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fumblingmusings · 10 months

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so sorry for the bother! may you recommend me some usuk fics? I have no qualms with any genre but I'll be honest, I fear I won't be able to read fics past 50k due to lack of free time

Heck yeah you can! I have a few bookmarked on my Ao3 page - do recommend you have a look there as well as everything below!

I do like a long fic, but I have some one shots as well that I like to come back to. A few of these are a bit old and call back to a different time in fandom, so be mindful of that. Some are ones that everyone has read. Some are explicit, some have attitudes and approaches towards nationhood that haven't aged that great or weren’t that well conceived of to begin with etc., etc...

So essentially... use your discretion.

There is more. There is a lot more. Maybe I'll make a part two or something. But for now…. here's a monster.

Under the Read More as there is lots of links and words.

*****

Tinstars

So Complicated (One-Shot)

It comes every year. Its influence is ubiquitous, seeping into every facet of society like a toxin. The greatest of men crumble to their knees in its wake. You can’t run, or beg, or plead. It has no empathy, no mercy. It will tear out your soul and consume you, piece by wretched piece, until there is nothing left. So basically, it’s Valentine’s Day and something weird happens and then England is there.

Strange Powers (Multi-Chapter)

America thought it would be funny to turn the device on himself. What’s the worst that could happen? Y’know, aside from accidentally falling in love with your friend. A continuation of “America’s strange invention” from the end of Comic Diary 8.

Tinstars manages to write both funny and heartwarming scenes at the same time, and keeps very close to canon characterisation whilst they're at it. Their America is such a goddamn weirdo. The romance scenes are soft, and England is proactive and bamboozled by how bizarre his chosen partner apparently is. Just classic good fic.

*****

PennyLane

Born on the Fourth of July (One-Shot)

It’s America’s Bicentennial and the celebration is going to be epic. Despite England’s bouts of ill health he suffers during this time of the year, he knows his duty, and his duty is to attend the festivities and play his part. But this celebration doesn’t turn out as either America or England thought it would. (Set during America’s Bi-Centennial, 1976)

All Roads Lead (One-Shot)

It’s WWII, and England is a prisoner in a German POW camp. America’s mission it to rescue him before the Germans discover who he really is.

Obviously Penny had to be on this list. She has also written two great human au fics, but I like my canon historical fics just a wee bit more. Arthur is almost always in some form of distress and in need of some...healing attention (cough cough) in these fics, but never to the point of outright wimpiness. Just excellently written and characterised fics.

*****

Smoochy-Ryoko

Chiaroscuro (One-Shot)

Alfred often hides his sadness and fear under a carefree mask and that Arthur is the only one who really understands. Aka Arthur spoils Alfred, the fic.

There's gonna probably be a lot of oldie but goodies on this list, and this is the first. It is weird reading these fics back from 2011 and realising how much of the political landscape has changed for sure. Regardless, Arthur defends Alfred, runs him a bath, and they snuggle. Perfect!

*****

Skuratsukikage

Where the Shadows Are (Two-Parter)

A night in England's house, 1947. Sometimes it feels like the war is never over. Language, mentions of war, dealing with a psychological disorder (PTSD), established relationship.

If Life's a Dance, Sometimes You Miss a Step (One-Shot)

America and England have a real fight despite their committed relationship.

They do not get brought up in recommendation posts anymore which is a shame because their writing is impeccable. They have a huge catalogue of fic all on Livejournal, so I recommend having a peruse and seeing what catches your eye!

*****

RobinRocks

Paper Crown Kings and Pinwheel Queens (Multi-Chapter)

"What is a nation without humanity?" "I don't know," England said flatly. "Spades. Supremacy. Sickness …The thing that ate him." Cardverse without Cardverse: in which the suits are weapons rather than kingdoms.

Lavender's Blue (One-Shot)

The Suit Kingdom exists as a manufactured barrier between the bloodied human and dying fairy realms as the twentieth century slides ever closer to a second war. The story of a human king, his fairy queen and the worlds between them.

A is For (Multi-Chapter)

Alfie. Which Arthur totally called him last night. And thus begins Alfred's quest to get him to say it again. Set in the early 1950s, after the war.

