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Title: First Kiss of Winter
Author: [livejournal.com profile] wizzard890 and [livejournal.com profile] pyrrhiccomedy
Rating: PG-13 for violent imagery.
Characters: Russia/America
Premise: Russia receives a worried visitor after the horrifying events of Bloody Sunday.


St. Petersburg, Russia - The Winter Palace. January 24, 1905.

It was cold. Much too cold.

Russia considered, for a moment, getting up, moving away from the broken window, out of his nest of shattered glass. To a bedroom, maybe. Somewhere the freezing wind couldn't knife across the snow and knock him breathless.

He tucked his chin against his knees, sucked the icy air through his teeth, and stayed where he was.

Because--there was always a chance that they would come back. And he'd be ready. His eyes darted to the rifle next to him, and he reached out, curled his index finger around the trigger. The frigid metal clung to his skin.

Night was coming on, and stars began to wink alive above the vast and empty square beneath the Winter Palace. He hadn't seen anyone since that morning. He closed his eyes, suddenly, and tried not to think of the dull roar of people piling over each other, crushing, clawing, fighting to get away. They'd asked for it. A petition and everything. He'd done the only thing he could.

There was a little jog at the doorknob, a creak, and the soft questioning trickle of glass being nudged to the side. A feeble stripe of light fell in from the hallway.

America's voice was hesitant as it floated over the thin January air. "Russia? ...Are you in here?" Quieter, then, almost to himself: "It's so dark."

Russia huddled a little tighter into himself, and hoped that America would leave. He stared out across the snow, churned up and dirty. There were no bodies. They'd all been spirited away, and he didn't even know how many there had been. He hunched his shoulders and tried to pretend he was alone.

That wedge of light disappeared, and the door sighed shut again, but America had come inside instead of going away. His boots clicked over the tiles--they squealed and cracked over slivers of glass. His footsteps switched from cautious to certain as he found Russia cringing in the hollow dark.

"Russia," he breathed. He swept up close, kneeled down at his side. After a hesitation, he let his hand rest light on Russia's shoulder.

Russia shuddered, dropped one hand to steady himself. A tiny shred of plate glass struck itself between his thumb and forefinger, dull and painful. Blood swelled out beneath his palm. First warmth he'd felt in hours--besides America's hand on his shoulder. He looked over to him, then turned his gaze back down at the square.

They stayed like that for a minute, and their breath made transparent clouds.

America wet his lips a few times. When he spoke, all he could come up with was a weak, "...What happened?"

A little silence.

Russia answered simply: "They turned on me. All of them. It was inevitable--it's been too long since something like this has happened. They wanted things I couldn't give--you understand, don't you?--things that just weren't practical...They always do…" He wasn't saying anything at all, and he felt a vague horror for the thin, alien sound of his own voice. "And then they came, with their petitions and their anthems and--and--They sang 'God Save the Tsar', did you know that?" There was a tinkle of grit and glass as he moved, dropped his head. "Children, too...High, clear voices..."

America's fingers curled a little in his sleeve. "So you...shot them..." he faltered.

"I had to!" Russia whipped to face him, his eyes too bright. "They were coming for me, and, and they wouldn't play nice...they would have taken--things. So many things..." A tremor passed up through his arm and over his shoulders.

America searched his face. His other hand came forward, then rested in midair. "You...but they were..." Peaceful, unarmed, Russia heard the words just fine in the aching silence. He closed his eyes, then, and reached forward. His hand skidded through the air and cupped light around the edge of Russia's face. "God, Russia..."

Russia shied away, just a little, but he didn't shake him off. That touch was too hot, after the sting of the wind, and the muscles of Russia's face twitched and spasmed beneath his fingers. America winced, and "Don't be scared" raced past his lips. He pushed forward on the floor, across the broken glass, and put his arms around him.

Russia jerked against him. "I'm not."

"I know," he said quickly. "Sorry. Shouldn't have--said." He flexed his fingers in Russia's clothes.

