engineerjones:

Sounds like me.  Weird phrase to say right now, but it fits, or something.

I like the sky the best, so that’s fine with me.  Free as the sky.  Although I guess this could be like that, but it’s not what I want.  Don’t think I was aiming for a cloudy, empty thing.

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Hm.  I’m no puzzle, it sounds like.  That’s kind of boring.  You’re an enigma, though.  But that’s more fun.  You, Arthur and Kiku are weird puzzles.

Oh, the sky is hardly empty. It is just not always full, you see. But when it is, it is a thing of transcendental power. 

…though I probably should not encourage you in that regard.

So you say at times, but you have yet to quantify what it is about me that is so enigmatic.

engineerjones:

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Honestly, it’s more like I’m walking on a cloud and I am vaguely aware that there’s emotions in the distance but it’s kind of hard to pay attention to them for very long.

That probably doesn’t make much sense.  I’d probably be embarrassed about this normally and not say this stuff?

I will probably be very angry with myself later.  Normally I don’t like expressing things.

[The entire time, he’s still patting Ivan’s shoulder or at least keeping his hand on him.  Touch seems very comforting for the American at the moment.]

Well, at least it’s not like you weren’t aware of that in the first place.

You’ll recall later, but I have seen you in far more compromising positions than this. 

But your head has always been in the clouds in some form or another, so really, very little of this can take me by surprise.

We have been acquainted for such a short time, and yet.

engineerjones:

zhestokiyvek:

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Stop touching my head. Anythingelse would have been fine at this point.

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[He’ll pat his shoulder instead.]

I think I am going to regret this when I feel more inclined towards regret in general.

More suppressed regret than usual? How impressive.

severnayastolitsa:

zhestokiyvek:

We hardly have the silver to gilt the platter, сыно́чек.

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But moreover, I’d rather those fingers not get so soft that the strings have them bleeding. Again.

It’s an expression, nevermind, forget I said anything.

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Oh, come on now, my hands are not that soft! Sure, they’re softer than yours or Maya’s but they’re not so soft that I’ll cut myself on the violin strings— now you’re just teasing me—

Yes.

Yes I am.

engineerjones:

zhestokiyvek:

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I am Groot Russian. Nearly anything else is acceptable, mal’chik.

Okay.

What if I hug you?

I kind of think there’s something wrong about that but I don’t remember what that is right now, so it’s probably fine, right?

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Touching is weird, but it feels more like I’m real when I do it.  Maybe I’ll remember that as a reason later but I’m not so sure.  

Wait, is hugging awkward?  I mean, guys hug here.  But guys kiss over there, so a hug is fine?

Maybe I’ll just stick to a pat.

[He’s going to put his hand on Ivan’s head and pat his head.]

Stop touching my head. Anythingelse would have been fine at this point.

heromerica:

zhestokiyvek:

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Well, of course. Truly the sensitivity of the young is present always. I was speaking of the 1820s, back when you were still young enough to be endearing. 

Oh well

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I’m still endearing. I’m not bein’ sensitive, I’m bein’ honest. What I’m sayin’ is, whether or not he tried to fill my head of evil Russians, my opinion of you was made myself. I won’t say if he did or didn’t. I will say that he may have.

*He hums and tucks the pie in the oven, crossing his arms.*

I’m hella endearing. Look at this handsome, yet adorable, face.

…am I looking for something in particular, or are you just being slightly vain? 

heromerica:

zhestokiyvek:

heromerica:

zhestokiyvek:

[He steps out of Alfred’s way, a slightly mournful look on his face that disappears as soon as the American opens his mouth.]

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It was not like that before. But I think you do not remember. You were very young then.

…then again, you also didn’t bake then, so let us see if it is a fair karmic trade.

*He shrugs a bit and waves his hand.*

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You’d be surprised how much I remember. I remember plenty even before Arthur snatched me up. If it was the Soviet era, I wasn’t that much younger. But I was lookin’ through my own rose tinted shades at the time, so I probably took my time to not care as much. Especially during certain times of that era. S’not like your voice sounds bad or anything. Just different.

