You Do Not Belong Here [Venezuela]
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Post by Deleted on Jun 7, 2015 17:48:36 GMT -5
Of course Vicente would never admit any sort of responsibility for his lagging economy or the corruption of his government - no, the former is clearly America's fault. The larger nation is simply a bully who is always trying to keep him down at every opportunity! And the corruption is simply because his people are lazy and greedy, but that's not his fault!
Besides, who is stronger now? That's what's most important.
At her goading, he can't say that he isn't extremely tempted to do it. She's been a thorn in his side their entire lives, so he feels like he should compound her misery by killing her. On the other hand, now he kind of doesn't want to because she's telling him to. He doesn't do what she tells him to do, even if she doesn't really want him to do it!
Though her question forces him to pause and ask himself: Would it make him feel better to kill her? Hesitating for a moment as he grapples with that one, he shifts her arms so that her wrists are stacked above her head so that he can hold them both with one hand. Which leaves his other hand free to slap her hard across the face. "I don't need to kill you. I only need to conquer you. Then you'll have to listen to me," he says, his lips shifting into a smirk as he grabs her chin with his fingertips, "And then I can fix you."
She's very, very broken, after all. Sure, he'll admit to himself this own actions didn't help, but he blames most of it on America. Filling her mind with so many stupid ideas definitely didn't help her - it only made everything worse. But if he has any guilt for his own part - well, then all the more reason why he should sort her out. It shouldn't be that difficult, after all - yes, he's made his mistakes in his own affairs, but he's learned from them and it shouldn't be that difficult to add babysitting her to what he already does.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 14, 2015 22:36:58 GMT -5
The slap caused her to wince, as her dark brown eyes whip back to his in silent rage. She might have troubles and internal difficulty, but she certainly did not need to be fixed, especially by a moron like her brother. His fingers dug into her chin, as if he had won. He easily gloated and waved around his power. For being her older brother, he always acted so ridiculously childishly. He must have gotten the trait from their father. She spat a glob of spit onto his face. “A child like you only knows how to break what is in front of them, not how to fix,” she stated, for it was the truth. If Godzilla were put in nation form, it would be her brother, constantly storming through city, destroying everything in his wake.
Her legs lifted and wrapped up and around his chest. She had always been quite flexible. A trait she also related to her father. Her father could be quite a pervert, and some of his stories had been disturbing for youthful ears, even worse when France visited with him. They would both go on and on about the importance of being flexible and how it made all the difference. She agreed, but not in the sense they spoke of it. She used her legs to force her brother’s chest away from her and hopefully weaken his hold on her wrist.
“You have never cared about me, Vicente, so I do not understand why you even wish to fix me in the first place. Can you just leave me alone!” she shouted, using more force against his chest.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 16, 2015 0:39:57 GMT -5
Flinching back a little at the sudden moisture on his face, Vicente grimaces as he lets go of her chin so that he can wipe it off on the back of his hand. However, for her to say that immediately afterward causes him to scoff. "I'm the child, you say? And I'm guessing that would make you the grown-up one, then? Fine, woman, here's your makeup," he says, wiping her own spit off of his hand and onto her cheek. And when there isn't any more of that left, he remarks, "Oh! Looks like I ran out! Don't worry, I have more!" Of course, since he long ago perfected the trick of getting plenty of mucus into his mouth for the purpose of more effective spitting (much to the delight and disgust of his states, who were often the ones to goad him into it), it's not mere saliva that he spits into her face and rubs into it.
Delighted by his own fun, at first he dismisses her efforts with her legs as meaningless, but as she attempts to exert force upon him he finds himself having to put his free hand back down to stabilize himself - using the opportunity to grab her wrist again so that he can have one in each hand instead of trying to manage two with one hand. Attempting to keep his advantage, he shifts his weight more strongly onto his hands to keep her wrists pinned down and to make his legs more able to adjust to her attempts to free herself.