Russia looked from his arms, to his face, and he watched him for a moment. His coat caught up the rubble and slid loud against the tile as he sank into America's arms. America breathed out slowly, and gathered him in. After a pause, he rested his cheek against the side of his head.

A gust of wind sent a rush of snowflakes through the shattered window, and Russia shifted a little closer, eyes fixed on the floor. He couldn't believe the square was empty. There should have been people, hundreds, staggered in dark rows across the freezing stone. The rifle had recoiled hard against his shoulder, sharp--he had bruises. Once for every person who went down, overlapped on his skin into sticky black. He swallowed. "Do you--do you understand?" The question was just on the edge of hearing. "America?"

There was an anguished pause before America turned his head down and whispered, "Yes, Russia, I understand."

"No." A helpless whisper. "You don't." Russia's hands snarled into the front of his shirt. He was vaguely aware of something hanging between them-- he remembered cold glances, sharp words, jealousy, and--weren't they fighting? He should pull away.

He didn't.

America braced his forehead on Russia's shoulder and said unsteadily, "I do. ...I--I'm not going to yell at you."

"Why not?" A woman, he thought suddenly, a woman had spun around like a child's top, arms flailing, and tumbled into the snow. Two dark stains seeped out from under her, and that had--that had been him.

"Because you..." America tightened. "I don't know, because...because I'm not mad at you."

"You should be," he mumbled. "Too late--you came too late to see it." Russia leaned in and closed his eyes against America's breath, feeling it gust warm across his face.

America gently pressed his knuckles into his hair. "I heard," he sighed. He shut his eyes, and his shoulders hitched. "Russia...what's happening to you?"

Russia stiffened and dug his teeth into his lower lip. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. Screams rang in his ears, shrill, frozen. "I'm protecting myself," he muttered. "I couldn't let that happen again."

America's fingers worked into his hair to draw little circles on his scalp. "Let what happen?" he asked, helpless.

"They were going to force me--I told you this already!" Russia's voice rose abruptly. "You're not listening!" The wind whipped the words away, out to echo across the empty square.

"I am, please, calm down," America urged him. He jerked back to meet his eyes. The moon had risen to throw light over Russia's shoulder and across America's face--it made him look pale, silver, glowing, and not quite real. America is gold, he's supposed to be gold. "I'm listening, I want to understand, I just…I had heard that they just wanted things like fair wages, and shorter days, so..."

"That's how it starts," Russia's shoulders were a hard line under America's hands. "But I could tell they wanted more, they always want more. And when I give them anything, they'll just keep on taking..." He dropped his head forward and trailed into silence.

America seemed at a loss. He looked down, unfocused. He blinked at the dark pool spreading out from between Russia's fingers. "You're bleeding," he said, startled. Without waiting for a response, he peeled Russia's hand off the floor and pulled it towards the window. The splinter of glass embedded in his skin glittered in the moonlight.

"Hold still, I've--just a second--" He gripped the end of the shard between thumb and forefinger, and something in his eyes flickered--and then he squeezed and jerked. A shiver of pain flew all the way up Russia's arm to his curl up in neck. America flicked the bloody glass across the floor and then looked down at his fingertips. Blood trickled from new cuts. A soft laugh escaped him.

Russia stared at their comingling blood. It was warm, it dripped slowly down his wrist and soaked into his sleeve, and he tried to cup his other hand around it, to catch the droplets before they hit the floor. The blood shone dark against the tiles. He swiped a finger through it and it smeared across the marble. He thought about arterial spray, arced across the radiant snow. He blinked up and met America's eyes.

America threaded his bleeding hand into Russia's. His knuckles were red from the cold. He held his gaze, steady and open and still searching, still looking for something. He draped his arm back around Russia's shoulders and said softly, "We don't have to talk about it."

"Then why did you come?" Russia snapped. He sagged into the crook of America's shoulder, a counterpoint to the ice in his voice.

America's eyes fell. "I…I just wanted to check on you." He worked their fingers together. The blood made it slippery. "When I heard about what happened--I was worried about you." The back of his neck tensed. "You're my best friend, you know."

