52 Sunflowers for Ivan Braginski Prologue/?
anonymous
December 9 2009, 12:21:51 UTC
Ah, Christ, sorry this took so long for me to get up here. Life, anon, is my final answer. I don't know how frequent updates will be, I just know this post will be quite long...I gather.
Prologue This is a love story. But it’s not an ordinary love story. There are no power hungry stepmothers out to make their son’s lives miserable by keeping them away from women their entire lives. There are no fairy godmothers swooping in at the last minute to provide the lowly maiden with a new dress and glass slippers for the ball. In fact, there are no grand balls in this love story either. No swooping music at the climax with a kiss on the shore at midnight.
This is a love story. But it’s not about two souls destined to fall in love. It’s not about arranged marriages between royals. It is not about gallant men thrust into danger to save their women. It’s not about happily ever after. In fact, it would be a stretch to consider this a story about everlasting love in the face of all adversity.
Re: 52 Sunflowers for Ivan Braginski 1/?
anonymous
December 9 2009, 12:24:00 UTC
Chapter 1
Bang!
A blur of navy blue skids across the shiny, linoleum tiles. A hat falls off, exposing a crop of blonde hair. Glasses skid. The blur stops somewhere near the petunias.
“Christ, Fernandez, you could have let me know you were going to do that!”
Her voice is a mix of anger and embarrassment, freckle kissed cheeks burning red.
There’s laughter outside. The doors still swing on their hinges. There’s a man in the row behind the door, with a broom, sweeping the same spot he had been for the past hour.
The girl picks herself off and dusts her board stiff uniform off. With a huff, she picks up her hat (it’s round with a shiny black visor). A white glove falls out. She grumbles, picks it up, jams it in her pocket. She slams her hat on and walks outside.
The girl punches a boy on his shoulder. The sweeper assumes it’s Fernandez.
Re: 52 Sunflowers for Ivan Braginski 2/?
anonymous
December 9 2009, 12:32:29 UTC
Chapter 2She tells her horde (there’s three of them) to wait because she has to do something. They groan and remind her they’re going to Denver and Taps is at 1 and they want to go out. One reminds her that not everyone is on the Dean’s and Comm’s List. She flips them off at the door, removes her cap and reenters the store
( ... )
Re: 52 Sunflowers for Ivan Braginski 3a/?
anonymous
December 9 2009, 12:40:24 UTC
Chapter 3
“Hello,” the girl says with a curled lip. The man’s neck blazes scarlet. She sidesteps him, and he stumbles forward. Once he’s regained his balance, he brushes his hands on his jacket (as if to rid himself of the action). He looks nervously towards his sisters. The eldest, Katushka, behind the counter, gasps, hand near her mouth. The youngest, Natalya, stops watering. She glares at him. Then returns to water.
The customer, their first since noon yesterday, walks with that erect, deliberate yet unaware, walk cadets do. Her chin is held even and he wonders if he could balance a water bucket on her head. Her cap is tucked under her left arm at a straight 90 degrees. Her footsteps echo on the shiny plastic.
Katushka jerks her head in the cadet’s direction, telling him to go talk to her. The bumbling man gathers himself and clears his throat. He trots to the cadet, who is around the forget-me-nots. “Um, sorry about that,” he tries. The cadet turns to him, eyes bright behind her glasses, almost the same shade as
( ... )
Re: 52 Sunflowers for Ivan Braginski 3b/?
anonymous
December 9 2009, 12:43:35 UTC
“Yes sister?”
“Don’t screw this up,” she says in Russian. “I don’t want to go back to Russia any more than you do and I don’t want to plan your funeral when we get there.”
The spray of water stops. Ivan and Katushka turn to their sister. Natalya glares. Then returns to the watering.
“Natalya might,” Ivan mutters.
“That’s because Natalya is nineteen years old and far away from home. You and I are both grown. We haven’t had a customer since yesterday and we haven’t had a buying customer since last Thursday
( ... )
Re: 52 Sunflowers for Ivan Braginski 3c/?
anonymous
December 9 2009, 12:49:10 UTC
Rays of yellow seem to stretch to Jones, as if pleading to be brought home, loved and tended. She caresses the rays carefully, as if it is made of fine china. Ivan feels his chest warm. It’s the first thing he’s done correct since the cadet had walked into the store. And maybe now…just maybe he could close a deal
( ... )
Re: 52 Sunflowers for Ivan Braginski 4a/?
anonymous
December 9 2009, 12:55:59 UTC
Chapter 4“Amelia, you’re such a tool bag,” Antonio Fernandez says from the backseat. He’s an international cadet, still a four degree, but a few years older. He’s from Spain, so his English sounds like it’s been sent to a day spa and pampered. It’s smooth, buttery and suave
( ... )
Re: 52 Sunflowers for Ivan Braginski 4b/?
anonymous
December 9 2009, 13:02:33 UTC
It’s true. Luka decided to be daring today and not wear his service dress. They weren’t Recognized cadets yet, so four degrees were required to wear service dress when they left campus. Luka figured skinny jeans, high top Converses, a skirt over that and a white camisole with vest and scarf (as well as a parka; it was November in Colorado), fell into the category of “service dress.”
“Because, I’m freaking amazing,” Luka says, as if Fernandez asked for the color of the sky.
“But we’re only going to Denver,” Fernandez insists. “You could still get caught.”
Luka waves his hand. “Pfft. I’ve got the illest sneaking skills ever. And with Jonesie over there, you know, future F-22 pilot,” Jones rolls her eyes, “she’ll be able to snipe out upperclassmen and ACM’s, right?”
“Gotcha back, Luka,” Jones says.