I feel like this one is divisive nowadays. She is a very good writer technically, but oftentimes her Arthur and Alfred (especially her Arthur - who is often obtuse the point where plots move at a snail's pace because he just won't be honest to Alfred and it can genuinely be infuriating) can cross over into completely unlikeable and unsympathetic. That may be the point but... ymmv on where your limit of empathy for those boys are. I tend to think you'll have better luck with her one-shots or smaller multi-chapters. She also has an incredibly creative mind for aus, no-one quite comes up with off the wall fantasy like she does. A if For is by far her most conventional fic, along with 1912 and 1915, I think her most famous ones about the Titanic and Lusitania. Lavender's Blue was supposed to be a multi-chapter but what we got was an excellent one-shot (fairy Arthur guys... fairy Arthur!!!), and the the twist at the end of Paper Crown Kings and Pinwheel Queens still makes me go what the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu a decade later.

*****

StarDropDream

Highway Cloudbusting (Multi-Chapter Three Volume Fic)

Sick of politics and business as usual, England decides to indulge a rare moment of spontaneity and go on a roadtrip. He should have known that America would want to tag along. And they both should have known that the trip would set them down a path they couldn't turn away from. / Just because you confess your feelings doesn't mean everything will fall into place from there - and England and America both have things they need to understand and accept about themselves and each other. / "I want to hold your hand".

Coffee and Cigarettes / With a Hole in My Heart (One-Shots)

Alfred made a promise to himself that he would never surrender to anyone, never relinquish his control. / Arthur was afraid to give himself completely to Alfred. These two fics mirror each other with the same concept but placed on each person in a different universe: how to get the boys to bottom. It's far more emotive than it sounds.

I mean... not to throw my hat into the ring but StarDropDream is the best USUK writer the fandom has ever had (oh yes I said it)! Her characterisations are spot on, the emotions will, if the time is right, actually have you choking up, and the sex is... nice. :| I have already spoken about Lying in that Sound Tonight and on and on it goes. They are just brilliant. Their long fics are the exact right kind of little plot lots of feelings, and their one shots are snapshots of something that you know is so much deeper. Just honestly, go through their catalogue for Arthur and Alfred, great stuff.

*****

Miaou Jones

Darts of Pleasure (Three One Shots)

Arthur could have Alfred's brilliance and warmth in his life—if only he could let himself. / Alfred remembers the very first time he and Arthur got together, with a closing reflection on the events from the beginning of Amsterdam. / In many ways and with many words, even if not those exact three, Arthur tells Alfred he loves him.

If you want smut they're the author for you! Phew! And they even do the unforgivable and make it either A) Hot as hell or B) Emotive as fuck. I also very much enjoy Star Light, Star Bright, but I won't recommend it here, as whilst USUK is the emotional centre of the fic, it involves Arthur and Ivan sleeping together at Potsdam and the framing of it is deliberately dubious.

*****

ElapsingSpiral

Al and Artie do Blackpool (Multi-Chapter)

It’s time for Arthur’s annual holiday, only money is a tad short: Blackpool it is then. Still, if Arthur’s going to England’s Capital City for Tackiness, he’s taking somebody else down with him. Poor Alfred.

Dating Advice for Germans and Americans (Multi-Chapter)

Ludwig and Alfred have one thing in common: questionable taste in the people they turn to for expert dating advice.

These two fics are set in the same universe but don't have to be read in order to understand what's going on. It's blindingly obvious that the author is British on account on how scary accurate Arthur is characterised. Their one shots of him taking Alfred to a greasy cafe or a car boot sale are sweet and nostalgic, but these two longer fics are incredible, and I feel like they never got the attention they deserved, even when they were published in 2009/10. The GerIta in Dating Advice is also incredible, and the contrast between the way Ludwig and Feli have issues versus Alfred and Arthur is so well done. Ludwig and Arthur's friendship being based on pragmatism before they realise that they actually get along (to the point where Feli thinks there's an affair going on) is well written too.

Arthur is incredibly love sick in these stories, desperate to be loved and be wanted for himself and the incidents which split him and Alfred apart are genuinely heartbreaking because he doesn't really do anything massively wrong. It's this legacy of shit behaviour that people won't cut him a break, and Alfred is the one who has a learning curve of understanding that Arthur really wants is to belong to someone, and how him asking for the same in return is not the red flag Alfred thinks it is.