A small ache spun through Russia's chest, and he tightened his grip on the other nation's hand. He tugged him closer. Glass shrieked beneath them. "I--I know."

It was a lie, a bad one, but he didn't think he could manage anything else, and he was shivering.

America clasped Russia to him with one arm and drew their joined hands into the warmer, sheltered space between their bodies. He pressed his lips into Russia's hair above his ear. "The others are saying you've gone crazy," he whispered, "But I don't believe them, and I never will."

Russia turned his head ever so slightly into America's mouth. The snow outside was still filthy with a thousand frantic footprints and churned-up gore.

Crazy...

He pulled their hands up, smelling slightly of sweat and blood, and cocked his head, staring at nothing. His lips brushed over America's knuckles.

The other nation hunched around a shudder. "I know you're sane, and--decent…" his voice broke. "I--believe in you, I always have. You're just--God--" a sharp, weak laugh, and his hand spasmed closed in Russia's hair at the back of his head. "You're so fucking bad at it when it's time for things to change."

"Things don't need to change." The words gusted across the back of America's fingers. For an instant he remembered another moment when things had almost changed, when America…America had been there, beside him, half over him, gentle and eager. No one had ever been so eager. Golden grass had crumpled beneath them, and he'd looked from those aching blue eyes into a star-speckled violet sky, and everything had felt so warm…

He'd put a stop to that, too. He tugged his scarf tighter around his neck and tucked the ends into his coat. His voice hardened. "I won't let them push me. The tsars rule by divine right. A mob of factory workers can't change that." Factory workers, and--women and children, singing songs, and--no. He lunged forward, wrapped his free arm around America, and squeezed his eyes shut against the images, the sounds, the throbbing in his shoulder.

"Shh, I've got you," it came instantly, soothing, and America kissed the side of his head, he shifted a little to let Russia sink into him deeper. He untangled their hands so he could gather Russia in and run his hand up and down his back through his coat. "Listen...you have to let go, sometimes--let people have what they want. Or else they'll just take it from you anyway."

His voice, his hands, were so gentle. Russia pressed his face into the hollow of America's throat, his spine curving into that touch. "Not if you're strong," he mumbled. His chapped lips were rough against the other nation's neck. His blood-stained hand came up to grip his shoulder. "And Russia is strong."

"I know you are. But Russia--you can't fight the will of the people forever."

Then, in a small voice, America ventured, "…Your people hate me, don't they? The...the workers. I keep hearing things lately."

"No--" He stopped and pulled back just enough to meet America's eyes. It was worth lying about--but he didn't. "Yes. They do."

America bit his lip. "Because I'm a capitalist--and because I've always got along well with the tsars. Right?"

"They're ungrateful." Russia snarled, "Ignorant. Small." He lifted his hand to cup America's face. "Their opinion means nothing."

"They're your people," he whispered; "What they think means everything." There was a lurching pause--and then America was kissing him, warm and full and urgent, and his lips were soft and his fingernails carded through Russia's hair, and his other hand tightened in his coat, and--and it was over, just as fast as it had started. America searched his expression, pressed his flushed lips together. "Promise me we'll stay friends, no matter what happens," he pleaded.

Russia took in a deep, shuddering breath. He licked his lips, and he could taste America. Wind shrieked through the shattered window, and his fingers curled over America's hand. "I--" he pressed through a tightening in his ribs. "I promise."

America nodded, and they held each other tight.

"I don't even know how many I killed," slipped between Russia's teeth, a cold little breath in the darkness.

"God, Russia," he exhaled. His fist bunched into his coat and pressed him in. He leaned their heads together.

America's skin was warm--always so warm. Russia nudged into him, just for the contact. "I don't," he insisted. "There were so many...and I couldn't even tell which were mine."

America placed a kiss behind his ear and whispered, "They were all yours."

Russia jolted and met his eyes. There was a pregnant, awful pause, and then: "I know."

It was almost a moan. America caressed the line of his face with the backs of his fingers. The wind still blew in through the broken window, and neither of them were getting any warmer.

"I'm so sorry, Russia. …I'll stay, as long as I can."

