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usa-manors-library · 1 year

Text

Food Stash Finding

(A/N: Heyyy let me give you a warning real quick, guys, gals, pals; Alaska abuse! If you want to pass it, scroll until you see the text divider.

Also; I'm Latinizing most Russian words for the sake of my English speaking audience. Obviously the Russian language uses a different alphabet, but I thought I'd make it easier for most of you readers to pronounce in your heads.)

"Russkaya Amerika," Imperial Russia demanded in a stern, disapproving voice as he threw open the door.

The colony jumped, startled by the sudden entrance of his father. He turned away from his window and offered a shaky smile.

"Zdravstvujtye, Papa," He greeted, "How are you?"

"How am I? Syn, you're a fool if you think I'm here to talk about feelings," The Russian scoffed, tipsily stumbling into the room, "We both know no son of mine can be a fool. So. Where is it?"

The boy's smile wavered, mind running a million miles per second to figure out what his father was talking about, "Where's what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, you thief," Russian Empire huffed, starting to shuffle through his son's things, "There were twelve loaves of Kalach bread yesterday morning. I ate one, and today when I went to get a pre-supper snack, there were nine. Tell me, you little pig, how does that math make sense?"

Russkaya Amerika paled.

"I don't recall permitting you to eat breakfast today. In fact, I wasn't home to allow you to have dinner either. I also sent you to bed without supper last night..." Imperial Russia continued, "So I have a theory. I believe, we have a rat in this house."

"A... rat?"

"You heard me. We have a fat, gluttonous rat roaming these halls. A filthy rat that must've been hungry, after missing three meals..." The empire eyed a bit of crumb on the bookshelf, "A rat that was so hungry, it didn't bother covering its little tracks..."

"...Papa. Papa, wait—!"

Russian Empire went to the bookshelf and brushed off the crumbs. He turned to glare at Alaska.

Russian America's eyes widened as he covered his mouth.

"Izveeneetye, izveeneetye, izveeneetye!" He tearfully apologized, bowing his head, "I— I didn't... I was hung... Izveeneetye! It slipped out, I didn't mean to—!"

*THWACK*

"You do not have the authority to tell me what to do, rat," The Russian hissed, lowering his throwing arm.

His son nodded without looking up, trembling as his hot tears fell off his face.

"...And for the love of God, stop being so pathetic," Russian Empire gave an exasperated sigh, "It didn't even hit you."

He's right. The dictionary flew past the boy's head. Papa wanted to scare him, not hurt him. But that would change, the second he turned around.

10-year-old Alaska wasn't crying over the crumbs. He was crying over the food stash, formerly hidden behind that book.

He felt the blood freeze in his veins as he heard the country look behind him.

"Russkaya Amerika... Stealing your own father's food?"

Russian America was very grateful that the heaviest book was already thrown.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

"Alaska?" America called, softly knocking on his new territory's door, "May I come in?"

Alaska's eyes widened at the sound of his country's voice. He almost tripped over his own feet as he rushed out of bed and to the door, quickly opening it for America.

"Да— Yes!" Alaska nodded, "Of course."

He mentally cursed himself for taking so long. If he had only watched where he was stepping, he could've gotten to the door sooner. There was also the language slip-up. What kind of idiot forgot the language spoken in his own country?

He watched America's face (and hands) for a reaction, but... nothing happened.

America took a step forward.

Alaska braced himself for whatever was coming.

America simply walked into the room and smiled.

"Ah, alright! I just wanted to make sure Indiana replaced your pillows and sheets. The ones that were in here before were made to be uncomfortable," America chuckled, "We used this as a guest room— specifically for guests we didn't want to hang around too long, so we sabotaged the bedding in hopes of making them want to leave sooner."

"She already replaced them then," Alaska confirmed, "They're very nice. Uhm... Maybe too nice? Are you sure I have the right ones?"

America laughed, much to Alaska's silent confusion.

He was serious. Surely America didn't mean to give something that well-made to him, right? At home— Well, at his former home, he didn't even have a pillow.

But this isn't Russia, Alaska reminded himself, And I have no right to question America's decisions, even if they aren't very... normal.

