#I’m sorry about Liet's hair

[jikimo-world]

Homosexuality was illegal, but even today some rules exist just for being infringed.

It's guys like them that made the roaring '20s roar

Romano: How do you know so much about Crossdressing?

Lithuania: Oh! it's a long story...

[pleasewriteusernamehere]

ok so we know liet lived at poland’s house for a bit to help recover from the soviet era but what if for some soviet torture reason or bc he has nightmares abt russia’s house and needs help grounding himself, poland starts waking him up with random facts about themselves only they would know to reassure liet that it’s actually him

like he tried to wake liet up the first or second morning he’s back with “hey, sleepyhead, wake up. it’s poland, don’t worry, you’re okay”, but lithuania just curls up tighter into a ball and tries to protect his head, and it makes poland worry but he brushes it off, because maybe he’ll need a couple of days, until like the fifth time the same thing happens. poland asks about it and liet kinda explains what’s up with him, vaguely, so thst poland understands but he doesn’t have to think too much about russia

and the next morning, he hears poland’s voice - he still flinches whenever he’s touched unless he’s warned first, so shaking his shoulder is out of the question - being really soft, going

“hey liet, its me, poland. you learnt to play the lute when we were kids to try serenading me, and you like making your own jam and thank god you do because you have way too much of it on toast and your hair always gets in your face in battle but you’re also worried that it might be bad luck to tie it back so you can never decide what to do with it”

and liet’s finally reassured and probably starts crying fuck it, bc he can wake up feeling safe for the first time in decades (cue cuddles and adorable fluff and “on the note of jam on toast, I brought you breakfast in bed, sorry the jam’s store bought”)

the facts are sometimes about liet, sometimes poland, sometimes their childhood or relationship

the next morning it’s

“wake up, it’s poland, my favourite food is pierogi and I find it easiest to read printed documents on pink paper and one time I dropped my ring in a river and you jumped in to get it back for me and afterwards we had to swap clothes so you wouldn’t get in trouble and you looked really good in my clothes but I didn’t say anything about it”

it’s soft, and ends with one/both blushing and “I love you”s but most importantly lithuania knows he can’t be hurt and he’s with someone that cares about him, and that poland was actually listening to a lot of the stuff he hadn’t seemed to be

one morning it’s “... and I learnt to be a winged hussar because I thought you’d think I looked cool and...”

later that day, liet looks up from his coffee and goes “po, you really became a winged hussar to impress me?”

in return there’s a soft and embarrassed “maybe... did it work?”

later, when lithuania’s back on his feet more, they start doing it for each other and it becomes a kind of ritual, a way of showing the other how much they appreciate them and getting them to wake up in a pleasant mood, or to tease each other

liet will use “you love baking and you’re amazing at cookies and cakes but you can never successfully do banana bread no matter what recipe you use”

the next week it’s “hey liet, you deliberately let latvia beat you in chess one time and it’s eaten you inside ever since because he keeps beating you for real now”

a month later, far too early, there’s a “wake up poland, you said that the next meeting you went to you wanted to be exactly four minutes and twenty seconds early than estonia so you’ve been planning on getting there at 9:25:40am for the last 3 weeks”

one day, it’s “morning liet, it’s poland, when we first met, you were wearing a really frilly coat that you looked super uncomfortable in and I realised that I was seriously, properly in love with you when you came up behind prussia in that war and I’ve been trying to work out how to best say this for a long time, and I can’t get it right, but I want to marry you”

I’m so so sorry it’s 2am and I can’t stop thinking about ✨them✨

(a lot of the ideas about them as kids are from the fantastic @kyuhu, who does incredible lietpol and hetalia art! the rest is either canonically stated or my own dumb headcanons)

[phyripo]

33 with EstLiet? 👀

33. “You’re cute with glasses.”

Yeee! I’m so sorry that this took an actual century! What happened is: I wrote three separate stories for this prompt pretty quickly, didn’t like two of them and accidentally turned the third into a different pairing (but I did like it so I will post it in the near future), got discouraged, read the entirety of Return of the King in procrastination, and then I wrote this high fantasy... Thing. Honestly, I’m still not sure I’m satisfied and it’s very Out There considering the prompt but yeaH,, I hope you like it anyway :V

uhh so names are pretty straightforward but y’know, Tolys is Liet, Eduard is Est, Raivis is Lat, Erzsébet is Hun and Nadzeya is Bela c:

--

Finally, they have arrived in the southern Elven kingdom, and Tolys’s Elvish traveling companions have been whisked away by their kin immediately, expectedly. This has left him with only Raivis, who is sitting on a high table and looking around in wonder at the Elven building. His small legs swing out as he leans back on his hands.

“I knew we were traveling with an Elven Queen,” he says, “but this is all so incredible!”

Tolys nods. He could never have predicted that his search for his family’s long-lost heirlooms might lead him to find company in not only Raivis, who is most likely the first of his kind to travel so far south, but also in a party of three northern Elves seeking to join their kin in the newly reclaimed southern kingdom. Let alone could he have foreseen, of course, that one of them would actually be the Queen-in-exile.

“Everyone will be so jealous back home,” Raivis is now saying, as he inspects the fine, light clothes the Elves have gifted them. Although the lands remain yet war-torn, the Elves of the south have been more than generous to the Halfling and the Man. Tolys wagers that Erzsébet has been exaggerating their involvement in overcoming the obstacles on the way here. She acted as the Queen’s guard and became fond of Raivis in particular, having hardly met his kind before.

It's also difficult not to be fond of Raivis in general, Tolys thinks.

As approachable as Erzsébet was, with none of the expected Eleven superiority or contempt, so closed off and cool were Queen Nadzeya and the Elven clerk, Eduard. At least, when first they met. Both of them looked like northern Elves, tall and pale with hair of starlight and eyes like the lakes in their kingdom, and Tolys had been starstruck by their otherworldliness, thinking at first that Eduard must be a prince himself. However, he was merely a scribe, traveling along to record the Queen’s journey south, and he was, in fact, Erzsébet’s cousin.

“Do you think we’re allowed to leave?” Raivis asks, jumping the considerable height off the table so that his bare feet thud on the wooden floor. The buildings here have been rigged up by some ingenious engineering, or perhaps magic, between the jagged mountains and the unnaturally tall trees.

Many of the trees were felled over the past centuries, since the Elves were driven away far before Tolys was born, and more yet torn down in the battle to reclaim the land. It hadn’t been difficult to feel his companions’ sorrow as they entered their kingdom. Erzsébet had appeared particularly upset at the jagged wood, and Eduard had sung softly to the earth itself. New sprouts were already coming up.

Tolys imagines Raivis wants to take a look at the young trees himself—Halflings, that much he has learned, have a fondness for all growing things.

“We weren’t told to stay here, were we?”

Raivis shrugs, standing on his tiptoes to peer out of the window. His blond curls barely reach the edge. He gasps.

“Tolys, Nadzeya is coming over here!”

Raivis never quite warmed up to the Queen, which, in all honesty, Tolys doesn’t blame him for. She is so intimidatingly beautiful that it’s difficult to see past. It took him many weeks, and he attributes it to his upbringing more than anything.

Now, he stands and opens the door at her knock.

Unsure what the proper Elven greeting for a monarch is, he bows.

“Welcome, Your Majesty.”

Raivis follows his example, albeit with a stutter and clasping his hands together in what must be the way of the Halflings.

Nadzeya blinks, silent. Her eyelids are painted dark as ever—apparently a sign of mourning in the north, for family she lost in the battle for the south. Erzsébet had marked her body with intricate ink patterns in the southern way. Eduard had cut his hair short. He had, he told Tolys, lost his younger brother in the fight led by the southern Prince.

It’s still difficult to believe that he is related to Erzsébet. They look so little alike.

All of a sudden, Nadzeya laughs, just for a second as if startled into it. It definitely startles Tolys and Raivis in turn.

“Your—” Tolys starts. She shakes her head sharply.

“Oh, please, I’ve had enough of that for a few centuries. Eduard is looking for you, I think you’ll find he has important news.” She rolls her eyes. “The idiot.”

Tolys bristles a little on Eduard’s behalf, and Nadzeya snorts in the most un-royal manner. She isn’t wearing any kind of crown now, not even the silver circlet she wore to travel. Her hair is, in fact, completely unbound. He knows that is unusual for Elves. Maybe, it’s part of some sort of ceremony or ritual.

“Where can I find Eduard…” He bites his lip. It feels strange not to add an honorific. “My Lady?”

“You know what, even that’s too much.” Nadzeya’s expression is unreadable, as usual. “As for Eduard; he is, of course, in the library. We have some extensive genealogies preserved of important families of Men.”

“Ah,” Tolys breathes, now recognizing the amused spark in her eyes. “Yes, of course. Where…”

Gesturing, Nadzeya says, “That way, the building says library. I know you read Elvish.”

“Shall I come?” Raivis asks nervously, glancing up at the Queen. Tolys shakes his head.

“I’ll return shortly.”

As he leaves, he hears Nadzeya say something dry to the Halfling, and hopes he will be all right.

It seems odd for the Queen to be out like this, but then again, what does he really know about Elvish traditions? Let alone courtly ones? Perhaps, this is just how it goes around here.

It is a short walk to the library, and he meets no one on his way there. More Elves are expected to arrive over the coming year, to help restore the kingdom and make it the thriving realm it once was, but as of yet, very few are here.

Eduard is easy to spot. The Elf sits by a window, pale hair shimmering in the golden sunlight. He’s shielding a scroll from the sun, long fingers skimming over the parchment. With his other hand, he adjusts—

“I have never seen an Elf wear eyeglasses before,” Tolys finds himself saying.

Eduard starts, looking up at him through the round spectacles, pinched on his nose with golden a golden frame.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

At that, he smiles and shakes his head. He carefully rolls the scroll and slides it back into its casing.

“I don’t mind at all.” He adjusts the frames, smiling faintly. “It’s good to have them back. My handwriting is much better when I can see what I’m writing.”

Tolys takes a seat at the high desk across from his Elven friend, glancing down at the scroll’s tube. He bites down on a wry smile.

“That’s good. They look nice. You’re—you’re cute with glasses.”

“That…” Eduard is stunned silent, which is endearing, and obviously not thinking about the scroll at all, which is good. “Cute?”

“Hm.” Tolys bites his lip and leans his chin in his hand. “Like a young Halfling would be, I imagine.”

“I’ve never—do you know how old I am?”

Interested, Tolys leans forward. He actually does not know. It was enough to understand that he was the youngest in their little company. Raivis, despite appearances, is almost forty years old, a few years older than Tolys. Halflings age slowly. Elves, of course, hardly age at all.

“Two thousand two hundred and twenty-two years old, and you call me cute.” He sounds more amused than indignant. It’s quite a pleasant sound.

“That’s a nice number,” Tolys says absently, much more interested in the sparkle that has entered Eduard’s light eyes than the glasses itself.

“I suppose it is.” He glances away. Sighs, and laces his long, elegant fingers together in front of his chest. “I was injured during the first battle. It damaged my sight.”

“I apologize.”

“No need. Most Elves use charms to see when such injuries occur, but we passed through a human kingdom on the way north, where I was introduced to eyeglasses like these. I find that they’re much less straining.”

Tolys know the story of the Elven refugees well.

“The kingdom of Vilnius,” he whispers. He cannot help but look at the scroll again, the familiar crest on the case. If his father had known the Elves kept all those histories here, protected for centuries…

“Indeed.”

They study each other for a long while. Tolys knows he doesn’t look like much to an Elf, even after being given the opportunity to bathe in a natural hotspring and festooned with an outfit far too fine for the likes of him. He isn’t terribly tall, and his brown hair is always a mess, curling when he doesn’t want it to and getting in his face despite his best efforts. Eduard is… Well, he’s an Elf. While they were on the road, it was easy to imagine that they were friends, and perhaps they are, still. But Tolys has no illusions that it will be the same. That he will ever get the chance to address the profound trust he has in Eduard, the appreciation for his almost Mannish groundedness but Elven whims at the same time.

Especially not when Eduard, who’s possibly the smartest being Tolys has ever met, clearly know that Tolys has lied to him, if just by omission.

“I met Queen Saulė, as we fled north,” Eduard eventually says, voice soft. “They said she had eyes like the plains of her kingdom, but they reminded me of the forest I left behind.”

Tolys lowers his own eyes. He studies the elegant woodgrain of this desk, that had stood here for all that time. It must have been protected somehow, and it wouldn’t surprise him if Eduard himself had placed the guarding charms.

“I know you looked familiar.”

With a sigh, he meets Eduard’s eye.

“I am the first in a long time, my father has told me, to have her eyes.” He tucks his hair away. “He saw it as a sign, especially after the Elves went south. It’s an age for reclaiming, he said.”

“Maybe, he was right,” Eduard says, looking thoughtful. “When Vilnius fell and your people were exiled like mine, the north came to their aid. We weren’t many and couldn’t fight for the realm, but we have since preserved the symbols of Queen Saulė’s power. Your family’s power.”

“What?” Tolys blurts. In his shock, he nearly topples of his stool, and Eduard grasps his arm, fingers cool through his fine green tunic. He smiles.

“That is what your father wants you to find, isn’t it?”

Tolys nods, wide-eyed.

“My people will bring the Sunstaff south. You may take it, and we would send Elves with you to take Vilnius, if you wish.”

“That—no—but.” Tolys takes a very deep breath. “I’ve lied to you. I lied to the Queen. Will Nadzeya even—”

Eduard ducks his head, clearing his throat. The pointed tips of his ears flush.

“I lied,” Tolys repeats faintly. Raivis knew, because just wanted to help, but…

“Yes, you did, but it’s no matter.” Again, Eduard clears his throat, and he finally removes his hand from Tolys’s arm to adjust his eyeglasses. “Not when your lie was no greater than any of ours.”

“What do you mean?”

He keeps fiddling with his glasses. The gesture is endearing, strangely.

“I hope… I hope you can forgive us—me. It would be a terrible loss to lose your…” He meets Tolys’s gaze, his eyes like sea-glass, strong yet brittle and colored like a quiet tide. “Companionship.”

“Nadzeya isn’t the Queen, is she?”

“Nadzeya is a northern noble. Her brother and sister followed my brother as he rode out.”

“Your brother.”

“I tried to stop him, but he was so young, barely an adult when we left the south. I always knew he would be the one to lead the quest, and I think I always knew I would lose him for it.”

“Your brother led the Elves?” Tolys feels quite heavy as the understanding of what this means dawns on him. “Your brother was the Prince-in-exile.”

“He was.” He sighs. “And a stubborn fool, too.”

“But that means you…” He bites his lip. “Erzsébet is the Queen.”

“Indeed. We decided to travel incognito.”

There had been some skirmishes on the road, nasty traveling beasts and Men who always went for Nadzeya on her horse, attracted to her gown and jewels even if they weren’t aware she was the supposed Queen. Tolys had thought it seemed inadvisable to travel with such a small party, at least at first. Erzsébet, who not only had mourning inks but also warrior’s lines and scars across her body, could probably have fought all the enemies off by herself, especially because they never paid attention to her, but Tolys was glad to help, and Nadzeya defended herself admirably with an innate magic that hurt Tolys’s eyes and head whenever he tried to look at the crackling darkness.

More than before, he feels for Nadzeya, because her position in this was one where she could be killed, and she had evidently taken that risk willingly.

Eduard wasn’t much of a fighter, but he held his own, and so did Raivis, much to the Elves’ surprise. Tolys already knew Halflings were a hardy folk.

“But… Why put any of you in danger like that?” he asks. “Why not travel with the larger caravan, or pretend none of you were royalty?”

Eduard smiles wryly, pushing his short hair away from his handsome face.

“It was known the Queen would travel south—rumors have wings—and the larger caravan will also have an Elf pretend to be her. It was mainly Erzsébet’s idea to go swiftly, before the enemies gather larger groups.” He sighs. “I am sorry I couldn’t tell you. I don’t wish to lose your trust.”

Tolys reaches across the desk, although he refrains from touching the Elven clerk.

“You haven’t.”

And, really, it is easy to see how this was the best decision given the circumstances, similar to how he hid the nature of his own quest from the Elves. Eduard looks at his hand, the rough fingers so different to his own slender ones. With a curious frown, he touches them quickly.

“Then, I thank you, Tolys of Vilnius.”

“Thank you,” he breathes in return, gaze flicking to the scroll again.

“I would be honored to come with you, of course,” Eduard continues, adjusting his glasses again. “If you would have me.”

Tolys wasn’t lying, earlier. He looks younger with the spectacles. A little less ethereal, more like someone warm and trustworthy, as he truly is.

“I would be honored to share it with you, Eduard.” He curls his fingers, grazing Eduard’s warm palm.

For a while, they are both silent, gently touching across the desk. Eduard is smiling absently, those light eyes shimmering in the sunlight as it dims ever so slightly. Tolys cannot wait to show him his home; even though it will be next to nothing compared to this place, even in disrepair as the kingdom is, he will be proud to share it with the Elf.

“Oh!” Eduard says. “I had nearly forgotten. I promised Erzsébet to take you and Raivis to her. She would like to extend the official friendship of the Elves to both of your people.”

“I left Raivis with Nadzeya.” He blinks. “So she isn’t royalty at all?”

An amused little smirk crosses Eduard’s lips, and Tolys breathes out slowly, curling his fingers a little more.

“What is it?”

“If Erzsébet has any say in it, she will be.” Suddenly, he frowns, peering over his glasses. “You left Raivis with Nadzeya?”

“I’m certain he’ll be fine. He’s tough.”

Eduard looks dubious, but he stands and gestures for Tolys to follow him to the grand door of the library. It has turned dusky, and the light filters through leaves to tinge his pale hair gold and his eyes almost translucent as he stands in the arch of the doorway. There, he turns to Tolys, bowing a little to bring their faces level.

“Thank you,” he says, voice soft and Elven accent giving the words a musical lilt.

“For what?”

“Being here.” He touches Tolys’s upper arm, letting his long fingers linger. “Letting me know you.”

“Of course.”

The fingers slowly trail up to his shoulder, sliding across the smooth green fabric until the tips touch his clavicle. Tolys reaches his own hand up and covers Eduard’s with it. The Elf rests their foreheads together for a moment that feels like a promise.

Just then, they both hear Erzsébet’s distinctive laugh, echoing merrily over the carved walkways. Both of them straighten to see her coming their way, her face bright and an intricate crown of golden leaves resting on her dark hair.

