and than over his back which had him face down into the dirty old concrete. Motherfucker. He should have know. Yuriy was, after all, Russian. Fucking iron pipe.

"Get up you pathetic waste," he said kicking the body over to lay on its back.

Crimson looked up at him with a hard exhale. He couldn't tell what he wanted.. right now. What he rally wanted right now. Yuriy wasn't sure how much longer he could even stay standing. Everything was blurry and he felt lightheaded, so he quickly made for another attack to the already bloodied face while he could and knock this bastard one once and for all. That had to be how to fix things... whatever he was fixing. Fucking.. Germans. No more mercy. No more games. No more. This was now war.

Unfortunate for the redhead, the pipe was caught with a gust of strength from his determination, Prussia knocked in the boys knees which sent the boy to crumble atop him. The iron pipe held strong in both's grasp, but Prussia added a little intensive for Yuriy to let go by smashing his head into the other's and than flipped them both over with Yuriy flat on his back. Actually, now that he saw this... his smirk didn't fade as he pushed the pipe against the boy's esophagus. The Nation didn't think about it, about anything but watching the enemy slip away into oblivious. It made his blood hot and heart beat fiercely. Even if death was useless here, he'd do it. He had to, he had to do it, he... he didn't know what else to do but this. He...

The sound of heavy choking breath filled the Nation's ears as Yuriy began to struggle and washed away any previous thoughts. Yuriy was too weakened to keep pushing upward against the weight of the Nation but true to the redhead, he wasn't giving up. Victory was all the mattered. The only thing that mattered and Prussia was hungry for victory as much as Yuriy was. No cruel taunts. No cold snipes. No words would ruin this moment of his superiority, of his retaliation and revenge and simply of his battle under his control showing his serf who was the stronger in his city.

The eyes that stared up at him now were filled with struggle, he could tell. They were pleading fear; and soon came the crying gasps that Prussia could hear were begging for mercy. He began to laugh again as he watched the boy's chest rise and fall with conflicted breaths; body squirmed below to no avail. He could have used his rapier, he could have used the gun that suited the boy's hips below him. He could have done it in so many ways, but after so much blood and sweat had been poured in to the fight tonight - one that seemed to be coming to a final end - Prussia didn't want to end it any other way but this. His blond hair stuck to a sweat glistened forehead that was slowly crystallizing in ice as his body began to cool. Fingers wrapped around the cold iron and continued to lean down.

Yuriy's hands finally slipped from the metal rod. His hips sluggishly rolled in attempt to move from under the Nation. His knee's tried to lift but was useless in doing so and his hands moved upward when everything else failed. Prussia watched ~~enamoured~~ amused. A typical Russian didn't know when they were beat and just kept trying and trying until they were completely wiped; torn limb by limb. He began to chuckle again as bloody fingers grabbed for the mildly damp and dirty locks of hair.

"You're such a stupid kid," he said in a whisper without realizing he even spoke aloud at all. Yuriy wasn't trying to win anymore; he knew he was defeated. The redhead was just trying to cause some suffering before his time was up, in any way possible.

"Cry you dog," he said as he leaned down more, "scream. and cry, and beg for my mercy." After this son of a bitch humiliated him, the Nation wanted nothing more but to return the favor.

...Which was what made him loosen up just when it looked like the boy was about to pass out. The rush of oxygen made Yuriy gasp a little and had him completely disorganized. It wasn't enough to end it like this Prussia decided as he took up the boy by his hair and tossed him like a doll onto the glass-sharded floor away from the crates. Heavy bastard and his seven inches taller and probably forty fucking pounds heavier. Luckily Yuriy didn't get to see the waver in Prussia's stance that almost had him collapse to one knee. Hahaha. He lifted a hand to wipe his forehead with a wrist before rising again toward the body that laid limply on the floor.

"Hey," Prussia called out and caught a glimpse of dirty fingers scratching at the ground. "Don't die on me yet."

The tone was low, and raspy; mainly because the Nation's wear was beginning to show. Though he didn't let it stop him. He walked over to the boy and planted his feet by slightly squirming hips. Fingers reached down to yank the suit right off of the bastard Russian, along with his boots. Haha. Left almost naked on the cold dirty floor; helpless and squirming. It was so tempting to just watch him for a little. Watch him worm for his pathetic little life.

But a country had to do what a country had to do, and so the Nation than pulled the boy up by his hair and carelessly slammed him against one of the many support beams around the warehouse. If the sudden lack of clothing didn't wake Yuriy up than the cold sure did. He snapped out of his semi-conscious state with a yelp. A hard pant. His head tipped back for a moment before his body went to cave forward again. Prussia wasn't about to allow that. He kept the boy's body strait against the cold metal with a nearby rope and tied it tight. Scarlet looked over a cold bare shoulder. He was tempted to blindfold the bastard with something, but he wanted Yuriy to see who won. He witness his own humiliation and defeat.

The scene was becoming familiar with a twist that Prussia liked a lot better.

"Look at you." The voice rang deeply as he slid from behind the boy and to his side. It took effort to gloat but god dammit he was going to gloat and rub it in the boy's face that he had won this and the last battle was just luck and that was all!

"Almost naked and stuck in a dirty warehouse," he laughed, "suiting for a dirty dog like you. I should get you a collar with the word bitch on it. Suka, isn't that how you say it? Haha. Little bitch boy."

The Nation came to his knees when it was getting hard to keep balance by squatting - he tried to hide the fact that it was more a cave than an action of his own pursuit. Not as if Yuriy would notice. The boy couldn't even keep his eyes open.

"Look at me," he demanded. "Let me see your utter defeat in those pathetic eyes."

Yuriy's body felt so heavy, but he would see this to the end, even if it was to his own end. The young Russian refused to say anything. Refused to give in. Victory or death, he wasn't afraid of it. Prussia didn't scare him. To prove the point. the boy forced his eyes to open. Forced those tired beaten blues to stare right at the gloating reds.

Prussia's brows ebbed; he'd almost fallen into the others body and really hoped Yuriy didn't pick up on it. Considering how beaten the young one was, he didn't. This god damn motherfucking... RUSSIAN. Looking at him like that as if he was superior!

"Stupid Russian serf," the Nation continued, leaning on one arm. Irritation filled his voice. "You're like the rest of them. You'll limp on until we cut off your legs, and than you'll drag yourselves with your arms until we cut them off too, and than you'll worm your way around until the pathetic sight of you makes us feel pity and we have mercy. We have to slaughter you all for you to get the point."

"Should I have mercy, serf? Should I just kill you again and again until you finally realize who is superior?" His tone was weakening, but it was enough for Yuriy to recognize and to it he laughed.

The laughter made Prussia absolutely livid. Laughing. Even now. Yuriy was laughing. His muscled tensed. His Rapier was... it was so far away but there was a sharpened metal pike in reaching distance just begging to tear though some innocent white flesh. This kids body was too perfect. Someone needed to fix that. What kind of soldier had a body unmarred? Give the boy a little experience if he wanted to be a soldier so damn bad. If he wanted to play with the big kids.

"Kill me you bastard," the Russian breathed as he watched an arm reach out for the rusted metal pike.

He couldn't deny the thought made his heart beat faster but he would not and could not beg for his life. Not for anyone and definitely not for this German pig. Prussia didn't understand the words in any logical manner but it was almost as if he had in fact heard and understood them. His eyes rolled back before his body managed to straiten.

"What was that?" the air crystallized before him.

"Kill me," he breathed.

His lips began to shiver on their own accord as with the rest of his body. Shoulders rolled and squirmed in a last attempt to escape. Prussia just chuckled and leaned forward almost forgetting how absolutely tired he was. It might not have been what the Nation wanted to hear but it wasn't like he could understand whatever filth the other was spouting. All that mattered was the tone and that tone sounded a little like... his thoughts were interrupted when cold lips pressed against his own.

Wh-what?! How did.. and what was.. and there was no time to think about that either because he felt his grip on the metal rod tug. Sh-shit this.. fucking god damn.. Mm.. Prussia pulled in... just a little closer... kissed back just... a little... what - what?! no, no that wasn't... how he wanted to think about this. Wasn't what he wanted to do...

"You cheap bastard," he whispered hard against the boy's lips and felt the redhead smirk. "You should learn to tie your prisoners up a little better, schweinhund." Yuriy responded as he sharply jutted the metal pike forward.

Fuck.. fuck -- Yuriy left him no choice. He grabbed the pike and drove it through the boys abdomen. If he hadn't than Yuriy would have done that to him. He had no ch-- why was he even justifying... What the hell.. was going on...?

The boy gasped. His eyes widening and tears brimming his lashes. Finally. Yuriy finally looked frightened. Now that he was literally second away from dying. He was going to bleed to death like this and Prussia almost felt to leave the poor bastard to suffer into his timely death. Sit there and watch him slowly die and gloat the whole time, but he didn't. He pulled the boy forward and onto his back; swiftly lowering down to a knee, he drove the sharpened pike through the boys heart finishing him immediately.

And than he laughed as he leaned his weight on that pike driven through white flesh now stained with crimson. His brows furrowed and face scrunched upward and he laughed because he wasn't sure whether he felt this was a victory or... he didn't know what this was, but he'd say it was a --

Scarlets shot open. There was an annoying drip that sounded from somewhere in the room that slowly brought him to further consciousness. A classroom where he had taken home to within the high school he had decided to be his capitol building... Slowly, he rose from the makeshift bed that he had made. His heart was rapid. His skin felt warm and sweaty. Prussia rose a hand to his forehead. N-no way... and covered his reddening face. A dream. It had.. all been a dream and...

"Aaah!!" The Nation screamed, "why are you in my dreams you dirty Russian bastard?!"