"I'm glad you like them! Now, I also came here to see how you're doing."

Okay, this had to be a trick.

"I know this whole thing's probably... odd for you, to say the least," America continued, "And this house can be a bit loud and... rambunctious, at times—"

Alaska gave a small nod, pretending to know what 'rambunctious' meant.

"So I wanted to check in on you. Is everything alright?"

Govno. Alaska didn't know how to answer.

If he said no, America would be angry—

Upset, He corrected himself, Countries... Countries never get angry. They get upset.

He would be upset with Alaska for being ungrateful of his hospitality.

If he said yes, America would think that's— That's egotistical, right? To say you're alright when so many other people aren't? Papa told him it was.

"It's different, but everything's fine," Alaska answered dryly, hoping that was neutral enough.

Apparently it was, since America seemed semi-satisfied with the answer.

"Good," The American nodded, "If there's ever a time when you don't feel like it is... you can always tell me."

'So I can discipline you for being a whiner,' Alaska mentally filled in the blank.

Instead of vocalizing his conclusion, he simply nodded.

"Yes sir."

"Great." America made his way to the door, "By the way, supper's going to be a little late tonight. Ohio started a fire in the kitchen by making flammable... tea? He seems to be really good at lighting water on fire. Anyway, it took a while to clean up, so I'd say it'd be— What, thirty minutes late?"

America thought for a moment before shrugging, "I'm not certain. I'll just call for everyone, so keep an ear out, alright?"

Alaska nodded once more.

"Nice. See you then!"

*BANG*

*THUD*

America accidentally slammed the door, making Alaska jump as a heavy, insecure portrait fell off the wall.

Alaska felt his heart stop.

That was the portrait he hid his new food stash behind.

"Ti Durak...!" Alaska quietly insulted himself, frozen in fear as his eyes went to the stash scattering across the ground to the turning doorknob.

"Sorry about that! I guess I don't know my own... strength..." America surveyed the scene, "...Alaska?"

Alaska fearfully dropped to his knees, trembling as he attempted to clean up his mess with his shaky hands.

"Iz— izveeneetye! Izveeneetye, izveeneetye!" A terrified Alaska blurted out, "Izveeneetye! I'm... I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, sorry!"

"Alaska..." America carefully approached the territory, crouching next to him.

"I'm— I'm sorry! Izveeneetye, iz-izveeneetye!" He continued to apologize, "I... This... I was hungry, I'm sorry!"

America lifted his hand. Alaska responded by wincing and bowing his head, heart hammering and mind racing.

Would America's hits hurt more or less than Papa's?

I mean, Papa was my father, surely he held back a little, since I was his son. To America, I'm just a random territory. He doesn't have any reason to weaken the blow.

How can I be a burden to him already? I haven't even been here for a week, and I've already screwed up! Looks like Papa had the right idea...

Will America sell me? When? Would the person he sells me to sell me, after they realize what a waste of space I am? What about the person they sell me to? The person that sells me after the other?

Will I just be bought and sold over and over again until I'm old and gray?

America brought his hand down, gently resting it on Alaska's as a sign to stop.

Alaska paused and looked up to America with bewildered eyes.

"You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault," America carefully explained with a softened expression, "It was mine, really. I was the one who slammed the door. I'm not mad."

"You're not... Countries don't get... mad. You're— You're upset."

"No. Not with you," America negated before motioning to the mess on the floor, "Now. Do you feel like telling me what all this is about...? It's completely alright if you want to catch your breath first. I won't make you tell me if you don't want to."

"I... It's... I'm sorry for being such a little... little rat... I stole— I stole from your pantry. I ate without your permission!"

America studied Alaska's face and frowned.

...That can't be good—

"Alaska... you're not a rat. You don't need my permission to eat. You don't need it to get something from the pantry either. You live here. It's your pantry too..." America furrowed his brow, "Have you... Have you been skipping meals? Since I haven't been... 'permitting' you?"

Alaska hesitantly nodded.

Yep, now America's definitely worried.

"So you haven't had breakfast since...?"

"Ehm... A couple days before I left Russia."