+++

-- At the beginning of the 20th century, the Russian industrial employee worked an average an 11 hour day (10 hours on Saturday). Conditions in the factories were extremely harsh, and little concern was shown for the workers' health and safety. In the midst of massive strikes, George Gapon decided to make a personal appeal to Nicholas II. He drew up a petition outlining the workers' sufferings and demands: he called for a reduction in the working day to eight hours, an increase in wages and an improvement in working conditions. Gapon also called for the establishment of universal suffrage and an end to the Russo-Japanese War.

-- Bloody Sunday refers to the incident on January 22nd, 1905, when the unarmed, peaceful demonstrators were gunned down and dispersed by the Imperial Guard. The number killed remains uncertain. The Tsar's officials recorded 96 dead and 333 injured; anti-government sources claimed more than 4,000 dead; moderate estimates still average around 1,000 killed or wounded, both from shots and trampled during the panic. The massacre had grave consequences for the Tsarist regime, as the disregard shown for ordinary people undermined support for the state.

-- Despite the then-recent chill in Russian-US relations resulting from Russian persecution of the Jews, the longstanding good relations with Tsarist Russia meant the event was received more sympathetically in the United States than it was in Europe.

+++



This is a chapter from The Chosen End, a Russia/America collaboration spanning from 1780 to the present day. You can read all of the fics in this story at the Index.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 08:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] scribblefish.livejournal.com
Sad and gripping and wow...

I can't even write incoherently after this...! Amazing job...!

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 08:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Thank you. =D I'm glad to hear it worked.

(no subject)

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(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 09:29 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hueha.livejournal.com
Oh-- Oh Russia. Oh... why is it so horribly sad?

Great job with making this all tearjerker-esque.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 09:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
It's gonna be a whole lot of angst until the Cold War, so I'm glad folks are receptive to that. XD

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 09:32 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pryamoinapravo.livejournal.com
Thank you very much for a new chapter. It's awesome, as always.

The tsars rule by divine right.
It would be interesting to know at what point Russia renounced this view. Since the beginning of the First World War? Or it happened only in time for the February Revolution?

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 09:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
I really couldn't say, although I expect among the general populace it would have been a gradual process, stretching out over several decades, before the final shocks of the revolution. Maybe one of our Russian readers will chime in?

(no subject)

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(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 09:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jar-of-coins.livejournal.com
How do the two of you manage to capture Russia's slide to insanity so well? The only things I can write are essays, and it always surprises me when good writers can express a character's complex and conflicting emotions so effortlessly o.o

I've just gone through and read all of the other stories in Chosen End, and they're all just as amazing -- keep up the good work :D

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 09:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying it. =D We've devoted what is probably a downright unseemly amount of time to figuring out these characters and their relationship. XD

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] wizzard890.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-05-03 09:56 pm (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 09:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] minuiko.livejournal.com
;_;

What they're doing and what they're saying are so different, haha. The portrayal of civil wars in Hetalia has always intrigued me, as does this. Like, how do you decide who the country supports? Clearly not just the winning side, since Russia is tsarist here (same goes for the American Civil War; both sides are part of him). I mean, I guess, in your portrayal at least, it could be that Russia supports the tsar because it's the side AMERICA supports. Are the countries people in the country, or do they actually feel the physical ramifications of war on their soil? Well anyways, despite the major angsting going on here, I still thought it was cute that America came over just to comfort Russia. I really wonder how you're going to transition Russia over to the communist side, hee.

Man, I am so psyched for the Cold War, xD. You guys rock.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 09:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
how do you decide who the country supports?

I think it depends very much on the circumstances of the war, the system of government, and the personality of the nation. Like, in the American Civil War, we wrote America as a fence-sitter, refusing to choose either side, because we felt that was most in keeping with his personality. I imagine England during the Wars of the Roses as changing loyalties multiple times, as the Yorkists and the Lancastrians switched out on the throne. Canada's FLQ crisis I imagine as a very internal thing, a persistent, obsessive thought that doesn't go away--more like the schizophrenia model than the others. And so on.

