Countryhumans oneshots

🇷🇺&🇬🇧&🇨🇵 Don't be blind | Our blood pt. 2 USSR & UK & France

Hello!
Motivation go speed!

How are you lovely Internet strangers?

I just got home from school, you're gonna get the thank you post for 6k and two with each variant of the entry to chapter one for my next book to choose which one you like best some time today.

It is the first day of my two week autumn holidays in which I hope to finish the three age old requests I still have and some other stuff I have yet to finish... like updating the chapter index... I started yesterday alright!

The desire to add East Germany as a baby in a cradle next to Soviet was huge, but didn't fit my headcanons, so I didn't do it.

I want to note that I learned the Third Reich to be a consensual dictatorship, not a forced one, with only minimal resistance from the people, you'll know why I'm telling you this later in the chapter.

Imma toss you two random questions because of my love for this franchise: Did you watch "How to train your dragon"? If so, what's your favourite dragon and why?

That's all from me I think?
Have a nice day/night!

Words: 977

One learns that history doesn't bother to tell tales about the weak.

.
.
.

Tell them I was bored and wanted a piece of history to myself.

.
.
.

These words echoed in his head over and over again. They interrupted him in his daily activities and destroyed his concentration with paperwork.

He just wanted to leave the government building and run into the woods to scream his lungs out. He wanted to scream a million different questions out into the darkening abyss and hope the woods would answer.

But he feared their answer and the beast he'd face talking most.

"How does one kill without mercy?" What a stupid question to ask a monster without a conscience, yet he still mumbled it to himself as he looked over reports of his stationed officers. As if hoping the room could answer it for him.

"One has to be absolutely sick in the head to do it so quickly..."

His head snapped up from the paperwork to look at the man standing in his door. The Brit looked exhausted, dark bags under his eyes, glasses slightly crooked as they got damaged a while ago but couldn't be replaced at the moment. A few wounds here and there and a busted lip. Still he held a faint smile on them, unrelenting.

The man's eyes were gentle, he looked almost as if he was explaining this to a child, not a grown man two heads taller than himself and double his weight in muscle mass.

"It's important that you understand you couldn't have changed his course of action, Soviet." He explained, closing the door behind himself and limping over to sit down on the armchair next to the big window in the room. The only source of light the small, cluttered room had. At that moment, Soviet felt so embarrassed about his question, he wanted to think of anything but that he had asked it aloud again and that the other had heard. His mind swayed in the silence, from question to question, thought to thought.

"How are you doing, physically I mean...?" He hurriedly asked to divert Britain's attention and break the eerie silence. It looked like the older would collapse without his cane, normally aesthetic, now dire need.

"It takes a very twisted, perhaps wicket mind to reach the extremes we all have to witness here right now in such a short time... And all that consensual with the people for the most part..." He ignored the Russian's question completely, just continued his line of thought, a deep frown of sorrow now etched into his features.
Soviet was almost captivated by the old country's voice and appearance, his body language like an old grandfather's as he sat in the dusty armchair and looked down at his hands, crossed over his cane.

"I've had my fair share of bad rulers, crimes, atrocities if you will... But I want you to understand, Soviet," He looked up from his hands into the younger's eyes, into his soul it felt like, and continued in a firm and serious yet gentle tone of voice, "This is history now. We can not change the past, but influence the future. And letting our current hurt and rage dictate a whole nation's future will only end in more suffering and conflict. Because hurt turns to rage and rage is blind and to a blind man, anyone can be the light of hope, even the abyss of darkness. So like confused children we now need to lead them back to the right path, rules, regulations, punishment, praise. I hope you understand this, my friend. If not... May God help us next time."

Soviet just stared at the Brit now, confused yet again he really wasn't good with metaphors.

A loud knock on the wooden door startled both men to quickly glance at it. Before permission to enter was given to the new guest France had already opened the door. Both these old men really had a problem with waiting for entry, Soviet thought, but kept the remark to himself.

"We need your attention and input on an important project idea some of America's men came up with." He explained looking from Soviet to Britain as he spoke before beckoning them to follow him somewhere. They complied, so he was alone with his thoughts and questions again.

What a weird encounter...

"I finally understood what you wanted to tell me that day in 45."

"Oh my, on your deathbed that is no minute too late, young friend..."

"I'm not good with metaphors, old man..."

"Believe it or not, I've noticed in these past decades..."

"Good to know you're not turning senile yet..."

".....Yeah...."