“My friends!” she says, and is hauling Tolys into a hug before he can even greet her, let alone think of bowing. “I’m so glad to see our secret has not put a strain on your friendship.”

There is an emphasis on friendship that Tolys doesn’t imagine for a second is the product of her accent.

“It couldn’t have, when my own secrets are similar, Your…”

“Just call me Erzsébet. Eduard was right, then? We will be equals before long.” She smiles. “And I’m certain my cousin will be glad to help you, should you so desire.”

“Erzsébet,” Eduard says, sounding long-suffering and not at all like a Crown Prince, which he is and Tolys will be soon enough. His cheeks are getting red. Tolys didn’t know Elves blushed, but finds that he would like to see it more often. It is mesmerizing.

“There you are,” come Nadzeya’s dry tones from the direction of Tolys’s temporary home. He hears the distinctive tread of Raivis’s bare feet approaching behind her nearly inaudible footsteps, and when they come into view, the Halfling bow slightly towards Erzsébet.

“Your Majesty.”

“I tried to tell him Erzsébet would be fine,” Nadzeya informs the Queen, and Erzsébet laughs again.

“Come, we have much to talk about. Much to plan.” She gestures all of them along. Eduard touches Tolys’s wrist. Raivis catches his gaze, quirks his eyebrows and grins.

Tolys smiles back and runs his fingers along the back of Eduard’s hand. It appears the journey was worth it.

[ask-aph-baltics]

73. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” 😅😄🤔😏

[save water, shower together]

The unbearable heat outside had pushed Lithuania to cut his exciting yardwork duties early and forced him back inside his house. Tired and exasperated, he pushed open the door to his house and closed out the inferno known as summer.

After wiping his forehead with a cold cloth, Lithuania let out a sigh of relief and leaned over his kitchen sink, running some cold water over his hair, then pushed his bangs out of his face.

“Jesus Christ it’s so hot out,” He muttered under his breath, dragging himself towards his bathroom to freshen up and take a proper shower. 

He turned on the bathroom lights, picked up a clean towel, pulled off his shirt, and then continued over towards his bedroom to get the rest of what he’d need.

Lithuania ran down the list of everything he would need to take a proper, cooling shower and flipped on the light to his bedroom to grab a crutch and a fresh pair of clothes, but what he saw next almost made him jump.

Sprawled out across his bed, naked, was Poland. His attention entirely on his phone, the sounds of a random TED talk filling the room. He was so into it he jumped when the light flicked on and immediately turned his head towards Lithuania. 

“Sup?” Poland said, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on, “sorry, I didn’t call before coming over, I just figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Lithuania stared at naked Poland on his bed and grimaced. “What are you doing?” He asked, not a tinge of emotion in his voice.

“Watchin’ Youtube.” Poland yawned out, clearly unbothered by his own nudity or being in Lithuania’s house. “This guy talking, he gave a really neat breakdown about how to find your purpose in life. Which was cool, ‘cus it’s easy to forget.”

Lithuania tilted his head, “Okay...” He let out a deep sigh, “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“It’s hot and I’m tired and why wear clothes when I don’t need to. I’ve humility but like, you’re the only one here so...” Poland shrugged as his voice trailed off and his attention went back to the phone screen, “that’s about it.”

“Don’t you have your own bed, in your own house, in your own country?” Lithuania bit his tongue and continued to collect the things he’d come in for, “it’s a bit jarring, but I suppose since you’re here you can lend me a hand this evening.”

Poland sat up, putting his focus back on Lithuania, “cool. I was totally gonna go to Hungary’s but then I was like, nah, I’m gonna go to Liet’s.”

“I can see that.” Lithuania pulled some supplies out of a drawer and picked up his crutch, “is there something wrong with your own place?” He added, plopping himself down at the foot of his bed.

Poland shook his head, “well, I felt lonely, so I decided to, like, you know, not feel lonely, and since I know you don’t mind that muc--”

“It’s not that I don’t mind,” Lithuania grumbled as he started taking off his prosthetic, “It’s just that if you had called instead just waltz into my house, strip, and then lay across my bed, it would have been nice to know.” 

“I did call but then you didn’t answer so I decided to just come here anyways.” 

Lithuania sighed again, closing his eyes as he mindlessly went through the motions of cleaning the inside of his ‘leg’. “Well, then, how about after I shower we head out and get a take out dinner, or something of that sort. The only catch is, you pay.” 

Lithuania needed something out of Poland’s sheer desperation for human contact. He didn’t hate having Poland randomly pop in, though it was uncalled for, it wasn’t new. Poland showed up almost every month with some comment about loneliness. Truth be told, Lithuania felt similar loneliness, which tugged at him only out of the fact his other friends often had things to do or lived on the other side of the world. 

Not Poland though. Poland had the same craving and desire to spend time with someone, even if it would be hours of silence, just sitting in the same room, enjoying the feeling of someone else being there. In a sad way, Lithuania liked knowing Poland had those same, miserable feelings. 

“Deal!” Poland grinned, rolling down the bed to Lithuania, “but I got a question.”

“Hm?” Lithuania grabbed his crutch and stood up.

Poland sprawled out again, “I totally need a shower too, and you know, we can save water if we shower toge--”

Lithuania shot Poland a glare as he jammed the dirty rubber end of his crutch into Poland’s mouth, “don’t push your luck.”

With that Lithuania took his crutch back and took his clean clothes in his free hand, “if you need to shower, I have a garden hose in the yard. While you’re at it, you can think up a movie we can watch with dinner tonight.”

“Fiiine.” Poland rolled off the bed onto the floor and stood up, “I’ll go get ready~”

“Good,” Lithuania added, walking out of the room towards his bathroom. 

Lithuania couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief when he realized Poland would be spending the night with him, again. His original plans had been cut short after all, but he found comfort in knowing the rest of his day would be filled with some companionship, even if it was with Poland.

[ladypurplejanewrynn]

Hetalia AmeLiet: A troublesome situation chapter 11

It was a beautiful and shinning mornning, Alfred opened his eyes and looked at Tolys who was softly sleeping next to him. He smiled and was about to get up when suddently Tolys caught him by the arm:"Please, don’t go yet dear. Stay with me in here a little longer." The American did as the Lithuanian said. "The last night was amazing, wasn’t it?" asked America. "Yeah, it really was. I love it, even thought i’m currently in a female body." answered Lithuania with an adoreble smile. "You know, you really suprised me when you asked me for doing it. And i’m even more suprised that you didn’t mind doing it while having a woman’s body." said the American. "To be honest, i’m suprised too as well. Looks like i’ve gotten kinda used to this body. But it doesn’t change the fact that i wanna go back to my old body." said Tolys. "I know love, i know. Don’t worry, as soon as the cure will be finished, you’ll be back to normal. We can survive one more month." said Alfred. Lithuania noded:"Yes, we can." They layed next to each other in silence until Alfred proposed his lover taking a shower together. Tolys agreed to that and they both got up and went to the bathroom. They step in to the bathtub together and start it cuddling with each other. The water was hot but not too hot. Both of them in their arms start it kissing with so much passion and desire. A moment later they stepped up to a next level and start it french kissing. Suddently Tolys softly bitten Alfred’s neck, leaving a small mark on it. "I love the way you show me the affection hun" said Alfred. He placed his hand on his lover’s cheek making him blush a little. The American leaned on and placed a gentle kiss on one of his lover’s breast. Tolys bitten his lips to not let a moan escape from his mouth. Alfred placed another kiss on the other breast. A soft moan escaped from the Lithuanian’s mouth. "I see you’re enjoying this dear" said Alfred to tease his lover a little. Tolys became a complet blushing mess:"Yeah... i guess so..." After the shower they dressed up and dryed their hair.

Alfred braided Tolys hair into a beautiful braid and then they went to the kitchen to make breakfeast. This time they cooked together some steak with some eggs. After eating, America’s little sister Filadelfia came along with her boyfriend Switzerland for visit. "Hey guys, so how are you doing?" asked Filadelfia. "Oh, we’re doing well. How about the two of you?" asked Liet. "We’re good. By the way we came to annonce you that we’re planning to get married." answered Vash. "Really? That’s kickass dude. My dorky little sister is getting married." said Alfred with excitement. "I know right. But we still don’t know when we want to get married thought. Also we’re here for another reason. We wanted to ask the two of you if you wanted to go to beach to have some fun." said Rose. "That’s a great idea. Let’s invite some of our other friends as well." said Alfred. They invited Feliks and Alice and Audrey and Roderich. On the way to the beach, they stopped by a shop, for Tolys to buy a bikini since he didn’t had one for the beach. When they arrived, they went to toilet to dress up into their swimming suits. After dressing up, Warsaw, Feliks, Alfred, Tolys and Rose jumped into water, while Vash, Audrey and Roderich stayed on the shore. Audrey was sunbathing while Roderich was reading a book. And Vash was just watching the rest of the group having fun in the water, he watched over his beloved to be sure she’s all save.

The rest of the group was having a lot of fun in the water, by splashing each other. A moment later Rose came to ask Vash to join them. In the beginning he didn’t agree, but Filadelfia splashed him a little with water to tease him a little. "Do you wanna play like that? Alright then. You made a grave mistake by splashing me darling." said Switzerland with a sassy smile and jumped into water. He splashed his lover with a lot of water. "Hey, i didn’t splash you that much hun." said Rose. "Maybe, but that was for revange my sweet little idiot." said Vash giggling a little. A moment later they had a splashing fight in duets. Alfred and Tolys together. Feliks with Alice and Vash with Rose. The wild fight began. All was fine until Warsaw splashed Liet with so much water that the top part of the bikini fell off. Tolys covered his chest with embarressed, luckly nobody saw what happend. Alfred found the top part of the bikini and help his lover to put it on. "I’m really sorry Liet. I didn’t mean to do that. I swear." apologized Alice. "All is fine. It was just an accident." said Tolys comforting his friend. They took a small break and all of them went to eat something for lunch. After lunch, they went back to water. Versailles and Austria joined them as well. After splashing each other with water and playing with a ball, they all came out to sunbath a little too. When it was almost evening they all came back to their homes.

[cooltrainererika]

Alt-Lithuania Concept Art

I said I would write an introduction for Alt-Liet, but then I thought I could maybe do it in picture form instead! After all I would get less distracted that way probably, and show how he would look in my stories too! Consider this my first actual concept art (?).

(I’m sorry for the lack of posts. But I almost have another fic done. It’s just that these past few weeks have been emotionally hectic due to my councilor of 2 years leaving yesterday. I do hope to get the rest done today and after my dentist appointment tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll be able to submit more art too, but I overestimate myself.)

More description under the cut!

I’m not so sure on a lot of things yet, but here’s my ideas for him and his possible personality. Also I tried copying Hima’s style a bit but that was a bit hard (and I can’t draw chibi it seems). Especially in color. Also damn you eraser burn- And I wish I could get the ash grey shade I wanted for the hair... looks like I brought bad quality colored pencils. And I got a bit lazy at the end. And it’s a bit off-model. Yay.

Mainly I wanted to see if I could halve the length of his hair and change his eye color and his personality and still make him resemble Liet. And... I might have succeeded? Idk. But I think I did to an extent. Though I swear at times he started to resemble Switzerland or Hong Kong or even Japan. Or a Team Rocket Grunt. Though that’s probably a good thing since those definitely don’t look girly. Or even Adult!Red from Pokemon or Link. 

But to explain: the hair is shortened due to the fact that his canon haircut would definitely get him labeled gay in his culture. I even saw a post on Quora specifically mentioning that long-haired guys are almost never seen there. ...Though I definitely struggled with how short or long his sideburns should be. Sideburns, especially huge ones, have long been a symbol of masculine hotbloodedness in anime (and I find nice, fluffy ones really cute), but I think I made them a bit too long so he still looks a bit girly/a bit too much like a rockstar... as for eye color, I heard that grey-blue eyes are common in the Baltic region, and they can be very striking, which depending on the direction I go with his character would be very fitting. But I might go with a pale greyish teal, invoking his forests. Both can give him a mysterious feel, something I also want to incorporate into his character. That’s why his face is shaded so heavily here (and why his eyes lack visible pupils) btw; I thought they would really bring out the pale eyes and give that mysterious, even slightly unsettling effect. Though since I also heavily shade Finland and Russia’s faces I might be overusing the idea. Just not jade green, since Hima overuses that color when that color is very rare in general, even in places where light eyes are common. 

One thing I know for sure about Alt-Liet; he’s a pretty bad alcoholic. Nowadays probably even worse than Russia. Hence the ubiquitous bottles of mead and that one little drawing of him blacked out. He definitely gets “Oh, your capital is Riga, right?” or “Oh, you’re... Latvia?” a lot, to the point it’s basically his Berserk Button lol (Also included a reference here no one reading this would probably get). The “blyat” here because his curse words are... not very strong. And unfortunately by modern day he’d be aware of it so he wouldn’t go around shouting “Green rue!” or “Gritty flour!” when he stubs his toe or gets cut in traffic (Yes, really). I’m not sure whether he’d be as (apparently) fashion blind as his canon counterpart or actually be the least fashionably questionable of the three Baltics, since I may have heard the latter would be more accurate, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of Lithuanian men are as blasé about their clothing as most Eastern European men are.

I’m thinking I would draw his teeth to look kind of jagged to give him a somewhat wild vibe. And combined with his rough hair as a child it would give him a “Wild Child” look. 

Also have an earlier version too. Changed because an intended “game” face looked too scary.

I feel bad for adding the cap. Oh well. 

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 3

Lily of the Lamplight by George deValier

Gilbert sat leaning against the front wall of a tiny building in the little town square, watching with half-hearted interest as a nearby fight between a sailor and a former SS officer escalated. Gilbert was rooting silently for the sailor. Roderich sat in the doorway beside him, gripping the wooden step tightly, his knuckles white. They had not yet been told their sleeping arrangements, their eating arrangements, any of it. There was nothing to do but sit and wait. No wonder men were starting to fight - nothing like a good brawl to break up the boredom. Any other time and Gilbert would have happily joined in. These two men were hopeless, their swings wild and sloppy and unfocused. Gilbert could smash them easily. He wondered what the prince would say of it, however, and forced himself to stay put.

The heat and smell of the nearby small fire wafted over Gilbert's senses. Oxenstierna had probably started it for the warmth, or perhaps simply because it was something to do. True, it was ridiculously freezing for this alleged summer, but surely the Swede should be used to the cold. He was Swedish, after all. The Swedish 'Lion of the North.' Gilbert wondered what the hell the title was supposed to mean. Why did Oxenstierna have a title? Surely Gilbert deserved a title. The 'Eagle of the East' or something. Gilbert grumbled softly to himself. He wanted a title, damn it. The blasted 'Lion of the North' sat on the ground by the fire, polishing his rifle, ignoring Gilbert's suspicious glances. The Polish soldier, Łukasiewicz, had come closer for the heat, and filed his nails silently as he sat on a small crate close to the fire. In all of three years, he was the first soldier Gilbert had ever seen filing his nails.

Gilbert picked up a twig from the dirty ground and threw it in the fire. Only the slightest spark of flame greeted his efforts. "What's the deal with the captain, do you think?" he asked no one in particular. The silence was starting to annoy him. Gilbert did not particularly like silence. Silence was suspicious. "He's no German career soldier."

"I heard some of the men talking about it." The Pole spoke softly, with a strong accent, and did not look up from his nails as he spoke. He wore the grey uniform of the SS, but he looked like no SS Gilbert had ever seen. He flicked back his shoulder-length blonde hair and shrugged. "Apparently he's, you know, like a Swiss mercenary. Or something."

"Crazy bastard," muttered Gilbert. It made sense, however. Who the hell else would run a unit like this?

"Swiss, did you say?" asked Roderich, his voice pensive. Gilbert almost startled at the words: it was the first Roderich had spoken since the line up. Basically the pretty Austrian had stayed close to Gilbert, darted his big violet eyes around nervously, and glared at everything and everyone like they were something nasty on the bottom of his shoe.

"Yeah," answered Feliks vaguely. He blew on his nails.

"Zwingli…" Roderich furrowed his brow, like he was trying to remember something. Gilbert peered at him curiously. He hoped the guy wasn't going insane already. He hadn't even seen combat yet.

"Problem?"

Roderich glanced up at Gilbert quickly, as though he'd forgotten he was there. He pushed his hair behind his ear and adjusted his glasses. "No, it's… it's nothing."

Gilbert shrugged and turned his attention back to the nearby fight. The sailor and the SS officer's shoddy punches were actually starting to connect now. "Money's on the sailor," Gilbert muttered softly. To his surprise, Oxenstierna responded.

"Pack'f cigarettes on th'SS."

Gilbert nodded, somewhat impressed. Maybe this Nordic lion wasn't quite as boring as he seemed. "You are on, my leonine friend."

Oxenstierna did not look up. "Done."

"Done." Gilbert smiled, rather pleased with himself. He needed some cigarettes. Roderich barely seemed to have noticed the exchange, instead eyeing the fighting soldiers warily. Gilbert, however, was becoming a little more worried about why this huge, blank-faced Swedish bastard he'd just placed a bet with kept polishing his rifle right beside them. "Oxenstierna," he barked loudly. "Why the hell do you still have your rifle?"

"No one took't off me."

"Huh." Gilbert wasn't actually surprised no one had taken the rifle off the man. Oxenstierna was one of the biggest men Gilbert had ever seen, next to his freak of a brother. Still, Gilbert didn't have a rifle, this bastard did, and that pissed Gilbert off. "Well, it's not regulation issue. They'll probably take it off you tomorrow."

"They won't."

"They won't?"

The Swede looked up slowly, his stern eyes glinting in the firelight. "No one's takin't off me."

Gilbert was willing to bet no one would try, if the Swede looked at them like that. He tried to inspect the gun from the short distance. It looked to Gilbert like a standard sniper rifle, something like the Mosins used by the Russians. Certainly nothing special. Gilbert could just make out the photograph attached to its side, of a young, smiling blond man in a Finnish army jacket. He nodded towards it. "Your wife, huh." Oxenstierna nodded. "Right, right." Gilbert drummed his fingers together and wondered just what it would take to break this Swede's composure. The Swede was bigger than him; the Swede was armed and Gilbert was not. Gilbert carefully evaluated the risk, then shrugged to himself. Screw it, he was bored. "Well done, sir. Was it a big wedding?" Gilbert felt Roderich's warning eyes on him immediately.

Oxenstierna did not react. Roderich spoke softly. "Gilbert, what…"

Gilbert ignored him. This was one way to get a little excitement going. He leant forward, smirked, and lowered his voice. "Did the bride wear white?"