Here, we imagine Russia as Tsarist because we felt that centuries of absolutist rule would be a tough habit to break--and because most people in the country did still support tsarism or some form of constitutional monarchy in 1905. Marxism was still very left wing. I imagine he found himself caught up in growing frustration with Nicholas II and gaining enthusiasm for this new movement over the next ten years in much the same way the Russian people did.

Are the countries people in the country, or do they actually feel the physical ramifications of war on their soil?

I think they feel the physical effects of war, but not always in the same way. I'm sure that widespread death among their people is always physically painful, though.

The huge number of ways you can work the Hetalia metaphor is part of what makes writing for this fandom so much fun. =D

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 10:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-haphazard-x.livejournal.com
Sad...

but still awaiting impending Cold War.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 10:21 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
What you are seeing now is the story getting off the Fluff bus and milling around for a bit in Angst Central Station before making the transfer to the Bitchiness line. Bear with us.

(no subject)

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(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 10:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gngstermoney32.livejournal.com
Awe, this hurts so good. I really love how you explained Russia reluctance to change and tied it in with his relationship to America.
For an instant he remembered another moment when things had almost changed, when America…America had been there, beside him, half over him, gentle and eager. No one had ever been so eager. Golden grass had crumpled beneath them, and he'd looked from those aching blue eyes into a star-speckled violet sky, and everything had felt so warm…
*killed dead*
Brilliant as always.
:)

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 10:21 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
We have themes, and shit. XD

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 10:33 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] luxnigra.livejournal.com
-Russia stared at their comingling blood-: this image has the same solemnity of a ritual!. I believe that their souls are now inextricably linked and is so beautiful and so sad at the same time when America said -Promise me we'll stay friends, no matter what happens-. History doesn't care about feelings. It is relentless and pitiless. Each chapter of this story is a little masterpiece!.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:01 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Gosh, thank you so much for the kind comments!

History doesn't care about feelings. It is relentless and pitiless.

Very true--especially for these two.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 10:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] platinum-halo.livejournal.com
My heart feels a bit heavy right now...


That was so beautiful-- in a dark and bloody and melancholic sort of way. I loved the way that you handled the subject matter for this, I've been wondering how you'd write it.

It's really sad that the relatively good relations that they had around this time deteriorated even more later...

Now my heart hurts thinking of it :(

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:05 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
It's really sad that the relatively good relations that they had around this time deteriorated even more later...

It's crazy, but positive (or at least, not unremittingly negative) relations existed between Russia and America right up through WW2--things just slowly get worse, and worse, and worse...We're like, Guys. This is the most painful possible way to break up with somebody. Can't you just go out to dinner and end things nice and neat over dessert? =/

Thank you for sharing your thoughts. =D

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 11:03 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fujiwara-san.livejournal.com
No one had ever been so eager.

You just kill me over and over and over and their relationship is just starting to go to hell now and I both want it and don't want it AND OH GREAT I'M CRYING AGAIN.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
*Soothe! Tissues!*

It is just brutal, isn't it? Every nice moment they have comes with this awful little squiggly feeling of "I know how this ends. =/"

(no subject)

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(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-03 11:21 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] meganinhiding.livejournal.com
I really have nothing to offer that hasn't been repeated. Seeing Russia retreat into himself and so alone (where are his sisters?) was heartbreaking. Its sad and interesting to see America's listening to Russia without trying to fix it or tell him what to do.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Well, he does kind of try to tell him what to do...but it was a pretty solid attempt at just keeping his mouth shut for once, for America, I agree.

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it. =D

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 01:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] swordandfaith.livejournal.com
Aaaand you did it again. Fantastic stuff.

You know, the feeling of impending doom makes this all heartbreaking enough and then you have to go and make it worse by having them promise to stay friends. Ouch, buddy D: Still, I adore the way you have America stick by his side despite it all (you really made me love him more there).

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:11 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
then you have to go and make it worse by having them promise to stay friends.