"You want me to leave you alone?!?" he says, his teeth gritted due to his efforts as he shifts and tries to thwart her attempts to get loose, "You declared war on me, Camilia. You asked for this! You gave me a written invitation to come and kick your culo - don't blame me just because I'm winning! I will fix you because that would only be giving you what you've deserved for centuries! You chose your side, you've made your bed, and now you will be facing the consequences of this!"
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Post by Deleted on Jun 25, 2015 21:57:11 GMT -5
Her piercing brown eyes continued to glare into her brother’s features. She made a face as he started to rub the her spit into her cheek. She twisted her face away, trying to get his hand to stop touching her. He was insufferable to deal with, and then something worse. It was disgusting! She jerked and struggled as the wet substance was rubbed into her face. Screw it, she was going to kill him. “You are unbelievable, Vincente!” she shouted at him, red rage filling her cheeks.
She finds her wrist trapped by his hands still insufferable. She hated him this strong, and when she finally defeats him, she would make certain he never felt such strength again. His shouts are outrageous for they both knew that even if she hadn’t declared war on him, after his terrible actions, he likely would have come after her next. Ludicrous. All of it.
As his face loomed closer, she head butted him hard, using the force and her wrapped legs to roll him underneath her. She ripped her wrist away and pulled out her knife, slamming it right underneath his shoulder blade, twisting the metal. “You think to highly of your allies, brother,” she spat, holding a tight pressure on the blade, “I look forward to the day when we take your land, and you watch as those very allies turn their back on you. If any side loses, it yours.”
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Post by Deleted on Jun 28, 2015 2:59:21 GMT -5
Spit is, of course, disgusting stuff - especially if it's from other people and it's on you. However, Camilia seems to be far more disgusted by it than he is, and her struggles to avoid having it applied to her face only encourages him. And it feels justified too - she's the one did it first, and she should have been prepared to face the consequences. Her rage only causes him to smirk.
But in spite of her struggles, he's quite confident that there's nothing she can do. Too confident, as it turns out - all of the sudden he's seeing the proverbial stars, which stuns him enough that for a moment he loses all track of what's going on. He comes back to his senses in time to see the blade coming at him, but not quickly enough to actually do anything about it.
Suddenly his world is pain - pain and anger. She stabbed him? She stabbed him! How dare she stab him? He hadn't had any intention of doing such a terrible thing to her tonight. What would have been the point? He feels that he's so very close to conquering her, so why do actual physical harm when she'll be forced to join him anyway soon? This is just hateful of her! He hasn't done anything worth being stabbed for!
"Pequeña perra!" he spits back at her as he grabs her arm - the one holding the knife - in a hard grip. His other hand quickly reaches around her leg - it's a good thing she's so hopelessly skinny, or this might be difficult - so that he can make a grab at his waistband. And when he does, he wastes no time in lifting the gun now in his hand and firing it the moment that he's reasonably sure that it's pointed at her head - it's a bit hard to do while he's seeing red from all the pain, but she's right there so how can he miss? Especially since he doesn't intend to stop after one shot - no, including the one in the chamber it has eleven shots, so ten seems like the perfect amount.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 3, 2015 13:00:41 GMT -5
Vicente deserved far more pain than a simple stabbing in a nonlethal place. He earned it from years of manipulation and temper tantrums. She could only dream of what her life might have been like if she hadn’t been cursed with him as a brother. She imagined she might be lighter and happier. Her nation would have less instability, from the small militia groups to the corruption. She tried to chase it all away, and yet his presence next to her border made it borderline impossible.
A small flicker of a smile crossed her face as she saw the amount of pain in her brother’s features. She wanted to dig the knife deeper. She should push it in and see if she could carve open his chest to his nonexistent heart.
He is your brother. We should be fighting with him, not against.
Shut up, kill him, Cami. Kill this cockroach of life.