Roderich drew in a sharp breath. "Gilbert, I really don't think…"

"I'm sure the parents were very proud." Roderich started to hiss another warning, so Gilbert turned, grinned, and nodded towards him cheerfully. "This here is my wife, actually, didn't you know?"

Roderich's perfectly shaped face turned white. He looked like he was about to choke. "I beg your pardon?"

Gilbert snickered. Oh, this could be fun. "The honeymoon was lovely, wasn't it darling? Show the nice man your wedding ring." Gilbert was actually pretty damn surprised Roderich had a wedding ring, considering he didn't even have a real marriage.

Roderich breathed out angrily and covered the thin gold band with a delicate hand. "This ring is from my actual wedding. With my wife. My real wife."

That got the Swede to react. His hand froze on the rifle and his shoulders straightened. His voice was no less threatening for its quietness. "Ye sayin' m'wife's not real?"

Gilbert turned an affronted look on Roderich. "Yeah, Roddy, you sayin' his wife's not real?"

"No, I just… what… what did you call me?" Roderich obviously did not know how to talk like this. Gilbert mentally filed the offending name away for future use. Unfortunately, the nail-filing Pole piped up before the situation could get really interesting.

"I'm sort of married too, you know. Except I think I'm the wife."

Gilbert snorted softly. That much was painfully obvious. "Well, well. Where have all the bachelors gone? But hubby's gone home to Lithuania, didn't you say?"

Łukasiewicz looked down, suddenly distraught. He looked like a kicked puppy. "Yes. And he, like, joined the Russian army." He shrugged. "Or something," he finished quietly.

"No shit? You do realise that by now he's probably…" Gilbert broke off as Roderich thumped him heavily on the shoulder. A sharp pain burst down his arm.

"Ow! Now Roddy, darling, that was uncalled for." Gilbert glared and rubbed his shoulder brusquely. Damn, the delicate musician hit harder than expected. The corner of Roderich's lip lifted, disgusted.

"Probably what?" Łukasiewicz bit his lip and drew his eyebrows together. "Liet's probably what?"

Gilbert had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Łukasiewicz would surely have just as hard a time out here as pretty boy Roderich. Still, strangely, Gilbert couldn't quite bring himself to tell the little Pole that, as a Lithuanian in the Red Army, his beloved 'Liet' was probably long dead. "Probably somewhere nearby," he finished instead. "Hey, you might even run into him! Except then you'd be trying to kill each other, and…"

"Feliks, wasn't it?" Roderich interrupted loudly. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe I can pronounce your surname correctly."

Feliks giggled softly and waved a hand. "Everyone says that, you know. It's really not that hard. Silly Germans."

"Austrian, actually." Roderich smiled, and Gilbert's eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange. Why was the snooty prince being friendly to this silly little Pole of all people? Gilbert felt surprisingly insulted. "My name is Roderich Héderváry, but you can call me Roderich if you like."

"Roderich," muttered Gilbert under his breath. "Never said I could call you Roderich..."

Feliks took one very deep breath, tilted his head to the side, and absently bit a perfectly filed thumbnail. He breathed out slowly as he regarded Roderich closely. A strange silence fell over the small group. Finally, Feliks' eyes widened and brightened. Then he nodded decisively. "I'm going to call you Fred."

Gilbert snickered a little and Roderich took a moment to respond. "Oh. Why?"

"Because you're a musician. Captain Karabin said you were a composer." Gilbert and Roderich glanced at each other briefly. Karabin? Feliks did not explain. "My favourite composer is Frédéric Chopin. Because he's Polish, did you know? Liet told me that." Feliks smiled gently. "Liet knows lots of things like that."

Roderich seemed to melt back into the doorway at the words. He closed his deep violet eyes, then let out a long, heavy breath as he opened them slowly. His saddened expression almost twisted in pain. "Chopin is my favourite, also." Suddenly he did not look proud, or stuck-up, or pompous. Instead he looked beautiful, and sad, and Gilbert felt strangely uncomfortable. Gilbert forced himself to look away and hummed thoughtfully.

"Chopin, Chopin. Is he the one who went deaf?" Gilbert looked back at Roderich's horrified gasp.

The Austrian's nostrils flared and his lip curled. He looked genuinely disgusted. "What sort of education did you have, barbarian?"

And just like that, the prince was pompous once again. Gilbert gave a snort of defiant, contemptuous laughter. "Barbarian?" Exactly something a prissy aristocrat would say. "I was educated in a cave," Gilbert spat sarcastically, "And taught to kill wild animals with a club."

"Gosh," interrupted Feliks, staring wide-eyed and open mouthed. "They teach you really strange things in Germany." Roderich's angry response died on his lips. His amused expression mirrored Gilbert's own. Feliks spoke airily and amiably. "All I learnt at school was times-tables and how to spell and where to hide from the nuns. But Beilschmidt, you said you were Prussian, didn't you?"

"That's exactly right, my Polish friend." Gilbert puffed out his chest. "I come from a long, proud military line that stretches all the way back to the great Knights of the Teutonic Order." Gilbert smiled smugly and ignored Roderich's quiet scoff. Feliks, however, looked intensely impressed.

"Wow! A Teutonic Knight! I'm going to call you Sir Gil."

"Hmm." Gilbert raised his head thoughtfully. He liked the sound of that. As far as a title went, it was pretty damn impressive. "Yeah… fuck yeah! Sir Gil! What do you think, Roddy, suits me, doesn't it?"

Roderich peered at Gilbert dubiously. His violet eyes danced with derision. "Sir? Please. You've no chance of obtaining the title through either knighthood or promotion."

Feliks giggled. Gilbert did not have time to shoot back a scathing response before two men fell abruptly onto the ground before them, grunting and swearing, limbs flying in wild kicks and punches that sent clouds of dust into the air. Gilbert had completely forgotten about the brawling sailor and the officer. He swore loudly as Roderich shrunk back against the wooden door. Feliks shrieked and fell backwards off his crate. The forgotten brawlers rolled dangerously close to the fire, heedless of the flames or the four surprised men watching.

Gilbert shouted to be heard. "Christ, boys, as much as I respect a man's right to fight, there are ladies present! No offence, Feliks."

Roderich's anger seemed to override his alarm over the brawling men. He turned to Gilbert, the derision in his violet eyes turned to fury. "Gilbert, I hope you realise that you are the only one who thinks you are at all amusing!"

"That's not true, the Swede here thinks I'm hilarious, don't you, Oxenstierna?"

"Oh, will you stop saying such ridiculous things!" shouted Roderich, his voice louder than Gilbert had yet heard it. Suddenly one of the men, the sailor, kicked too close to the fire and sent a wave of sparks in Feliks' direction. Feliks screamed again and covered his head. Strangely furious, Gilbert went to grab the man by the wrist, but was stopped in his tracks when the blasting crack of a gunshot echoed through the tiny square. Roderich gasped, Gilbert fell back instinctively against the wall, and the brawling men broke apart immediately.

Oxenstierna held his rifle pointed in the air, staring at the two men with that still, expressionless, terrifying glare. But when he spoke his voice was no more than a quiet mumble. "Y'should apologise fer that."

Feliks let out a relieved breath and looked at the Swede with wide, gleaming eyes. He smiled brightly. "I'm going to stick with you, Kociak."

Gilbert did not stop to ponder Feliks' odd words. He got the feeling he would have to get used to them. As the men scrambled to their feet, their eyes fixed on the Swede's rifle, Gilbert saw an opportunity. "Damn straight you should apologise," he said jovially, stretching out his legs and leaning leisurely back against the wall. Roderich stayed still and quiet beside him. Gilbert breathed evenly to slow his jumpy heart rate. "Interrupting our conversation, almost destroying our fire. Kicking sparks at my friend here." Gilbert nodded at Feliks. "I think you owe us a damn apology."

The SS soldier snorted derisively. His blonde hair was far too long for the military - perhaps he had been AWOL long enough to let it grow. Gilbert squinted to make out the name on his jacket: from the small distance, he could just vaguely read the word Saxon. Saxon glared down at Gilbert in disgust. "I don't owe you shit."

Gilbert smirked faintly. He was hoping for an answer like that. "Is that right? Oxenstierna?" Gilbert did not turn his head as he said it, but he hoped the Swede would understand what he was asking. There was a loud, unmistakable click as Oxenstierna pulled his rifle bolt back. Gilbert almost laughed - the Swede understood. He was liking Oxenstierna more and more. Gilbert grinned at the uncertain soldiers. "I think a pack of cigarettes will suffice."

The sailor looked about to respond, but Saxon drew himself up confrontationally. "Who says I got any cigarettes?"

"Oxenstierna?" asked Gilbert again. This time the Swede fired the rifle. Roderich jumped and put his hand to his chest as the deafening sound tore again through the silent afternoon. Saxon snarled in anger, but the sailor's nerves seemed to get the better of him.

"Okay, okay, here." The sailor spoke placatingly as he reached into his front pocket, pulled out a distinctive red packet of Aviatik cigarettes, and tossed them to Gilbert.

"Wonderful!" said Gilbert, catching the cigarettes delightedly. The packet was almost full. Enough to spilt evenly with the Swede, seeing as neither of them had really won their earlier bet. He waved a hand dismissively. "You two can bugger off now."

The two men dusted themselves off and stalked away, throwing back dark looks as they went. Saxon stopped to glare at Oxenstierna and growl, "That rifle's not standard issue. And don't forget, we'll all be armed tomorrow."

"Yeah, just try and take it from him," laughed Gilbert. Actually, he would like to see that. Gilbert hated the SS. Filthy, mind-broken, morally bankrupt idiots living high on power. And this Saxon looked like the real deal, not just a misguided fool like poor Feliks. Gilbert sneered at him disdainfully. "And don't you forget, despite your officer's stripes, you're just a lowly private now."

"Well done, Gilbert," said Roderich quietly, once the men had crossed the square. He was rather pale, but looked more angry than anything. "So it is your mission in life to make enemies, is it?"

"Nah, but I'm pretty damn good at it." Gilbert pulled half the cigarettes from the packet. Aviatik was a good brand. Not quite as good as the American's Lucky Strikes, but certainly nothing to sneer at. "You right there, Feliks?"

"Yes," said Feliks breathlessly. The Pole sat again on his crate, staring at Gilbert with the same wide-eyed admiration he'd held for Oxenstierna earlier. "I'm gonna stick with you as well, Sir Gil!"

Gilbert placed the cigarettes carefully in an inner pocket of his jacket. "Not a bad idea, my friend. I have a talent for surviving. Do you smoke?"

"No, it makes Liet's eyes water."

"What the hell does that matter n – ow!" Gilbert winced as Roderich once again thumped him in the arm. "Okay, okay. I won't even bother asking if you smoke, Roddy. Oxenstierna." Gilbert nodded towards him. "I can see we'll get along just fine. And here." Gilbert tossed the half-full packet to the Swede, who caught it easily. "Neither of the bastards won."

Oxenstierna nodded, pushed the cigarettes into his front pocket, and turned his attention back to cleaning the end of the rifle over his knees. For the first time, Gilbert noticed that the Swede was wearing a battered iron band on his ring finger. He was surprisingly moved at the sight. It was not an emotion he was used to. Perhaps Oxenstierna's 'marriage' meant more to the Swede than Gilbert had bothered to consider. That cheap, tarnished little ring obviously meant more than the gleaming, undoubtedly expensive gold on Roderich's finger.

"Everyone's, like, looking at us now, you know."

The words broke Gilbert from his reverie. He glanced promptly around the square. Feliks was right. Small pockets of prisoners stared in their direction, speaking amongst themselves. A group of military guards eyed them suspiciously from a nearby doorway. Gilbert could even see his friend Saxon from the fight muttering darkly with old Sergeant Hesse from the transport truck. He laughed softly. It was a good thing to be feared out here. Gilbert's entire motivation, from the moment he and Roderich stepped onto that truck, was to make it abundantly clear he was not to be messed with. It looked like the message was sinking in. "I wouldn't worry about it, Feliks. They're all scared of me, that's all."

Gilbert placed a cigarette between his lips, patted his pockets, then realised he did not have a light. "Shit." Just as he was fumbling around for a twig to place in the fire, a burning light appeared before him. The Swiss captain, Zwingli, stared down with an outstretched match and a blank expression. Gilbert grinned widely. "Thanks, Captain!" He leant forward, lit the cigarette, and sucked the smoke in desperately. It had been far too long since he had last breathed that delicious burn into his lungs.

"For the so-called Lion of the North, I thought you'd have a louder roar." Gilbert glanced up again, confused by the words, but Zwingli's eyes were focused on Oxenstierna. The Swede just gave an offhanded shrug. Zwingli folded his arms and nodded distinctly at Oxenstierna's gun. "Give me one reason I shouldn't take that rifle off you, soldier."

Oxenstierna paused, took a deep breath, then met Zwingli's eyes with a look that sent a shudder down Gilbert's spine. "'t's killed a lot'f Russians. Sir."

Zwingli narrowed his eyes, then gave a brief, upward nod. "Good reason. Mosin-Nagant M28-30, isn't it?" Oxenstierna nodded, and Zwingli's gaze fell on the photograph. "I believe those are quite popular among Finnish snipers. But snipers don't let go of their rifles easily." Oxenstierna nodded again, slower this time. "It's a good gun. You keep killing Russians with it, rather than threatening my men, and I'll have no reason to take it off you. But no more wasting bullets – those things aren't free. Now." Zwingli pointed at Gilbert. "You. Prussian."

"Yeah? Sir?" Gilbert blinked the surprise from his eyes and took a draw on his cigarette. What the hell was with this captain? Any other officer would have taken that rifle in a heartbeat after an incident like that. Zwingli barely seemed to care.

"How long you been out here?"

"Russia, a year sir. Been fighting through Europe since the start."

"Hm. Four years." Zwingli's eyes focused on the medals adorning Gilbert's jacket. "You look like you can handle yourself. I'm promoting you to corporal." He nodded at the other three men. "This here's your team."

Gilbert paused for a moment, his blood turning hot as it rose to his head. A promotion? Sure, this captain was unlike any he had ever known, but he didn't seem like the type to play games. Gilbert laughed shakily. "Are you serious?"

Zwingli's jaw hardened. He looked quite put out at the insinuation. "Do I look like I'm joking, soldier?"

Gilbert couldn't help looking at Roderich for his reaction. The Austrian looked stunned with disbelief. Gilbert smirked, though he couldn't quite believe it himself. "Three years in this army and not a damn word about promotion. One day in a prison unit and I'm a corporal. I should've got myself arrested years ago, I'd be a major by now!"

"Don't get excited, Prussian. Your competition was an Austrian princess, a retarded Pole, and a Swede with gender identification issues. I'm placing you four at the front, because let's face it…" Zwingli glanced around the square and the glaring soldiers pointedly. "You're not gonna last long anyway. I'm calling you Team Fairy. Any objections?"

"Ooh!" said Feliks brightly. "I like fairies!"

Gilbert could almost feel Roderich's silent incensement. Gilbert just laughed. It wasn't like he hadn't heard worse. He stretched his legs before him, exhaling a lungful of smoke while staring Zwingli stubbornly in the eye. "There wouldn't be any, uh, double meaning behind that name, would there, sir?"

Zwingli's eyebrow twitched, but he remained stone faced. "None at all, Corporal. It's just that I've already named Team Leprechaun and Team Gnome across the square. I've got your orders for tomorrow. You ready?"

Gilbert grinned. "Oh, I'm always ready, Captain."

Zwingli smirked. "I'll remember that, Prussian. Now listen carefully, because I've got a feeling you're the only one here who'll understand this. Besides maybe Oxenstierna, but I haven't figured out if he actually understands German yet. Now. There's a German battalion further up near Kalova village. It's a dirty shithole of absolutely no strategic importance whatsoever. But the Russians want this town, and when the Reds want something, the bastards get it – no matter the cost. Casualties have been heavy on both sides. The Germans have been holding on without reinforcements for weeks now, and they're close to their breaking point." Gilbert pondered quietly on that. How interesting that Zwingli seemed to make a distinction between himself and 'the Germans.' "They've even been putting the rear echelon base stallions into the line, and now that they are down to their last few cooks and clerks, this is where we come into it."

Roderich breathed heavily, his eyes wide and his hands gripping the wooden doorstep. Feliks returned to filing his nails. Oxenstierna gripped his rifle, unmoving, his lips set in a hard line as he stared unblinking at the captain. Zwingli, however, spoke only to Gilbert in that steady, commanding tone. "HQ wants to pull the exhausted unit out of the line, stabilise the front, and create a stronger position further back. But while the newspapers like heroic last stands, the German infantry have a rather different view on the matter. And as we all know…" Zwingli smirked sarcastically, "The mighty Wehrmacht never retreats. So, while our erstwhile comrades in arms relocate to their new position of relative safety, we shall be covering their arses by moving into their old lines around Kalova. Basically, we'll be holding off the Russki's to buy the regulars time to create and fortify their new position. There's only one problem."

"Oh, isn't there always," muttered Gilbert. He was already starting to feel both excited and edgy at the captain's words. Excited, because he hadn't been involved in a mission that required actual intelligent thinking for months. Edgy, because this sounded like a suicide mission.

Zwingli spoke with his hands clasped behind his back and his head held high. His blonde hair hung loosely to his chin. Gilbert really had to wonder at the lack of proper haircuts in this new unit. "Intelligence tells us that an attack is brewing. 'Imminent', I believe the actual word was – and we'll be in the thick of it. Some Russian commander has decreed that this town will fall, so fall it shall. The only question is when. But we will hold that town to the last bullet and the last man if necessary. Your lives are meaningless, forfeit. You were dead the moment you stepped off that truck. Now." Zwingli bounced once on his heels, smiling around at the four men. "Is that understood?"

Gilbert took a very deep breath, rubbed a hand over his eyes, and breathed in the last of his cigarette. Roderich and Feliks were blank-faced, but a quick glance showed that Oxenstierna seemed to have understood Zwingli's words as well as Gilbert. The Swede's face was still set in that cold, detached expression, but his eyes were wide with alarm.

"So, uh…" Gilbert broke off and stubbed his cigarette into the ground. The dirt was cold against his fingers. He'd had orders barked at him a thousand times, but always with the carrot of survival dangling at the end. This time, he was actually expected to die. "What you're telling me, Captain, is that this company of fifty men is going to try and hold a village against an entire Russian battalion?"

"You're a sharp one, Prussian."