"Well then, I'm certainly glad you 'stole'," America made sure to dramatize the air quotes, "From the pantry. Is... Was asking for permission normal for you?"

Alaska nodded once more.

"And if you didn't?"

"I... I, uhm, got disciplined."

That word made the country queasy, for some reason.

"What did that... entail?"

"Just..." Alaska rolled up his sleeve to show off a couple bad bruises, "This and yelling. Discipline."

And now America's pissed.

"How long had he been... 'disciplining' you?"

"I don't... remember the first time...?"

Russian Empire's very lucky they're both countryhumans. Beating the crap out of him could destroy thousands of lives. Otherwise, he and America would have some words.

Some very long words.

Some words that may or may not be eternally solidified in his mind via punches.

And I'm not talking about the word 'discipline.'

"Alaska... That's not... good. Or normal."

"I— I know! I should've been better! I should've been less of a burden! It— It was my fault! If I was... If I was a better person, than he wouldn't of had to... to—!"

"No... no... That's..." America shook his head, "That wasn't your fault."

"But it was!" Alaska snapped, "It always was!"

His eyes widened as he realized his own tone.

"I'm— I'm sorry!" He bowed his head again, "It— It slipped out, I...!"

"You're okay, Laskie," America reassured, placing his hand on the territory's shoulder softly, "You don't... you don't need to apologize for emotions."

Alaska seemed unconvinced, but his string of apologies trailed off into silence.

America took a deep breath. He could do this.

"Alaska, do you know what abuse is? Izbiyeniye?"

"Of course I do," Alaska spoke up, "But I don't see how that's relevant."

"What's your definition of abuse?"

"Beating up somebody. Maybe starving them or yelling at them for no reason."

"So you were abused."

"No," Alaska shook his head, "No... That's different."

"How so?"

"I... I was being disciplined. Punished. Taught a lesson. It's the only way I learn anything."

"...Follow up question; have you ever heard the term 'gaslighting?'"

"Yes, but..." Alaska's head jerked up with realization, "He didn't do that! He never would! I'm his son! Who's ever heard of a somebody trying to gaslight their own family members!?"

America slowly raised his hand.

"I... That..." Alaska stammered, "That's— That's not fair. England and Britain don't count."

America slowly lowered his hand.

A brief period of silence fell over the room while Alaska tried to gather his thoughts.

"Your... Your dad tried to gaslight you... You and your uncles... And maybe even your siblings, right?"

"Mhm," America nodded.

"...How were you able to tell? To— To realize what he was doing?"

"I realized that his lies didn't add up."

"And... And you did that by...?"

"...What did Russia 'discipline' you for?"

"Stealing food, naturally," Alaska replied, inwardly cringing at his accidental rolled 'r.'

"Taking care of a basic human need that he refused to provide?"

"Ehm... Getting in his way. Like standing in a room or hallway he didn't want me in."

"On purpose?"

"No... I didn't go into the closed-off rooms."

"So... Just existing in your home?"

"I... Yes. But, but there were times when I was obnoxious and made too much noise!"

America looked at Alaska doubtfully, "You don't seem to be the 'loud and obnoxious' type."

"When... When I was goofing off, or laughing at something stupid, or rambling about something I liked, or—"

"Just being human?"

"But I was an attention seeker, too! I got scared, sometimes I got angry, sometimes I was sad—"

"So... Just being human?"

Alaska paused and furrowed his brow.

"But... But when I was little I had nightmares and woke him up! I... I bothered him with imaginary stories and tried to get him to play! That was selfish—!"

"That's... That's just being a kid, Laskie. A kid who..." America's gaze turned sorrowfully nostalgic for a moment, "Wants his father."

"I...! I..."

Alaska couldn't think of any more examples.

The fragile hallucination of his Papa being a perfect father was shattering before his eyes.

"Listen... I'm not claiming to have gone through something as bad as you have," America started, "I mean, I always had food. Fath— England wasn't as physically violent as Russia sounds. At least when I was growing up as a failure— *Ahem*, failed colony."

Alaska's ears perked up at that. He didn't know America used to be a failed colony too.