The fics are also bloody hilarious. Incredibly dry. Tragically their Livejournal was deleted where there were many other fics (the GerIta... gone T_T) but alas. Gone into the void. Hmm. I suppose you can tell which one is my favourite right? I just want more people to read these ones. Please.

*****

Orestiad

for all e̶͎̾t̷̟̅ë̸̠r̵̺̐n̸̡i̵̦̓t̵̘̓y̶̲ (One-Shot)

A few months into their 4-year long exploration mission, Alfred is starting to form an unhealthy attachment to the ship’s AI.

This one fucked with me. They set up like four different ways you know it's going to go tits up. We've all seen Space Odyssey. Arthur as an AI is begging for trouble. The Kill Switch that Alfred is the only one with access to. Arthur getting attached to Alfred. It's all going to go downhill. And then it swerves in a brilliant parallel to earlier in the fic and it's like, oh no there truly is no fate worse than being loved by something not human is there. God or otherwise.

*****

Rierin

Written in the Stars (One-Shot)

Alfred wakes up after an assassination attempt to find Arthur at his bedside. He's told he and Arthur are engaged— but the last thing Alfred remembers is the Revolutionary War, and all he feels for Arthur is anger and resentment bordering on hatred.

Amnesia fic make Abbie go brrrrrrr. Genuinely not much to it than that. Arthur is so wonderfully pathetic in this fic and I mean that in the best possible way.

*****

Kink Meme Fills

The frustration here is I literally just copied and pasted a bunch of responses onto my pc for my own personal consumption without noting the original web url like a fool so excuse me whilst these listings are a bit more haphazard. I would have a nosey through the USUK livejournal page which indexed them up until Part 22. They are missing the later ones and ones that were back filled, so I would also go through the Finished Fills List and - if you feel like really going through it - the plain old Fills List.

Listen. Somewhere in those hundreds of pages is a fill where the entire Commonwealth catches wind that Arthur is pining after Alfred. Antigua is the first to figure it out; Canada is last. Someone went to the effort of writing all (well, at the time, some more nations have joined recently) the nations of the Commonwealth reacting, including Scotland who gets metaphorically possessed by the spirit of Arthur Conan Doyle and goes hunting for his missing brother who is being held captive by Oz and Zee. Some nations don't care because they are well within their rights not to care a fig what England does, some are aggressively supportive because honeymoon tourism and many just wish the America and England would spit it out and put everyone out of enduring their misery. I have it saved on my computer, but lord knows where it is in the depths of the Kink Meme. It's a sweet one. Worth sifting for... Good luck.

Whew! Okay. I'll call it quits there. Big boy. Hope there's something of interest in here! Old and new!

#hetalia #fanfic #hws england #hws america #usuk #op

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magiccallie · 2 years

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Campfire Tales: Blood Statues, 2000 or so words, also it occured to me I never posted some of the other weird west kinda short spooky stuff here so lemme know if that sounds interesting

The setting sun cast the rocky outcroppings in the distance and the dust of the desert in bloody hues. The shadows were at their longest, soon to join with the dark cold night. Already far above the stars were coming out, and the desert was coming alive. The three bounty hunters waited carefully to see any smoke from another’s campfire, but when they saw none they relievedly made their own. The dried cow patties and what little other fuel they could find stank as it burned, but the light and heat it provided was a welcome barrier from the growing night around them. They were too far from help if trouble arose, and the cult they hunted was not far. Indeed, the saguaro cacti around them grew tall and strange, and the cult’s supposed warship of them seemed almost sensible in those twilight hours.

‘Faststitch’, had been an army medic, and had tried to be a tailor. He sat low by the fire, watching his cooking carefully with his beady eyes. If he had ever earned a medal, he didn’t show it, but a bag of medical supplies never left his side, nor did his revolver. Jezabel Rae sharpened her knife as she waited, a slight scowl on her face. Occasionally, she’d flick her head like a horse to get a stray lock of her black hair out of her face without using her hands. Finally, there was Brutus J. Brutus was, perhaps, more simple of outlook than the other two but no less competent. Brutus was so enshrouded in fabrics it was hard to distinguish any feature about them, but they claimed dust and storm didn’t bother them for it. They stood with their arms crossed, their gaze more on the horizon than the fire.

