Besides the fact I’m just personally not a big fan of aph Russia in general. I always wonder if a relationship is what aph Russia needs?
But, I can see a fair bit of potential here! If you know me, you know I love to headcanon Norway figure skates, and what other nation better than Russia to enjoy it too? (Besides maybe Japan) also skiing is most definitely another common interest. Norway absolutely loves friend competition and rivalry in sports.
Another bonus i see here, anyone who knows my Norway knows he’s TERRIBLE at relationships 😅 he will run away the moment he gets event remotely attached. It’s a mixture of being scared of commitment, being scared of losing any form of independence whatsoever, and also just being afraid of love and loving. I often say what Norway needs is someone who’s going to cling onto him and not let him go even when he’s scared, and I think we can all agree Russia is definitely that person! 💀
So I’ll give it a 5/10. I have issues seeing them together romantically, but there’s a fair bit of potential and I actually found myself smiling at the pair when typing this
They both have these dreams about snowfall, of walls in all directions, of empty whiteness as far as the eye can see.
I wrote something! I actually had time! Whoo!!!
Characters: Norway, Russia
Warnings: general surrealism, blood
AO3 version
Halvard is my name for Norway.
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They both have these dreams about snowfall, of walls in all directions, of empty whiteness as far as the eye can see. In these dreams the horizon is drawn hastily, with a pencil, a gray outline that wavers with a shaky hand, grainy and indistinct, but sharp, a failed attempt at drawing a straight line. It feels as if here, you can physically see the tilted axis of the earth, the lopsidedness of the planet. They describe it the same way, eerily the same way, of how it doesn't feel clean here, but textured, that there is nothing to this featureless place other than the line far, far in the distance, and no matter how far they wander there’s nothing tangible, no variation.
“Maybe I only thought it was snow because that is what I assumed it to be,” Halvard muses. “That I didn’t have the words to describe what I felt, what I saw, because I could only apply the sensations of my waking life to this place that wasn’t bound by those same rules. We can only describe our dreams to others in post-waking, draining and filtering those wordless experiences into associations. It was like this, it reminded me of this, but it wasn’t this. The world was white and empty, and the only whiteness I know is winter, the only emptiness I know is absence, and the dividing line serves a function: to let myself know that I am grounded, that there is some forced perspective that I must understand this place through.”
“And what do you think that was” Ivan asks, “the function of that divide?”
Halvard doesn’t know. He’s all theory with no answers.
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Throughout the summer this is all Ivan dreams about, or at least all that he remembers that he dreams about. Until the leaves start turning color in the real world the empty world is all that exists in his unconsciousness and only after he sweeps the leaves off his porch is he placed in other dreams, dreams that explore other topics, other colors, of fantasies and nightmares, and sometimes, Halvard is in those dreams, only a few of them, but it always gives him pause when he wakes.
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Halvard dreams of the empty world in the winter, once the trees are barren until the day they bloom, and he’s not sure what to make of it. Sometimes he wakes up and feels anxious about it but he doesn’t understand why. He keeps thinking about it even when he’s wide awake.
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“You don’t bleed in the empty world,” Ivan tells him, recalling a dream where he tried, digging his nails into his arm and waiting for color to appear, but there were no wounds upon his arm, no pain was felt, and that is when he realized that he himself wasn’t colored in the same way the world was, just faded charcoal drawn lines that smudged together. He tells Halvard this because he’s curious if their dreams follow the same rules. Halvard doesn’t know, he’s never tried, and when the first frost comes that winter and the dream rises again he tries to tear open his skin. There’s nothing, like Ivan said, and it leaves him perplexed, a little confused.
It continues for years.
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He coughs up blood and it falls out from between the fingers that cover his face and when it hits the floor of the empty world it leaks in harsh angles, each drop disobeys the laws of logic and streaks into the distance, each sharp vector fading from sight like painted borders on distant highways. Behind him, they go, weaving between his legs like a casting shadow, but when he wipes his mouth clean and turns around he is in the wrong light, his blood has reached the borderline of the world and rising out of the red river is an equally red half-mooned sun, a semicircle that shimmers and wavers like a candle weak-willed in the wind, like the sky, like the last moments of the sun before the earth swallows it whole.