"But... Our situation's share a little common ground. I know... I know how hard it can be to come to terms with the fact that your dad... might not be the hero you made him out to be growing up," America disclosed, "I know what it's like to worry about left behind siblings... What were their names?"

"Litva and Finlyandskoye. Or... Or Lietuva and Suomi. Lithuania and Finland, for you."

"Lithuania and Finland... I'll remember that," America filed away before continuing, "I... also know how difficult it can be to get through when you feel alone, and... I don't want that for you, Alaska."

"What... What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm... I'm here for you," America stated, "Realizing how abnormal your life was before can be... a scare, a migraine, a blessing, a curse, a... a jarring change... And I want to help you sort it out. When you're ready to, of course. I just... I want you to know you can rely on me for help.

For support, talks, my opinion, or whenever you just need to be around a friend... I'm here. I don't want you to feel utterly alone like I... Like some people feel, when they're untangling a mess like this."

"...Really? You'd do that for...?" Alaska looked down, "I... I don't want to burden you with..."

"You're not a burden, Laskie. You've never been."

"I'm... I'm not sure if I believe you about that..."

"You wouldn't, right away," America admitted, standing up, "But I'm hoping you'll believe it one day."

Alaska gave a small nod as America helped him up, "Maybe... Maybe one day."

Not today, but...

Maybe one day.

#countryhumans #statehumans #statehumans alaska #countryhumans usa #countryhumans ame #countryhumans america #sh alaska #ch usa #ch ame #ch america

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ask-the-usa-manor · 2 years

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ok, i have to know. Please

So what sort of trauma does dad have?

Also how tall is everyone?

“Trauma?” Vermont asked with a frown, “I’m not sure if you’d call it trauma, but... Well, I guess participating in Dad’s wars wasn’t always pretty. Then I was there when the Hartford Railroad Disaster happened... Not fun to helplessly watch. The Flood of 1927 was terrible too. More recently, Tropical Storm Irene, but it’s not like I’m the only one to get affected by storms... I was pretty lonely for the majority of my childhood too, but I don't think that would be classified as traumatic. I’m pretty sure it didn't even leave any lasting effects—”

“Monty!” New Hampshire called, “We’re going to get some groceries. Do you want to come or just chill here by yourse—?”

“WaitnoI’mcoming—”

“Are you sure? Nutmeg’s driving,” Massachusetts explained as he tied his shoe, a distant ‘Ay, f**k you! I’m a great driver!’ sounding in the distance from Connecticut.

“YepI’msuredon’tleavemealone!” Vermont begged as he scrambled to get ready to leave with them.

“Heights?” Rhode Island grumbled, “Not sure why it’s so important for you people, but I’m 5’—“

“That’s being generous,” Arizona interrupted, looking down at Rhode, “You’re like, what, 7 inches tall?

“…SEVEN INCHES IN YOUR MO—”

HEIGHTS

Rhode Island: 5’ and ready to kill.

Delaware: 5’1 and ready to be morally conflicted about the murder.

Connecticut: 5’3 1/2 and ready to be the getaway driver.

New Jersey: 5’3 3/4 and ready to dispose of the body.

New Hampshire: 5’4 and ready to frame someone else for the murder.

Vermont: 5’4 and ready to be framed by New Hampshire for murder.

Massachusetts: 5’4 and ready to set up a fake alibi for everyone involved in the murder.

Hawaii: 5’4 and ready to have a suspicion that Vermont’s innocent.

Maryland: 5’4 1/2 and ready to be the one who arrests Vermont.

West Virginia: 5’5 1/2 and ready to investigate the murder.

South Carolina: 5’6 and ready to accuse Vermont of murder in court.

Maine: 5’6 1/2 and ready to be Vermont’s lawyer.

Indiana: 5’6 1/2 and ready to sentence Vermont to thirty years in prison.

Kentucky: 5’7 1/4 and ready to be Vermont’s cellmate after being sentenced to fifteen years in prison for eating every bird he saw on the front lawn.

Tennessee: 5’7 3/4 and ready to begrudgingly visit Kentucky every other month.

Virginia: 5’7 3/4 and ready to offer assistance as a detective to Hawaii to see if her suspicions were true.

Ohio: 5’8 1/4 and ready to be the first person to get questioned by Hawaii and Virginia.