It was their first job together, and they had spoken increasingly little as the distance from Tinstar grew and the daylight hours waned. Brutus broke the silence as the beans finished cooking. “So, either of you got any stories?”

Faststitch fave a scalding gaze over the fire as answer. Jezabel however, just switched what side of her mouth she was chewing and asked, “What kind of stories?”

“Any kind, just to fill the night and get to know each other.”

“What’s a matter Jupiter, afraid of the cult and cacti? Because you know,” she leaned back, gesturing to the desert around them, “you should be afraid. There are all sortsa weird things out there in the dark.”

Brutus couldn’t help but glance about, “Such as?”

Now Jezabel leaned close, and Faststitch kept an eye on her. She move her arms about as she spoke, still eating. “Well for one, it was last year. East of Salvation and Purgatory, where the mountains are tall and the drops long. They were trying to make a tunnel for the trains. It was early summer, but the heat was still terrible, the kind that rises from the ground and makes every surface scald. I, a deputy named Earl, and a member of uh, one of the organization in Purgatory named Smith were all going to investigate a hold up on the site.

Now I know what you’re thinkin. You’re goin, Jezabel what does this have ta do with weirdness, an don’t tell me you’re a union breaker. No no, that ain’t my rodeo an I wouldn’ta taken the job if I thought that that’s what it was. It sounded like maybe someone had threatened the crew and they were too scared ta work. They were set up in a rocky outcropin, to the west was a long drop an a bridge, the east a tunnel, the south was a drop and the north a climb and some trees. We got there late in the afternoon and got right ta work. The Deputy and the Foreman got ta talkin, Smith started to talk with the workers, and I tried to look around. It was a small camp, and they haden’t spread their tents far from the Foreman’s shack or and the supplies. In fact the workers all looked kinda nervous, and they kept lookin at the tunnel like they expected somethin ta come out of it. The ground didn’t have any weird tracks, and I got ta wonerin what had um all so spooked. The tunnel was deep enough ta be dark, an I couldn’t make out anything in there. Luckily the other two’s efforts had been more fruitful.

Deputy told us the Foreman did not understand why they were afraid, but said a week before they had started refusin ta go in, sayin it was dangerous. He also mentioned he’d seen an old hermit around a few times since they’d started work. The hermit had glowered and stared at them at first, then started ta yell at um to leave. When that didn’t work he stopped showing up as much, but more than once they had caught him sneakin around the camp at night.

Smith had a different side of things. The workers said thing had appeared in the cave, figures that looked almost human and stood deathly still. One a them had tried ta investigate and his screams echoed out the cave an he didn’t come back. That got Earl pissed, and he went back to argue with the Foreman before the Representative had even finished. Smith said the workers wanted to collapse the tunnel, but had been stopped by the Foreman. We glanced at Earl arguing, it looked like he would be at it awhile. We shared a look, an Smith asked the workers if he could use some dynamite, which they seemed okay with. I lit a torch an got my revolver ready, an we went in. There were certainly figures standing there near the back, and the smell of rot filled the still air.

When my light hit them we stopped. The figures were statues, roughly carved in human shape, splattered with dried blood, but statues. At their feet was a battered and mangled corpse of a railway worker. They didn’t have eyes, but did have indentions around that area, an I couldn’t help but feel like I was bein stared at. I remember tryin ta joke, “That’s all? A pickaxe could deal with this.” And the Rep gave me an unamused look. He inched closer ta them, inspectin um, when suddenly one of um moved, turnin ta look at at him. I yelled an he jumped back as the whole lot a them started to move. He tried ta punch one, I think he mighta thought it was a costume, but I heard his knuckle crack over my yellin. I started firin, blowin off a few chunks, but they didn’t stop comin. He pulled out a pistol from his vest an started ta fire with one hand, pulling out the dynamite with the other.

“Light!” He yelled. I tried not ta flail as we lit the dynamite, he tossed it behind us as we ran. When it exploded, I turned around. I didn’t hear any more movement, nor did I see anythin, or at least at first. Then I found them all in chunks. “I think that did…” I started to call but had’ta stop. The pieces were movin, slowly, but still. Like they were tryin ta remake themselves. I ran back out of the tunnel and shook my head at Smith, “They’ll be back. Gotta be somethin keepin them around.”