*He’s not super fast ultra awesome chef, but he’s adept at cutting up what needs to be cut up, etcetera, etcetera.*

I can bake, but I can’t bake anything as good as I can bake this pie. Y’ever hear the phrase ‘as American as baseball and apple pie’? There’s a reason for that.

*He’s got the dough all rolled out and he’s tucking it in the pie tin, then tossing in readied apples.*

This shit’s gonna rock your world.

A fair bit after he’d snatched you up. Though I’m certain he bottlefed you on terrible lies of my misconduct and general heinous monstrosities. 

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Angliya is such an interesting sort of person, after all. He was interesting to me for a while but, of course, other things do happen to avert one’s attentions elsewhere…

…though hopefully your own attentions are not so averted that your pastry tastes of shit and rocks.

You should know me better than that. My opinions were always formed myself.

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Quite frankly, a lot of the time I knew of you when not in the Cold War dealio, I didn’t mind you. I tend to partially separate us from what we represent because we do have our own thoughts. We’re sentient beings with our own wills and our own experiences. Those just tend to be somewhat influenced by our nations. I, personally, think it’s important to make that distinction. Now my feelings on your government on its own? Whole different story.

Nah, man. I can multi-task like a fuckin’ pro.

*He settles them nicely in the crust, then starts laying down the top like a lattice. Normally he goes for the normal top, but he’s feeling creative today.*

It’ll taste of fantastic and joy.

Well, of course. Truly the sensitivity of the young is present always. I was speaking of the 1820s, back when you were still young enough to be endearing. 

Oh well

severnayastolitsa:

zhestokiyvek:

severnayastolitsa:

In my defense I have not been feeling well as of late, so I haven’t really been able to practice much. 

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But. You’re right. It’s been a week or so. I should…try to practice whenever I can this week so I don’t…lose my talent, I suppose. I just- you know I hate disappointing you.

In defense of my remaining patience, you are never feeling well, late or not. 

[To an outsider, such words would seem cruel. To those who know Ivan well enough, however, they’re easily recognisable as ones spoken in the neutral tone of voice he uses when he is cruel to be kind.]

Rather, if it is truly something you enjoy, I would prefer it not be halted by something as easily solved as laziness.

…it was, after all, very difficult to build up your calluses enough so you could play well. 

That’s— true enough. It’s not my fault that I never feel well, though—

[A nod of recognition and another sip of his tea.]

I do enjoy it. You’re right, I’m very lazy, and I ought to try to work harder, not everything in life is going to be handed to me on a silver platter. Is that how the saying goes?

My hands used to ache for hours when I first started practicing but it was all…very worth it.

We hardly have the silver to gilt the platter, сыно́чек.

But moreover, I’d rather those fingers not get so soft that the strings have them bleeding. Again.

engineerjones:

zhestokiyvek:

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Please do not touch my face. I am more amenable to social contact elsewhere, but not my face.

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…Oh, I’m sorry.

[Oh.  That’s regret.  That’s a good one.  Well, good that it’s coming back, anyway.  He’ll drop his hands to his sides before he cocks his head to the side, staring at the taller man thoughtfully.]

What kind of social contact would be okay?  Or did I make it not doable with the faux-pas or something?  Do you think you have a shitty face, though?  ’Cause it’s fine.  I mean, mine’s fine, yours is fine, we’re all fine.  It’s just flesh on a skeleton.

I am Groot Russian. Nearly anything else is acceptable, mal’chik.

heromerica:

zhestokiyvek:

[He steps out of Alfred’s way, a slightly mournful look on his face that disappears as soon as the American opens his mouth.]

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It was not like that before. But I think you do not remember. You were very young then.

…then again, you also didn’t bake then, so let us see if it is a fair karmic trade.

*He shrugs a bit and waves his hand.*

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You’d be surprised how much I remember. I remember plenty even before Arthur snatched me up. If it was the Soviet era, I wasn’t that much younger. But I was lookin’ through my own rose tinted shades at the time, so I probably took my time to not care as much. Especially during certain times of that era. S’not like your voice sounds bad or anything. Just different.