When we wrote that bit, we were both like "Oh God, guys, please don't say that. D="

Freakin' killjoy, cockblocking history.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 02:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] daitokuji8.livejournal.com
Yes! they kissed amd hugged with lots of love! :)

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:12 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
I'm glad you enjoyed it! Way to stay focused on the positive. *grins*

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 03:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] inner-wings.livejournal.com
I'd really like to write this long, detailed review of everything I love about this fic, but at the moment I see unable to do anything but make little noises of anguish and wave my hands around. This means you did a DAMN GOOD JOB.

Y'know, I love that with Hetalia, there are so many different ways of depicting any one event, but this might be my favorite interpretation of Bloody Sunday, with Russia being guilty and confused and so horribly defensive and the slipping sanity...aaaah, I can't even explain how perfectly it all fit.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Thank you, that's really wonderful to hear. =D Staying in character with the events, not just the, um, characters, is really important to us, if that makes sense. ♥!

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 03:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] berseker.livejournal.com
He´s just losing it, isn´t he? It´s so depressing to see things going downhill and knowing everything will get a lot worse before getting any better. Way, way worse.


(I didn´t know America reacted better to this than Europe.. see? I´m learning!)

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Hahaha, we are full of education! =D

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 04:19 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kyo-starr.livejournal.com
Russia's psyche is a frightening place indeed... and you do a great job giving us a glimpse into it. So historical, so IC; it's fics like these that remind me why I love Hetalia.

"You're my best friend, you know." Killed me. ;;

Keep up the good work!

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Thank you, you're very kind to say. =D I'm thrilled you enjoyed the story!

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 05:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] crosswhisper.livejournal.com
Oh mon dieu! A fantastic new chapter! As always. :D

Even though he isn't sure how he should react to the recent events (especially since their relations have started to fall already), I love America's determination to preserve his good-yet-shaky relationship with Russia. You guys are setting up their downfall quite nicely here by leading these two along with promises and building up their trust in each other. Its so deliberate to the readers, haha~

Their differing ideologies are really starting to show in this chapter as well and had me imagining how much more heated (or colder, depending on the situation) their future banters will be.

Btw, in the fourth paragraph... Because--there was always a chance that they would come back. Umm, just pointing it out. Keep up the great work!

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Its so deliberate to the readers, haha~

I swear we're not sitting around between posts saying to each other "Okay, how can we make this more heartwrenching?" >.< I honestly wish they'd dial it back a bit, at this point, but it doesn't feel like something we have a lot of control over.

And, ah! Thank you for pointing that out, I should have caught that! I'll fix it right away. =D

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 07:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] youkofujima.livejournal.com
I just read this entire series in one sitting and...just...wow. I can't believe I didn't notice this fic sooner and it's just absolutely astoundingly wonderful and poignant and it's like a timeline of UNDOING. Like two sides of growth that are opposite to each other.

So wonderful, and I can't wait for more!

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 02:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
I just read this entire series in one sitting

I'm amazed at your stamina. XD

it's like a timeline of UNDOING.

That is such a beautiful way to describe it, and I totally agree. ♥

Thank you for reading, I'm glad you're entertained!

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From: [identity profile] youkofujima.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-05-07 03:37 pm (UTC) - Expand

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From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-05-08 09:10 am (UTC) - Expand

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From: [identity profile] youkofujima.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-05-09 03:31 pm (UTC) - Expand

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Date: 2009-05-04 09:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] nym-aulth.livejournal.com
.....oh. wow. O.o

This was intense! Your fics always jerk my emotional chain like nobody's business. The imagery of them clinging together in the cold is beautiful and the way they treat each other speaks so eloquently about all their feelings, even if they won't say it point blank. And I can see so much *potential* for them to be happy and in love and all that sappy shit and at the same time I know where all this is headed and how horrifying the 'end' is going to be. Heartbreaking and breathtaking and exquisite, all at once!

I am by now thoroughly addicted to the Chosen End saga, needless to say, and it made my day to see that this was posted. I eagerly await the rest (and am happily re-reading the already completed parts in the meantime). I am very nearly inspired to illustrate this.....would that be alright?