This is How we Pray (Beyblade/APH - Yuriy/Prussia, #04)

2008-12-25T22:18:58Z

Title: This is How we Pray
Author: xtirpate
Pairing:Yuriy/Prussia
Fandom: Beyblade/APH
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, and UST.
Theme: 04. Hate
Summary: Prussia is confused and goes to pray while no one is watching, Yuriy comes to join in the prey.
Disclaimer: Beyblade and Axis Powers Hetalia do not belong to me. Discedo setting does not belong to me. For more information on how and where, click here.

Instalments: 1st + 2nd + 3rd + 4th + 5th

++++++++++++++++++++

Someone actually listened to him for once when he stated that he wanted the perish to be cleaned up and rebuilt. When Prussia had first come here it was in a devistation, but as he - hesitantly - stated that he would help in the efforts, they got it done in record time. The Nation wasn't the only one who wanted it rebuilt; he just seemed to be the only one who had an active bother to do it. This place was so damn lethargic and comfortable with their stupid sedetary little lives that they were leading in such shitty conditions contently. It still made no sense to him; one problem out of fifteenmillionhundredbillion problems existing on this rock. Whatever. Prussia didn't care anymore, or at least not right now. All he cared about right now was getting the perish cleaned up and behold it had been done (more or less). The Nation stood outside of its steps proudly as scarlets looked over the familiar holy building. Ah, that was better. One building out of many was at least somewhat suitable now.

"Scat, serfs," he said cockily, "your assistance is no longer necessary. Go make yourselves useful or something."

That got him a few whiplashes, punches, verbal snipes and arguments - but they all eventually left, and when no one was around anymore he walked up the steps to enter after issuing a few grumbles under his breath. The familiar surroundings was a comfort he wouldn't dare admit he needed really desperately right now. In amidst everything that completely demolished his understanding of everything. He couldn't understand how everyone seemed to be so comfortable here. He just couldn't.

Two weeks.

Their fighting had only grown in intensity and that -- that night kept coming up in his mind when he was alone, thinking. As he thought about how to get this place back up on its feet somehow he thought: hey, that dumb Russian, and than one thing turned into another and he hated it and denied it. Than that fucking Russian would come up in his thoughts at the most inconvenient times at complete random. He couldn't wash it away no matter how much he tried, which only made him more frustrated and angry, which he in turn took out on the stupid little Russian serf. Though it seemed the tones of voice in the other that he was doing the same thing too... So he entered the holy building after double checking that no one was around. Not like he was embarrassed or anything; he just didn't want any bastard coming along with some sneak attack while he was here. The frustration creased further on his brows as he walked through the sanctuary toward the alter and slowly lowered to his knees. His eyes closed and he softly breathed.

"Holy father," Prussia quietly began. "Lend me your ears. I don't know where to start. I fear I'm loosing direction." - "I don't come to you too often, so I'd really like some guidance from you." Gag. He couldn't believe things had... he'd been in worse situations hadn't he? Yes, but... he always had an army at least.

The Nation sighed quietly and was silent for a moment before he started speaking once more; "nothing makes sense here. I'm so out of place. The serfs here are strange and I - I don't know how to handle it."

Vermilions reopened. The expression on Prussia's face was honestly confused and maybe a little concerned. What kind of Nation was he if he couldn't get his serfs to follow his command? If, in emergency, he couldn't protect them. If he couldn't make his house livable and healthy and prosperous? If he couldn't bring his land glory... why were they denying him? All of them contently denying him. Why didn't they get it...? He was here for them, he was now their country so long as they were on his land they were his. God dammit. Okay, so maybe he made more emphasis on the fact that they were his and they should listen to every word he said (which they should); but be damned, he would be there right at the front lines fighting for them if they ever needed it. That whole rampant murderers ordeal? He could have dealt with that easily! Prussia didn't understand, he just didn't understand this at all.

The Nation sighed and let his head hang again for a moment before rolled up to his feet, and with a small pivot toward the doors-- blinked as the doors were kicked open a second later by the very person Prussia really didn't want to see right now. Though it didn't show at all as a smirk crossed his lips watching the redhead march forward. Prussia couldn't help chuckling a little. Wow, he looked livid. What happened? The Nation wondered. The Russian's eyes were sharp and deadly cold. Kinda.. kinda almost frightening actually, eheheh... heheheh...

"Hey, hey, hey, serf." He took a step back without even realizing it, "you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today or what?"

Prussia's brows ebbed inward a little and for a moment; the Nation looked a bit uneasy. Eheheh. what the fuck. This son of a bitch looks like he's out for blood.. Well, well. Hahaha! A grin rose when the front of his new uniform was grabbed by a fist. Scarlet met ice blue. Previous thoughts disappeared with a promise of spilling some violence and getting out his frustration with some good aggression. This made things a little better. He almost wanted a fist to crack against his face first. Wake him up a little. Come on you little bitch.

"Save your pig language," Yuriy snapped and turned; tossed the man in front of him, "for begging."

S-shit. He tumbled back a little and tried to balance but was knocked back again by a strong push with a cold laugh. His cheeks reddened just a touch from embarrassment but the Nation quickly scrambled to his feet and took a stance, retaliating. It was caught with ease and a fist slammed into the shorter man's stomach. f-fuck, what was this?! His eyes widened a little as he doubled over the younger Russian's fist and was given a swift knee to his face followed by a back hand making him tumble against the ground again. God dammit. How...?! He - hahahe. Prussia watched those ice blues narrow as the boy leaned down to pull him back up to his feet again. Yuriy was more than just livid for whatever reason.

"H-hey--" He felt his heart sink for a second, but dismissed the reason he first thought for just a fret for his own -- haha! Not even that! Dammit.. this stupid serf kept making him feel things he couldn't make an excuse for. Yuriy was laughing that cold cruel laugh that made Prussia wonder if this kid had some psychotic disorder; but than again he was Russian. Every Russian had some whacked out problems. Truth was, everyone was scared shitless of Russia; except Prussia of course. heheheh... He wasn't struggling in this kids sissy little grasp, hah! He could get out of this! Hahahah! Ouch. Prussia stumbled a little to the side.

"Why the hell are you always following me around?! Don't you have something better to do?" Prussia was panicking, but not because his ass was getting kicked by some stupid little Russian. He saw similarity in this familiarity and -- and god dammit -- and god dammit all. What the hell was he thinking, this was a fight and he would fight! Yeah! Slowly, a grin slipped over his lips.

"Since you're so uneducated in language, I'll have to talk to you in a way you understand," Yuriy breathed in a low tone. It wasn't a tone Prussia had heard him use before. It threw the Nation off for just a second and his expression showed it. Though such a thing wouldn't take alter his opinion that a challenge was a challenge and a fight was a fight and he would win it. It only spurred him forward because if a fight was what Yuriy wanted, what he needed, what they both wanted and needed, than he'd give it. He'd never decline a fight. Never had, and never would. Never could. It was what he lived to do; what they both lived to do.

Prussia laughed as he took a step back and got in to the mood of the fight, "what got you so mad, little Russian?" Just filler, he wasn't actually interested . The tone was teasing.

He stepped out of the next fist that came toward his face and matched the blows. It felt good. The Nation couldn't remember right now what he'd even come to this building for. Yuriy had gotten stronger and learned Prussia's methods of fighting. He needed to find another way to knock the shit out of the little serf; and soon became completely careless or ignorant to the fact that they were in in a holy place at all. Even when he was pushed against a pew and brought the boy down with him.

Yuriy wasn't in the mood for talking and so he didn't bother to answer on account that it'd likely be a repeat of what he said in the beginning anyways. His body was pulled down and back hit the floor between two pews. Although unlike the last time - for a split second he could have sworn he'd seen it replay - Yuriy didn't stay on the bottom too long. He reached up, smashed the Nation's head into the back of a pew, and brought him down under his body by tugging violently on the blond hair. A grunt of pain rang through the boys ears, and his eyes saw it paint the pale features of Prussia's face, and at that moment Yuriy couldn't recall anything that looked as incredible. He really couldn't.

A heavy exhale left the boy before he began to laugh. It felt so incredibly good to have this motherfucker below him for once. While he had all those people's eyes on him - sure, they didn't like him, but at least they paid attention to him. Hated? Who cared if you were hated. Who cared if you were feared? Yuriy had only spoken about being used to irritate or bother Prussia. He thought about the issue the same as the Nation did, but since the Nation reacted that way Yuriy took to denying it. Though really? Who cared, as long as it gave you the power you needed or wanted, who cared? Whatever. They were all going to be destroyed anyways. Everyone that got in his way; in Blitzkrieg's way; in the Russian force's way - Voltaire and Boris - Biovolt; would go down. The only reason he'd ever affiliate with Rei or Takao was advantage and leverage and than when the opportunity arose he'd crush them both. When they ran out of their use, they ran out of their life. That was how he was taught how things should work. It made sense to him.

Prussia -- he was almost like Kai; that bastard. What did Kai have that Yuriy didn't? Why was Kai always better liked? Why could, no matter how hard he tried, never beat that fucking traitor; and there was the real hook. He was a traitor who fled from their base after tha accident with Black Dranzer. What a wuss; and completely unconcerned about anyone but himself. Everyone gave him their undying attention because of admiration, or hatred, or jealousy, or whatever. Yuriy was used to being important though. At least having a known name, but here... nothing. He hated it. He was nothing here. Nothing.

And he was ~~upset~~angry; and he barely even knew what he was doing. A fair amount of damage he could guess from the feeling of blood on his hands, and sounds of cough-choking. Yuriy was too enveloped in the feeling of his aggression that nothing else mattered. Not where he was, or why he was fighting -- nothing mattered but this. He just kept doing, kept doing until his almost mindlessness left a weakness in his attacks and Prussia retaliated with a strong fist that knocked the wind right out of the boy and made him keel to the side. The Nation scooted back a moment to collect his breath (and face). After that moment, with a hand covering his nose that was undoubtedly broken, he also laughed.

