Russia Loves You 1/2
anonymous
October 24 2010, 08:58:45 UTC
So… I didn’t know how to characterize Putin, because he’s a person and I’ve never written fanfiction involving real people…I still pretty much don’t know how…
This is set sometime in the period where he was in East Germany, probably before 1989. I couldn’t find what kind of housing the KGB agents were given, but it said his children grew up in East Germany so I assume he must have had some kind. I am so uninformed, and it’s the middle of the night, aaaah.
In other news, I tried to keep this politically neutral, if that’s even possible involving a politician.
And this was partly inspired by The Legend of Koizumi, what the hell is wrong with me.
Citizens rarely saw him, and it was even rarer to talk with him, so Vladimir Putin supposed he must consider himself lucky. He still wondered though, out of all people, why had Russia chosen him to visit? The large blond man (well, he looked like a man anyway.) had spoke to him a few times in the mainland, but showing up here, on his doorstep, in the middle of the night, in Dresden?
“Greetings Comrade,” said the man, taking a swig of vodka before uttering some simplistic, clumsily pronounced German. “Wie gehts?” Then he chuckled, as if amused by his own bad German.
Putin raised an eyebrow, but stood straighter. When he had heard thumping outside his door and went to investigate him, this had been the last thing he expected, seeing the one who merely called himself ‘Russia’ sitting on the step, drinking vodka and playing idly with his scarf.
“Sir,” he greeted. “Do you wish to call on me sir? A mission perhaps?”
“Nyet. Da. I don’t know. Sit down Comrade.”
There was hesitance, but no one disobeyed Russia, so quietly the officer closed his door and sat on the step.
For a long moment there was silence.
Then Russia sighed.
“Vladimir… I may call you just Vladimir da? I think of you as one of my children Vladimir, da? You are all my children. And a parent just wants what’s best for their children, da? Do you understand Vladimir?”
He thought about it. Then he answered. “I do not Sir.”
“Call my Ivan, Vladimir. No one calls me that anymore. It is all Sir, and Russia, and Soviet, but no more Ivan. I miss Ivan. You understand, da?”
“I do not. Are you drunk S… Ivan?” No one disobeyed.
“Ahah, no Vladimir, not drunk. I am never drunk Vladimir. So Vladimir, what do you understand? Do you understand who I am? What I am?” The blond took another swig of vodka.
Vladimir thought, and the cold air made him shiver. “The simple answer… The simple answer is that you are my country, but you are more than that. You are something a human cannot comprehend.”
“Aaah, you understand more than you think, da? Da, da… I like you Vladimir.”
“I am honored.”
“Are you now? Is it an honor? Normally people seem upset, da. I tell Toris that and he looks scared, they are all scared, kolkol…” The noise surprised Vladimir, it was strange and guttural and would have been frightening if the nation did not seem so… off at the moment. Still, it kept the man from asking just who ‘Toris’ was.
Russia Loves You 2/2
anonymous
October 24 2010, 09:02:56 UTC
The nation continued. “But I was saying, I like you Vladimir, da? But things are changing. I can feel them changing. I feel like I felt before the revolution. Soon things will be different for me, da?”
The man didn’t know how to respond, but luckily the nation suddenly thrust out the bottle of vodka, signaling for him to take a drink. As Vladimir took the bottle and swallowed (it was a fine vodka, probably would have been expensive) the nation continued talking.
“I was thinking… I want someone I can trust. It is so hard for me to trust, da? I don’t know if I trust you Vladimir, but I like you. I like you a lot. So, I was thinking, maybe you could stay in my life, da?”
“What do you mean?” The vodka bottle got passed back to Ivan.
“I don’t know. Maybe I am drunk, da? Can a county be drunk? Maybe Ivan can be drunk, understand? Nyet, of course not…” The nation took a gulp of vodka. “But I want you to stay in my life. In my future, whatever that may be.”
“I am honored.”
“Kolkol, so you keep saying.”
