#bellisima rambles

[bellisima-writes]

2024...

My dearest, craziest, feralist, funniest, wittiest, fandom fam:

I had originally wanted this to be a fanworks roundup of some kind but there are so many people out there reading way more than me so I will leave that to them. I've spent a lot of the last few days thinking about this year, and how it's coupled some of the highest highs I've had in recent history with the lowest lows, all mixed up into some weird life soup.

I've been around for quite a few years now, and what I am finding is that that's how it goes. The good and the bad come bound together, as though both a cost and reward for living, the price and the payment for authenticity, and the damage and the atonement for being offered the gift of time on this earth.

I, personally, really leaned into writing this year. I think there's only been two whole months out of the last 12 that I've not been actively working on one of my three fanfics. And I've loved every second of it. I've never allowed myself to have a hobby before, something I did just because it made me happy, and it's brought me more joy than I've ever been able to in my entire life.

But it's come at a cost. It always does. But that's the cruel truth of living. So if you're feeling a bit stuck in the muddy bittersweet soup of the paradox that is life, then let me assure you, I am here with you

And for the rest of this gorgeous fandom: I wish you a happy and healthy holiday season filled with whatever it is that brings you joy. I hope next year is filled with one of the following: inspiration to enable you to create what you want to; fortune to be able to achieve what you'd like to; a mind blowing new fic that will help heal you in ways you deserve to; a new connection in the fandom that will become a life-long friend to help guide you or whatever else it is that you need to get through the muddy soup that is life.

And I can't wait to spend the next year screaming about this show and these characters until we get to see their happy ending, crying together because we’re so sad it's over, but also eternally grateful that it existed in the first place and brought all of us together.

Peace and love to all of you.

[di-42]

2024 fic roundup

Finally getting round to doing this! Just in time for the end of the year!

Many, many thanks to @curiouspupsicle and @bellisima-writes for tagging me all those weeks ago, ant to @cheeseplants for creating the questions. Enjoy curious's answers here, bellisima's answers here, cheeseplants's answers here.

What fandoms do you write in?

Good Omens, only Good Omens, nothing but Good Omens.

How many words have you published in 2024?

133k. Huh! Me?

What is your greatest achievement this year?

In the context of fandom and fanfiction, being brave enough to put myself out there and share my work is probably my greatest personal achievement. But I'm also quite proud to have plotted an 85k fiction while working 55 hours a week (and being lucky enough to have a husband and friends to spend my free time with).

What are your favourite top three fics you wrote this year?

That's an easy one! None of my favourite three are the ones with more engagement, strangely enough!

And I Did, rated E, 85k.

While I know this could have been written much better, I am incredibly proud of this fiction. It's whole season 3 fiction where I managed to pour all my headcanon in a way that hopefully doesn't feel too forced. I think it has an original plot, good side characters and tension. I tried to throw in some humour wherever possible as well. It features Supreme Archangel Aziraphale and Grand Duke of Hell Crowley. They haven't talked for almost two years. The end of the world is approaching. They are on opposite sides. And they both know neither of them was ever going to make a different choice to the one they made.

Only Ever Meant For Someone Else, rated T, 9k.

My first human AU, wheee! It was so much fun to write! I think writing human AUs allows so much freedom, although one shots and shorter stories can be a bit harder than canon compliant short stories. But I had a chance to explore some versions of the characters that I don't really see in canon, but very much enjoy in fictions, and wanted to try my hand at that. And I liked the result! Written for the Scribbling Vaguely Downwards advent calendar.

Every year, the night before Christmas, taxi driver Aziraphale drives passengers to and from the hospital for charity. On the Christmas morning of 2023 he was ready to go home and rest with a cup of tea, a mince pie, and a book after a long night.

Guess who?

“No, you may not!” Barked the other. Then he started pacing up and down the pavement, rambling to himself. “Anathema’s going to kill me. She’s actually going to kill me! She had to go into labour on fucking Christmas day, just my luck!”

Oh, dear.

“In-into labour?”

The stranger stopped pacing and, yet again, looked at Aziraphale sternly. He joined together the tips of his right thumb and forefinger, and punctuated his next words with a gracious movement of his hand.

“Yeah. It means she’s about to give birth.”

“Does it, now.”