Fuck... hahaha... This was awesome. He was going to tear the living shit out of this boy. Crack. Prussia snapped the bone back in place and spat out some crimson before poorly shaking the blood from his hand. Fire-red looked at the boy who began to lift from his spot. At this moment, Prussia barely noticed what the air about the young redhead said and if he did it was promptly forgotten or discarded.

He called out a taunt instead, "tired already? Hahaha! You pathetic Russian, you should just leave while you can. Retreat like the little sissy boy you are. Retreat and save your weak little ass."

Yuriy's eyes lifted and cold ice narrowed to a deathly sharp glare. It was matched by a glare of blood-red and a vicious grin. "You could prove me wrong," Prussia's tone was reminescent to slowly dying embers, "be smart and walk away."

In the end, it didn't matter if he understood Prussia or not because he would do the same thing he was going to do now if he could have understood what was said. There was no way he was going to back down from this, so he made his way forward. The nation coldly laughed. 'Course he wouldn't back down. He wouldn't be Russian if he backed down and walked away the stupid little boy. What a pathetic creature. Determined; but pathetic. But determined. Pathetically determined

"Come on than," Prussia never felt any more alive than he did in moments like these, "I'll show you what a Prussian can do you stupid serf." Especially what THE country of Prussia could do. "Again."

He was eager to get his hands dirty and this boy, he'd give him credit for this at east, never failed to supply him with a god amount of blood and dirt. At least he was useful for something.

Yuriy wondered as he crossed that distance and issued another round of attacks; lost in the adrenalin of yet another fight. Sweat and blood an almost meaningless poured from the both of them; bruises and broken bones began to decorate their bodies but both of them didn't even pay it any attention.

Yuriy wondered if this was how Boris felt. This undying hatred. This absolute rage. This need, and yearn to see someone break and suffer under his control. It wasn't entirely like Yuriy to feel this way but it wasn't entirely unlike him either. Desperate times called for desperate measures and he was desperate to tear this motherfucker down into the ground; the reasons were many and right now they were meaningless too. He didn't care if this man was a personification of some country that was long gone. It was all completely meaningless. Power was power and victory was victory and this time - this time - it would be his.

Their battle continued with a sharp tug that tossed the redhead over a pew. His back hit the seat and slid, but the boy quickly somersaulted backwards and got to his feet. He made no hesitation to run toward the Nation with the illusion that he was going to attack head on, but instead he turned to the side last minute and swiftly knocked into the mans side with a foot. Prussia took the attack in stride by grabbing the leg and pulling until the boy was once again flat on his back. There was no going back for either of them at this point. They were both completely enveloped in the heat of this moment, and the next moments that came to follow and it seemed like they would continue this way until they could no longer coherently do anything. Prussia normally would have taken a step or two back and demanded the other to his feet if he was being level headed, but not now. He had little issue with kicking the Russian pup while he was down until the bastard grabbed his leg and bit him.

What a motherfucker! The Nation swore out loud in a slight laugh - it was ironic, it really was. This bastard biting him was so ironic. His fist knocked the boys head a couple of times and none too lightly, but Yuriy was determined and managed to knock Prussia off balance. Once again the Nation was below the young redhead, and once again Yuriy was looking down at him with a cruel smile and an ice-cold chuckle. Prussia let slip a quiet pant and made his move, but it was matched. Dammit.

"Not this time pighead," Yuriy said as he crawled to his feet and tugged the man up with him just to push the Nation inward more into the building. Crunch; another fist hit and made the country waver. What the fuck was this?! Prussia thought, but had no time to think more on it. He managed to get a hit in but it barely seemed to slow the Russian down. Soon he was knocked against the alter and to make things worse, by the time he'd realized he was cornered his face was down on the ground under the heay weight of the redhead.

"Are you going to beg for mercy?" That tone. Yuriy was speaking in that tone. Okay now he was panicking.

"Hahaha! Whatever you want you'll never get!" He began to struggle. God dammit. God dammit all! How dare this little surf do this to him, Prussia! How dare he. He'd pay for it - oh, he would. His day would come! "You cheap bastard!"

Yuriy ignored whatever the hell Prussia was saying and reached for some old long cords that were laying around. He forcingly pushed the Nation against the alter after his body had shifted and wasted no time in tying him up. Prussia felt his heart sink and his skin turn a little warm. Oh.. no... no no no no NO!! No this couldn't be happening!! Aaaaaaaah what the fuck this couldn't be happening!! His heart beat was racing as he watched the boy come around from behind him and crouch down into his line of view right over his the Nation's lap.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He didn't remember that Yuriy spoke very little German for a moment, "god dammit untie me you perverted Russian dog!" Prussia spoke in a heavy exhale after squirming a little and hating that Yuriy was watching him. More so, he hated that he was watching him like that - amusement in his eyes. The boy looked like he was thoroughly enjoying Prussia's humiliation, and he was. He was very much enjoying the Nation's humiliation.

"Keep talking pighead," Yuriy said with a smirk, his eyes almost enamoured by the scene infront of him. "Just like that."

"S-stop looking at me like that!" oh my god what the fuck what the fuck this couldn't be happening oh my god. Yuriy was definitely Russian, there was no doubt about it. Not even a single bit. This just settled it. He was stupid like Russia and he was creepy like Russia. Prussia almost flinched when he felt a finger on his face. Yuriy scratched off a bit of the drying blood. AAAH WHAT THE FUCK?!?!

The boy couldn't quite undertand it... this was Boris' place and line of work but he had power here, and power was Yuriy's territory. He didn't care how he got it right now. Their traits were very interchangeable. This was power. This was a very satisfying power and slowly the boy reached for his gun.

"Know what this is, old man?" He asked as the weapon was brought up between them.

F-fucking -- holy shit it was -- it kinda looked like -- oh my god... this little bastard was going to kill him?! This little bastard-- it didn't matter whether or not Prussia would be brought back to life if he died. The fact remained that this fucking serf was going to -- "What the fuck..." he breathed out; Yuriy breathed in as if savouring those words because it was too good not to. The tone of Prussia's voice was nice. He could listen to that stupid pig language if it was spoken in this manner.

"You... you fucking," there was a pause as the tone of his voice dropped from mild shock to something that could almost be called pleading in a sort of panicked yelling kind of way, "let me go you bastard what the hell are you doing?!"

Yuriy brought the nuzzle of his pistol up under the Nation's jaw, and spoke, "you know..." he said, "German doesn't sound so bad when you speak it like this."

The boy lowered from a crouch to his knee's and leaned in closer. Prussia wanted to scream. He wanted to flat out scream. His body struggling and lips moving sputtering nonsense that Yuriy couldn't understand anyhow but at this moment he really didn't mind just listening.

"What is it you're saying Pighead?" He breathed maliciously into an ear and Prussia felt that tone run cold through his body making his scream catch in his throat for a moment to be replaced with a shudder. Motherfucker fucking -- fuck...

"You freak!!" He finally managed out after a moment. He was panting, and five million thoughts ran through his head, and he wanted to smash this serfs head in for such an extreme level of humiliation but this bastard must have had good experience with typing people up because -- he really didn't want to think about that, never mind.

Yuriy couldn't understand this feeling. Watching the other's cheeks flush with a bright red -- was he blushing? Prussia was blushing as he issued his pathetic little snips and screamed and freaked out with his, 'oh my god's' and 'what the fuck's' and 'you fucking serf get away from me' and 'what the fuck you freak' -- and Yuriy couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he pressed the nuzzel of his gun a little harder against that reddening skin.

Prussia's reaction was perfect: a half squeak half squeal so incredibly suiting. Yuriy laughed and slid his eyes toward the Nation who was avoiding eye contact at all costs. He'd fix this.

"Look at me, or I'll blow your jaw off," he said with a nudge of the gun and the message got across. Prussia's red hues slid toward the blue ones before a white gloved hand gripped the under of the Nation's jaw. He let the gun slide down the other's chest. It was at that point where everything really hit the Nation and he knew exactly what Yuriy wanted, and -- fuck...

To beg.

Yuriy's lips came ungodly close to Prussia's own - . . . - "Sh-shit you.. you fucking pervert -- god damn serf..." He was almost trembling... with what? Why did Yuriy even question with what? So close... He needed to be admired by someone, needed that attention. Needed to know he was important and that he had control and power. His heart thumped in his chest and he could almost hear Prussia's thump too.

"You son of a bitch..."
"Beg."
"Fucking serf..."
"Beg me for mercy."
"I... f-fuck.." The Nation trembled, his throat closed up for a moment. This couldn't be fucking happening. "P-please, don't..." Oh my god... he couldn't believe -- what the fuck this was... Prussia wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or cry. Maybe both. However that was the tone Yuriy was looking for. "I'm s-sorry," you fucking creeper, "don't.. don't kill me." Perfect. His lips tugged up into a grin and he - painfully - drew away.

... painfully.

The boy put his weapon away, and rolled up to his feet, and turned. Slowly, he began to walk away. He'd probably never kill Prussia. Not here. Death was meaningless here. It also, heheh... would take away the only thing that kept him half-sane.

"H-hey.. wait!" What the HELL?! .. "You fucking serf get back here and untie me!"

Yuriy kept walking with a smirk on his face that Prussia could almost feel.

"God dammit you dirty Russian dog, I swear on the life of the Holy Roman Empire that YOU WILL PAY! You will I swear it your time will come serf! Just you wait--" Slam.

Fuck... he struggled. How the hell did this serf manage to tie him up-- no, not thinking about it.

Sigh.