More silence, so Vladimir looked at the moon, only half full, and it would only get smaller. He wondered what the nation really wanted, wondered why he had traveled all this way just to talk to him, wondered just what would change for Russia, he wondered who Toris was and why the name seemed to upset his nation, wondered how he would explain this to his wife if she woke up and he was no longer in bed, he wondered what year the vodka was.
Ivan broke the silence.
“Promise me Vladimir. Promise me you will stay in the future of Russia, no matter what changes. Promise.”
It was almost childish, but it seemed shockingly sincere, so for the first time that evening Vladimir turned his head and looked his nation in the eyes.
They were bright, like those of a child, but a child that has seen too much, grown up too fast.
“I promise,” agreed the human. “It would be my pleasure.”
The man, no, the nation, smiled. “Good.”
Then he leaned forward and kissed Vladimir Putin.
He thought about jerking back from the kiss, thought about speaking of his wife and children, or even of Ivan’s gender.
But it did feel romantic, the kiss, it did feel like betrayal, did not even feel like a kiss from a person.
And after all, he was not kissing a person. He was kissing a nation. And it did not feel romantic, no, it felt patriotic.
Ivan broke the kiss, pulling back and smiling. “Thank you Vladimir. Here, keep the vodka. It is a good kind, da?” He thrust the bottle into the human’s hands, before standing, reminding the seated man that of his impressive height, so easily forgotten when he sat drunken and vulnerable on a doorstep.
“I should probably be leaving, before Gilbert gets mad. Though I probably should not have come at all, hmm, though I suppose Gilbert could not stop me...Oh well. I know I will be seeing you again soon, da?”
He smiled brilliantly down at Vladimir Putin, his smile proud, and his whole demeanor had noticeably changed. “I know great things will happen to you. After all...” He turned to walk away, scarf blown by the slight breeze. “Russia loves you.”
I hope I did not fail too much, as this is an epic prompt.
Re: Russia Loves You 2/2
anonymous
October 24 2010, 16:47:04 UTC
The one thing that I would change here is how Russia calls him. Vladimir sounds too formal... Vlad or Volodya would sound more natural in the given circumstances.
Re: Russia Loves You 2/2
anonymous
November 30 2010, 04:55:28 UTC
I thought it was beautiful. The use of his formal name showed respect to me. Since the two men hadn't spoken before, it would have seemed odd and frankly rude for Russia to address Putin in a familiar manner. I might have even had him use Putin's patronym, Vladimirovich, to emphasize that respect. But really, it was perfect the way it is.
This is set sometime in the period where he was in East Germany, probably before 1989. I couldn’t find what kind of housing the KGB agents were given, but it said his children grew up in East Germany so I assume he must have had some kind. I am so uninformed, and it’s the middle of the night, aaaah.
In other news, I tried to keep this politically neutral, if that’s even possible involving a politician.
And this was partly inspired by The Legend of Koizumi, what the hell is wrong with me.
Citizens rarely saw him, and it was even rarer to talk with him, so Vladimir Putin supposed he must consider himself lucky. He still wondered though, out of all people, why had Russia chosen him to visit? The large blond man (well, he looked like a man anyway.) had spoke to him a few times in the mainland, but showing up here, on his doorstep, in the middle of the night, in Dresden?
“Greetings Comrade,” said the man, taking a swig of vodka before uttering some simplistic, clumsily pronounced German. “Wie gehts?” Then he chuckled, as if amused by his own bad German.
Putin raised an eyebrow, but stood straighter. When he had heard thumping outside his door and went to investigate him, this had been the last thing he expected, seeing the one who merely called himself ‘Russia’ sitting on the step, drinking vodka and playing idly with his scarf.
“Sir,” he greeted. “Do you wish to call on me sir? A mission perhaps?”
“Nyet. Da. I don’t know. Sit down Comrade.”
There was hesitance, but no one disobeyed Russia, so quietly the officer closed his door and sat on the step.
For a long moment there was silence.
Then Russia sighed.