Angel! Angel! They're At It Again! rated M, 5k

I really love this little story of mine. I've been told that it made some readers cry and laugh at the same time, and it doesn't get much better than that.

It's the year 2030. The world never ended. Aziraphale and Crowley are living happily and safely together as a married couple. Everything would be well, if it wasn't that lately Aziraphale has been a bit busy. A bit distracted. Now, Crowley can't have that, can he? He seeks the advice of his girlfriends, who unwittingly give him an idea on how to liven up his marriage.

A fluffy story about how we get to a certain cottage.

What was your biggest pit of despair moment?

Tying up all the loose ends in And I Did. Sometimes it felt like I was just hitting a wall and I couldn't possibly ever go through. I felt so embarrassed -mortified, really- that some people had read the story up to a certain point and I had just to let them down, because I couldn't possibly write anything that would make sense with the rest of the story. Even though the main points were planned from the beginning, there were still all those little details that write themselves, basically, and I had no idea what to do with some of them towards the end. I still don't know how I managed to pull it off, honestly, but somehow I did it in a way that I found satisfying enough.

What have you learned?

That people are so much better than I am. Really. And I don't mean at writing fiction. Well, people are better than me at writing fiction, but that's not what I mean here. The amount of people who are ready to read about someone else's ideas and headcanons with an open mind, enjoy stories that they don't necessarily agree with, is astounding. I have very much to learn from this community.

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground?

I could tell you. But then I would have to erase your memory.

A fiction that has never made it off the ground is a fiction that has yet to make it off the ground.

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out?

I was asked a couple of times, but due partly to my lack of time, partly to English not being my first language, I had to reluctantly decline. I do offer my thoughts on my betas' fictions, though. One of them hasn't published her work yet, and the other has a fantastic one shot on Ao3, called The Corset.

Aziraphale never understood just why he had been issued with a body likes his. He was the Guardian of the Eastgate, after all! So when in the 17th century corsets for men were fashionable again, he had an idea ...

What three fics have you read this year that you love?

Hah! We both know it's not going to be only three, don't we?

Some of these fics were written before, some long before, 2024, but I only read them this year. It's quite hard to pick my favourites among so much talent and creativity, but I'll do my best. I also can't help but notice that my all time favourites are not among the superpopular ones, so please don't be shy and check them out! (And leave kudos and comments!)

The Beginning Of The End (Again), rated M, 78k.

Season 3 fiction full of plot, great characterisation, humour and pining. It has of course a happy ending. It is beyond me how this fic didn't get more engagement, especially when it first came out, closer to the end of season 2.

The Anon Before Christmas, rated E, 66k.

One of my favourite human AUs. The characterisation is spot on and the slow burn is just absolutely perfect. But I did love the whole array of characters surrounding Crowley and Aziraphale. I love how this story is as much about friendship and chosen family than it is about love and romance.

The Bookseller And The Garden, rated T, 13k.

Canon divergent fiction where Crowley is a demon stationed on earth, Aziraphale is an angel stationed on earth, but they have never met until present day. There's no end of the world in sight, only an angel and a demon falling in love and not knowing how to break it to the other that they're not human. I laughed all the way through.

Wrong Turn, rated T, 37k.

Honestly, I don't know why this fiction touched me so much. I just couldn't stop thinking about it for days after I finished it. It's a post season 1 fiction where Crowley suddenly finds himself in a parallel universe at the time the apocalypse is just about to happen. The Crowley and Aziraphale in that universe have a different history to our Crowley and Aziraphale. All our Crowley wants to do is to go back to his universe and his very own angel, but how? As you follow the main plot and focus on Crowley's thoughts and actions, you'll start slowly feeling the other story get hold of you, and it won't let go until the very end and beyond.

Happiness, More Or Less, rated M, 21k

This human AU moved me so very much I cried. Crowley moves into his new flat in Soho, only to discover the flat in haunted by the ghost of the owner of the bookshop downstairs. I won't tell anything else about the plot other than it does have a very sweet happy ending, and it gets there via a rollercoaster of emotions. This is really one of those fictions that leave me in awe of the fandom's talent and creativity. Read it, read it, read it!

One last one that I haven't finished reading yet, but I know it's one of my all time favourites, is The Last Angel, rated E, 162k.