What the Fuck (Beyblade/APH - Yuriy/Prussia, #11)

2008-12-23T23:10:53Z

Title: What the Fuck
Author: xtirpate
Pairing:Yuriy/Prussia
Fandom: Beyblade/APH
Rating: PG-13 for violence; language and sexual tension.
Theme: 11. Forget.
Summary: A typical everyday fight takes an unexpected turn; they want to pretend they'll forget it ever happened, but forgetting isn't as easy as they want it to be.
Disclaimer: Beyblade and Axis Powers Hetalia do not belong to me. Discedo setting does not belong to me. For more information on how and where, click here.

Instalments: 1st + 2nd + 3rd + 4th

++++++++++++++++++++

"Oh, yeah?!" a fist curled around the back of the redhead's hair. Yuriy's hands bound around Prussia's scarf-thing-whatever-the-fuck-it-was (it looked retarded); and pulled down so that his forehead was against the others, staring down the whole three inches he had on prussia's height.

"That's right," he chuckled coldly, "you got your ass served to you by five people. In this shithole of a place, haha. Hahahaha." Wasn't Prussia the one who had taken all all of Europe? For one reason or another, Yuriy was sensing a little exaggeration there.

"Shut up!" The Nation retaliated and snapped the pale wrist away from him. Quickly he followed up and shoved the boy against the wall ready to bring his knuckles in to greet the Russian's face. Whatever Yuriy was saying, Prussia was sure it was something he didn't want to hear. Actually, he didn't want to hear Yuriy's voice at all. Not unless it was in the tone of some whimpering little sissy. Haha. Like a little helpless boy. Yeah, than Prussia would just love to hear him and that backwater language he spoke; dirty Russian. He could listen to that all day.

Yuriy's brows frowned as he hit the wall about a foot or two away, but wasn't about to let that follow up blow land. He shifted out of the way and brought in a strong hook to the Nation's side which made the Nations features twist a moment before a smirk filled his lips. Prussia had gotten better (again) at hand-to-hand combat with having such a good little punching bag to practise on. Yuriy had noticed this too, but Yuriy had also improved. They were often very closely matched in personal strength and skill that it seemed the only thing Prussia had that Yuriy did not was the long years of experience. How the fuck did that happen? One was some sixteen-year-old stupid little serf and the other was Prussia, a Nation with well over a hundred years of battle history under his belt. Fuck you. Fuck you, you fucking dirty Russian piece of shit.

"I'll show you who's superior," he said, and grabbed the boys arm to turn his body with a hard shove - stomach against the wall. Prussia could only laugh at the boy's struggle - beautiful, it was beautiful - "Again and again. As many times as I have to."

His blood reds narrowed and swiftly turned - re-grasping those red locks - he lowered to a knee. The bundle of red hair and body connected to it stumbled, and unable to get out of the Nation's grasp he came crashing down with Prussia's arm guiding the way to the ground. Face down into the cold worn floorboards with a hard smack. A scream tore from the boy's lips and in return an almost soft smile replaced the smirk Prussia was wearing. He looked like he was in euphoria, and oh - he was. He really, really was. Finally he heard something resembling a cry of pain. Finally. Oh, and no higher power existing in the world could ever testify for this sin tonight; for the complete indulgence he was going to partake in. How glorious it was. It was the most satisfying moment of his life since he'd arrived here. Prussia wanted to savour it or better yet: make it happen again, and make it louder. Yes. Laughter caught in Prussia's throat and his smile widened to something unmistakably malicious. His eyes filled with something undoubtedly vicious and lustful. He curled his fingers in to the red below, jerked his head up and slammed it back into the ground again. A rough and dry exhale was what he heard this time.

"What was that you were saying, serf?" Prussia almost cooed as Yuriy gasped, panted, choked up some blood and had no time at all to retaliate. He was quickly pushed onto his back and trapped beneath the Nation's body. It felt so god damn good.

D-dammit. Again... Ice blues stared up at the looming figure over him. In the dim light, it was hard to see details, but those fire-reds stood out. Again. This can't be happening again. Why... why am I so weak. Yuriy was determined, and quickly made to attack but was matched with ease. He struggled - panicked. Loosing control, he was always loosing control and he hated it! Prussia was too strong. How... where was his power coming from? Was Yuriy really this pathetic? No - hahah, he frowned. For a moment there was something almost like fear in his melting ice blues. The Nation was just flesh and blood just like he was. Prussia saw that fear and it only made his grin more wicked; "Gunna cry little boy?"

Adrenalin was the answer. The thing the Prussia fed on in battle; the riveting thrill of warfare that drove him to strongly march onward. Adrenalin filled The Nation's veins with life and strength that nothing else could and in this particular situation; this - something he had been craving for far more than he'd ever realize or own up to... He hadn't felt stronger in a long time. This was perfect. This was too perfect. He ached to see this little bitch whine like the sissy Russian boy he was. The redhead swallowed and narrowed his eyes as the Nation pulled down close to an ear - You're mine. - his one hand moved toward the side of Yuriy's abdomen to pin him down in one place, and his body moved accordingly to this goal of making sure the little twit beneath him wouldn't be able to squirm out of his grasp anytime soon.

"Scream louder you little shit," was said low, in German; Yuriy felt the tone of Prussia's voice sink right through him. "I want to hear you scream until your throat goes dry."

Violently, possessively, his lips met the one's below. Prussian leaned all of his weight down on the boy below him; as if the lock of lips didn't already make it hard to breathe... and kissed him with a shocking amount of intensity. He had no idea where it came from. If you asked him now, or even later one, the Nation wouldn't know what possessed him to do it. It was definitely not what he first had planned to do. He'd probably blame one of the damn serfs in this wretched planet and their weird abilities to do weird things to people and make weird shit he'd never heard of or seen and crap that didn't even make any resemblance of logical sense. Yeah, that was it. That was definitely it. That was definitely why he was kissing this stupid Russian boy. Irritating, pathetic, and weak little brat. Fuck he hated him. Hated him. Prussia would find out who was behind this bullshit, and so help them when he did!

Yuriy's body went stiff and his heart launched up from his chest to catch in his throat. What... what was he doing?! Why wasn't he pulling away? Why wasn't Prussia pulling away?! Why weren't they fighting anymore? Why wasn't he pushing Prussia away?! Why did his fingers curl into the shoulders above - sliding to his back and holding on for dear life; and why did he... why did he kiss back. As if he really wanted it because he - really wanted it; this fucking German was... Why was his heart beating so fast and his skin warming so quickly. Was he, blushing? No, haha, no. Yuriy didn't... blush. (He was blushing). Wolborg was right -- fucking fuck fuck.

The boy's understanding of -- defences against - everything shattered in a matter of second and all it took was this. Months of built up tension poured into these few fleeting moments and he felt his body tremble beneath the Nation's strength. Yuriy didn't -- he couldn't -- dealing with this... he couldn't deal with this... he was a soldier; he'd never -- never even thought... but his fingers continued to curl in and pull down possessively, roughly; he kissed back just as intensely. The harder Yuriy's grip came to be - his fingers digging through the material wanting to feel the skin beneath it; the harder Prussia's push on both side-abdomen and within fire-red locks became. A fight. A fight for dominance even here and neither would even stop to think about what was happening until they were both out of breath. Their bodies -- disgustingly close and tangled in a knot that attempted to best out the other -- refused to listen to any 'reasoning' their minds told it to. S-stop.. before it went any further.. he needed to stop. Prussia pulled away.

Son of a bitch, the Nation thought. Swearing was a good thing to do right now - the only thing he could do in some sort of coherent fashion right now. How could he... how had he... justifying this was -- fuck; he didn't want this. He didn't -- not with some stupid little serf, not with a Russian, not with anyone! He liked being alo-- what was he... why was he even thinking -- ? His skin felt warm. This wasn't... Prussia was a Nation. A fighter, what the fuck was... what the hell had he just done? Ahhhh! what the hell happened?! He stayed here just an inch away from the boy below stunned at what he had just done.

"This has to be what going insane feels like," the one below breathed out once their lips had parted for air -- that was... - into the lips above - breathtaking - not like Prussia would understand - what the fuck was he thinking?; but the Nation said the same thing; his scarlets, for the moment, were something different from locked away and covered in a hunger for blood and dominance. He didn't know what it was; this stupid serf. He couldn't understand how, how -- the only sensible reason was, "I'm going crazy, and it’s your fault. You fucking Russian brat."

He wanted to scream, 'what the hell are you doing to me?!' but couldn't find the words. They should have been so easy to find, too - but they weren't. All he could do at this moment was breathe. Prussia pulled away with a creak from the old floorboards and slowly rose to his feet. He didn't even hit the kid for good measure - for doing this to him. It was completely his fault, Yuriy's, stupid Russian serf. He felt his knees tremble for just a second and promptly pushed that second out of existence. What the fuck. The Nation looked almost shell shocked for a moment as it began to sink in. What the fuck. He exhaled, albeit jaggedly; staring at that stupid Russian who looked just as shocked. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. What the fuck just happened.

"Don't look at me like that, serf," his demanding tone covering up any uneasiness and confusion he felt - what the fuck - "heheh, you look pathetic."

"You just kissed me," Yuriy's tone was still shocked - maybe a little breathless - as he shuffled to sit up and lean against the wall near by - his body sore from their fight not too long ago.

"I did not," Prussia quickly dismissed it. He didn't know what he was dismissing. A lucky guess maybe, but Prussia didn't care if it made sense as long as the tone came across as an accurate whiplash to whatever, that was fine.

He needed to go. Right. Now. Needed to leave. Go. Get. Leave. Okay, leaving. The Nation turned away with that all too fake sense of importance in his movements. The heel of his boot, the creaks of the wood beneath him, the shuffling of material around his body - all these sounds were disgustingly loud as if the volume on the world has been turned down and the volume on Prussia had been cranked to the top. Fuck, Yuriy cursed under his breath as he exhaled. Fuck.