Gilbert turned to see Roderich staring at him, wide-eyed and confused. Gilbert forced his lips into a grin, then threw back his head and laughed. "I thought this unit was supposed to be a punishment. Hell, this sounds like fun."

Surprisingly, it was Feliks who stated the obvious. "We'll be killed," he said simply.

"Maybe so, soldier." Zwingli bared his teeth in a wide grin and clutched the pistol at his side, his eyes lighting up with something not quite sane. "But we'll take some Russians with us."

.

"Useless," muttered Gilbert for the fourth time, rifling through the mid-sized ration pack he'd been handed earlier. "Goddamned fucking useless."

Roderich glanced down at his own pack. He was rather afraid of looking through it, if Gilbert's reaction was anything to go by. Oxenstierna's pack sat beside him, ignored. Feliks had tipped his out and was currently inspecting the contents by the illumination of the nearby truck lights and the still flickering fire. "No chocolate," Feliks said finally, disappointment on his face and in his voice. He sat back and threw his hands up, appalled. "How can they give us a ration pack without chocolate?"

"No chocolate, no coffee, no supplemental candy rations." Gilbert sounded disgusted as he continued searching the bag. "But, oh, hey…" Gilbert held up a small green roll and grinned. "Vivil mints."

"Ooh!" Feliks dove back into his small pile of blue tins and brown packages, rummaging in search of the little mint packet.

The moon was high in the sky, the fire still burned, and the four soldiers had not moved in hours. No one came near them, unsurprisingly. Roderich had absolutely no idea how Gilbert had survived for three years with his apparent sheer, bloody-minded determination to infuriate the entire German military. The other soldiers started to filter away to the nominated sleeping quarters in the old town hall, but Gilbert, Feliks and the Swede made no move to follow them. Roderich had no desire to wander off on his own again any time soon, so it looked like he was stuck with the three men for now. In fact, it looked like they would be sticking together from now on, as part of Corporal Beilschmidt's team. Roderich did not know whether to laugh or scream. Being completely honest with himself, however, Roderich had to acknowledge that he felt far safer by Gilbert's side than he had these last few nights alone. He was also quite certain nothing had ever bothered or frightened him quite as much as this realisation.

Roderich looked from the small pile before Feliks to his own ration pack. It was far too small. "This is just for tomorrow though, yes? We'll be given more food after the… the battle, surely?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Don't count on it, Roddy."

Roderich was horrified. "But… but what is this? Tinned meat? Hard bread? How long are we expected to last on this?" Three bemused and faintly derisive stares met his, and Roderich quickly looked away. He tossed the pack disdainfully to the side, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. Just how was he supposed to know how things worked in the army? He was a musician, not a soldier. He was a musician, and this was madness. "Well, it's terribly inefficient, if anything. If the German military wants their soldiers to succeed they should consider providing proper nourishment."

Gilbert let out a snort of laughter, but Oxenstierna spoke up before the German could respond. "Wish they had tea instead'f coffee."

"I just wish they had chocolate," said Feliks, ripping into the green packet of mints he had finally managed to find.

"Good God, I wish they had beer," said Gilbert dreamily. "I'd cut off my right hand for a stein of beer."

Feliks laughed. "I bet you wouldn't."

Gilbert glared at him and straightened up confrontationally. "I bet I would."

Feliks spoke around the mint in his mouth. "Well, that would just be, like, stupid, wouldn't it, because then you'd have to drink with your left hand, and that's totally rude. Don't you Germans know anything?"

Roderich didn't know whether to laugh. A tight bundle of nerves sat uneasily in his stomach, Captain Zwingli's words about the mission tomorrow echoing through his head. The entire time Zwingli had spoken to Gilbert, Roderich could not shake the strange feeling that he had seen the Swiss captain somewhere before. But the ensuing ridiculous conversation of his companions somehow kept his worst fears and anxiety at bay. Roderich was just wondering why that was, when a sudden loud blast echoed through the square, followed by the crackling radio.

…9:55pm and this is Radio Belgrade, signing off, with 'Lili Marlene.' And then the music started.

Underneath the lantern, by the barrack gate, Darling I remember, the way you used to wait…

The village square fell into a deep silence. The very air seemed to stop moving. In the still, eerie peace, Roderich let the music wash over him immediately. It was the same song he had heard the night before. The same marching beat, the same pretty voice. And yet, Roderich still craved the music; still felt himself fall into it. The knot of fear in his stomach loosened, the uneasy anxiety about the morning lessened, and Roderich breathed in the brass and drums and the silence between the beats. His fingers again itched for the touch of a violin, for the relief of a piano. His familiar ache and agony for this beautiful, comforting music overruled all other petty concerns of food and shelter and safety.

And there 'neath that far off lantern light, I'd hold you tight, we'd kiss goodnight, My lily of the lamplight, My own Lili Marlene.

"They played this song last night, also," Roderich finally whispered, to no one in particular. "At the last village."

Gilbert laughed shortly. His deep voice sounded so much louder in the deep still night, with only the marching beats of a wartime propaganda song behind him. "Get used to it. You'll hear this song a lot out here. Radio Belgrade plays it every night, and there's always someone at every base who'll turn the vehicle radios on and blast it through."

Roderich wondered at that. Why this song? There was far better music in popular circulation. Far better songs. So why did the radio play this one? Why did the soldiers try so hard to hear it? "Why?" he asked simply.

It was Feliks who answered. "Well, it's about, like, someone left behind, isn't it, Fred? And everyone out here has left someone behind. Everyone has their own Lili Marlene." Silence fell again. It seemed Feliks could be surprisingly astute beneath that dim outward demeanour. Roderich was surprised to find that he liked Feliks. If he had met him at home, in Vienna, Roderich would have hated him. But out here, where life was unsure and people were uncertain, Roderich like the little Pole. How could he not like someone who filed their nails at an army base? "I used to sing this," Feliks continued softly. "At my cabaret, in Berlin. It was really popular." And then Feliks sang along with the sweet voice pouring from the radio, his voice soft and bright and clear.

"Resting in a billet just behind the line, Even tho' we're parted your lips are close to mine. You wait where that lantern softly gleams, Your sweet face seems to haunt my dreams."

Feliks stared at the fire as he sang, his eyes far away. Oxenstierna's gaze rested on his rifle. Roderich listened, finding Feliks' voice strangely soothing with the music, feeling oddly calm despite this confusing, desperate situation he'd somehow ended up in. It took him a few moments to realise that Gilbert was looking at him. Roderich felt his heart jump to his throat. "What?"

Gilbert's eyes were narrow, his head tilted. "This song. Does it remind you of anything?"

Roderich blinked in confusion. What a strange thing to ask… "I barely know it," he replied. "I'd never really heard it before last night."

Gilbert just nodded, almost reluctantly. "All right. Okay." Roderich wanted to ask why Gilbert would even think to ask that. But he could not help listening to Feliks singing the last of the lyrics, his clear, charming voice slicing through the dark night.

"You wait where that lantern softly gleams, Your sweet face seems to haunt my dreams. My lily of the lamplight, My own Lili Marlene."

Almost the second the song finished, the truck lights switched off and Zwingli's booming voice carried through the square. "Bedtime, children!"

Feliks breathed a sharp, hissing gasp. "Oh, damn."

"Somethin' wrong?"

Roderich glanced at Oxenstierna in surprise. The man had barely spoken a word all night unless spoken to. Feliks looked over at the town hall, then down at his hands as he answered.

"There's, like, a lot of men I don't know in there and I get nervous around people I don't know sometimes and they sort of…" Feliks trailed into a mumble. "…scare me," he finished quietly.

"Well, they're scared'f me." Oxenstierna swung his rifle and pack over his shoulder, drew himself to his feet, and stared down at Feliks. "And ye said ye'd stick with me, right?"

Feliks paused, nodded, then broke into a smile. He scrambled quickly to his feet. "Sure did, Kociak!"

Roderich's eyes met Gilbert's. "Kociak?"

Gilbert shrugged. "No idea, Fred." Roderich had to bite back a laugh. He put his pack over his shoulder, preparing to follow Feliks and Oxenstierna into the hall. He was stopped by Gilbert's hand on his. "Wait."

At the unexpected touch, an immediate shock of heat raced across Roderich's skin, through his veins and into his chest, where his heart started pounding. Roderich snatched his hand away as though he'd been burnt.

"I'm sorry, I…" Gilbert blinked away his stunned expression and almost choked on his apology. He brushed his hair back and scowled. "I was just going to say something before you left."

Roderich breathed deeply, commanding his pulse to stop racing. Why on earth had he reacted like that? "Well, what?" he asked shortly. He took another deep breath. He was jumpy out here, that was all – the stupid German had surprised him.

"Tomorrow," said Gilbert, already looking as though nothing had happened. "You will do everything I tell you, understand?"

Roderich raised his chin indignantly. "I beg your pardon?"

A brief flash of anger crossed Gilbert's face as his eyes flashed. "Do NOT even start that. I am not playing games. If you want to survive tomorrow, you will listen to me. You will do what I tell you, and you will not question me. You have no idea what you are doing on a battlefield. You've never even held a gun, for Christ's sake. Now you can obey my orders, and have a chance. Or you can play the snotty little brat you are, ignore me, and you can die."

Roderich's eyes widened at the words. His pulse raced again, for an entirely different reason. He was infuriated by Gilbert's foul-mannered words, but more that that, he was horrified. He was afraid. And he was so angry about it he could not even respond. Gilbert's eyes softened. In the last of the firelight, their colour was warmer than usual; softer.

"Look. This mission tomorrow is gonna be a bastard. But I haven't survived this long out here for nothing. Just do what I say, yeah?" Gilbert paused briefly. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly kind. "I'll look after you."

Roderich was about to retort that he did not need anyone to look after him, then realised, angrily, that it wasn't quite true. He also realised it was a very strange thing for a man he'd known for little more than a day to say to him. Roderich sighed, dropped his pack, and leant back against the little doorway. There wasn't much point in worrying too much over it, after all. He had tried to ignore it all night, but the truth was still there, painfully lodged in his heart and his head. He would probably die tomorrow. Roderich looked down at his hands, and decided that if ever there was a time to let down his proud guard, this would be it. "So, what do you do?" he asked softly. "You soldiers. The night before... battle, I suppose you'd call it. It feels so strange to just be sitting here, peacefully, when tomorrow we might die."

Gilbert leant back beside him. "But that's everyday, isn't it? And not just in a war zone. You could be sitting safe and sound in your house in Austria and drop dead tomorrow. You could choke on your caviar or something."

Roderich paused. "I never cared for caviar." Gilbert laughed, and Roderich peered at him curiously before continuing. How could Gilbert still seem so untroubled? Roderich had been suppressing an underlying panic all evening. "Well. What you say is true, but... it's more likely I'll die this tomorrow, isn't it?"

Gilbert nodded and hummed agreement. "Oh, it's more likely, absolutely. Apparently, it's almost certain."

"But you don't believe that."

Gilbert winked. "Nothing's certain."

Roderich almost laughed. That was certainly true. It was true, and Gilbert understood it also. What an unexpected realisation. "So... what do you do?"

The wind turned even colder as it blew across the flickering firelight. Gilbert looked at a loss as how to answer the question. He tapped his feet together, tilted his head, breathed out deeply. Then he shrugged. "Some pray."

Roderich raised an eyebrow. "You don't?"

Gilbert looked faintly amused. "No. I don't waste my breath whispering to the empty air."

Roderich had to ask about that. "Empty?"

"Empty." Gilbert repeated the word, soft but firm, drifting on the cold summer wind. "The Germans pray. The Russians pray. The Jews pray. Is it doing any of 'em any good?"

Roderich did not even know. All he knew of belief was long ago memories of rich red cloth and golden candles; of deeply carved brown chairs and late Friday afternoon sunshine through the tall windows of the Stadttempel. But that was when Roderich was a child, back before his parents fled Europe. Back before the Kristallnacht, when prayers to his God were allowed. Roderich did not pray, but he could see why men out here would. Their God was allowed, after all. "Maybe they pray for comfort," he said, grasping for a reason, grasping for meaning. "Maybe it does them good for that reason."

Gilbert scoffed, rolled his eyes up to the dark, endless sky. "You sound like my silly little brother." He shook his head. "Every day I see men die, Roderich. Do you think it makes a difference if the poor bastard prayed the night before? I've survived this war longer than anyone, and I've never asked for a damn bit of help. Not from God, not from anyone. And yet I'm still here, while good God-fearing men fall dead all around me. Praying don't make a bit of difference, little prince."

Roderich peered at Gilbert, intrigued. He still had absolutely no idea what to think of this German. Every single moment with the man gave Roderich something else to consider. "You don't believe in God."

Gilbert shook his head. "I believe in things higher than God."

Roderich let silence fall, and contemplated the words. "Like what?" he asked finally.

"My family. My friends." Gilbert shrugged, and grinned. "Beer. I believe in beer."

Roderich laughed softly. He sighed and stared up into the dark, star-studded sky. "I think all I believe in is music. I wonder if that's enough."

Gilbert leant forward, his warmth spreading to Roderich's shoulder, and spoke surprisingly fervently. "Believe that you'll survive another day, Roderich. And don't just believe in tomorrow. Believe in next week, and next month, and next year. Believe in survival. Believe in joyful survival."

Roderich could not stop his eyes turning again towards the strange, arrogant, confusing man beside him. He still did not know why Gilbert seemed so concerned with him, with his safety. Maybe the man was simply crazy, and did not need a reason. As he gazed intently at the unfathomable German, his white hair and brilliant eyes and intense features, Roderich noticed a faint scar on Gilbert's nose. It must have been broken at some point. "Survival," said Roderich thoughtfully. "Is that what you believe in?"

Gilbert grinned, his bronze eyes glinting, his pale skin turned golden by the dying flames of the flickering fire. "Drink deep. Have fun. Stay alive. It's got me this far." He laughed shortly. "And it's what's gonna get me through."

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[lithuanias]

take your word

100 words // ao3.

Rain poured over Moscow.

Liet, I took you for granted. I’m sorry about that stupid war. I’m sorry I stopped talking to you.

“Liet!” Poland exclaimed.

Lithuania closed the umbrella. His hair and clothes had begun to get wet.

Poland stopped and panted, putting both hands on his knees. “S-Sorry, I just…” He held up the folded paper.

Lithuania took the letter and read it over.

He wordlessly handed it back to Poland and closed the car door.

Poland turned the letter over. The ink had blotched from the rain and started running down the paper in an incomprehensible mess.

[birnamwood]

Tagged by @avgeriss - thank you! I had a lot of fun doing this. <3

1ST RULE: Tag 9 people you would like to know better.

@darthsherwood15 @bubbl-tea @pretty-rhythmm @choi-328 @liet-erally and I have no other friends on here (rip), so please feel free to tag yourself if you’d like to do this. Please don’t feel obligated to do this if you’re tagged!

2ND RULE: BOLD the statements that are true. (I also italicised the statements where they’re kind of true, but also kind of not.)

APPEARANCE:

- I am 170cm (5'7") or taller.

- I wear glasses.

- I have at least one tattoo.

- I have at least one piercing.

- I have blonde hair.

- I have brown eyes. - They’re more black than brown at this point, but in really bright flash/sunlight they’re brown.

- I have short hair.

- My abs are at least somewhat defined.

- I have or have had braces. - Do retainers count?

PERSONALITY:

- I love meeting new people.

- People tell me that I’m funny.

- Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me. - Not my biggest priority, sorry, but it’s a pretty big priority.

- I enjoy physical challenges.

- I enjoy mental challenges.

- I’m playfully rude with people I know well.

- I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it.

- There is something I would change about my personality.

ABILITY:

- I can sing well.

- I can play a musical instrument.

- I can do over 30 pushups without stopping. - I could, in theory, but I wouldn’t want to.

- I’m a fast runner.

- I can draw well.

- I have a good memory.

- I’m good at doing math in my head.

- I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute.

- I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling.

- I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch. - Two egg-related meals and pancakes. Hurray.

- I know how to throw a proper punch. - In theory, I could (thanks, taekwondo classes for five years), but apparently I lack the force behind one to make it hurt.

HOBBIES:

- I enjoy playing sports.

- I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else.

- I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else. - I used to be.

- I have learned a new song in the past week.

- I work out at least once a week.

- I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months.

- I have drawn something in the past month.

- I enjoy writing.

- Fandoms are my number one passion or priority.

- I do or have done some form of martial arts.

EXPERIENCES:

- I have had my first kiss.

- I have had alcohol.

- I have scored the winning goal in a sports game.

- I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting. - Does anime count?

- I have been at an overnight event.

- I have been in a taxi.

- I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year.

- I have beaten a video game in one day/sitting.

- I have visited another country.

- I have been to one of my favorite band’s concerts.

RELATIONSHIPS:

- I’m in a romantic relationship.

- I have a crush on a celebrity. - I have a default “celebrity crush” answer, but I don’t... actively seek them out on social media or anything. Just. I think they’re cute.

- I have a crush on someone I know.

- I have been in at least 3 romantic relationships.

- I have never been in a romantic relationship.

- I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them. - I did, once, but it was after it was over.

- I get crushes easily.

- I have had a crush on someone for over a year.

- I have been in a romantic relationship for at least a year.

- I have had feelings for a friend.

MY LIFE:

- I have at least one person I consider a “best friend”.

- I live close to my school or workplace.

- My parents are still together.

- I have at least one sibling.

- I live in the United States.

- There is snow right now where I live.

- I have hung out with a friend in the past month.

- I have a smartphone. - I don’t use it that often, and even then only for messaging, but I do own one.

- I have at least 15 CDs.

- I share my room with someone.

RANDOM SHIT:

- I have breakdanced.

- I know a person named Jamie. - He doesn’t go by Jamie, but that’s part of his full name.

- I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce.

- I have dyed my hair.

- I’m listening to one song on repeat right now.

- I have punched someone in the past week.

- I know someone who has gone to jail.

- I have broken a bone.

- I have eaten a waffle today.

- I know what I want to do with my life.

- I speak at least two languages.

- I have made a new friend in the last month.

[bonjourxrenae]

Strawberries and Cream (LietPol)

FANDOM: Hetalia

PAIRING: Lithuania/Poland

RATED: General Audiences/Teen (for some mild innuendo?)

WORD COUNT: 3,462

SUMMARY: Drabble. Lithuania and Poland, as domestic partners, wake up one morning and make strawberry waffles for breakfast.