“Oh my God, that’s not how you pronounce my name,” Luka says rolling his eyes. “But I guess I can forgive you cretin Americans and you,” he points to Fernandez, “for not being able to comprehend the complexities of the Polish
( ... )
Holy shit, are you crazy? I totally DO NOT want you to stop! I love all the details you put in here (I confess that I don't know jack about the Air Force Academy, so I'm glad you put in all the notes to explain things.) And even though he's only been in part of the story, I ~love~ poor awkward Ivan. And Amelia, I love her even more (I think I like America better as a girl, no joke.)
Re: 52 Sunflowers for Ivan Braginski 5a/?
anonymous
January 26 2010, 11:11:23 UTC
Hey, OP. I'm so sorry that this is extremely late. I try to stay a little more current with updates. So...here's the skinny. I lost my notebook with all of notes in it for this fic-fill for about a couple of weeks. I had the next chapter completely written and ready for posting, but I lost the notebook shortly after Christmas, and have only recently found it. Chapter 6 is on it's way, but I slowed it down a loooooot and I think i may have to redo it, unless you don't mind a chapter with mostly dialogue. XD
Without further ado, the next installment of 52 Flowers For Ivan Braginski.
5 The table is set for three. Paper plates and it’s not delivery it’s Digorno pizza. Water drips on the linoleum floor with a gentle drip-drop. Ivan notes that he needs to fix that. Over the stove, a light flickers, clinging desperately to the last breaths of life. A heater put-puts in the background, trying not to die
( ... )
Does OP mind fem!America?
Reply
*excited*
Reply
Prologue
This is a love story. But it’s not an ordinary love story. There are no power hungry stepmothers out to make their son’s lives miserable by keeping them away from women their entire lives. There are no fairy godmothers swooping in at the last minute to provide the lowly maiden with a new dress and glass slippers for the ball. In fact, there are no grand balls in this love story either. No swooping music at the climax with a kiss on the shore at midnight.
This is a love story. But it’s not about two souls destined to fall in love. It’s not about arranged marriages between royals. It is not about gallant men thrust into danger to save their women. It’s not about happily ever after. In fact, it would be a stretch to consider this a story about everlasting love in the face of all adversity.
This is a love story.
Reply
Bang!
A blur of navy blue skids across the shiny, linoleum tiles. A hat falls off, exposing a crop of blonde hair. Glasses skid.
The blur stops somewhere near the petunias.
“Christ, Fernandez, you could have let me know you were going to do that!”
Her voice is a mix of anger and embarrassment, freckle kissed cheeks burning red.
There’s laughter outside. The doors still swing on their hinges.
There’s a man in the row behind the door, with a broom, sweeping the same spot he had been for the past hour.
The girl picks herself off and dusts her board stiff uniform off. With a huff, she picks up her hat (it’s round with a shiny black visor). A white glove falls out. She grumbles, picks it up, jams it in her pocket. She slams her hat on and walks outside.
The girl punches a boy on his shoulder. The sweeper assumes it’s Fernandez.
“Cadets,” he mutters.
Reply
Reply
“Hello,” the girl says with a curled lip. The man’s neck blazes scarlet. She sidesteps him, and he stumbles forward. Once he’s regained his balance, he brushes his hands on his jacket (as if to rid himself of the action). He looks nervously towards his sisters. The eldest, Katushka, behind the counter, gasps, hand near her mouth. The youngest, Natalya, stops watering. She glares at him. Then returns to water.
The customer, their first since noon yesterday, walks with that erect, deliberate yet unaware, walk cadets do. Her chin is held even and he wonders if he could balance a water bucket on her head. Her cap is tucked under her left arm at a straight 90 degrees. Her footsteps echo on the shiny plastic.
Katushka jerks her head in the cadet’s direction, telling him to go talk to her. The bumbling man gathers himself and clears his throat. He trots to the cadet, who is around the forget-me-nots. “Um, sorry about that,” he tries. The cadet turns to him, eyes bright behind her glasses, almost the same shade as ( ... )
Reply
“Don’t screw this up,” she says in Russian. “I don’t want to go back to Russia any more than you do and I don’t want to plan your funeral when we get there.”
The spray of water stops. Ivan and Katushka turn to their sister. Natalya glares. Then returns to the watering.
“Natalya might,” Ivan mutters.
“That’s because Natalya is nineteen years old and far away from home. You and I are both grown. We haven’t had a customer since yesterday and we haven’t had a buying customer since last Thursday ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
“Because, I’m freaking amazing,” Luka says, as if Fernandez asked for the color of the sky.
“But we’re only going to Denver,” Fernandez insists. “You could still get caught.”
Luka waves his hand. “Pfft. I’ve got the illest sneaking skills ever. And with Jonesie over there, you know, future F-22 pilot,” Jones rolls her eyes, “she’ll be able to snipe out upperclassmen and ACM’s, right?”
“Gotcha back, Luka,” Jones says.
“Oh my God, that’s not how you pronounce my name,” Luka says rolling his eyes. “But I guess I can forgive you cretin Americans and you,” he points to Fernandez, “for not being able to comprehend the complexities of the Polish ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Holy shit, are you crazy? I totally DO NOT want you to stop! I love all the details you put in here (I confess that I don't know jack about the Air Force Academy, so I'm glad you put in all the notes to explain things.) And even though he's only been in part of the story, I ~love~ poor awkward Ivan. And Amelia, I love her even more (I think I like America better as a girl, no joke.)
Anyway, carry on! :D
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Without further ado, the next installment of 52 Flowers For Ivan Braginski.
5
The table is set for three. Paper plates and it’s not delivery it’s Digorno pizza. Water drips on the linoleum floor with a gentle drip-drop. Ivan notes that he needs to fix that. Over the stove, a light flickers, clinging desperately to the last breaths of life. A heater put-puts in the background, trying not to die ( ... )
Reply
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