"I'll spare your sorry sissy ass this time, serf." That tone in the Nations voice was familiar, comfortable - Yuriy sighed a little in relief and closed his eyes for a moment. Thank god. "You should be grateful for my mercy on your pathetic little life, Russian; and don’t go expecting it to happen too often. Not unless you beg for it like the little dog you are." Yuriy was getting used to these words being tossed at him. Whatever they were (though he pieced together a few of the words and picked up on some others) they were, in some strange way, comforting. -- Nothing is going to change, right? Nothing is going to change. I need to know that nothing will change.

Prussia made his way to the door and opened it with a careless swing, though he stopped in the doorway. There was a moment of silence. Everything stopped. Everything stopped completely. Yuriy lifted two fingers to his neck to check for a pulse and make sure he was even still breathing. Then to his lips. He could still feel them there. What . . . the hell was that about? He was going crazy. Yuriy was sure of it. He was sure that he was going crazy and it was Prussia's fault.

"Don't go spreading any lies, Russian," he turned his head over a shoulder to look at the sad little heap sitting against the wall; he looked dead serious and his tone was complete ice: "I'll kill you."

Click.

Prussia wondered down the hallway of the apartment building almost lost. His arrogant trot dropped the second he closed that door and was safe from prying eyes. The Nation made it a few more steps away from the door when he stopped and leaned against the wall. What the fuck. What the fuck was this place doing to him. What the hell did he just do. His eyes wide; stared at the floor. Inhale. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. He couldn't even... couldn't even piece together why, there was absolutely no way he could dance around this one other than just to... force himself to forget. Pretend it never happened and move on.

Yuriy stared at the closed door for a long time before a slow grin came over the boys lips. Heheh. His brows furrowed. His knees came up to his chest and his chin tucked inward. His fingers were trembling around the white material of his suit. Exhale.

Better off Alone (Beyblade/APH - Yuriy/Prussia, #24)

2008-12-23T22:59:57Z

Title: Better off Alone
Author: xtirpate
Pairing:Yuriy/Prussia
Fandom: Beyblade/APH
Rating: PG-13 to be safe; very small hints of abuse.
Theme: 24. Lonely
Summary: Prussia hates Discedo. He's lonely, cold, and badly wounded. Yuriy finds him head first in the snow unconscious. So begins the internal debate of both Nation and stupid Russian serf. Until Wolborg decides to put in her say. Denial ensues.
Disclaimer: Beyblade and Axis Powers Hetalia do not belong to me. Discedo setting does not belong to me. For more information on how and where, click here.

Instalments: 1st + 2nd + 3rd

++++++++++++++++++++

Prussia laid on the church steps; bleeding, and sore. The frozen ground beneath him didn't matter as much as how much his body hurt which didn't matter as much as how much nothing made any sense here. The Nation laughed - shit- and frowned immediately after. His brows knit downward in frustration, and pain. Haha, got scrapped up pretty badly. This place and these people... He didn't understand. It all made no sense. Scarlets looked up at the snow covered sky. It made no sense at all. Nothing here made any sense. He'd commanded an powerful and glorious army for centuries, why would no one want to be a part of that glory he could reenact here? Completely alien. Everything. And it... and he felt...

Cold.

The Nation tried not to make an expression of pain as he slowly sat up and wrapped his arms loosly around himself. He could feel any wounds that were forming were already freezing. A hot breath was immediately turned to ice when exhaled. He should get into some shelter... probably... Why would this city not want a country to lead them? Why would the people here not want organization, and power, and protection? It made no sense to the Nation. It just made no sense. He felt... his eyes distanced for a moment, making sure no one was around... lonely; but something more than alone because Prussia didn't mind being alone. No, he was happy being alone. That's right. It was good to be independent. You didn't have to worry about people and the stupid thing's they'd do or all the dumb unwritten laws that came with caring for someone. The Nation didn't care about the people here. Hah! Whatever. He didn't care at all. They could have their stupid holidays and happy get togethers, and relationships that Prussia totally didn't want because he was completely better than that and needed no one! He could go out and claim surrounding lands on his own! Yeah.

... Yeah.

On his own. He was happy on his own.

Definately happy alone, on his own with no one to bother him.

Prussia slowly stood up and looked around. The streets were empty. He passed out there, didn't he? Those stupid serfs were gone. Must have been because they were scared to stick around for his retaliation. Yeah... that had to be it. Step forward, march. Keep going... wherever. Didn't know where he was going. That was fine! He'd find his own place to make a Capitol Building. He'd made it from the bottom before and climbed his way all the way to the top. He could do it again! He didn't need anyone! Hahaha! HAHAHAHAHA! ... hahaha.. hah.

Ouch.

The nation cringed a little as the laughter tugged at a wound at his side that had frozen over. That bright crimson trailed behind his footsteps as he continued to trudge his way through the empty streets. Yeah... he could do everything on his own. It was better this way. His clothing was shredded and he could barely feel anything anymore but he didn't care. He was a Nation! He could get by like this. Make it to shelter and -- Prussia sucked back a breath in exchange for tears he refused to acknowledge; and -- his cough had a rattle to it as he felt his lips begin to quiver; just keep going, keep breathing, he was okay! Really, he was fine! Really... haha, no stupid serf could take him down that easily.

Prussia stopped at the edge of a building and leaned against it. He was panting even though it was freezing. He was exhausted but none of these places were any suitable to pass out in and clean up. They were all too dirty and just as cold as outside. Prussia closed his eyes for a moment. Okay, think. There was that one serf who mentioned the school. Where was that again? It was... his eyes looked up. Ingles Trail and he was on . . . Prussia rose a hand up to his eyes and squinted a little. Crap. Shit. Fuck. Shitting fuck -- his knee's trembled a little and hands grabbed at the corner of the building as his body turned to lean his chest against it. A long hard pant pressed through his lips.

He could have sworn he saw red when before he passed out, and it wasn't blood.

Blank.

"What do I do...?" Yuriy spoke quietly knowing Wolborg was right behind him as usual. He shifted his weight a little. Prussia looked half dead. He needed treatment or else he was going to die, there was little doubt about that. Yuriy wasn't sure whether to laugh or feel - or.. feel .. what was that feeling? Feel ... feel --

The young redhead slowly knelt down and rolled the Nation on to his back. Who did this..? Sure - the boy smirked - there were a lot of people that wanted to kick this stupid German's ass, but... than his brows ebbed in as he looked over the damage. He felt a pang of jealousy and anger although he couldn't put his thumb on what it really was. Something about this situation made him eager to find out who it was that did this and promptly hate them.

"Wolborg...?"
"Mm?"
"Do I leave him here? He might die, and the scientists will bring him back so it doesn't really matter..."
"Maybe that's for the better, you think? Why are you even asking?"
Why was he -- "I don't know," he whispered, and rolled up to his feet, "heh... stupid German, let him stay here like the waste of life he is."

Yuriy laughed. Like he cared about this stupid Nation. Let him die - not that it mattered. He hated the scientists for that too. They destroyed the meaning of life, and of death. They destroyed everything. The boy pivoted, and paused. A hand rose to his heart, barely aware he was doing so. Prussia was the only sense of familiarity he had here next to Wolborg, Takao, and Rei. Takao and Rei wouldn't be able to understand the things that Prussia could - that he did even if it was never admitted to or even spoken. Like Boris... They just knew each other, and understood. Somehow. That sense of something similar... He couldn't walk away.

"If Balcoff saw me," Yuriy breathed out under his breath angrily; heart skipped just at the thought. The boy turned back around and continued speaking under his breath, "saving some German pig; if Voltaire found out..." He didn't know why he was so angry, but he was. He kind of just wanted to kick Prussia in the head and spit in his face, and almost did.

"I would be murdered." Maybe it was because it was easier to say that he was saving Prussia's ass because... it was Prussia's fault, and something something - he'd work out the kinks to his accusations later.

"I'd be tortured first," the boy looked back at Wolborg and nodded his head for the wolf to come over as he squatted down to pick up the Nation. "Nyet, I'd be demeaned first. They'd tear me apart verbally, humiliate me, down talk me," his stomach sank - more and more he was finding that he didn't want to return home even if he missed Russia so deeply. He didn't win the finals and that was enough to -- fuck, there it was again. He was actually believing that he could have possibly lost and that Rei was telling the truth. Yuriy let out a frustrated sigh as he heaved the body over a shoulder and nodded for Wolborg to lift them both up.

The boy laid the nation down onto the warm soft furr between two spiked ice wings and told the wolf to take them to the school - possibly the warmest and best place to find the supplies necessary to take care of the Nation's condition. He had heard that the hospital is a nightmare to wonder in and wasn't about to get adventurous right now.

"Than they would physically torture me, who knows how long." and add in emotional and mental torture until he couldn't take it anymore and lost it - something like that. The redhead sat down on his knees beside the unconscious body and gripped his chest with both hands; eyes closed tightly.

"Someone please help me," squeezed out quietly as his body rolled forward and face pressed into the wolfs back, "nothing makes sense anymore."

There was a moment of silence where all you could hear was the typical sounds of the outside within Discedo. The crunching of snow beneath large paws and the faint breaths, and the people off in the distance. Yuriy wanted it to all go away. He wanted to be back in Russia - he wanted... fuck he didn't even know anymore. He hated that. He hated indecisiveness and uncertainty. God dammit, god damn it all.

"You like him."

"Wh-what?!" He snapped out of his miniature emo-time to stare at the back of Wolborg's head. "What did you just say?!"

"I said you like him," she was way too calm about it, "it's obvious, he likes you too."