*He’s not super fast ultra awesome chef, but he’s adept at cutting up what needs to be cut up, etcetera, etcetera.*

I can bake, but I can’t bake anything as good as I can bake this pie. Y’ever hear the phrase ‘as American as baseball and apple pie’? There’s a reason for that.

*He’s got the dough all rolled out and he’s tucking it in the pie tin, then tossing in readied apples.*

This shit’s gonna rock your world.

A fair bit after he’d snatched you up. Though I’m certain he bottlefed you on terrible lies of my misconduct and general heinous monstrosities. 

Angliya is such an interesting sort of person, after all. He was interesting to me for a while but, of course, other things do happen to avert one’s attentions elsewhere…

…though hopefully your own attentions are not so averted that your pastry tastes of shit and rocks.

-From behind she places and little american flag on his head- Got something to say to me?

[Blinks.]

Ah…belatedly, a happy birthday.

engineerjones:

zhestokiyvek:

engineerjones:

I like everything right now.

I even like Alexei’s face.

And Ivan’s voice.  And Alfbro’s voice.  And Xochitl’s petulant judging stare.

This is nice.

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Desist immediately.

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[Puts his hands on Ivan’s cheeks like he’s been doing.]

No.  Also, I was going to warn you that I was going to touch you, but my hands went there first.  I should probably be sorry about that.  Sorry.

I am not sorry about liking your voice and you and everyone else in general, though!

Please do not touch my face. I am more amenable to social contact elsewhere, but not my face.

engineerjones:

I like everything right now.

I even like Alexei’s face.

And Ivan’s voice.  And Alfbro’s voice.  And Xochitl’s petulant judging stare.

This is nice.

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Desist immediately.

severnayastolitsa:

zhestokiyvek:

severnayastolitsa:

zhestokiyvek:

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You may prove either of these at your leisure, of course. In fact, I will look forward to it.

[And now you are presented with your father-figure, being the enormous Russian man that he is, sitting posture-perfect in your parlor in a position of utmost attentiveness, watching you with a (slightly sarcastic because surely you knew this was coming the moment you bragged) expectant look.]

[Oh God and it begins. Very nervously, he takes a sip of his tea.]

I, err, I’d…rather not…read any of my poetry because reading it out loud makes me sort of uncomfortable but I can go get my violin in a moment, if you’ll wait, my ankle is sore and I’d like to sit for a moment—

[It’s not a complete lie but he’s still skirting around the issue. The idea of playing his violin around Ivan frankly makes him feel ill but at least he’s…trying to mask that? Trying.]

So. How have you been.

Lyoshka.

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You can just say you’ve not been practicing.

In my defense I have not been feeling well as of late, so I haven’t really been able to practice much. 

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But. You’re right. It’s been a week or so. I should…try to practice whenever I can this week so I don’t…lose my talent, I suppose. I just- you know I hate disappointing you.

In defense of my remaining patience, you are never feeling well, late or not. 

[To an outsider, such words would seem cruel. To those who know Ivan well enough, however, they’re easily recognisable as ones spoken in the neutral tone of voice he uses when he is cruel to be kind.]

Rather, if it is truly something you enjoy, I would prefer it not be halted by something as easily solved as laziness.

…it was, after all, very difficult to build up your calluses enough so you could play well. 

heromerica:

zhestokiyvek:

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…ah yes, I had forgotten how charming your music can be.

Well.

Fair is fair, I suppose. 

[So, for you, he will sing When I Go to the Quick River. But just a verse before he’s coughing and clearing his throat.]

I got plenty of stuff. I just wanted to play alongside it and well… Didn’t have my guitar.

*He listens intently when it’s Ivan’s turn, blinking once or twice when the guy starts coughing.*

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Don’t die for the sake of it, man. You got a pretty cool soundin’ voice, though. One o’ those gruff kinda ones? Why were you so reluctant?

*He’s gonna get up to get ready to make pie now, though. Get your pie eatin’ utensils ready.*

[He steps out of Alfred’s way, a slightly mournful look on his face that disappears as soon as the American opens his mouth.]

It was not like that before. But I think you do not remember. You were very young then.

…then again, you also didn’t bake then, so let us see if it is a fair karmic trade.