Rusger Oneshots

The 100th Oneshot

On August 15th 2019 I made this oneshot book sort of in a spur of the moment urge and wow I never thought I'll write a hundred of them-

It was one of my first ever written pieces set out into the wilderness of the internet and ngl younger me 2 years ago didn't really know what she was doing but damn the book got more views than anything else I've ever written before-

Now this oneshot is posted on the 28th of November 2021 and we're at 149k reads. It's wild.

So I just really want to thank you all, especially to those that were here from the beginning! To those than came anytime between the 2 years, you mean a lot to me too and I'm grateful for everyone's support and kindness :D ❤️

And now a little bonus scene from the what if world war 3 mini series, set a couple of minutes after Safe and Sound.

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Russia opened his eyes again to a sunny baby blue sky.

He felt his fingers move, and somewhat carefully lifted up his arm. His hand was normal, whole. He turned it back and forward slowly as he stared at it, eventually sitting up, looking at the ground curiously when his other hand felt soft grass.

There were flowers everywhere. Hardy little flowers that could survive in the Russian steppes, pure white chamomiles that dotted here and there. Warm sunlight streamed down lazily, and the only thing he could feel was calmness. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of birds chirping drifted over.

"I didn't really know what to expect, but I thought heaven would be more than just- this." Russia said out loud to himself, gently touching a little pink flower with his finger. It just seemed very generic, paradise and all.

"I mean... if you don't like it I can remove it."

He looked up again, eyes wide as he listened to that voice, familiar and deep. When he slowly turned around to look in the opposite direction, where the voice came from, he noticed the grass seemed to be fading away, turning into a white floor surface. A pair of dark brown boots were standing there, and he carefully looked up, seeing an also familiar brown trench coat.

Russia continued staring, mouth slightly agape as his father looked back at him. Soviet opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then paused, hands clenching slightly by his sides, glancing at the ground awkwardly. 

There were more shadows behind him, and Russia started to see more faces through the blur, some he had never seen before, some he was more familiar with. Their eyes glowed as well, like his own, curiously looking at him. Come, join us. You belong here.

"Россия!!" A young boy's voice called out to him joyfully, and Russia saw Ukraine, the first Ukraine that died because of the Holodomor in 1932, running through the crowd of shadows towards him. Nazi Germany reached out and held him back gently, giving Russia a slight smile and nodded towards his father, who was again looking at him, standing there just a few feet in front of him.

He slowly stood up, unconsciously brushing off his pants. But it was flawlessly clean. He noticed he was also back in his favourite clothing again, instead of the plain grey shirt and sweatpants he was wearing in the medical wards. Russia ran a hand through the fur trim collar of his dark blue jacket, then looked through the inner pockets. He relaxed when he heard the clinking of his army dog tags, feeling the engraving of his name and number on the metal chips with his thumb.

His father cleared his throat, making him look up at him again, and at the situation. Russia carefully took a step forward, holding his father's solid gold gaze. They were no longer as terrifying as he remembered them to be, if he dug back to his actual childhood memories, he could still faintly remember this. A father, being greeted by his children after a day of work, with the energy to still tell them stories before bedtime and bring them on adventures during the weekends.