His skin turned a ferocious red but he was still determined to deny it. "How do you -- what are you talking about? He's German." Note how the fact that Prussia was also a male went completely unmentioned. She did, but she already knew. Yuriy had only been around men all of his life. It was what he was most comfortable with and what he knew he could trust or distrust. Women were a completely foreign object that Yuriy wasn't interested because Yuriy wasn't interested in anything but power, and being the best and women were sad weak little creatures he didn't waste the effort of even looking at. Wolborg doubted though that Yuriy was capable of feeling anything toward a female figure but respect and a liking of their company should he cross one who was 'strong'.

She cracked a smile, "so?"

"So..?" He spat back immediately. So, she said. SO. SO?! What -- what the hell was she, "You throw out this nonsense from no where and than you -- shut up, I do not. You've lost it." He tried to keep his tone as firm as possible without any hint of denial, though she saw right through it; And she laughed. Yuriy's eyes narrowed and he glared. You -- motherfucking, if you weren't an eight foot wolf I WOULD STRANGLE YOU. Suddenly there was a thud. She stopped. He smirked. Prussia was face first in the snow.

Haha, showed you. Wolborg almost wanted to sigh, but it was cute in its own right. Trying to prove a point. So she sat, and Yuriy's body slid down her back to hit the ground with a thud. Before he could even collect his thoughts let alone sit up again Wolborg stood back up and began to walk away.

. . .

He couldn't believe -- who the fuck did she think she was throwing out lies like that and than doing this?

His eyes rolled to the figure near by and smirked. "I wish you were conscious right now, or at least for the part where I pushed you off something eight feet high. You're kind of lucky you're on the verge of death already. I imagine that might have hurt a little."

Though the smirk faded a little as he sat up watching HIS BITBEAST walk away after -- what was his life; fucking -- The boy sighed in frustration. He wanted to pitch a fit. What the hell was this.

"Suka!" Yuriy shouted as he lifted back up to his feet, "get your ass back here!"

She wasn't listening. She was a lot harder to control when she was in a physical state. God dammit all he liked her better when she was an enslaved spirit under his and only his command. How could she even come up with this bullshit. He turned back to the Nation without even thinking and grabbed him by the neck of his torn shirt. The boy began walking, and instead of picking up the Nation he decided to just drag Prussia behind him as if to further install the fact that he, Yuriy, did not like this stupid German asshole in the slightest. No more questions. He was going to knock the face right off of anyone who dared to even look at him on his way toward the school.

Fuck you all to the deepest pits of hell.

dashing through the snow (Beyblade/APH - Yuriy/Prussia, #06)

2008-12-22T05:18:11Z

Title: Dashing Through the Snow
Author: xtirpate
Pairing:Yuriy/Prussia
Fandom: Beyblade/APH
Rating: PG-13 for mild violence and language.
Theme: 06. White
Summary: Prussia has built a fort, and god dammit it is the strongest fort in Discedo only not.
Disclaimer: Beyblade and Axis Powers Hetalia do not belong to me. Discedo setting does not belong to me. For more information on how and where, click here.

Instalments: 1st + 2nd

++++++++++++++++++++

The past few days had been silent between the two. Prussia had been growing more and more frustrated at how his authority was continuously ignored. Not to mention the embarrassment of turning in to a hat right in front of that stupid Russian sissy. He'd deny every accusation ever aimed toward him over that. The Nation distinctly ordered for the man responsible to come forward and had received nothing but mocking and back talk. Prussia hated it here. God damn serfs didn't know who they were dealing with. He'd show them. He's show them all! So he built a fort.

A snow fort. Because it made him feel minutely important; of course he was important, being a Nation and all - but he wanted a fort. Prussia grumbled to himself as he continued packing the snow. He should have to be doing this himself. He should have people doing it for him. He wasn't no slave, he was Prussia! The more he thought about everything, the more frustrated he got, the harder he packed the snow down and fought liquid coming to his eyes that were totally not tears or anything like that because Nation's didn't cry. No, he was just frustrated. This stupid place and their stupid holidays with stupid people.

Outside, the wind had settled. Snow came down in sheets earlier in the morning leaving everything heavily coloured in white. Yuriy was out with Wolborg strolling along behind his lead. It felt a bit more like home with the snow here. I hate this place, Yuriy thought as his feet continued forward without a stream of unease in his steps. No one listened to him. No one here even knew him but Rei. According to Rei, he'd failed his mission. This made things inconvenient (or very bad). The redhead quietly shook his head to himself. No, Rei was just trying to trick him. It was absolutely impossible that he could have lo-- thought interrupted by a ball of snow thrown at his head and a familiar roll of laughter.

Yuriy's brows ebbed in with a frown and his eyes looked toward the direction whence it came. Prussia. Of course it would be. Who else would it be other than Prussia? And he was in a snow fort? A snow fort. Heheh. A snow fort.

"So, you actually took my advice did you?" He said, knowing Prussia wouldn't understand a word. A hand came to his hip. "Look at that, Wolborg. What a pathetic attempt." He chuckled coldly to himself.

It was funny because Yuriy had, earlier, taunted the Nation over the PDA's (because he refused to acknowledged what else the message had said and he knew, like himself, Prussia would deny it if brought up anyway; besides, Yuriy didn't care. Why would Yuriy care about Prussia?). . . . . . . . . . sigh. Yuriy bit his lip as he heard Prussia laughing and yelling about who knew what because Yuriy did not speak pig-language. Did he even notice? The redhead shook away those thoughts. What the hell was he thinking about this shit for? This place was obviously making him lose his head. He needed to find a way out.

"What's the matter serf," The Nation taunted with a sneer rolling up over his lips, "you afraid of a little snow?" Sure, Prussia probably had better things to do than play around with this stupid Russian brat but hell, it was fun and stress relieving. He was feeling down and frustrated if he was honest with hi8mself (which he wasn't). Might as well take it out on the little twit. "A Russian, hah, afraid of snow, haha! Come on you wimp!"

Yuriy stared at the smug bastard sitting behind some poorly constructed snow fort. Did he honestly consider that a fort? The redhead almost rolled his eyes but instead he looked back at Wolborg for a moment before he tipped his head sharply to point toward another direction and than pivoted away from the Nation. It looked like they were walking away. Prussia looked completely dumbfounded for a moment. Wait, wait. That wasn't how things were suppose to go!

"Hahaha!" He laughed, covering up his uneasiness. What was this?! This stupid Russian brat was turning away from him?! "Coward! Some Russian you are!" His voice grew in pitch - something in it sounded . . . Prussia frowned and stared at the ground for a moment. God damn this place. Scarlet eyes looked up to that corner. He had the utmost extreme desire to go follow - for mocking purposes, of course. To rub it in that clearly Prussia was superior. Prussia was so superior that this Russian whelp wouldn't even take him on in a snowball fight! Hahaha! Yeah, that was it.

Yuriy continued walking with a frown on his brows, but a smirk slowly pulled up as he turned the corner around the end of that block. There, he waited. Wolborg sat, and looked off for a moment. Stupid German thinks he can out do a Russian in anything relating to snow and winter. Hah hah hah. He couldn't believe he was wasting his time with this; there were more important things to do, Yuriy was sure. Although sure enough he began packing snow in to hard balls of varying sizes. Once finished, the fight began with a sneak attack upon Prussia as he was - moping? Haha, pathetic.

"Hey!" Prussia frowned, and stood up wiping the snow from his face, "that was a cheap sho--" only to receive another. Dammit this cheating bastard! He didn't know how Yuriy was cheating but he was. Prussia wasn't exactly . . . prepared. Well!

"What did you say about me being a sad Russian?" He snarked after tossing - fairly accurate - another snowball.

D-dammit! This fucking kid. Prussia ducked behind the snow shield he liked to call a fort and began packing away snow. Yuriy could only chuckle, hitting the stupid blond square in the face every time it came up until his feet stood right in front of the shield. Ice blues leered down at the Nation who almost looked like a deer caught in headlights. This was a nice change. His fingers wrapped around the material about Prussia's neck and pulled up glaring at him.

"Before you say anything," Prussia said almost mocking Yuriy's anger, "remember that I can't understand what you're saying." -- By now, Yuriy has memorized the 'I can't understand' line to know exactly what Prussia just said, more or less. He didn't care though. His lips pulled back in first a snarl and than a grin.

"Look at you," he chuckled - spoken in a demeaning tone, "are you shaking because you're cold little Prussia, or because you got your ass so thoroughly kicked in a snow fight by a Russian?"

Prussia, typically, didn't understand a word Yuriy was saying but the tone gave away that it was some form of insult and so he'd retaliate. Only differently. There was a pause before the hand was grasped; Prussia regaining his composure mentally and physically. He looked... What was he doing? Yuriy took a step away. This didn't make sense.

"You should join my army," he said. 'Armee' -- obviously 'Armiya', Army. Yuriy rose a brow. "What?"

"You heard me," he paused, "join my army kid."

Yuriy, for a moment, looked like he was considering it. That was until he began laughing a laugh that made the Nation slightly uncomfortable although it came out as irritation. The more he got to know this whelp the more it was becoming very obvious this boy was in fact very Russian. Prussia's brows knit in and he almost took a step back. Eheheh... what the fuck did he just get himself in to and why was this creep laughing like that?

"Me? Join you?" Yuriy stopped when they were forehead to forehead; ice pierced the fiery reds below. "I'm Russian - I would never, ever join the likes of pigs like you."

Prussia felt a ping of - he was going to call it irritation - at that tone. "Are you in Discedo?"

"Its not your land."

"No one else had claimed it, it's my land."

"I will never follow you."

No one else could make the Nation this intensely livid and frustrated and - and - everything'ed. How and why he would never know but this little twit of a Russian dog got under his skin so bad and was so good at making him so mad. No, hah! That was giving this little boy way too much credit. Prussia was just frustrated was all. That was all. He brought his hands up to the taller (fucking Russian's were always so tall) one's chest and curled in to the material. He pulled down.