Pennsylvania: 5’8 1/2 and ready to warn Delaware about Hawaii and Virginia’s investigation after Ohio tells him about it.

Washington DC: 5’9 and ready to notice how nervous Delaware appears to be and ask him if everything’s alright.

Mississippi: 5’9 and ready to accidentally interrupt the conversation before Delaware cracks and confesses everything.

Louisiana: 5’9 1/2 and ready to carry a message to Rhode Island from Delaware that says Virginia and Hawaii are on their trail.

Alabama: 5’9 1/2, single, and ready to mingle.

Arkansas: 5’9 1/2 and ready to lend Virginia and Hawaii one of his retired police dogs to aid them in their investigation.

North Carolina: 5’9 1/2 and ready to give Alabama the worst dating advice in existence.

New York: 5’9 3/4 and ready to give Hawaii and Virginia their first piece of evidence that indicates Vermont might be innocent.

Iowa: 5’10 and ready to offer Alabama some popcorn and words of encouragement after Alabama’s date stormed off on him due to North Carolina’s terrible advice.

Illinois: 5’10 and ready to tell Rhode Island the perfect people to hire who could go after Virginia and Hawaii to throw them off of his scent.

Georgia: 5’10 1/2 and ready to give Alabama actual dating advice.

Wisconsin: 5’11 and ready to be one of the perfect people to be hired to go after Virginia and Hawaii to throw them off Rhode Island’s scent.

Florida: 5’11 and ready to be another one of the perfect people to be hired to go after Virginia and Hawaii to throw them off Rhode Island’s scent.

Missouri: 6’ and ready to set Alabama up with one of her friends.

Oklahoma: 6’ and ready to be the one who visits Vermont in jail and explains what Hawaii and Virginia are doing, including that he thinks the real murderer might of sent some people after them.

North Dakota: 6’ and ready to help Vermont and Kentucky make an escape plan so they can all ditch prison and help Hawaii and Virginia before it’s too late since North Dakota got arrested for drugs and had nothing else to do.

Washington: 6’ 1/2 and ready to give Alabama a high-five after his date went well.

South Dakota: 6’1 and ready to hide North Dakota, Vermont, and Kentucky from the cops.

Nebraska: 6’1 and ready to help Rhode Island hire an assassin to take down Virginia and Hawaii.

Kansas: 6’3 and ready to overhear Nebraska’s conversation and warn Virginia and Hawaii so they could lay low.

Idaho: 6’3 1/2 and ready to help Alabama pick out an engagement ring for his lover after two years of dating.

Utah: 6’4 and ready to officiate Alabama’s wedding.

Minnesota: 6’4 1/2 and ready to give Alabama a toaster as a wedding gift.

Michigan: 6’6 and ready to be the cop trying to track down the escaped inmates.

Wyoming: 6’6 1/2 and ready to be the one digging up more evidence that Vermont’s innocent for Virginia and Hawaii while they're laying low.

Oregon: 6’7 and ready to be the one who helps Wyoming piece the case together.

Colorado: 6’8 1/2 and ready to ignore all the storylines to just chill and smoke pot the entire time instead.

Nevada: 6’10 and ready to find Wyoming’s body after the assassin got to him and Oregon.

Arizona: 6’11 and ready to be the one Rhode Island originally murdered.

New Mexico: 7’ and ready to bring North Dakota, Vermont, and Kentucky back to jail.

Montana: 7’3 and ready to be the hired assassin.

California: 7’6 and ready to arrest Florida and Wisconsin for going after Virginia and Hawaii.

Texas: 8’8 and ready to arrest (with Michigan, Arkansas, and New Mexico’s help) Montana, Rhode Island, Delaware, New Jersey, New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, Nebraska, and Massachusetts after they were found guilty for the murders of Wyoming, Oregon, and Arizona after Vermont was proven innocent.

Alaska: 10’ and the ready to be the one Virginia and Hawaii go to to prove Vermont’s innocence.

#countryhumans ame #countryhumans #statehumans #ch america #ch ame #ch #ch usa #countryhumans america #countryhumans usa #Screw Quebec

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