“Vladimir… I may call you just Vladimir da? I think of you as one of my children Vladimir, da? You are all my children. And a parent just wants what’s best for their children, da? Do you understand Vladimir?”
He thought about it. Then he answered. “I do not Sir.”
“Call my Ivan, Vladimir. No one calls me that anymore. It is all Sir, and Russia, and Soviet, but no more Ivan. I miss Ivan. You understand, da?”
“I do not. Are you drunk S… Ivan?” No one disobeyed.
“Ahah, no Vladimir, not drunk. I am never drunk Vladimir. So Vladimir, what do you understand? Do you understand who I am? What I am?” The blond took another swig of vodka.
Vladimir thought, and the cold air made him shiver. “The simple answer… The simple answer is that you are my country, but you are more than that. You are something a human cannot comprehend.”
“Aaah, you understand more than you think, da? Da, da… I like you Vladimir.”
“I am honored.”
“Are you now? Is it an honor? Normally people seem upset, da. I tell Toris that and he looks scared, they are all scared, kolkol…” The noise surprised Vladimir, it was strange and guttural and would have been frightening if the nation did not seem so… off at the moment. Still, it kept the man from asking just who ‘Toris’ was.
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The man didn’t know how to respond, but luckily the nation suddenly thrust out the bottle of vodka, signaling for him to take a drink. As Vladimir took the bottle and swallowed (it was a fine vodka, probably would have been expensive) the nation continued talking.
“I was thinking… I want someone I can trust. It is so hard for me to trust, da? I don’t know if I trust you Vladimir, but I like you. I like you a lot. So, I was thinking, maybe you could stay in my life, da?”
“What do you mean?” The vodka bottle got passed back to Ivan.
“I don’t know. Maybe I am drunk, da? Can a county be drunk? Maybe Ivan can be drunk, understand? Nyet, of course not…” The nation took a gulp of vodka. “But I want you to stay in my life. In my future, whatever that may be.”
“I am honored.”
“Kolkol, so you keep saying.”
More silence, so Vladimir looked at the moon, only half full, and it would only get smaller. He wondered what the nation really wanted, wondered why he had traveled all this way just to talk to him, wondered just what would change for Russia, he wondered who Toris was and why the name seemed to upset his nation, wondered how he would explain this to his wife if she woke up and he was no longer in bed, he wondered what year the vodka was.
Ivan broke the silence.
“Promise me Vladimir. Promise me you will stay in the future of Russia, no matter what changes. Promise.”
It was almost childish, but it seemed shockingly sincere, so for the first time that evening Vladimir turned his head and looked his nation in the eyes.
They were bright, like those of a child, but a child that has seen too much, grown up too fast.
“I promise,” agreed the human. “It would be my pleasure.”
The man, no, the nation, smiled. “Good.”
Then he leaned forward and kissed Vladimir Putin.
He thought about jerking back from the kiss, thought about speaking of his wife and children, or even of Ivan’s gender.
But it did feel romantic, the kiss, it did feel like betrayal, did not even feel like a kiss from a person.
And after all, he was not kissing a person. He was kissing a nation. And it did not feel romantic, no, it felt patriotic.
Ivan broke the kiss, pulling back and smiling. “Thank you Vladimir. Here, keep the vodka. It is a good kind, da?” He thrust the bottle into the human’s hands, before standing, reminding the seated man that of his impressive height, so easily forgotten when he sat drunken and vulnerable on a doorstep.
“I should probably be leaving, before Gilbert gets mad. Though I probably should not have come at all, hmm, though I suppose Gilbert could not stop me...Oh well. I know I will be seeing you again soon, da?”
He smiled brilliantly down at Vladimir Putin, his smile proud, and his whole demeanor had noticeably changed. “I know great things will happen to you. After all...” He turned to walk away, scarf blown by the slight breeze. “Russia loves you.”
I hope I did not fail too much, as this is an epic prompt.
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ReCapcha is "informal schal" O.O
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