"Discedo is my land, and so long as your feet are on my land, you are mine."

Blah blah blah - "I am not join your pathetic imaginary little army," Yuriy said with a soft smirk as he pushed the Nation away. "Go cry about it. You're old news to almost everyone here that even knows who or what you are. No one cares, no one will follow you. You mean nothing."

Yuriy tipped his head over a shoulder back toward Wolborg and nodded for her to come and follow him as he began to walk off. "Hahaha, why would I ever join someone like him."

It'd completely obliterate the meaning of our relationship.

Nice Hat (Beyblade/APH - Yuriy/Prussia, #16)

2008-12-19T04:24:17Z

Title: Nice hat.
Author: xtirpate & Borrowed script from Rp with superfluously
Pairing:Yuriy/Prussia
Fandom: Beyblade/APH
Rating: PG-13 for mild violence and language.
Theme: 16. Amuse
Summary: A battle of history turns into a hat stomp parade. No, seriously.
Disclaimer: Beyblade and Axis Powers Hetalia do not belong to me. Discedo setting does not belong to me. For more information on how and where, click here. This is set during a random player plot where a mage's powers went out of control. One of the effects were that random being were turned in to hats.

Instalments: 1st

++++++++++++++++++++

Why aren't you a hat yet?

Those were the words Yuriy had seen come up on the screen when he was trying to get things done. Truth was, Yuriy was failing as much as Prussia was failing. Although the young redhead would of course state that Prussia was failing more, and Yuriy didn't need an army troop, or anything of the kind. No, more than that. Yuriy didn't feel there was anyone worth that here. Prussia could have his stupid little army of complete failure, like his army always was.

Because I'm Russian, and you're German, and god hates you. What kind of question is that? Was his response after he took some time to stare at it. There was moderate amounts of silence for a moment. He wasn't in the best of moods for this. The disorganization of this city was starting to bother him. The lack of purpose was starting to bother him even more. Though, even at Yuriy's most irritated, sour, horrible moods, it was impossible to walk away from Prussia. Even when he was suppose to be apathetic, something about that god damn German made it impossible to be apathetic. So Yuriy sat there in the cold warehouse he'd make home for now; Wolborg's tail wrapped around his body for a little warmth. He sat on one of the many wooden crates with the communicator on hand. This was the only way they actually understood what the hell the other was saying. Verbally, anyways.

Have you failed to noticed everyone complaining about talking hats? Go outside and find some crazy wind guy, he'll fix you up.

I noticed, pighead. I wondered why you would think I would be stupid enough to go out and get turned into a hat. You being the more likely to waltz into the firing range of something. Yuriy typed up and sent out a moment later.

The boy sighed a little to himself with a frown on his lips. He missed his home, and he hurt, but he refused to show this to anyone. Although it was only Wolborg here right now. Yuriy figured he could afford a little letting down of his guard. He leaned back on her sturdy body and laid his face down on her soft fur. But you're Russian. Popped up a second latter.

Yuriy's brows furrowed. Wolborg herself almost sighed as she took to crossing her paws and laid her head down on top of them. She wasn't going to say anything. This had become a daily ritual. If it comforted him than so be it. Survival was survival, wasn't it?

Yuriy didn't waste much time in responding. Russia, whom successfully blew the shit out of Germany. While Germany's tanks froze because they chose to attack during winter and didn't even get to Moscow. Even Napoleon got to Moscow at least.

There was a bit of a longer pause before Prussia responded. For a moment he panicked. No, he was just thrown off guard. yeah, that was it. He was thrown off guard because he didn't know what a god damn tank was. What the hell was this little shit talking about? Prussia frowned, and responded. What the fuck is a tank. You're making that shit up.

Yuriy brought up a bit of a smirk, and typed back. Why would I need to make up your failures? There's an abundance of them, really. No need to bullshit it.

I guess that means that you come before Hitler's time. He laughed at this. Haha. Hitler. Hitler wasn't even fucking German. I don't know, half of me wants to feel happy for you. Than again, Hitler is just one of Germany's many embarrassing moments in history. He thought a little. Well, he might as well ask. It might be useful. For leverage or... something like that. What year did you come from?

"You stupid little serf, I will destroy you," he swore, in German, with his German-hat-slave-person laying around. Anything that piped from that was promptly ignored as he went back to typing. My failures? Haha! Don't get me started on Russia's failures. Even Old Fritz said you guys were way too stupid to know when you were beat. We'd have to massacre the lot of you before your drunk generals got the picture.

1820. Which means I was kicking Russia's ass not that long ago.

Yuriy knew his Soviet history better than he knew his Pre-Soviet Russia history. Most things 1918 and up. The redhead frowned and huffed out a cold iced breath. He remembered one thing though, and his lips cracked up a smirk as he went to responding to Prussia's latest failure in threats and besting. Does 1759 put off any alarms in that head of yours? Kind of like gunfire. Kind of like you, the great Prussia, walking right in to it.

Endurance, Prussia. We're still on the map. Unlike you. If I were you, I'd hope you never return home. To endure such absolute defeat at the hands of the Red Army - I almost feel sorry for you. Really I do.

"P-Prussia..?" Silence and anger shook through his body. "Shutup hat," Prussia spat.

This fucking brat. This god damned insolent little Russian boy. He was going to see to it that no one - No. One. - Would ever ever lay even a single finger on this kid but him; and his fingers would ensure the end of him!! Hahaha! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! - Prussia rose from his spot howling in laughter. Fire roaring in his eyes and a wickedly twisted smile quirking back his lips. Whatever it was that laced the laughter's tone - anger, denial, insanity, probably all three and than some - it certainly didn't sound natural in the least.

"I will crush him!" He yelled, swooping his cape back to place a hand on his hip as he propped up the bottom of his boot against the corner of a chair. His chin raised up looking all too full of pride and victory. A curled fist rose as he continued his speech, "Again, and again, and again until this stupid little Russian finally learns his lesson! The lesson that I, the most glorious Nation of Prussia, am vastly superior in every single way and these foul lies only serve as entertainment!!"

He felt eagerness grow up inside of him and urged him to forward and fight; he felt laughter boil up through his body at the thoughts of the little boy crushed in the snow. Whimpering helplessly beneath him like a little dog. Like a poor beaten little puppy. HAHAHA! The laughter was almost a giggle at first; his grin large enough to make his face crack. Anxiety tore through his muscles; The excess of adrenalin was so heavy he needed a release for it, and now. Prussia tipped back his head a second later as he let out insane rolls of laughter - Hahaha. Yes... YES. This boy will FAIL! Again! Again and again! - and stopped abruptly.

"Hat," The Nation addressed it pointedly as the chair was kicked away and boot stepped down to greet the other with an assured stomp. "I'm going out. I will be back."

With that, Prussia swiftly made toward the door and swung it open letting it slam shut only to open it once more a second later. His eyes looked back at the talking hat - some kid who also spoke German who was most fortunate to be found by the Great Prussia. "And I will be victorious!" The nation felt to add; than finally left.

Prussia had no idea where this twit stayed but no one could hide from the Nation of Prussia! NO ONE!

That was a cheap move by Russia! Even with that very small loss, I still was able to kick all of Europe's ass! That stupid bumpkin just got lucky in one battle! That was it!

Shut the hell up! I still have my land! Discedo's mine! Europe's mine! And what does Russia have? Lots of crappy snow and ice! That's it! Fritz was right! I guess I didn't hit you hard enough last time for you to get the picture. Come on out little Russian, I'm going to find you and smash your face in again and again until you understand!

Yuriy on the other hand had almost fallen asleep by the time Prussia responded. He felt drained, and didn't get much sleep last night. His fingers curled into the fur of Wolborg's tail when the PDA made a noise to identify network activity. Blues moved toward the screen. Wolborg moved her eyes back toward the boy for a moment as she heard Yuriy begin to chuckle.

"Oh," he said in his own native tongue, "is that so Prussia? Heheheh. Well, we'll see. We'll see! No one ever beats be twice, you hear me?! DO you hear me?! NO ONE!" -- Of course Prussia didn't hear him. He wasn't even talking in to the PDA, but Yuriy didn't care. He was no longer tired and no longer in pain.

"You'll see. I'll show you what Russian's are capable of! I'll show you!" Yuriy shouted and laughed as he stood up and shoved off the tail. If Wolborg could have rolled her eyes, she would have.

The boy marched forward a few steps; determination streaked his brows. Feet stopped. Head snapped back. "Wolborg," Yuriy addressed, and he rose a small smile. "Stay here, I wont be long."

Wolborg relaxed already knowing. A flick of her tail could have almost been considered a wave as the boy marched out into the streets. Wild wind hitting his face but he was used to that. He used to Beyblade in Siberia for training purposes. They also used to do drills in Siberia. Run through snow storms to build their endurance. This was nothing.

He moved out to the middle of the street after looking around. Slowly, a bit cautiously but calmly, he walked forward. There was a very slight limp. His face was bruised, and he hated that there was nothing to cover it up. Though that familiar figure began to come into sight. Yuriy stopped, grinning. A hand rose to his hip. He could see trances of bruising on the others face, and chuckled lowly to himself. His ugly mug looked a lot better all blue, black, and purple. Not to mention it felt good. It felt really good; and it felt good to be able to make this stupid German come to him, march his war forward right into the line of fire. It felt good to watch the anger tense up his body and scream out his lips as he yelled out in a language Yuriy didn't really understand and had no intention to learn. It felt good.

"What are you standing there like that for you stupid Russian?!" He yelled, not like Yuriy could understand.

