Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
Fresh past-part fills post HERE
Comments and Suggestions go here
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Remember though that you need not post your updates unless you posted in a new part
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Russia understood what was going on. Perfectly.
He could easily translate those French and Spanish whispers, echoing through the darkness. Verbal evidence appearing before him, words in flashes of white and grey before his very eyes. Even the lowliest person, without the slightest understanding of anything, other than their first grunted utterance, could see what was happening. What would predictably come.
That is until the screen started flickering, and suddenly went dead. Right in the middle of the movie no less.
“Oye, fije la proyector!”, a Spanish man called out a few seats in front of Ivan, far off to the left corner of the theater. The teenage girl curled up against the shouting male, added an irate little huff, annoyed that the French film she’d most likely broken curfew to see, was being postponed ( ... )
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“I’m not armed if that’s what your thinking,” the American behind him sighed, as if his voice had taken a much needed rest from the exhaustions of rough-and-tumble heroics he’d often brag of. “I just...want to talk...”
Russia felt himself smiling at the screen like he’d won the world in a goblet, though he was truly facing the edge of an emptying abyss. He wasn’t the all-seeing eye people made him to be...and Ivan really couldn’t predict what Jones’ intent was, sneaking up on him after months of avoidance. The elder nation merely deduced the worst.
“I am correct in suspecting you’ve come to admit miserable failure and defeat of th-”
“NEVER!” America shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly. “YOU ( ... )
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‘How stupid does America think...oh, it’s just coffee. Damn.’
This gaping lack of threat attached to this invitation only confused (if not outright bothered) Ivan even more. It was one thing to burden the nation with instructions for some vague and secretive purpose, but who did Alfred think he was, flippantly commanding all these directions to his enemy of all people. Even still, he could feel the young country boring holes into his back with a straightforward stare, awaiting any sort of reply.
With hum of a little laugh, Ivan glared into his shoulder, so the American might see at least a silhouette slip of his mock-amused face. “How painfully obvious, for so-”
“Please?” The western ( ... )
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“Very well. One hour.” he said in a quite but clear voice, after the long deliberation, and all too certain that the American was still behind him. “I trust you’ll have ready something halfway decent to eat.”
America snorted that adorable hate-filled scoff, that Russia had so longed to hear these past few days, “Vodka. Sure thing.”
That hand suddenly returned yet again, clapping his shoulder only once, then slipping back into the shadows. Ivan didn’t dare look at it, pretending to be utterly absorbed in the love confession on screen. Minutes shivered by, before he turned ever so casually towards his opposite shoulder. An empty seat sat by it’s lonesome, in an inky darkness.
Jones had long gone. Folding into himself, listening, but not, to the movie’s earnest wisdoms, Braginsky closed his eyes, and was left alone.
Ah, that dream again. He looked onto the ( ... )
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But Russia could recognize the symbol. It was his flag. Hammer, sickle and all, that was draped on America so coquettishly. Turning to Russia, he smiled, presenting a basket he’d woven and apparently just finished.
“There!” he shouted in his usual cheery tone, but spoken in a flawless and beautiful Russian tongue “What shall we fill it with?”
The basket was something America had crafted together by himself, without machines or any dependance upon others. It was strong and aged to perfection in an instant. The youth looked so whole at this accomplishment, but his face said otherwise, licking lustily at his lips, kneading them between his teeth. Glasses gone from his ears and nose, there was no hiding what America’s eyes implored.
‘Pleasepleaseplease!’Oh, temptation ( ... )
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A/N: Sorry to leave you readers hanging like this (Long and not very action packed chappy), but I wanted to try writing for Russia (Hope I didn’t fail miserably.) and to bring a little pity and humanity to his character, maybe have him contradict himself a bit. As for America, I’m trying to make him genuinely scared for Alaska (Since Ivan and Alfred’s governments are technically at their nuclear my~missiles~are~bigger~ego standoff), but at the same time he’s still the same hero-crazed, ballsy nut job he ever was, who doesn’t want to look weak in front of his enemy.
-Also, yes, there are many instances of play on words in this chapter. I wasn’t just being lazy.
Historical Stuff:-Hints of the impeding Sino-Soviet split, that was finally realized in 1961. The Chinese and Russian partnership had been secretly ( ... )
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Loved the build up in these parts. Can't wait to see how it turns out.
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As for the dream sequence... Erhm, I'm really bad at analysing any kind of symbols, but at least the little USA flag means Alaska...? XD *fail* I liked the whole atmosphere of the dream, though.
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-And bravo to you smarty-anon on the...heheheh...basket filling (LOL I'm DIRTY IN THE NERDIEST WAY POSSIBLE!), but yes a basket filled or being filled in dreams often means creation or conception(Or pregnancy, if your have visions like Ivan. He can't figure it out though because that wouldn't be fun).
Also nice description on the meaning behind the two forgetting about their flags. I wanted to add in how terrifyingly human they felt, but forgot to do so. Whoops...
Anyway anon, YOU GET A GOLD STAR! Props!
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Please update soon, author-anon! *bookmarks*
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