The house groaned and creaked to life. From inside the walls tiny things scratched at the paneling and pipes flushed loudly with the sound of water. He extended his arms and legs as far as they could go, squeezing his eyes shut tight before he rolled over into something warm and soft. As he nestled into it, he was met with soft, familiar laughter and fingernails raking gently through his dark brown hair. Lithuania grinned and leaned his head into it, humming himself awake as warm air blew against his ear.

“Liiiiiet,” Poland chided in the hush of a whisper, “wake up already, I’m starving!”

Written for @lietpolweek​, Day 1: Domestic

(Also available to read on AO3!)

Saturday mornings, for anyone sane, were reserved for sleeping in and stretching out in the expanse of a large, comfortable bed. Mornings like these were more for those who appreciated the glorious sights of nature: the hush of the wind against the grass, the rolling hills of gold outside the window in the summer, the thick scent of flowers in the spring.

Although he was one of those early risers, the whole idea of sleeping in was much too vital for Lithuania to pass up, especially after the most recent all-nighter he’d pulled. Waking up late, well rested, and completely relaxed was something completely foreign to him—something strange and pleasant, especially in the early hours when he woke up and realized he could easily sleep until noon.

The house groaned and creaked to life. From inside the walls tiny things scratched at the paneling and pipes flushed loudly with the sound of water. He extended his arms and legs as far as they could go, squeezing his eyes shut tight before he rolled over into something warm and soft. As he nestled into it, he was met with soft, familiar laughter and fingernails raking gently through his dark brown hair. Lithuania grinned and leaned his head into it, humming himself awake as warm air blew against his ear.

“Liiiiiet,” Poland chided in the hush of a whisper, “wake up already, I’m starving!”

The low guttal growling of an empty stomach sounded on cue.

Lithuania opened his eyes, propped himself up in bed, and smoothed out his hair. He looked up at his partner with an apologetic grin. “Sorry,” he laughed, “I must’ve needed that sleep…” 

“I’ll say.” Poland crossed his arms, nodding in agreement. “You’ve been staying up for forever doing stupid paperwork for your boss. It’s really cutting into your feed-your-husband time, and it’s not cool.”

Lithuania beamed and reached up a hand to ruffle Poland’s shiny blonde hair, and laughed when he made a fuss and smacked his hand away.

“All right,” he decided with a waking strain in his voice, “then let’s go make something to eat.”

Poland gave him a strong look and smirked. “Soooo… you gonna use those strawberries we got to make strawberry waffles like you promised yesterday?” He shifted up to stand on his knees, rustling the pastel floral-printed sheets aside with his legs, half-lidded eyes glowing.

Rolling his eyes, Lithuania replied, “Would I make anything else?”

Poland’s grin grew wide and he grabbed hold of Lithuania’s wrists. “Then come onnn! My stomach’s growling!” he growled playfully as he tugged and pulled him up out of bed.

His partner’s overenthusiastic ways of getting him to move caused Lithuania to trip and topple over on top of him. He dragged down the bed sheets he was tangled up in and a peculiar pair of pink woolen socks in his hand: soft, knit with a white pattern lining the top and two soft puffs of white hanging down by thick braided threads at the sides. He was quick to identify the socks; after all they were a gift he’d given many years ago. He was half-surprised that Poland still wore them and not-so-surprised to find that they always wound up buried somewhere in his bed.

He slowly lifted himself off of Poland, unable to register the decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes until Lithuania looked down and realized just how compromising his landing had been. He quickly flushed, apologized profusely (to which a quip was made about how funny his face looked,) and dropped the socks on Poland’s nose.

“Hey!” Poland exclaimed as he and Lithuania untangled themselves from each other, “I’ve been looking everywhere for those! I swear, last week I was like, ‘where the hell are my socks?’ I thought the dryer ate them!”

As Lithuania offered him a hand to help him off the floor, Poland continued his rant: “America told me - that England told him once - that there’s a troll that steals the socks from your laundry for a snack… ugh, imagine if a grody old laundry monster like that ate these cute socks! How awful would that be! Right, Liet?”

Lithuania simply nodded in agreement, whether to the idea of a laundry troll being ‘grody’ or to confirm the cuteness of the socks remained vague.

Poland struggled with getting the socks on his feet as he talked and attempted to drag Lithuania down the stairs into the kitchen. This resulted in many pauses between steps, words, and ungraceful hops. He would have tripped down the stairs if their arms weren’t so steadily linked.

When they walked in Lithuania noticed how the warming heart-shaped waffle iron, a bowl of batter, a pastry bag filled with whipped cream, two large empty plates, and a bowl overflowing with plump red strawberries were ready and waiting on the countertop. He had to rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing things correctly.

“Poland?” he interjected.

Poland spun around on the balls of his heels and pouted upon being interrupted midway through a riveting fantasy about riding on a pony made entirely of laundry. “What?” he grumbled, but softened considerably when he’d realized how his voice came out. Poland looked away and murmured something like an apology before trying again, “I mean, what’s up?”

Finding his smile Lithuania gestured toward the arrangement on the countertop. “Thank you… I’m sorry I made you wait so long… I would’ve taken care of it if you woke me up earlier.”

Poland glanced between the preparations he’d made and the kind look on his partner’s face. He began to laugh in a loud voice, “Oh! That! Haha! I mean, you’re welcome and all that, Liet, but really it was no big deal and you really looked—” 

The fluidity of the arms wrapping across his chest, the gentle tug backward that his feet obeyed without a second thought, and the tenderness in the light embrace was enough to get Poland to stop talking except to lamely finish his sentence, “—like you needed to sleep…”

Lithuania nuzzled his chin on Poland’s shoulder, grinning into his cheek. “I really appreciate it,” he said warmly. Poland laughed quietly and lowered his gaze, as if some combination of the two would keep the telltale warmth from creeping up his face.

At last, Lithuania unwrapped his arms and chuckled, “You want to help?”

Poland somehow brought himself down off his cloud, shrugged off his embarrassment, and replied with a nonchalant, “Yeah, sure.” He leaned against the counter, watching his partner tie on an old kitchen apron and roll up his sleeves.

A devious scheme began to hatch in his brain.

While Lithuania was busying himself cleaning his hands and cleaning a fruit knife, Poland stole a strawberry from the bowl and inconspicuously took a large bite. Each time Lithuania’s eyes flickered dangerously in his direction— each time he reached into the bowl to cut the strawberries— Poland made sure not to get caught stealing the red fruit, and the moment Lithuania turned back to his task, one more strawberry disappeared.

It wasn’t until he’d gotten through slicing all but one strawberry that Lithuania looked over at Poland, who was smiling innocently with puffed cheeks. A pink trail of juice dripped down his chin. 

“Poland,” he sighed, placing the knife beside the strawberry dish as he ladled one spoonful of the goopy batter into the waffle iron. It gave off a deep fizzing noise as he closed the lid. In a rushed flourish, Lithuania took up a napkin and rubbed motherly at his partner’s face as he chewed and swallowed away the evidence. “We can’t have strawberry waffles if you keep eating the strawberries…”

Poland shooed him away, flashing an impish grin up in his direction. With a lick of his lips he defiantly stole the last strawberry. “Chill out Liet,” he said, “we’ve got more than enough strawberries here… you should try one too.”

Before he could decline the offer, the tip of the strawberry in question was already pressed against his lips, tracing and coaxing them open as guided by the expertise of Poland’s delicate fingers.

This gesture— done many times before in their youth with bleeding raspberries, plump young fingers, and a little more brazenness— continued to tease Lithuania until his mouth finally surrendered, opened, and closed down on the fruit. He felt the rough texture of the seeds peel off on his teeth and the cool sweet juice simmering delicately against his tongue. His bright eyes were fixed on Poland as he felt him tug lightly on the leaves. Compliantly he pulled away from the strawberry stub with an ungraceful slurp as the juice ran down the corners of his mouth.

Lithuania lifted a finger to staunch the flow but the grip on his wrist stopped him. “Let me,” Poland insisted, and the warm, unrushed swipe of a soft knuckle caught the flavored tear of juice from falling. As Poland kissed his finger clean with the smallest swipe of his tongue, Lithuania felt his throat go dry. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring so intently until he heard snickering.

“That sure is some face you’re making,” Poland murmured, his grin coyly peeking out from over his fingers.

Lithuania bit back a fit of stuttering and reached for the sugar in the cupboard. He sprinkled some on top of the freshly cut strawberries in the bowl, their scent thick and the taste staining his mouth. As he worked, he was unaware that Poland was still watching him, unable to hold back an admiring smile.

Lithuania nodded toward the iron as it stopped steaming. “I think the first waffle’s done. Why don’t you start another?”

Clicking his teeth, Poland rifled through the silverware drawer and removed a fork. “Whatever you say, Liet,” he chirped as he opened the waffle iron to discover the crispy, golden clover of waffles. He hummed a tune as he removed them, placing them gently on one of the empty plates. “I call dibs on the first waffle,” he declared, grinning as he poured more batter over the iron.

Lithuania only laughed. “Just how many do you plan on having?” he asked.

Poland thought about it. He replied, in a deadpan voice, “All of them. I want all of them, Liet.”

His partner gave him a flat look. “I don’t think our fridge can hold all of the waffles.”

Poland frowned, closed the iron, and wandered back to his plate of waffles. From there his imagination wandered.

“Look, Liet,” he said, tilting a heart-shaped waffle on its side, “these waffles totally look like your house.”

Lithuania did not look up as he began cleaning the countertop, but he chuckled at the strange observation. “No they don’t,” he replied.

“Yeah they do! If you just look at ‘em sideways you’d see—”

The steam stopped rising from the iron, interrupting his train of thought. He resumed his waffle-removing duties and, once the fluffy, crunchy waffle was out, he brought the new plate over to Lithuania with a bit of a frown. “…Yours came out better,” he said after a moment.

Lithuania smiled down at him and gently threaded his fingers through his hair. He suggested, “Have mine, then. I’ll take yours.”

Poland looked up at him, down at the plate currently in his hands, then smirked back up. “Nah,” he said.

With a small smirk, Lithuania’s hand gently ruffled his partner’s hair. “I insist,” he encouraged as Poland swatted it away. “Just decide which plate you want, Po, then we can eat.”

Poland chuckled and pushed the plate into Lithuania’s hands before trotting back to fetch his own.

They fixed their waffles: Lithuania helped himself to a moderate serving of strawberries and large puffs of whipped cream; Poland topped his with a mountain of fruit, a long coil of whipped cream, and a generous drizzling of juice all while singing a tune with the word ‘waffle’ as every other word – a song that made Lithuania laugh softly and join in with his own improvised verses.

They took their seats with an exchanged laugh or two, nothing forced, just as habitual and sincere as if they’d never spent all those years apart. Lithuania cut apart a small honeycomb of waffle and brought the fork to his mouth, only to have another square intercept it. Poland leaned over the table and motioned his fork-full of waffles toward his partner.

“You insisted I have some of your waffle, so I’m gonna have to take you up on that,” he explained with a catlike grin, “but I just decided I want you to have some of mine too. That way we’re even.”

Lithuania rolled his eyes, standing a bit in his chair so that he could inch his waffles toward Poland. He leaned forward a bit too much, resulting in the coating of his partner’s nose and mouth in a smattering of pink-tinged cream.

Poland laughed and licked his lips clean. “You’re such a bad shot, Liet,” he joked, leaning slightly away from the small waffle square on the fork before him. He arched an eyebrow. “Or maybe you like this sort of image?”

Lithuania began to laugh, one of the hardest laughs he’d had all morning, and he shook his head. “Po, please stop making breakfast sexual.”

“I can’t promise that when there’s whipped cream involved. Now come on, let me have a taste.” He closed his eyes and, leaning forward, he ate the waffle square entirely.

Though he felt incredibly silly feeding his partner like this, there was something in the way Poland slowly drew his lips from the silverware that Lithuania found impossible to ignore. But the moment shifted, and he did have to stifle yet another bout of laughter as Poland let out an overdone low moan and a melodramatic, “Oh my Godddd! Liet, it’s sooo goood!” Afterwards, he brushed the cream off his nose with his finger, and wiped it off on Lithuania’s nose. This was received with a startled, playful cry of protest.

Poland then leaned forward, guiding his fork. “Alright, your turn,” he announced.

Lithuania obediently rose to meet the waffles and he bit down on them in the same fashion, shying away when his gaze met with those grinning green eyes. Suddenly it felt ridiculously foolish to be fed like this. He shrank back in his seat with burning ears, but couldn’t help smiling at the sweet taste and the light and fluffy scent of sugar at the tip of his nose.

When he looked up he found Poland making a face very similar to the one he used for doting on the horses back at the stables. “Your face—”

“—I know, I know, it looks funny.”

Poland pouted and replied, “Umm no? It was cute… obviously.”

Lithuania blinked a few times, trying to comprehend how eating could look cute and why such a thing would be obvious.

“Now that face is by far the funniest!” Poland had quickly snapped out of his endearing expression and now doubled over with chuckles. 

Lithuania gave him a strange look but he couldn’t hold a straight face for long. By far the contagiousness of Poland’s laughter was rivaled only by America’s hearty guffaw. And, though he gauged faces on a weird scale, he couldn’t help but smile at those little peculiarities that he’d grown to know over the hundreds and thousands of years since they first began living together.

They resumed eating from their own plates as Poland prattled on, providing random and completely left-fielded observations about their friends and neighbors. It was all unimportant drabble of course, even when said using a dramatic voice to make the gossip even juicier. Though their conversations were mostly one-sided, sometimes the things that Poland commented on were amusing enough for the both of them.

Poland skewered the last remaining square of waffle on his plate and offered it to Lithuania, who simply stared at it. “Again?”

He nodded in confirmation and rose from his seat. Poland quickly strode over to the other end of the table, a hand under the waffle to catch the juice dripping down, and he offered it again with much more stability. Before Lithuania could take a bite he teasingly pulled his fork away.

“This time, close your eyes,” he said with a playful smirk. When he was asked why, Poland simply replied, “Just do it.”

Lithuania uncertainly closed his eyes, lips parted in anticipation. He heard Poland ask, “Are you ready?” 

He nodded. 

“You’re not peeking, are you?”

This drew another laugh from him. “I’m not peeking.”

“Good. Don’t open your eyes until I tell you to.”

“Alright.”

The waffles were pressed to his lips and Lithuania ate them accordingly. By the time he’d finished swallowing he noticed a fragrant breath of air on his cheeks. Lithuania flinched only slightly when he felt a familiar pressure slowly crawling onto his lap.

“Poland?” he asked, and he was answered with more sweetness pressed against his lips.

It didn’t occur to him until he’d felt the warmth behind it, the thin fingers sliding up his cheek, and the slight backward tilt of his chair that he wasn’t being fed any more waffles. 

Lithuania went dizzy with the color rushing to his cheeks once he’d made the connection. The sugariness that frosted their lips made him more eager to kiss him back several times in succession. He felt weak, warm, and... absolutely silly. He allowed his hands to wander up Poland’s back, pulling him closer – an action that drew a small, surprised laugh from his partner. They smiled, lips pressed together, tongues gently tasting the traces of strawberry and whipped cream.

All this time he’d spent knee-deep in paperwork and trying to stay financially stable, he suddenly began to wonder how he could miss the little things like socks in his bed, the smells of strawberries, how sideways hearts most definitely resembled his house, and what muscles in his face were strained and teased for making him look funny. All these things he missed that Poland picked up on… they were all so simple, so nice...

When they’d finally parted for breath, Lithuania’s eyes fluttered open. He found Poland looking down at his hands, red-faced, smiling as if he were very pleased with himself. They met each other eye to eye, fondly regarding that glint of contentment they saw in each other. Maybe that was the reason why Poland had been attempting to help out a lot lately, now that he thought about it. He’d been telling him to relax more, something that was admittedly hard to do with the world surrounding them as crazy as it was, but now that it was just the two of them sharing breakfast, laughing as they had done back under blue skies and golden fields, it was a lot easier to believe that maybe everything didn’t have to be so hard.

Maybe (perish the thought,) he had been taking everything a little too seriously.

He didn’t mean to read too deep into the matter. Luckily a small bout of laughter interrupted his train of thought. Poland was grinning like an idiot as he chimed in. “Not gonna lie, you taste like strawberries.”

The observation was a welcome non-sequitir, even if it made Lithuania a bit flustered. “Well,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head with embarrassment, “you taste like cream.”

Another series of snickers escaped and Poland soon found himself linking his arms around Lithuania’s neck, brushing noses with him. “It’s a sign, Liet,” he smirked, rocking him back and forth, “you complete me.”

Lithuania shook his head. “I think you meant you ‘compliment’ me.”

But Poland was insistent, “No, I meant you complete me – you can’t have strawberries without cream.”

“Well… they are definitely better together,” Lithuania quietly agreed with a smile. Poland’s grin only grew and he mussed up Lithuania’s hair with a light-hearted, silly laugh, carefully sliding out of his lap. “Finish your waffles, Liet, before I eat them,” he teased.

Lithuania nodded, tilting his head slightly at a strawberry that had fallen off his fork. 

“Hey Poland,” he began without thinking on it too much, pointing at it, “this strawberry kind of looks like my house.”

Poland scrunched his face up as he tried to see it, fixing his eyes on the small strawberry slice before fluffing up Lithuania’s hair again out of spite. “You’re such a dork sometimes,” he laughed.

And as he ate the strawberry and looked up at the redness still blooming on Poland’s cheeks, Lithuania had to confess that, while he could be a bit of an oddball at times, there were a few moments where his partner had his moments of genius.

Strawberry waffles were definitely one of his better ideas, he decided.

[perlumi-delirium]

Through the eyes of others we dream

Rusliet Secret Santa for @probably--somebody !! :D (sorry for being a bit late, I took longer than excpected to proofread the fic ><)

I got kinda carried away with the fic I wanted to write ^^’ It proved to be an interesting challenge, since it has been a long time since I last wrote Hetalia fanfiction, and even then, it was so Lithuania and Russia centered that I had barely written the pov of another character. I tried to give the fic a cheerful edge that is mostly lacking in my other fics, and I hope you will like it !! Please forgive the messiness of the writing, and I’m sorry for the mistakes I left, I have trouble catching them all ^^’ I hope you will like it <3

Hungary hugs Poland as he walks into the meeting room. She smells of flowers and firewood, and her hand is calloused as she runs it along Poland's cheek, her eyes searching for signs of weariness.

« How are you ? »

Her voice is soft but strong, and Poland is happy to know that he no longer has to lie to her. They all spent decades lying to each other, and now, finally, he can answer truthfully.

« I'm fine ! » He smiles and really, he is fine. Better than he has felt in centuries, probably. Hungary's eyes narrow, wondering if she should trust him, but he must look decently cheerful, because she soon beams, and only tightens the hug.