"I'm feeling nice today," Prussia was tired, he didn't want to admit how much their fight had taken out of him. Some little serf put up that much of a fight for him, Prussia. What a bastard! "I'll give you a chance to--" He was cut short as his feet closed in and Yuriy's fist cracked into Prussia's already bruised Jaw.

"You..." Prussia glared up at the smirking boy. Fire red hair, blue eyes looking all too smug. That motherfucker.

"Awe," the boy almost cooed, cruelly. "Is the little Prussia a bit tired?" - "I hate to see you in so much pain, I really do." He chuckled, "Would you--" It was his turn to be cut short by a fist. Though Prussia followed up by grabbing the front of the boy's ski-suit and tossing him into the brick wall of a building just a few feet away.

"Blah, blah, blah! I'm going to beat your face in so bad that no one will be able to recognize you when I'm done! Not like anyone cares or knows who you are now! Hahaha, you little nobody!" He ran forward, consequentially receiving two feet into his stomach that propelled him back across the street and hard onto his ass. Prussia exhaled sharply.

Not like anyone cares or knows who you are now! Hahaha, you little nobody! That insult stung more than Yuriy was going to admit.

"What was that you said?" Yuriy called out arrogantly as he rose back up to his feet and wiped the blood from his lips. Dammit his jaw hurt. Prussia slowly stood up as well.

"I said," he started. His back hunched a little, but snapped up a second later taking his proud and challenging stance. An arm rose out to point, "You" -- and than, something unexpected.

Silence. Yuriy blinked. It happened in a flash. Prussia was... a hat. The young Russian stepped forward, already hearing what he expected to be curses. (He recognized a few). The redhead chuckled.

"What was that you were saying, Prussia?" Yuriy mocked as he stopped a bare inch from the hat. It looked just like that stupid hat Prussia often wore. The hat was far too concerned with himself, screaming and freaking out, to even realized Yuriy's intentions.

"Squeal louder you pig!" He shouted as he stomped on the hat onc, twice; again, and again, laughing as he did it until his foot pulled back and he kicked the Prussia-hat a good long ways down the street. You could hear Prussia's scream fade away as the distance grew. Yuriy stood there and watched with a disgustingly malevolent smile.

Hahahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. AAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA. He laughed moments later, almost the exact same kind of laugh Prussia laughed and than turned to head back into the warehouse.

"I win, pighead."

Already Tradition. (Beyblade/APH - Yuriy/Prussia, #8)

2008-12-17T19:55:38Z

Title: Already Tradition
Author: xtirpate
Pairing:Yuriy/Prussia
Fandom: Beyblade/APH
Rating: PG-13
Theme: 08. Never.
Summary: Words lie. Fists rarely do.
Disclaimer: Beyblade and Axis Powers Hetalia do not belong to me. Discedo setting does not belong to me. For more information on how and where, click here.

++++++++++++++++++++

F-fuck.

He let out a heavy breath and staggered a bit from the crunch of knuckles hitting his face. This kid hits hard, Prussia noted to himself, although he wasn't about to admit that. Instead, the Great Nation of Prussia laughed and retaliated with a blow of his own. His fist came around to slam into the boy's stomach. Brat is more like it, he thought as he watched the boy. Weak little Russian Whelp. That was his title now. Prussia laughed again as Yuriy, the receiver of his glorious fist, doubled over with a hard grunt and a furrow of his brows. His face twisted up in what Prussia thought of as a beautiful expression of pain.

The Nation turned his head to spit out the blood and saliva that had gathered in his mouth. He inhaled deeply as he brought his face back in line with the boy leaning against him. A wicked smile tore up on Prussia's face. Yuriy's breath was heavy, hard. He coughed as the fist came against his stomach and made his body fall forward. His knees felt weak. His vision blurred. Neither were going to give up until they couldn't move, both of them were so exhausted that they couldn't think fast enough to block or move out of the one another's path anymore. They'd been fighting full contact for about an hour now, and it was slowly creeping up on them. These encounters were tradition by now. When something went wrong, when one of them was lonely, when one of them were irritated or upset, they'd cover it by yelling and fighting. It never got boring. It never got tiring.

"Aaah!" Yuriy breathed out -- His hair, fire red locks, tugged back by an eagerly violent iron grasp and his counter-attack swept away in this movement. Vibrant blue eyes looked upward at the dark slate-blue sky. Blood splattered the snow below their feet. Somewhere along the way they'd managed to lose half of their attire. To make it easier to move. To discard things that got in the way. A blue cloak, a pistol, a rapier, a pair of gloves, a hat.

Crisp cold air was taken in quick gasps. It's sound pleased the nation.

"How did a kid like you think you could win against me. Prussia. A Nation," he laughed; scarlet staring down at the squirming figure with cruel satisfaction. Prussia wanted to hear this shithead scream god dammit. Not once, not once did the persistent and prideful bastard scream in pain. Not once. "You think you're so tough. You're nothing but a little commoner. Nothing but a little spec of useless dust. Nothing at all."

Yuriy didn't understand anything Prussia said other than maybe 'me' and 'Prussia' and 'you' and 'you're' and other words here and there. He didn't speak enough German to understand, and Prussia didn't speak any Russian at all. Though they yelled at each other in their native tongue, somehow they ended up understanding in one way or another. It wasn't hard to guess what was being said. The boy pulled back a snarl, his eyes narrowed in response.

The struggle Prussia mocked, "awe, am I hurting you?" He taunted coldly, "would you like me to go lighter on you little Russian boy? Poor little pathetic Russian boy." He laughed, "all you have to do is admit defeat. I can be merciful sometimes you know."

Prussia wanted to hear it even though it was clear that he, Prussia, was the superior one. The thought of this Russian trash crying out how pitiful he was in comparison filled the Nation of Prussia with unfathomable amounts of glee. It warmed his body with a delicious sensation; Prussia felt to laugh more, it was too wonderful. This little bastard had been challenging and mocking the authority and obvious superiority of Prussia since he had arrived. It'd been a month already. Truthfully, Prussia was frustrated, for more reasons than one, and this little Russian served to be a perfect punching bag to get that frustration out on.

Unfortunately Yuriy had no intention on doing what Prussia told him to. He'd been against stronger hands. Balcoff's punishments for when you were out of line were absolutely brutal. Yuriy was no little whelp even if he was only sixteen. A sixteen year old boy going up against a well aged personification of Prussia. He was prideful, like Prussia was prideful. Yuriy had seen his fill of battles. Lost his share of comrades because they weren't good enough. Had an unstoppable need to be on top, to be powerful and strong, to be acknowledged. No way in hell some fucking German piece of shit was going to take him down. Even if said German was a Nation, apparently.

His arms, a little weakened and shaky, rose. His hands snapped around the Nation's neck and for just a moment he saw slight panic in those scarlet eyes from the bottom corner of his own. It made him smirk.

"In your dreams, pighead," Yuriy said, though he made certain to say pighead in German. With that, he rose a knee to square right in between the legs. Prussia's immediate curl in reaction made damn sure to involve bringing that head of red hair to met the ground as he cried - a manly cry at that - "Motherfucker," and almost laughed a little after the initial gasp. "You cheap little bastard!"

Although Yuriy's body was brought down to the ground, the grasp on his hair loosened just enough for him to move. He snapped the hand away and quickly reached out to grab and pull an ankle. A squawk pipped out of the Nation as he hit the ground, and was quickly straddled and knocked in the face soon there after. He panted, and his bare hands crunched into the snow right beside the Nation's face. His arm was shaking; weight leaning on it. Yuriy could barely feel the cold.

Blood red looked at the trembling wrist. His light blond hair almost disappearing in the snow. The light sweat on his back turned cold. His breath a bit harder than he'd admit to.

"Victory," Yuriy said thinly, "is all that matters." Prussia rolled his head to look up at the half-lidded blues. A smirk tugged back on his lips. "I. Don't. Understand you." He laughed a little, quietly. It looked like this kid was going to pass out.

There was silence, until Yuriy spoke again, "I win." and collapsed.

" . . . " Prussia looked up at the sky for a moment. He hurt more than he was going to own up to, although he didn't particularly feel it to its full extent right now. Not when his adrenalin was so high. For a moment he considered . . . Haha, fuck that! HE WON. The Nation laughed and he pushed the young boy's unconscious body off of him, and, shaking, got to his feet. "Haha!" Prussia shouted, "This proves that I am superior you stupid Russian!"

Not as if Yuriy would hear him. Prussia didn't care about that. He turned toward where he'd tossed his rapier and cloak and collapsed about a foot away from them. Fucking Russian. Who the hell was this kid. Haha. Hahaha. That was a good fight.

This would never get old. Never.

[ P R E M I S E ] aka;; how the fuck?

2008-12-17T02:01:50Z

Before you read anything, there's a few things that needs to be noted about the situation that these two are in. Obviously they aren't from the same canon. They are in fact role-play inspired from an LJ Panfandom Role-play game. So, I'm going to be using the game's atmosphere and such for these fictions. Its pretty simple, the game is discedo but if you don't know it I'll give you a basic run down:

Post-apocalyptic; a closed off decrepit city where a bunch of scientist overlook it from who knows where. Powers are suppressed by a chip planted inside of them that they are unable to feel. Some have had them removed but many have not. There are often murderous outbreaks, monster attacks, lack of supplies personal/food/everything; and so on.

This being said, there are a few changes that Yuriy has adapted to. His bitbeast Wolborg is outside of the chip as an eight-foot wolf, however she is powerless. Just a wolf. Due to obvious Army training since young he took up a pistol and is ironically working with/under Ocelot.

On Prussia's side he is, well, Prussia; and has decided that he rules the city and ~~is seizing the wrong vital regions~~ the end.

So, I hope you enjoy the serious of small drabbles I will hopefully get to writing; with all its bickering, and violence, and so on.