The voices caused her to blink and refocus on her actions. No, she might wish for his life to be ripped away, but she did not wish for him to completely disappear. He was still her brother even if he lacked any sense of kindness. The tight grip on her hand made her want to fight against it. She frowned at the insult. If she was a bitch, he was an asshole. She pulled harder, causing the knife to pull out slightly allowing more blood to pulse out of the wound. She had not noticed his other hand for her own had gone to her face. Her thumb rubbed across his cheek as their eyes locked. “It could have been different, brother,” she said softly, because it truly could have been. They had been a team once when they fought against their papa, and yet he ruined it like he ruined everything.
She caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. It was too late for her to do anything. Her eyes going wide as the sound of the gun went off.
It seemed it would never be different.
Her brother was an asshole.
Her brains splattered out on the other side of her head, blood hitting the dirt, as each of the ten bullets tore through her head. Her entire body went limp, her hand slipping from the knife, as her dead corpse collapsed on his body.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 9, 2015 23:32:22 GMT -5
Full of anger, Vicente is without other thoughts until he stops shooting except the idea that she deserves every single one of them. In fact, if he didn't have some instinct that it might be a good idea to hang onto the last bullet, just in case, she'd have gotten that one as well. For an instant after, he considers giving it to her anyway. But that's about the same time that his thoughts catch up with him. What is he doing?
He lets the gun fall to the ground, grunting as he shoves his sister's corpse off of him. He should be pleased with himself - she hurt him and he punished her severely for it - but instead he finds his feelings to be quite mixed. She's right, it could have been different. If only she hadn't been such a bossy brat when they were younger. If only she didn't side with the American now - what is even with that? Does she have some stupid crush on him? Does she actually think that he's any different from the European filth that spawned him? Alfred is nothing like his southern neighbors and he never will be - he doesn't belong amongst them or deserve to have any say in what they do.
The sound of running feet signal the approach of his men, who heard the gunshots and were quick to investigate. Pablo is right on their heels, and looks quite appalled by the state of the two nations - both the obvious knife wound and... well, Camila's missing some rather large pieces of her head right now. Some of them may have said something, but Vicente wasn't really paying attention - too busy stewing in miserable thoughts. It's only when one of the men with some medical knowledge starts tending to the knife wound that he snaps out of it - with a quick intake of breath he protests against the pain. That's when he notices that Pablo has been trying to get his attention.
"What happened here, Vicente?"
He pauses for a moment, trying to decide how to explain. Finally he feels his jaw go hard as he says, "I won." He glances over at the men, then turns his attention back to Pablo as he adds, "Take that as a good sign - Venezuela has defeated Colombia, and the same will happen in the morning!" Then he looks down at the body of his sister, frowning, still feeling the pain of the wound she caused him. He's covered in her blood. Still...
After a long moment, he quietly adds, "Get me... Tarek." Yeah, that should be a good choice - too young and weak to be of much use in the fight, but old enough to handle some responsibility. "We'll have him watch her, give him a gun so that he can make sure that she doesn't wake up during the battle. When the battle is over, we'll dump her over on her side," he decides. Attempting to hang on to her at this point would be very difficult, and in his mind her ultimate defeat is just one the horizon, so why not just let her go? It's just as well, anyway - as much as he'd like all the advantages of having her in his house, the idea of delaying the moment when he'll have to put up with her being around all the time is quite appealing too. No, she can go back. For now.
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do not forget me
About thirty years ago, Israel's boss was assasinated. By who, well, no one knows, but Israel immediately blamed Iran. Of course, that alone wouldn't have started World War III, even though Israel and Iran's various allies declared war in quick succession.
Nah, the nuclear bomb in the middle of Jerusalem probably did it.
Now? Now the rest is history. The world's been at war for thirty years, thirty years of bloodshed and pain. No one else has reached for the nuclear option quite yet, but no one's happy. So if we all die- well, do not forget me, okay?
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Do Not Forget Me was created by Waffles and Jonathan and amazing layout and coding is thanks to SO-4 . Content is copyrighted to Do Not Forget Me unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney The mini-profile remodel is by Trinity Blair of Adoxography. Thanks!
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