« How are you ? » Poland then asks, his fingers smoothing over the back of her suit. It is strange, he thinks, that Hungary smells like home to him. (A lot of them do, though he won't admit it easily. But it happens, when you share centuries after centuries with the same people.)

She offers him a sincere smile, and lets out a small laugh. « As great as I can be when I got woken up at three in the morning by Prussia trying to sneak into the house to play a prank on Austria ! »

Poland raises a brow, barely containing the bubble of laugh that blooms in his throat. « May I ask why he decided it was a good idea ? »

Hungary rolls her eyes, her voice dramatically loud as she exclaims. « As if I know ! But I think Franc is no stranger to this -Germany told me he had been over at his house for a few days. Surely they schemed up a prank together. »

At Hungary's tone, a few countries turned their attention towards the two of them, and Poland struggles not to start laughing. He feels Spain's eyes on them, and Veneziano's too.

A quick glance at his watch tells him the meeting is about to start. Oh well -he still has the time to ask Hungary one last question :

« How did Austria react ? »

At this, Hungary sighs. « He slept like a baby the whole night. Nothing woke him up -not even when Prussia lost his balance and crashed right into the cupboard. And I assure you that the pans crashing on the ground made a furious noise. »

Poland almost whistles, not knowing if he should admire Austria for not letting anything or anyone trouble his sleep, or cringe because no one but a fool lets his guard so down at night. (But then again, times have changed. For the better, probably, and Poland sleeps better at night too.)

« Oh my, it seems Prussia really overdid himself this time. » France chuckles, and Hungary playfully smacks his shoulder.

« Say you didn't have a part in this, I dare you ! »

France shoots her a bright smile, and winks at Poland who starts thinking he might combust if he has to keep from laughing any longer. He discreetly puts a hand over his mouth to hide his smile as he watches France lie through his teeth. His barely contained laughter has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that France called him just the day before to exchange some gossips and chat a bit -call during which France had made clear what Prussia's intentions for the night were. No, absolutely not.

Things truly have changed, Poland thinks.

Gone are the times where they would fight relentlessly -even though their actions didn't matter, because no matter what, they weren't the one who made History. Their people did.

Now they have meetings and mock fights and harmless pranks. (They all vividly remember a not too ancient April Fools...)

It is a strange thought, but not an unwelcome one. They are all way more lively since they dropped the act.

Poland finds his place at the meeting table and sits down -the seat right next to him is still empty ; it is rare, because Lithuania often arrives early. Poland takes out his phone, to see if his friend left him a message, but no. He does have a few notifications from game apps, though. A quick glance at the room tells him he shouldn't worry, and he opens an app. The meeting isn't going to start anytime soon, anyway. Not with half the people missing and the ones who are there obviously engrossed in something else entirely.

From the corner of his eye, Poland notices France and Hungary still talking, though their friendly tone indicates that they probably dropped the argument to have a chat instead. Farther, England is leaning against a wall, looking as sour as always. Ah, well, not really actually. His frown seems to be at least a little less pronounced. Well, not too surprising given that Veneziano is currently greeting him. It's difficult to look too angry when Veneziano is around. Poland chuckles and takes a picture, immediately sending it to America. -Okay, it's not like England is smiling, but like, this is probably the most relaxed they are going to see him for months to come, and America will definitely like the picture :England's eyebrows look super off, like torn between the perpetual frown and a more relaxed expression.

The only ones seated except Poland are, without any surprise, Germany and Austria. Germany sits straight in his chair, awkwardly looking around the room, clearly not daring to raise his voice just yet. As for Austria, he has closed his eyes, and his fingers drums absently against the wood of the table, not in a idle way but like he was playing the piano.

Poland smiles then takes another picture. Behind his serious looks, Austria is easily distracted.

In the midst of the carefree chatter, Poland notices two persons walking into the room, and he perks up. Liet is here !

He almost waves, but with Lithuania is Russia, and Poland feels himself shy away. From where he is, he can't clearly see Lithuania's features, but he can tell he is tense. Russia and him walk machinely, not talking to each other -they're not even looking at each other, Poland notices as they come closer. On the contrary, they purposefuly avert their eyes. It is only when Lithuania goes to greet Germany, and probably excuses himself for his tardiness, that Russia looks up. Even from the distance, Poland feels his longing for Lithuania, and honestly, what the hell is going on with these two ?

A hand clasps firmly over his shoulder, and Poland would have squeaked in surprise had he not recognized France's perfume.

« Trouble in paradise ? »

France's voice is teasing, but there is a careful edge to it. Poland pulls a face. « I have no clue what's happening. »

A thoughtful hum tells him France has no more answer than him. Of course he was the first one to take notice of the strange atmosphere between Lithuania and Russia. Poland manges to smile through the worry that begin to gnaw at his insides.

« I see you're still quick to notice that kind of thing. »

France winks at him, sounding very pleased with himself. « Of course, mon cher ! Love is my speciality ; my capital isn't nicknamed the city of love for nothing ! It is only natural that I am quick to notice such troubles. »

Poland snorts, and he bites his cheek to resist criticizing Paris, just to annoy France -mind you, the ctiy is beautiful, but France always looks so offended when one mentions the dubious property of certain districts, or the grey weather, that it is never not funny to let out a comment.

For once though, he doesn't give in to his want to playfully mock his friend.

« Yeah, well, just noticing it isn't going to help » Poland sighs. « What we need is to resolve whatever mess they put themselves in. I don't like to see Liet troubled. »

France merely nods. He takes the seat to Poland's right side, and runs his hand through his hair, silently searching for something to say.

Poland glances towards Russia : he is talking to Ukraine, but his eyes wander off to Lithuania from time to time. Poland doubts Lithuania is so taken by his conversation with Germany he hasn't noticed Russia's attitude. So Liet is deliberately ignoring him. Great. Now he definitely looks forward dealing with the whole thing.

France pats him on the shoulder.

« Well, it does seem like the lovebirds are experiencing a little cold in their relationship. »

« Yeah, and no one but them knows why, so helping them is going to be exceedingly diffiuclt and annoying and I don't want to deal with that. » Poland groans as he rests his cheek against the table. He loves Liet, and he trust his friend in his relationships choices, but love troubles are something he prefers to avoid. Seriously, it is way funnier to watch it in like, a TV show, than to deal with it in the reality. If Liet is actually angry at Russia for whatever reason, Poland hopes that he won't isolate himself like he tends to, and shrugs his friends off while saying that's everything is a-okay.

« Liet's usual way of dealing with problems suck. » Poland mutters under his breath. Now he feels a headache coming, and it's not helped by the constant noise around him.

Meeting, what meeting ? He should have stayed in bed this morning. He could have had another cup of tea, taken more time to bathe, and peacefully played the piano instead of having all this noise as backgroung music.

« I think, » France says after some time (god, they truly have all forgotten about the meeting right.) « that the situation is not as hopeless as it is. »

Poland wants to argue that he never said anything about the situation being hopeless, but he lets France to his romantic phrasing. With him, a tricky situation becomes a moutain to overcome, and a water drop an ocean. Though he had some time to get used to it, Poland still snickers at his use of some expressions. Because who except France would dramatically speak about a hopeless situation that can only be overcome by the memory of first love...

Wait. That is really what France is saying right now. Poland blinks and looks at him like he might have gone mad.

« First love », he repeats, slightly aghast. France nods and sighs dreamily.

« Yes, first love ! Their relationship probably lacks the youthful fire it used to have -we just have to remind them of how beautiful it was, to enter this relationship ! How every kiss felt as fresh as new, how every touch sent a shiver down their spine- »

Poland reflectively clasps a hand over France's mouth. If he wants to be perfectly honest, he doesn't know what he wants at this precise moment, but it is certainely not France spewing poetry about his best friend and his lover. That, and he definitely doesn't want France's speech to attract attention.

« Are you talking about love ? »

Aaaand check. Hungary smiles brightly, Japan to her side. Both of them overheard the conversation and want in. Hungary is alreay giggling, ready to give as much advice as the situation needs, while the so quiet Japan discreetly fumbles with a notebook, ready to take notes about whatever gossip they may share.

« Huh » Poland eloquently says. Hungary sits on the table, right between France and Poland -Japan stands still, completing their small circle.

Now we definitely don't look suspicious at all, Poland dryly thinks. America must not have arrived yet, or else he would have yelled « conspiracy !! » at them.

« Yes, we were indeed talking about love » France hums. « It seems Lithuania and Russia are currently experiencing some love troubles, so Poland and I took it upon us to discuss the situation to find solutions. »

How can France make it sounds so altruistic ? If anything, they're prying into their friends' love life. But Hungary doesn't seem bothered by the idea of meddling into the issue, and gives France a thumbs up for his initiative.

Great, there's no escaping this now. Poland nervously looks around, hoping they won't attract anymore attention. Fortunately Lithuania doesn't seem to have noticed them yet.

« I see, it's a good idea ! If we can get them to remember their fondest memories they'll definitely be more enclined to hear each other out ! »

« Yes ! That is why I think we need to set up things a bit : we should try to get them to reenact the moment they got together. Ah, well, I mean, it can and should be subtle, of course ! But if we put enough details to remind them of the day they confessed...

-they might feel as they did back then ! That's a great idea ! »

There's no hope left for France and Hungary, they've arrived to the point they finish each other's sentences. Japan still hasn't said a word, but he dutifully writes down everything in his notebook. Poland is sure he has started doodling... what ? Sketches of what the scene will look like ?

« And this is where we need you, Poland ! » Hungary says. Why the hell did he ever want to be involved in this mess already ? Ah, yes, for Liet. Do it for Liet.

« I'm not sure I follow » he stutters.

This is getting way too complicated for his tastes, and honestly he'd rather just ask Liet what the problem is instead of making vain speculations.

« Pologne ! » France takes Poland's hand into his own. « Sois un amour, tell us how Lithuania and Russia got together. We need it for the plan. »

Oh no. Never. He's never solding his best friend's secrets in such a vile way.

« It's a no, » he grumbles, before a thought comes to his mind. Wait a minute... He sends a panicked look to the others.

« Liet never told me how his relationship with Russia started. »

The answer causes an uproar : France and Hungary look at each other in disbelief, while Japan mutters « what a plot twist » under his breath. The pained exclamations of France and Hungary, who admittedly are not the quietest conspiracy masterminds, attract some more nations. Latvia, Estonia and Ukraine soon come closer, all curious to see what the ruckus is about.

So they're really doing it huh. Discussing their friend's love life when they stand a few meters from them. Great. (Okay, the part of Poland that loves gossips is currently pleased, but he feel like he should disagree with everything that is going to be said for the principle.)

« Well, if Poland of all people don't know how they got together, this is going to be difficult... »

That was Estonia's voice. Next to him, Latvia nods wisely, before adding : « Or maybe we could guess how exactly they got together ? I mean, we've known them for centuries now, it shouldn't be impossible... Like, who confessed to who would be a good start ? »

« Ten euros betting on Lithuania » France immediately says, slamming his hand on the table to mark his point.

« Seconded » Estonia nods.

Ukraine shakes her head.

« I think Russia was the one who made it clear he had feelings first. » When she notices all the looks are on her, she explains. « I mean, Russia has never been too great at hiding his feelings for too long, I'm sure he made the first step... »

« She has a point ! » Hungary agrees. Then, just to spite France, she slams her hand on the table too. « Twenty euros on Russia. »

Poland lets out a sigh. The whole situation is pretty baffling. He definitely hadn't planned he'd be betting on his best friend's love life while getting up this morning, that's for sure. He glances at Japan, who still hasn't said a thing about everything, and hopes he will calm the game and calls the bet off. Unfortunately, when Japan finally decides to speak up, it is only to agree with the others.

« If you want I can make a list of who is betting on what. »

The idea is met with applause, and Poland groans. Okay, if they're really going down this road, then he wants in. There's no getting out of this, so he might as well enjoy the situation as long as he can.

« I'm sure Liet was the one who confessed. Maybe Russia made it clear he was interested before, but I think the one who started their relationship was Liet. He's definitely the type to take lead in this kind of situation. »

Silence falls for a few moments after Poland's intervention, everyone pondering what has just been said. Both parties have a point. Suddenly Estonia gasps :

« But what if they confessed at the exact same time ? »

Latvia pats him on the shoulder, shaking his head. « Yeah well it's too complicated so we're letting that option aside. »

« Now now », France singsongs. « What is important is to determine how it happened. What season ? Where exactly ? How long had they been longing for each other ? »

« I bet it was something really romantic » Estonia says. « Russia is a bit scary sometimes, but at heart he is a big softie... mostly. »

« I think it wouldn't be too far of a stretch to say that it probably happened at Russia's house. »

Poland nods at Hungay's words. Yes, he thinks so too. He drums his fingers against the table -he hasn't moved from his place, content to be at the edge of the circle -he still doesn't like much being the center of attention during times like this. So he keeps quiet and listens to everyone's guess at how Liet and Russia's relationship started.

France bets on something romantic and unplanned ; a strained conversation about something else entirely during which they both let the masks fall and realize they can't hide their feelings anymore -with Lithuania being the one to tell Russia about his feelings first.

For Ukraine, it took place in Russia's garden, during summer. Russia loves flowers, so the place holds a lot of meaning for him. She wonders thoughfully whether they were walking, or if they just sat on a bench, until Russia spoke up.

Japan nods politely at everyone's speculations. When they ask him how he thinks it happened, he squints at something he wrote in his notebook, before ominously saying : « I'm not sure, but there was a maid dress involved somewhere. » Thanks Japan for this precious input.

Hungary thinks it happened during winter as a snowstorm raged outside. « During winter we all search for human warmth » she says wisely.

Poland listens without saying a word. He likes all the explanations. They cheerfully discuss it, and though they do joke a little, it lacks any mockery. It is all good humored speculations. But a part of him knows that it is not how it happened. They talk of snowstorms that would freeze hearts if they didn't confess on the spot ; of quiet longings that deliberately come to an end at the best moment ; of sudden recklessness, a need to know, no matter if it will succeed or fail.

And, truly, all these options are pretty and romantic and great. But they lack heart, in a way Poland can't quite define.

« Do you want to add something, Poland ? »

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His giddiness is still here, but he feels like he is lacking a core element of their relationship. The speculations are fun, but he knows they won't find the answer.

Liet is fierce, but shy sometimes. And Russia may be intimidating, but he needs time to say important things -he is not as autoritary as some believe him to be.

Poland closes his eyes for a few seconds. He thinks of his best friend, and no, a sudden reveal wouldn't suit him. He recalls all the moments he saw, the quiet glimpses he got of their relationship.  It is a miracle in itself that it is working ; but somehow they do make it work.

He thinks of Lithuania brushing his fingers against Russia's as they walk next to one another, of Russia tucking a strand of Lithuania's hair behind his ear in an affectionate gesture.

This kind of love doesn't happen overnight. But have they always been conscious of it ? Poland begs to disagree. He knows he missed a lot of important moments of Liet's life, while they were apart. But now that Lithuania can proudly walk in Russia's house like he blongs there, not because he needs to but because he wants to, he wonders if they have finally reached an equilibrium.

With familiarity comes love, and tenderness, he knows it.

So maybe that is how it happened, something so mundane as that. It was a cold but bright morning, and Lithuania thought of Russia, and his heart skipped a beat, because, oh, that is what it was all along. And maybe Russia understood one day why he liked to look at Lithuania so much. Maybe the day they reached an equilibrium, they understood. Familiarity led them to understund, simply. No words needed, no actions either. Just the quiet realization that they may share more than they thought.

Yes, Poland quite likes this option. He smiles and opens his mouth once again to tell the other what he thinks, when a voice interrupts them.

« May I know what this is all about ? Also, France, this is my seat. »

Lithuania looks midly annoyed. Behind him, Germany seems about to raise his voice. A quick glance to his watch tells Poland the meeting should have started nearly half an hour ago. Whoops.

The countries scatter in a swirl of laugh and noise, each regaining their place at the table.

« What were you talking about ? » Lithuania asks Poland as he sits down.

France chuckles and pats Lithuania's shoulder as he goes. « Your love life. I hope you two lovebirds will soon make up~ »

Lithuania watches bewildered as France walks away, still laughing. He sends Poland an uncomprehensive look. « Really ? »

« It's more complicated than you think » Poland shrugs. He barely contains his want to laugh at Lithuania's wide open eyes. He looks so lost that Poland can't help but want to enlighten him a bit. « When you arrived with Russia, it seemed like you two were on bad terms at the moment. So France, Hungary and, ah, quite a bit of us decided to meddle with your love life ? We only wanted to help I swear !! »

But instead of being annoyed at the fact the others are always searching for bits of gossip, Lithuania smiles weakly. « Oh. Well, we weren't actually... fighting. »

Now it's Poland's turn not to understand a thing. « What ? » he exclaims loudly, not caring about keeping his voice down. The meeting still hasn't started anyway. « But... I was getting so worried ! Like, I thought something had happened, I don't like seeing you like that ! I thought you... »

I was worried you'd isolate yourself again if something was truly wrong, is what he doesn't say. His worry must show though, because Lithuania immediately stutters, embarrassed to have caused his friend to worry :

« That's, I'm sorry I made you think that ! I... I just had a minor disagreement with Russia this morning, and we decided not to talk of it till the meeting was over, since we were already late. »

That explains why Lithuania decided to purposefully avoid Russia's eyes. Poland still feels a bit confused.

« What was this argument about ? »

« We don't agree on whether or not we should allow the dog in our room... »

At the word dog, Germany, who was within earshot, comes up to them. Japan quietly follows, and soon, all the countries are assembled around the two of them for a totally different reason. It seems they all have something to say on the subject, and the meeting is once more forgotten -even by Germany this time.  

Finally, Poland notices Russia from the corner of his eyes. He looks slightly distressed, not so much because of the conversation, but he keeps sending looks at Lithuania.

« I wouldn't let my dog on my bed, it would get hair everywhere ! »

« France, you don't even have a dog. I think it'd be fine, I mean, dogs are cuddly and soft ! They can keep you warm ! »

« I don't think warmth is the issue Spain... »

« Sweden and I sometimes allow Hanatamago on the bed ! She gets afraid of storms ! »

Russia uses the incessant chatter to sneak around until he is close enough to Lithuania. He offers a small smile, that Lithuania hesitantely returns.