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 02:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Oh, gosh, of course! We would love to see any art you felt like making off TCE! If you do, would you be willing to post a link to the finished product at the Index? We get all giggly and happy whenever folks feel inspired by this story. =D

I'm really glad you're enjoying the story. It's gratifying that the intensity of their feelings is coming through, either though neither of them has realized what this crazy little thing is ~called~ yet. XD

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Date: 2009-05-04 05:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rotifora.livejournal.com
D=
*Somewhere in the background, a glass slipper falls and shatters*

Oh man, the inevitable is so near...beautifully tragic as always. I'll have to read this again to fully digest the events properly because right now my brain is at a loss.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-04 06:41 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
*Somewhere in the background, a glass slipper falls and shatters*

=o

...Which one of them is the princess?

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From: [identity profile] rotifora.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-05-04 10:19 pm (UTC) - Expand

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Date: 2009-05-05 01:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] vaincalamity.livejournal.com
;____;
Why so utterly sad??

Goddammit your writing is so entrancing and immersing. I'm getting anxiety as to whats coming dammit!

Wonderful job!

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-05 08:11 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Thank you so much! ♥

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Date: 2009-05-05 12:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] tarspoon.livejournal.com
The portrayal of Russia is just perfect. He knows that there is something wrong with him, that he is mortally sick but there is nothing he can do. Nobody can help. Tsarist Russia will die and new cruel and hungry Soviet Russia will be born. And it's such a pity that America is quite helpless here.

Thank you)))). But now I need to go and read some fluff A.S.A.P.))

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-05 08:03 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
Thank you for sharing your thoughts, it's so nice to hear that we're staying true to the characters for all these rocky events. =D

(I hope you found something happy to read!)

A QUICK FYI BEFORE I READ

Date: 2009-05-08 02:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] princessarisa.livejournal.com
SFDSFHDSJKF. I've come upon something I read recently and thought you would like to know~
It may be some much needed fluff before it all goes down the drain.
Anyways, onwards.

On January 4, 1942 Time Magazine named Joesph Stalin Man of the Year'.
Article here --> That conver killed me dead, I swear... (http://www.time.com/time/covers/0,16641,19400101,00.html)

...just imagine how russia's reaction would be.....

THIS IS BEAUTIFUL <3

Date: 2009-05-08 02:44 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] princessarisa.livejournal.com
I felt that this icon was necessary. >.>;

This is so touching and sad, my heart is breaking already. You can see how their relationship is starting to strain, to fray at the edges. Russia's people hated America, but Russia still cared for him...and Russia...oh god Russia. His fear a-and utter rejection of change seems so fitting.

And you mentioned my one of my favorite chapters <33333333 I must go back and read it again, and cry some more. Beautiful, goregeous work, please keep it up! And thank you so much!

Re: THIS IS BEAUTIFUL <3

From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-05-08 09:22 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: A QUICK FYI BEFORE I READ

From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-05-08 09:21 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-14 04:11 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] redbirdrain.livejournal.com
And excuse me as I sob.

Russia's people begin to hate America, relations start breaking down... GEH.

I- that's just all I can say.
Great job.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-14 08:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
The happiness isn't quite over yet! There's...there's still a little bit left... *sniffle*

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-20 11:27 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dmajor7th.livejournal.com
I'm sorry I've fallen behind with my commentary. >.<

"Promise me we'll stay friends, no matter what happens,"
*cries*

This fic really makes me think. I always wonder what sort of relationship the Nations have to the populace and the government. He is acting for the Tzars here, and using that rational to justify his actions. The fic that follows this shows him acting with the people and against the Tzars.

I really loved the atmosphere in this. Really effective. <3

(no subject)

Date: 2009-05-21 01:32 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pyrrhiccomedy.livejournal.com
I'm sorry I've fallen behind with my commentary. >.<

You know, you're not, like, obligated to comment. XD Comments are lovely, but I know I speak for Wizard as well when I say that we hope no one is reading these stories because they feel like they HAVE to!

But, in any case--I'm glad you liked it! =D

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