There are only ever two things: canvas, and the life spilled upon it.
Every night Halvard finds a bit more color in his lungs and the red lines grow wider and wider until there’s nothing left.
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And in another empty world soon grows flowers, Ivan notices the horizon sags, it hangs with sharp underscores leaving not only color but impressions of physical violence, how stabbing a stack of paper with an inked pen still leaves indents three stories down, untouched, unreached, but impacted. And with every morning he awakes to the memory of more boldness, more growth, so quickly from nothing, and soon he cannot begin to count the fields of sunflowers that he finds himself drowning in when he awakes in these dreams. It is peaceful here, such slow progressions, there is no sky and he cannot feel the wind but the flowers move, turning the heads in the direction of a non-existing sun in the face of an empty sky, as if time moves on even when there is absence.
Sometimes, when he enters his dreams and wakes up from consciousness, he swears that every flowered head is staring straight at him, as if he is the lightbearer, but then he blinks his eyes and he is no longer the center of the world.
He catches glimpses of Halvard in the sea of sunflowers, an aberration in the field of yellow and brown, and when Halvard turns around he seems surprised, wide-eyed, but not helpless, and then he is gone.
Title: Remembering the Midnight Sun
Characters/Pairing: Russia/Norway
Rating: 18+
Length: 1k
Summary: It's November now. November, and many, many years have passed since those days.
Other: Happy birthday, @qichi
Read at Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8660668
Or at my archive: http://roesslyng.dreamwidth.org/79747.html
Title: As time moves we stay the same
Characters/Pairing: Russia/Norway
Rating: 10+
Length: ~800 words
Summary: They have settled into themselves. Time and borders shift, but they do not.
Read at Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8364181
Or at my archive: http://roesslyng.dreamwidth.org/78048.html
Hi. Can you maybe write some Russia/Norway. Promt: seaside?
sorry. this has taken me ages to get to D: (work, family, and real life kicking my ass so requests aren’t prioritized as much these days, seeing as I don’t exactly earn anything from doing these :/ )hope you like it anon!_______________Norway hated public displays of affection.Moreso if it involved himself.Years and years of knowing Denmark had of coursemade him an expert at dodging unwanted hugs and kisses.Except ifit involved one particular person.Russia was impossible to avoid.If thegiant mountain of a man wanted to greet Norway with a hug, then therewas no escape.More often than Norway would like to count he hadgreeted Russia at the airport, extending his hand and receiving abone crushing hug instead of a nice handshake like he had wanted (andit truly was bone crushing. Russia had broken Norway’s ribs a goodfew times - if it was on purpose was still anyone’s guess).
Norway had told Russia he should save the hugstill they were out of public eye.Hell - he had reminded him againand again, and each time Russia has said he understood, for then togreet Norway with an even longer hug the next time.Sometimes Norway wondered if Russia was simply afan of making him highly uncomfortable since his mere height didn’treally bother Norway that much.“Hugs are good,” Russia had argued when Norwaywas grumbling bitterly in the car – not at all impressed with beinglifted up and spun around five times. For this atrocity: a longgrudge would be held.“Not in a crowd,” Norway sneered.