« Well, this is why I thought we'd better not talk about it in front of others. Everything takes... unforeseen proportions with them. »

And indeed, everyone has started making the argument about their own thing. Poland hears a few of them deep into yet another dog vs cats argument (Ponies are better than both anyway). Russia nods at Lithuania.

« I know, but since the meeting didn't seem to be starting, I thought we might have time to settle the argument. »

Poland sighs in relief and takes out his phone. Well, finally, it was nothing serious between Russia and Liet, they all got worked up for nothing. He settles on playing games until the meeting actually starts, letting the chitchating become an almost pleasant background audio.

*

« Hey » Poland says. He is sitting on his couch, Lithuania next to him. Liet is reading a book, and doesn't seem too enclined to chat. He still raises his eyes from the book, to show Poland he is listening.

« You remember how this other day the others and I ended up making assumptions about your love life ? »

Lithuania has a small smile, and closes his book. « Of course I remember. »

« You ever settled that argument with Russia by the way ? »

Lithuania nods, and snorts. « Yes. I think he was a bit jealous, afraid I'd give the dog too much attention if we let him sleep with us. But Russia had a point though. She sleeps in our room now, but not on the bed. »

Poland moves closer to Lithuania, until he can rest his head against his friend's shoulder. « That's great. I'm glad you sorted this out. »

« What were you talking about when you all thought that, ah, we were arguing ? »

« We made bets about who we thought confessed first, and somehow ended up wondering how exactly you ended up together. It was Hungary's idea, or France's, I don't remember. I think they thought that if we could lead you to like, reenact the day you first got together, you'd somehow understand fighting each other was stupid because you love each other ? Something like that. »

At that, Lithuania laughs, a little surprised. Well, he can't say his friends aren't ready to do anything for them. It is a little bewildering that this is the first answer that came to their mind, though.

« Hey, Liet, it actually got me thinking, you know. I... you never told me how your relationship started. »

Lithuania blinks, licks his lips nervously. « There's a reason for that, actually. »

Poland moves from his comfortable position to be at eyes lever with Lithuania. There are a lot of things that flashes through Lithuania's eyes. Love, of course, and a bit of pride. And something Poland doesn't recognize, like a bit of sadness stranded amidst all this love.

He feels his heart constricting, and puts a reassuring hand on Lithuania's shoulder. « You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I understand. »

Lithuania merely shakes his head.

« It's not that. You know, Russia and I made a promise that day. »

Poland nods politely, waiting for Lithuania to explain.

« I know it's a foolish thing, but we promised to never talk of that day. Not to each other, and not to anyone. »

Poland's eyes widen. What kind of promise is that ? He feels once again that the puzzle lacks a piece, that he cannot possibly understand the link Lithuania and Russia share.

« Why » he whispers in a breath. How can you want to forget such a day, to never mention it again ? He doesn't say.

Lithuania seems to understand his surprise, and it is with knowing eyes and a smile torn between mirth and hopeless optimism that he speaks.

« Of course we can't forget about that day. But, even if it is foolish, even if it is vain, we decided to act like it never existed. Like things were always the way they are now.

Because things that don't have a start can't possibly come to an end, right ? »

[eternal-night-owl]

Reunion

Fandom: Hetalia

Pairings: Slight LietPol

Genre: Drama/Angst

Rating: T

Word Count: 1812

Summary: Years after gaining his independence, Lithuania receives a strange phone call from Russia asking to meet with him. Hesitantly, he agrees.

Read on: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12735112/1/Reunion

Comments: So, here’s the fic about Russia and Lithuania I mentioned a few days ago. I tried very hard to keep Russia in character, so if he’s not, then please let me know. Thanks to @phantomhivemast3r for being my beta reader!

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Poland asked for the hundredth time.

Lithuania understood his trepidation well and had asked himself many times if this was a smart decision. It has been a while since he had a real conversation with Russia, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

"Poland, I will be fine," he reassured the blonde. "From what I've heard, Russia has changed since the last time we were… acquainted."

The Polish man let out a huff, his breath visible in the cold mid-winter air. Together they stood outside one of Lithuania's favorite restaurants where the Russian man would be waiting. Lithuania insisted on meeting at a public location on his own land.

Ugh, why did I ever agree to this? Lithuania asked himself yet again. He couldn't believe his ears when Russia called him a few days ago and asked if he wanted to meet up to "talk about some things from the past." But despite his fear, he was curious about what Russia had to say.

"I still think you're totally insane for wanting to do this, Liet. It could be a trap, or maybe he'll try to manipulate you into going back with him-"

"Trust me Po, there is nothing he could say to ever convince me to do that. And part of the agreement was that he come alone; no soldiers, government officials, or weapons allowed. If I notice anything that looks suspicious, I'm out."

The Polish man sighed in defeat. "My number is in your contact list, right?"

"The very first one," Liet said with a grin. The tiny blonde threw his arms around Lithuania's torso with enough strength to make the brunet stumble.

"Just... be safe, okay? I love you and I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you. I couldn't survive you getting taken away from me again."

"P-Poland!" Lithuania said in surprise. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and ran his fingers through his hair, murmuring: "I promise I'll be safe." After a few minutes, the two men disentangled themselves and exchanged a look.

"I'll wait outside in the car for a few minutes after you go in. If you see anything that makes you uncomfortable…"

"I'll leave," the Lithuanian finished. "Thank you for your support, Poland. I know you don't agree with this, but I want answers."

Poland looked like he was about to argue, but instead sighed and kissed the taller man on the cheek.

"Good luck," he mumbled. Lithuania gave him one last smile before opening the door to see his former tormentor after all these years.

It didn't take long for the Lithuanian to find Russia, his tall, bulky frame coming almost immediately into view. Lithuania reluctantly took a seat on the opposite side of the booth he was at.

"Hello Litv- Lietuva. It has been quite a long time, yes?" Russia was smiling, but his tone was quieter and more cautious than Lithuania was used to hearing it. Hesitantly, the brunet nodded his head in agreement.

Lithuania noticed how the Russian man drummed his fingers on the table, a habit he had when nervous or impatient. He couldn't help but find it strange how well he remembered Russia's mannerisms after all these years.

"Have you ordered already?" Lithuania asked to break the silence.

"Ah, no. I thought it would be impolite to order before you got here. Might I ask what you would recommend?"

"Their cepelinai is quite good. I usually get that when I come here."

"Then that is what I will get as well," the Russian man smiled. "As soon as Estonia and Latvia get here, then we will enjoy-"

"They aren't coming," Lithuania answered, perhaps too curtly. After telling his brothers about Russia's sudden phone call, he found out that they received similar calls themselves, and were both shaken at the prospect of seeing Russia again. They even called him crazy for agreeing to the meeting.

"Oh, that's too bad," Russia said, disappointment clear in his eyes. Lithuania let out a sigh. Despite himself, he felt guilty for hurting the sensitive man's feelings.

"Russia, I'm sorry I snapped, but you have to understand…"

"No, no, I do understand," Russia cut him off. He put on that innocent smile that Lithuania knew he used to cover up his real emotions. "I should be grateful that even one of you agreed to see me."

"Why did you call us?" The words flew out of the Lithuanian's mouth. "I mean, why after all this time? Why now?"

"I know this may seem out of the blue, but it has been something I've wanted to do for a long time now," Russia explained. "I know I treated you and your friends horribly during those years, and I have regretted it ever since.

"I know I have no right to ask, but... do you think you could forgive me?"

Lithuania had a feeling that this is what Russia wanted to talk about, but it still felt shocking to hear after so long. Russia would occasionally apologize to him and his brothers after giving a beating that would go too far, but his remorse was always short-lived, falling back into his old ways before they knew it. Memories of those times caused centuries worth of resentment to bubble up in his stomach.

"You hurt me," Lithuania said, his words coming out in a whisper. "You hurt my brothers. Did you know we all still have nightmares of the times we lived with you?"

"Lietuva, I am sorry, but you need to understand-"

"Raivis broke down into tears when he told me you called him," Lithuania said, anger in his tone. "You hurt him so much he can't even stand to hear your voice without panicking. Estonia kept a brave face, but I could tell by the look in his eyes he was shaken."

Russia was taken aback by Lithuania's outburst, but he wasn't done.

"I still have the scars on my back. For years it hurt every single time I took a shower, or laid down in bed. I never take my shirt off in public, out of fear that someone will see and wonder what's wrong with me. I know Estonia and Latvia do the same with theirs."

"Lietuva…" Russia said, speechless for a moment. "I am sorry for hurting you and your brothers in the past, but you must understand that I didn't have a choice. My bosses… they never let me catch a break. They told me that if I didn't have absolute control over my household, the Soviet Union would fall and it would be all my fault. They threatened to do such awful things…"

"Russia, you always had a choice. Your bosses may have been harsh, but they never stuck a gun to your head and forced you to beat me unconscious for protecting my brothers. You made that choice all on your own."

"I wasn't trying to be cruel!" said Russia defensively, his hand curled up into a fist. "If maybe you would've just minded your own business and your brothers knew how to behave-"

"Don't you dare talk about them like that!" Lithuania exclaimed. "They were little more than children at the time, of course they were going to break things by accident or say inappropriate things sometimes! That doesn't give you an excuse to treat us like sh-"

"Enough, Litva!" Russia shouted, banging his fist on the table. It was loud enough that everyone in the restaurant turned to face the two arguing men. Lithuania himself, blushing and frightened, bowed his head low like a servant.

"I'm sorry, Russia. I was out of line," Lithuania whispered, trembling. It was an all too familiar sight to the Russian, one he had seen almost everyday for centuries. And yet for perhaps the first time ever, he saw himself through Lithuania's eyes.

"I-I am so sorry, Lietuva. I never meant to-" Russia stuttered, interrupted by his own tears. "Oh God, you're right, you're absolutely right. I'm a monster."

As he heard Russia's sobs, Lithuania got the courage to look up and see the broken man.

"Russia...," Lithuania whispered, speechless.

"I was so terrible to you, wasn't I? I always justified it in my mind somehow, but… do you think you could ever possibly forgive me?"

After a few minutes of Lithuania's silence, Russia sniffed and stood up, grabbing his things.

"I'm sorry I have asked you to meet me here, it was selfish. I should have left you and your brothers be. I promise I'll leave you alone from now on."

"Wait," Just as he was about to leave, Lithuania called him back. Russia turned around to face the brunet.

"To answer your question, I don't know. You hurt me and my friends and it will take a long time to get over that. I don't know if I can get over it."

"Ah, I understand," Russia said, looking dangerously close to tears again, until Lithuania added to his statement.

"However, I have been alive long enough to know with enough time, almost anything is possible. When I was married to Poland, I thought our Commonwealth would have lasted forever, and yet it did not. When I was under your control, I thought I would never taste freedom again until the day I died. And yet here I am."

"You have always been one of the strongest people I've known," Russia sniffed. "I hope what you say is true. I hope one day you won't hate me anymore and we will be friends."

"I don't hate you, Russia," the Lithuanian corrected the larger man, getting up from the booth. "I hate what you did, and I hate the person you used to be. But I know there is good inside you somewhere, even if it's hard for me to see right now. I can't promise we will ever be friends, but I don't see you as my enemy. At least, not anymore."

At this, Russia gave the brunet a genuine smile for once. "Thank you, Lietuva, for believing in me. You might be one of the few people left who does. If and when that day comes when you would like to be friends, I will be waiting for you."

Lithuania gave his former tormentor- and possible future ally- a nod. "I wish you well, Russia."

"And I as well, Lietuva."

And both men turned and left, heading off in opposite directions.

[imrainai]

[OOC Message log, imrainai & trashrightsactivist]

These are really old. Like, last in-universe year old. But some people wanted to see them, so here they are.

Summer, 3422

imrainai: Could I read the sideblog? You have a lot of really interesting things to say, and I'd like to read them. If you're ok with it. ^_^'

Trashrightsactivist: I would trust a promise from you, you seem trustworthy. So I will add you if you promise me that you understand how serious it could be if someone like tidalwave got hold of information that could tell her who I am in real life - I could quite easily die - and also promise you won't mention any of that info anywhere public. Is that okay?

Imrainai: Yeah, I promise. I definitely don't want anything bad to happen to you.

Trashrightsactivist: cool, adding you in a sec

Weeks Later

imrainai: ruby? are you ok? just laying low for a bit? You're safe, right?

Trashrightsactivist: yes. i am very sad and angry about things. but safe.

Imrainai: <3 please stay safe ok

Trashrightsactivist: i'll do my best. you too

Later

Imrainai: I think the internet's gonna cut out in a bit, so just wanted to tell you again to stay safe and take care of yourself. you're a good internet friend, OK, so make sure you're still here when I get back

Imrainai: taz liked your story about the aliens btw. I had to modify it some because I don't want him telling his teachers he's getting red-positive propaganda at home, it was about criminals and poor people. but the basic moral was intact, and he seemed to agree with it.

I just... be careful, OK, the world needs all the good people it can get

Trashrightsactivist: thank you. and I'm glad he liked the story, it's about the downtrodden whatever colour their hair is so yeah

Weeks Later

imrainai sent a post caste flexibility meme!

Imrainai: tag, you're privately it

Imrainai: also the internet's back and your blog is not back, are you still there

Trashrightsactivist: I will post caste meme soon. I have a secret new blog.

Trashrightsactivist: as in - the blog is not a secret but the fact that it's me is a secret

Trashrightsactivist: what i learned from tryna fill out the meme is mostly that i would be a sucky purple :P

Imrainai: ohhh, ok

Imrainai: also same

Imrainai: but I also feel like I'd feel like that no matter what I was. probably everything looks easier than it is from the outside

Trashrightsactivist: well you're like coping and looking after a baby so you must be doing something right! But probably true

Imrainai: at least if i were YELLOW i could ADVANCE in the LIBRARY SYSTEM

Imrainai: but yeah I guess Ves is more important anyway, so I can't be, like, totally failing at life in general

Trashrightsactivist: yeah that's one of the dumb things about the caste system tbh - as a purple its super hard to get anywhere really successful unless you got this one specific skillset of 'run a business'

Imrainai: well you can only run certain kinds of businesses, is the thing. like, I can't start an editing service or watch other people's kids or something

Trashrightsactivist: which is sooo dumb

Imrainai: I do not think I could, like, successfully run a restaurant or a furniture company or make clothes

Imrainai: there are lots of options, so you'd think ONE of them would work, but so far nah

Imrainai: ............I should probably not actually be complaining about my life circumstances to you, that seems rather inconsiderate

Trashrightsactivist: hmm - idk if homeschooling is a thing in Voa. If I was the kinda oddball economics green i mighta been in another life I would suggest you might be able to set up a purple-for-purple homeschooling group and argue the income as being purple either on the basis of it being like house spousing or like consultation (in that being your caste *is* the qualifying factor for a purple-for-purple homeschool)

Trashrightsactivist: and nah, it's fine - it's actually helpful to give me different things to think about tbh

Trashrightsactivist: you could apply the same argument to a daycare specifically meant to socialise purple kids in a purple environment. But idk your employment law well enough you'd need to get a solicitor to advise on it.

Imrainai: Homeschooling is a thing, but I think if you make money at it it stops being homeschooling

Imrainai: I dunno, maybe one of the librarians can help me figure it out tho

Imrainai: they're good about stuff like that

Trashrightsactivist: yeah, I mean at minimum they can probably help you find and understand the books with the law stuff in

Imrainai: Liet's orange and I could maybe finagle something around that, but she's old enough that asking her to actually work is not really.... fair to her, so

Imrainai: and yeah

Trashrightsactivist: what is it you actually do rn if you don't mind me asking? or are you at home with the kid?

Imrainai: oh! no, I work two jobs

Imrainai: I do cleaning at a nursing home and I shelve books at the library

Imrainai: And my second cousin is living here too, she works in a warehouse and sometimes watches the baby

Trashrightsactivist: ahh, right. I was confused for a bit cause i remember a post about the 1st one and i thought you were a care worker and was like 'that's purple?'

Trashrightsactivist: is that liet? the orange person?

Imrainai: Liet's my great-great-grandmother, I am am sort of EFFECTIVELY her caretaker but she's family so I don't get paid for that

Imrainai: and I do look after the old people at the nursing home, but that is not actually my job, it is just... a thing that happens when I am in close proximity to people who need things

Trashrightsactivist: really should be crossover work

Trashrightsactivist: you know one of those jobs thats two castes

Trashrightsactivist: if orange-grandma lives with you it miight be doable to do the daycare and have it that like, she owns it officially and employs you, but again you'd need to check out the legalities

Imrainai: I mean in THEORY there is a simple dividing line between "care worker" and "cleaning lady" but with elderly people the line is not always actually clear

Trashrightsactivist: yeah thats why it should be crossover

Trashrightsactivist: are you any good with numbers and people management?

Imrainai: And yeah, maaaaybe, but if anyone ever investigated it I think it would rapidly become obvious that Liet wasn't really... doing anything

Imrainai: I've never really tried those things?

Imrainai: I don't think I'm awful with numbers

Imrainai: Though I never got past algebra in school

Trashrightsactivist: I imagine you gotta have people skills to a degree cause like - you're really nice, and dealing with the old ppl probably requires like, being nice but firm

Trashrightsactivist: wouldn't require algebra just finance - you could build up to a small cleaning business?

Imrainai: Oh, I hadn't thought about that, but I guess there's no reason that should be illegal

Imrainai: I do all the budgeting here, I can handle money OK

Trashrightsactivist: yeah well afaik that is entirely a purple thing to be doing, it's cleaning and it's business

Imrainai: That makes sense

Trashrightsactivist: and your library connections and self-starter attitude will mean you can pick up the extra knowledge you'd need

Imrainai: I don't know if I'd actually make more money than just working at the nursing home, but I can look into it

Trashrightsactivist: probly need some seed money i guess

Imrainai: ...yeah, you need some to get started I think

Trashrightsactivist: yeah it would at least have more potential to grow, is what i was thinking

Imrainai: but not THAT much for a cleaning business, you don't need an office or anything for that really

Imrainai: I bet you could do it with just a web page actually

Imrainai: not that I know how to make a decent website

Trashrightsactivist: yeah you probably wouldn't make more to start with but could eventually - if you read the books and stuff and came up with a good business model you could probably pitch it to people to get a small investment for like, a website and some supplies, maybe a vehicle

Trashrightsactivist: tell the nursing home they can hire you as a contractor through your business, but if you've got other work you have more leverage to get better pay there

Imrainai: That's an interesting idea... I dunno if they'd go for it, but at least this is something to look into. It's good to have options.