He nodded, holding the hand with the broken knuckle an scowlin. “I think we should visit this hermit.” He said. Earl walked over to check on us after the explosion, he looked tired as a dog after a game a tug o’ war. We told him what happened, but I ain’t sure he believed me.

It was startin ta get dark, and our choices were hope our actions didn’t provoke retaliation from the statues when they finished puttin themselves back tagather, or try ta explore around the wilderness at night in hope’sa findin the hermit. Somehow, watchin the cave all night seemed less appealin ta looking ta end it sooner and we started ta hike. It was a moonless night, an my an the Deputy’s toches were the only lights.

The trees and brush was thick an walking was as much an acta faith as dexterity. By a stroke a luck, I spotted a goat trail that we started ta follow. The camp was getting further an further away, and the night felt like it was pressin in against our torches at times. First sign we were gettin close was the bear traps. Then we saw somethin that made me jump. A shape in the dark was standing there. It was a statue, first one, then more down the trail. Then more still till there was all sortsa statues linin the path. All of um were made from stone or carved from wood, and they were animals an people in all sortsa positions. We kept expectin one ta move, ta come alive an attack, but the night was deathly quiet. The trail forked, an we saw one final statue set a little away an a shack of a cabin with its lights on. That final statue…I, could not for the life a me tell ya what it was supposed to be of, but it was big, shaped like a nightmare, parts of it were painted in red, and just looking at it gave me the creeps. I had the worst feelin the paint was blood, an I didn’t wanna take my eyes off it.

Unfortunately, we didn’t wanna give whoever had made all that stuff any more opportunity ta see us than we had already, so we needed ta snuff our lights. We shuffled real slow towards the cabin, not liftin our feet for fear of bear traps, and when we got close enough, we listened. Someone inside was scratchin at paper with a pen an mutterin ta himself. We all looked at each other, and Smith kicked in the door. The hermit was a dusty old chunk a jerky of a man. A crusty, skeletal old codger with wild eyes, few teeth, and had more hair and a need of a bath than anyone I’d met before. He looked like he was about ta fight, but the Rep knocked him down an yelled, “How do we stop the statues?”

That made the old guy hoot an holler in laughter. “Yall strangers are in over ya heads.” He jeered.

I looked at what he was writin, it looked like a plan ta blow up the bridge. All around were scattered pages with strange images an words. Smith pressed a knee onto the old man’s chest, but the Deputy pulled him back, only ta aim his gun at the hermit. “Sit, this here is ya chance. All sortsa folks want this tunnel done. Your…creations have killed some people already an that’s enough to arrest ya.”

The old man laughed again, spit flyin outa his mouth. “You’re laws mean nothing out here city boy. Yall are far away from civilization. Different laws and powers rule out here.”

Earl’s hammer clicked, “How. Do. You. Stop. Them?”

Suddenly we heard movement outside. We turned ta look out the window, and the old geezer got up faster than I woulda thought possible. He snatched a knife off the desk an stabbed it inta the Deputy’s back before we could stop him. Then he started spitting out some strange words an the Rep’s face started to peel. I mean, whole strips a skin startin ta lift up, it was terrifyin. We fired into the old guy, and the sound outside stopped, so did the peelin. Smith started ta bandage himself an I checked on Earl, but he was already gone. We lit the whole cabin on fire an I grabbed the Deputy’s body ta bring back. The big statue had moved, and now still and unbalanced, had tipped over. Whatever weirdness that had made them all come alive had died with the old man. I made sure they destroyed them all with dynamite though, just in case.” She finished with a small huff and her knife danced in her hand.

Faststitch pursed his lips, “Not the worst story I’ve ever heard.”

“Well alright there wise guy, you tell one.” Jezabel replied.

“Oh my stories aren’t as fun. I just mean you could use some work building mood. Ghost stories are all about that.”

Jezabel glowered at him a moment, then turned to Brutus, “What about you?”

Brutus. Who had been silent until then, tried not to sound nervous when they answered, “I think that might be enough story time. Its getting late and we need to sleep at some point.” Faststich snorted, but Jezabel nodded.

“Sure. Alright. But next time you’re telling one.”

#my writing #writing #short story #weird west #Camp fire tales. Bloody Statues

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