“Sure they are. Next time I can hug more and wecan form a hugging crowd!” Russia’s voice was a little too filledwith childish glee at the prospect.“If you do then you can kiss all of this goodbyeforever,” Norway warned and gestures to himself, the car and theview outside the window.“Hmm. Well I do enjoy kissing,” Russiapondered out loud and Norway could hear the smugness in Russia’svoice.“Idiot,” Norway grumbled. Next time he’d justdeny Russia any access to the little summer house by the sea thatRussia had grown so overly attached to in the recent years.“Arewe going to the sea?” Russia asked.“I was actuallythinking the mountains…”“But.. the sea? I packed mysummer clothes and everything!” Russia pouted and Norwaysighed.“Fine,” he gripped the steering wheel a littleharder and made an exit off the motorway a whole hour before he’dactually planned to do so.“I have too much mountains andsnow at home. I prefer the sea,” Russia hummed happily.“Iknow,” Norway mumbled in return, glad when Russia’s attentiondrifted to the scenery outside his window.Norway preferred hiscar rides to be filled with either silence or music – notchatter.That said, once the car is parked and luggageunloaded he doesn’t mind Russia babbling on. “You paintedthe windows! Without me?!”“Yes, it had to be done…”Norway rolled his eyes and ushered Russia inside. “But if you wantto help paint the walls then please do so. Saves me climbing up aladder.”“You only like me for my height. I knew it,”Russia feigned a frown.“What else good is there about you?”Norway snorted and pushed past Russia’s sulking frame. “Howdare you. There is much to love about me! Rolls included,” Russiagrinned and griped his sides with his own hands, smiling proudly ashe patted his protruding belly.“Better get into yourswim-shorts then, so I can truly appreciate your body then,” Norwaysmiled and stocked the fridge with the food and drinks he’d broughtwith him.“For you my friend,” Russia smiled, “for you Iwill walk naked!”“Be my guest. By keep in mind boatsstill pass by here.”“Then they too can marvel at mybody!” Russia laughed and Norway couldn’t help but smile too.WhenRussia returned, sporting a pair of speedos that were at least twosizes too small, Norway had a hard time staying serious or knowingwhere to look.“I said shorts,” Norway stifled alaugh.“These are better,” Russia smiled proudly andpulled the tiny swimwear further up.“It looks like you’veraided my wardrobe.”“No. But I did check to see what sizeyou wore and then bough my own.”Norway face-palmed and saida silent prayer to the old gods.“Do you not likethem?”“Love them,” Noway replied with some sarcasm.“Can’t wait to see you out of them thought,”“That canbe arranged!” Russia laughed.“After dinner,” Norwayadded and Russia nodded in agreement.Three hours later Russiawas red as a lobster from lying in the sun without sunscreen andNorway was cooking crabs for them both.“Claw?” he offeredas Russia approached him with a miserable look.“It is asred as me,” Russia whined as he took the crab claw.“I didwarn you,” Norway chided. “Several times. Even offered to helpput it on. But noooo. Someone was simply too ‘great’ forsunburns.”“I get the feeling you enjoy my pain,” Russiagrumbled darkly.“Immensely.” Norway smirked. “Now, sitdown in the shade. Dinner is ready.”Russia complied,forgetting his sunburn after a good crab dinner and a few too manybeers.“I like it here,” He hummed happily and stretchedout next to Norway on the beach towels.“I know you do,”Norway mumbled.“I could live here all year!”“You’dget bored when I’m not here and you know it.”“All right,I could live here all year with you,” Russia correctedhimself and rolled over on his side to kiss Norway’s cheek.“Mhm,”Norway sighed in satisfaction – these types of affection he couldtolerate. “You’d still get bored in wintertime,” he added.“Weshould try one year.”“Maybe when we retire…” Norwayyawns.“And when do you think that will be?”“Noidea.”“But it’s a promise?” Russia askedquietly.“Sure. If you want it to be.”“Excellent,”Russia beamed. “Now I can retire with a peace of mind. Sometime.In the unforeseeable future.”“Precisely,” Norwaylaughed and offered Russia a rare warm smile. “Sometime inthe unforeseeable future we’ll spend a whole year by theseaside.”“I can barely wait for the future.” Russiahummed happily before making himself comfortable on the towel oncemore.“No rush,” Norway reminded him and let Russia holdhis hand as they lay and basked in the evening sun. “Neither of usare going anywhere any time soon.”“I know. I like that,”Russia smiled and gave Norway’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “Thisis very nice just as it is.”“Yes,” Norway nodded. “Itis.”