Imrainai: Thanks :)

Trashrightsactivist: I mean. In a sane world you could learn more about the library while you stack shelves and work your way up to librarian but we don't live in a sane world

Trashrightsactivist: np :) I better get back to work but good luck if you decide to try it

Trashrightsactivist: oh secret new me is truth-from-ashes btw. Trusting you to keep that sceret.

Trashrightsactivist: ttyl

Weeks Later

Imrainai: Wanted to thank you for the idea to start a business. Liet's going to be starting up after-school tutoring really soon, and apparently it's absolutely legal for me to volunteer at her business and for her to then put that money towards food and rent. I'll get to make money while spending time with my family and helping Taz and his classmates with their homework. :D

Days Later

Imrainai: ruby did you hear about the thing

Imrainai: the orvara thing

Imrainai: you're not in orvara are you

Days later

Imrainai: please don't be in orvara

Later

Trashrightsactivist: I'm not there. I'm sorry if my absence from the online was worrying- reds everywhere are panicky right now and that's been my focus.

Imrainai: no no it's ok! just wanted to make sure you weren't. uh. actually dead

Imrainai: be safe

Imrainai: or as safe as possible I guess

Trashrightsactivist: You too. I don't know what's going to happen now but it's not going to be good and it's not going to just be us that suffers for it in the end.

Fall, 3422

Imrainai: ruby are you still alive and kicking and there and stuff

Several weeks later

Imrainai: rubyyyyyyy

[iwonderwhenyousleep]

Bromeo and Dude-liet

A/N: Hello! so this is based off the prompt, QUICK I NEED A ROMEO AND I KNOW YOU KNOW THE LINES- oh you thought I was Juliet? Nah man I'm playing Benvolio, that dude is Juliet. Captain Swan with a good old helping of Captain Charming. Hope you like it! Please fave/review if you are so generous! Thanks!

Read at ff.net here.

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time, nor am I William Shakespeare.

"Sorry!"

"Move!"

"Out of my way!"

In her haste, Emma Swan managed to bump into nearly every single person in the crowded hallway. She flew down the stairs, paying no mind to her hair which was falling out of the intricate braid that she had spent twenty minutes getting just right. Her mind was singularly focused and she could feel her time slipping away. Finally, she spotted her destination and ran into the men's locker room. Her eyes roamed the room, skipping right over all the half-naked boys who were staring at her like a ghost. She spotted the mop of dark hair she was searching for and began to elbow her way through the crowd to get to him.

"Jones!" She shouted, gaining the attention of every other male who had not yet noticed her presence except the one person whose attention she needed most. She yelled his name again, directly into his ear this time, and wondered why he hadn't heard her, or if he was simply ignoring her. "JONES!"

Thankfully, he turned around that time. The source of his temporary deafness was explained as he took headphones out of his ears. "Swan? What are you doing in here? This is the boy's locker room!"

She just rolled her eyes and forcibly grabbed his hand, pulling him in the direction of the doors. "If I see something I haven't seen before I'll throw a dollar at it," she said. She was in no mood to waste any time. Already she was ridiculously late and could not spare a single second. They broke into the crowd of the hallway and Emma resumed her elbowing and running.

"Swan! Swan!" Killian was growing visibly more frustrated with his captor by the second. Most people would have seen the look in Emma's eyes and shut up and followed her, but Killian Jones did not back away from a challenge. "EMMA! You're going to dislocate my shoulder!"

At this, the ice in Emma's mind cracked and she turned to look at her captive. "We are going to the theater. And that is not a request."

"The theater? Why?" Much to Emma's horror, he had stopped running. He was obviously going to demand an explanation before going any farther.

"Walk and talk!" Emma rushed out and grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the backstage entrance to the stage. "We need a Romeo and I know you know the lines."

Killian's arm started to go up to scratch behind his ear, but he thought better of it considering the speed at which Emma was pulling him. "What do you mean, you need a Romeo?" For the first time, he noticed what Emma had on. She was wearing a floor length Renaissance dress, complete with a corset. His eyes went wide as he realized exactly what he was being dragged into.

"It's my drama final. Will Scarlet is currently in the boys dressing room puking his guts out into the garbage can." Killian was stunned into silence until they finally made it to the theater. Emma shoved the door open as forcibly as she burst into the locker room. They headed to the boys dressing where he saw for himself that she was not lying. Scarlet looked absolutely miserable. Emma's hands flew to Killian's shirt and she started to pull it off.

"If you wanted to see me shirtless, lass, all you had to do was ask." Killian put his arms up and smirks, falling into his flirtatious façade. But, he would be lying if he said his heart rate hadn't dramatically increased because of the person whose hands were now unbuttoning his pants. This was enough to crack his cocky facade. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you into the costume."

"Emma, I don't know about..."

His protests were sharply cut off. "Listen, Killian. If you don't do this, I'm going to fail drama and then I will never get into drama school. Not just that, the rest of my group will fail too. I know you know all the lines because you're always quoting this scene to me. Now, everyone else is already on stage, so there is no backing out. You have to do this. Please do this." The "please" caught him off guard. In that moment, Emma was giving him a choice. This was by far the most desperate and vulnerable he'd ever seen Emma. She was really panicked, that much was written all over her features. And, to tell the truth, he'd do anything to see her smile.

"Alright, love. Let's get me into that costume." As he was being stripped to his underwear by the woman who occupied practically his every waking thought, he had a little time to actually realize what was happening. He was about to play Romeo to the girl of his dream's Juliet. And, of course, there was only one scene that she could have been referring to. If he was lucky, he'd get to kiss Emma Swan. Obviously, this was not how he'd anticipated their first kiss happening. He'd held out hope that it would happen eventually, but realistically, Emma's walls were sky high and the very real possibility that he would never get that chance haunted his nightmares. But now, if he was lucky... he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life wondering what her lips felt like against his own.

When he was finally into his costume, Emma grabbed him just as forcibly as before and shoved him toward the wings of the stage, shushing him to not making noise so as not to ruin the current scene. He watched as actors from another group took theirs exits as their scene from Julius Caesar finished. Before he knew what was happening, he was being shoved onto the stage.

He turned to the ladder that was being used as the makeshift balcony, expecting to see Emma up there in her finery. But that is not what he saw. His eyes went wide with shock before he could stop them. His cheeks flared red. He cursed the entire world for giving him even the tiniest bit of hope that anything could have ever happened between him and Emma, on stage or off.

On stage, right where he had assumed Emma would be, stood his best friend. David Nolan. He was wearing a slightly more ornate dress than Emma had on, and a giant wig that added six inches to his six feet. His face was covered in white powder, giving him the complexion of a ghost. For his part, David looked less shocked and more mortified to see Killian on stage instead of Will Scarlet for all of three seconds before he got back into character.

Another few awkward moments before Killian finally managed to break through his shock (and disappointment) and began the monologue,

"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!"

It was David's turn to speak, albeit a short line. "Ay, me!" Two things happened then. First, Killian finally found the humor in the entire situation. Specifically, the cornucopia of mocking material that was just handed to him on a silver platter. He was never, ever going to let Dave live that falsetto down. He prayed to any god that would listen that someone was recording this. Liam would never believe this situation if he didn't have evidence. Hell, Killian wouldn't believe it if it weren't true and happening to him. Second, he was exceedingly, tremendously grateful that he had spewed Romeo's lines to Emma time and time again in an attempt to woo her and not Juliet's.

"She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air."

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet."

The rest of the scene went by about as well as the beginning, once Killian got past his spot of giggles. Finally, David mercifully nodded at Killian to indicate that they had reached the stopping point in their scene. The lights went out and David hissed out, "Dude, you need to help me down!" Killian did as David had bid and offered him his hand as any true gentleman would for a fair lady. They exited into the wings and Emma was there waiting for them. Killian had expected to find her in stitches laughing at the fact that he and David had just performed what was the most famous love scene in all of literature. Instead, she just looked appreciative and wrapped David in a hug. But, David was having none of it.

"Seriously Emma! This is who you get to replace Scarlet?!" David whisper-yelled. His hands had already started to reach for the laces of his corset. Oh my god he is wearing a corset! Killian just couldn't keep his laughter in any more, and ran into the dressing room so his roaring laughter wouldn't disturb the other performances. Emma and David followed him and once the door was shut, Killian couldn't keep it in anymore. Within seconds there were tears in his eyes and he was actually rolling around on the floor. "Watch it Jones, or I'll really give you something to laugh about."

This threat only succeeded in making him laugh harder, Emma finally joining in. "Oh, come on David. Lighten up. It is pretty funny."

After taking a few deep breaths, Killian finally was able to ask the questions that had come to him once he saw what he had actually gotten himself into. "Okay, so explain a few things to me. Why is Dave here in a dress and playing the stunning Juliet to my dashing Romeo? And, Emma, if you weren't Juliet, why are you in that costume?"

"This is how Shakespeare put on the plays. Our piece was authentic." David spat through his teeth, then turned to Emma so she could get him out of the dress.

"What David is trying to say, is that Shakespeare worked with all an all male theater company, since women weren't allowed to act. So, I, as director, wanted to make our piece as if it was really being performed in his time period." She explained as her hands worked deftly on the strings tying David into the dress. "David here drew the short straw when we were casting. And I am in this costume because the Twelfth Night group needed extras for their scene."

The giggles hadn't quite left Killian's system, but he had managed to move to help get David out of his. Once David was able to get out of the dress on his own, Emma excused herself from the room to allow them privacy to put their real clothes back on and so she could do the same. The sight of David in his normal clothes, but still in the powdery white makeup was enough to get Killian laughing again.

"All right that is it. I am out of here!" David huffed and stormed out towards the exit of the theater.

"Dave, wait, I'm sorry..." While that was a bold faced lie and he actually did not regret a thing (How does one not laugh at something like that? Physically impossible! he thought to himself) he did not want to upset Dave anymore than he already had. When David was out of sight, Killian just shrugged and mentally made plans to make it up to him later. He followed the path that David had taken to exit the theater and found Emma waiting for him just outside.

She turned to Killian and threw herself into his (very) willing arms. Killian seized the opportunity and pulled her as close as he dared, inhaling the scent of hairspray and stage makeup. "I wanted to thank you, Killian. For coming with me in the first place. If you hadn't..."

"It was the right thing to do. Besides, now you owe me so big." He chuckled, still holding onto her until she loosened her grip and he followed suit. "But, I do know one way you can make it up to me." He raised his eyebrows to the sky in his signature move.

She surprised him yet again, and instead of slapping his arm or just rolling her eyes, as he had expected her to do, she raised her own eyebrows and responded, "Will this make us even?" She leaned in towards him, coming closer and closer until there was no distance between them. Their lips met and Killian knew in that moment that he was so screwed. There was no coming back from this. Her kiss was like a drug, and now he was a total and complete junkie.

She pulled away far too soon for his liking. "I was just going to ask for a picture of Dave in that costume but this is much better."

A devilish grin lit up her face before she leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry, I recorded one of our rehearsals."

[ladypurplejanewrynn]

Hetalia AmeLiet: A troublesome situation chapter 4

After they arrived at Versailles house, Austria was already there playing on his piano. "Hey honey, i’m back. And we’re having guests." said the girl. Austria looked behind him and gave a his wife a lovely romantic kiss on the lips. Then he looked at his guests to see America and a brown haired beautiful woman. "Guten tag Alfred. And how may i call you, young lady?" Lithuania blushed:"Ummmm... Roderich, this is me Tolys..." The Austrian was in shock to hear that:"Oh... really? You look and sound.... diffrent... What happend?" "This is Ivan’s doing. Is a bit of a long story." explained Alfred. "Please take a sit. Also want something to drink?" asked Audrey. "Sure, i would love some coffee." answered America. "What about you, Liet?" asked Austria. "Oh, some tea would be fine for me." Versailles went to make something to drink while Austria took their guests to their guest room. A moment later Audrey brought some cake and the drinks. They start it eating and drinking. "Yum, this cake is delicious." said Alfred taking another bite. "Thank you, i’m glad someone likes my cooking." said Audrey. Then she looked at Tolys:"So, how exactly all of this happend?" "Well me and Alfred went on a date. After the date, he decided to escort me back home and we kissed on front of the house. Unfortunatlly Ivan saw us and he knocked me out. Later i woke up in the basement chained up to the wall. Ivan was there and he had a syring in his hand. I tried to escape but it was for nothing. He came closer and he injected me something. Then suddently something start it happening to me. My body start it to change slowly. I felt a lot of pain while it happend. And Ivan was just watching the whole scene. After that he just taunted me for a bit and left me in the basement. He wasn’t giving me food or drink. And he came everyday to mess with me. His words... they.... were so mean..." explained Tolys. Alfred hugged his lover to comfort him:"Is alright honey, his words means nothing. No matter what he said, he was wrong about it."

"We’re really sorry to hear about this. Is there a way we could help somehow?" asked Austria. "Support is egnouh" answered Lithuania . "I’m gonna go ask some scientists to make research next week. Now the most important thing is taking care of you and make you feel better hun." said America. Tolys blushed a little. After they finished eating Roderich got back to play on his piano and Audrey asked Liet if he does mind letting her try making hairstyles on him. He didn’t mind, so they went to Versailles room and she untied his braid and started by making a ponytail. "Wow, i can’t believe how much your hair has grown. They are pretty long." said Audrey. "Yeah, to be honest i prefer to have them tied up. Is just that since they got that long, they start it to get on to my face a lot." said Tolys. "Ummmm Liet, mind if i ask you a question?" asked Versailles starting another hairstyle. "Oh, i don’t mind. Ask right away." responded the Lithuanian. "How do you feel about being a woman currently?" asked Versailles. "Well, i’m not gonna hide that i feel embarressed. I feel... a lot diffrent. I mean, i feel not really comfortable in this body. Not to mention some parts of it makes me feel a bit weird. Oh well, i guess i’ll have to at least try to get used to it a little bit." answered Tolys a bit troubled. "Oh, i’m really sorry that i asked." apologized the girl. "No, is fine. I know you didn’t mean anything bad by asking it." said Tolys giving a smile to his friend. After the visit, Alfred and Tolys came back home at the evening. Lithuania wanted to make dinner for both of them, but America told him to let him do it. When dinner was ready, they ate it together and chat it with each other. After the dinner, they went to dress up in their pijamas and went to sleep. Once again, Tolys couldn’t sleep properly. He had another nightmare and couldn’t fall asleep.

[ladypurplejanewrynn]

Hetalia AmeLiet: A troublesome situation chapter 2

After America and Lithuania run off from Russia’s house, they stopped by to catch a breath. "Are you alright, dear? How do you feel? Are you hurt?" asked Alfred. Tolys looked at his lover:"Yeah, i’m alright honey. Well, i didn’t really get hurt to be honest beside being turned into a girl. As for how i feel, well i’m really embarressed." He start it to blush. Alfred hugged him:"Is going to be ok love. We’ll find a way to change you back. And even if we won’t find a way to turn you back to normal, i will always love you. I know that inside this body is the man i love and who is my boyfriend." Sunddently he kissed him on the lips. The Lithuanian returned the kiss:" Thanks hun." "No problem dear. Anyway, shall we go for a visit to Poland and Warsaw?" asked Alfred. "Sure, let’s go. Is been a while i haven’t visit it them anyway." said Lithuania. Then they went to pay a visit to their friends. When they arrived Poland and Warsaw were a bit confused about the browned haired lady that came with America. But after everything was explained to them, they were really shocked about what happend to their friend Liet. "Oh gosh, i’m really sorry for what happend to you Tolys. I swear that if i’ll see Russia anywhere around, i’ll beat his ass." said Warsaw and hugged her friend. "Is alright Alice, you don’t have to go deal with Ivan, Alfred already did it." said Tolys smiling. "I know, but i still want to go beat his ass really badly for what he did to you." said Warsaw. Poland took his wife by the arm:" Honey, calm down. We’ll get Ivan for what he did sooner or later." Alice calmed down and threw herself to Feliks arms:" I know love, but i feel really pissed about what he did to Liet." He kissed her on the lips to calm her down a bit more. She returned the kiss. "Anyway, can we do something to help?" asked Feliks. "Support would be the best help for now." said Liet. "I’m gonna do my best to find a way to change you back somehow love. Also you already know that you’ll always have my support." said Alfred.

After the visit at Feliks and Alice house, Alfred took Tolys to his house:"Here we are honey. Make yourself comfortable as much as you want." said the American. The Lithuanian looked around:"Wow, your house changed a lot since the last time i was there." "Yeah, i kinda wanted to change some things." said America cheefully smiling. "Anyway, is there anything i can do for you hun?" he asked. Tolys thought for a bit:"Well, i would love to drink some tea and eat something . I haven’t been drinking or eating for a week." "Sure thing, love." said Alfred and went to the kitchen to make some tea and sandwichs for his lover. He went back to his room and gave Tolys the food and the drink. While Liet was eating and drinking, America braided his hair which got a bit longer then before. "Honey, what are you doing?" asked Tolys. "Oh, i thought it would nice to brush your hair for you. I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, did i?" asked Alfred kinda worried. The Lithuanian smiled:" Oh, don’t be silly. You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. I really love the hairstyle you did for me. Beside, my hair have gotten so long that they start it to get onto my face a lot."

After finishing eating, Tolys decided to take a shower but first he went to ask his lover something. "Ummmmm.... hun? Do you have any bandages?" America looked at his boyfriend:" Did something happend? Are you hurt somewhere dear?" "No, i’m not hurt. I just need them to tie them around my chest. You see, i don’t have any bra yet for the current situation and i’m not feeling very comfortable with these breasts bouncing that much." explained Lithuania with face all red. "Oh, i understand. Yeah, i have some bandages. They’re in the bathroom in the closet." answered America. "Thanks" said Liet and went to the bathroom. He slowly undressed from his cloths. The sight of his naked body got him blushing deeply red. He closed his eyes, took a breath and opened his eyes again. He looked at his own body. He wondered if every single part of that body was real. He slowly put it his hands on his chest. His face turned even more red. That feeling, it felt so real. Now Tolys was 100% sure every single body part of his new body was real. He took his hands off his chest and took the shower. After the shower, he wrapped the bandages around his chest and dressed in pijama. When he went out of the bathroom, Alfred was already waiting for him in bed. Tolys layed down next to him. "Is everything alright hun? You seem troubled." asked America. "Oh, is nothing. Really. Is just..." said Lithuania but didn’t finish the word. America hugged him:"Is gonna be okay dear. I promise. You’re safe here with me." Tolys smiled and hugged his lover back:"Thanks Alfred. I’m glad to be your boyfriend." They shared a romantic kiss and fell asleep.