Canon divergent fiction where Crowley and Aziraphale were never assigned to earth, Armageddon happened and hell won the war. I've said many things about this fiction, among which that I can't believe the writer does this in her spare time and writing is not actually her job, and this is the most Good Omens-y fic I have ever read. It's astoundingly good.

What ideas are percolating for next year?

Watch out for The Angel Horror Show! When I learned that Peter Hinwood, the actor who played Rocky in The Rocky Horror Picture Show didn't have a long career as an actor, bout instead went on to become an antiques dealer, I knew I had to write this fiction with Aziraphale as the actor who many years ago played Angel/Rocky in The Angel Horror Show and subsequent film The Angel Horror Picture Show and is now living a comfortable life as a book and antiques dealer, and Crowley as the actor who played Demon/Frank, and went on to become a successful movie and theatre actor and director. I've just started writing it and I'm extremely excited about it!

Who do you want to thank?

Without the shadow of a doubt @sabine-smitten-obviously and IneffableShortCake who have been so incredibly generous with their time and support in the past 8 months! But also everyone who's ever left me a comment making me feel like my stories were liked, from the long comments to the ones with just enthusiastic syllables, from the incredibly witty ones to the more personal ones, thank you, thank you, thank you!

Tag, answer any Qs that suit and play along!

I think because I'm so late in the game that most of the writers I would usually tag have already been tagged by someone else, but perhaps a few haven't done this yet.

@smua70 @ngk-668 @ineffable-duck7

And anyone who wants to answer!

This was fun!

[porcelcinarchived]

martinaalexandra​ .

💙

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐃 not know how she managed to be a friend of the Spanish queen. Inés startled her a little but then again who wouldn’t startled the princess? Even her own shadows she is scared. The brunette has this light aura on her, something that she makes her comfortable to be around. For unexpected reasons she trusts her. She left the ballroom to take a deep breath, she does not do well with crowds, and her hand rested on her stomach as she close her eyes as breathed, feeling the cool breeze hitting her pale skin. As if the weight had been left from her shoulders.

Martin was there enjoying the ballroom he was drinking…   Upon the words, the Italian blonde noticed the Spanish queen. ❛ Your majesty. ❜ She made an awkward bow, like usual. She’s terrible at social interactions. Her tone is very sere and respectful towards her. ❛ You look so great. Mucho Bonita señora! ❜ She attempted of speaking Spanish though she spoke that language fluently. ❛ Aldo?! He came with my date. Kinda. But I dismissed him, despite that Narisa’s orders weigh more than mine. Look I know you’re thinking, Martina why don’t you come with your betrothed… But like, I know he’ll attend this party, or so I think. Because everybody from every court is here.❜ Maybe she should stop rambling. Inés’ a look funny per se.

❛ Those damned birds! ❜ She refers to the swans. ❛ I hope they don’t end up on somebody’s main menu. I need them to deliver my future letters. ❜ If life gives you a lemon, you might as well make a lemonade. She can’t believe she’s agreeing to this… Martina was nagging people for weeks since she lost her ring. She NEVER nagged about anything in her life but the prized possession holds so much emotional value, that is priceless.

❛ Thank you for doing this, your majesty. I am not sure how to pay you back, my lands are in an awful state. I don’t have anything. ❜ She was surprised the brunette called her out to help her to find that ring. She was starting to feel hopeless after weeks. Entering Narisa’s room. ❛ I wonder if the red queen will return soon… ❜ She began to seek under the bed, the pillows, and nightstand.

⊰   her eyes crinkled with amusement when her friend ( although it might have been an one-sided declaration on inés’ part ) called her by her title, her tone softening as it always did whenever she’d speak to martina. “ you can call me by my name and you do not need to bow, we are friends, aren’t we ? ” she asked, trying to reassure herself that this companionship wasn’t one-sided. inés knew that sometimes, and if not often, she’d grow attach too quickly, her open nature sometimes making people surrounding her uncomfortable. as nonchalant and unsuspecting, inés liked to act, she was no fool. at least that’s what she wanted to believe . “ thank you ,” she chuckled. the princess’ charming attempt to speak her language sparking a fondness in her heart. “ however your beauty remains unmatched, i think i can feel myself falling a little in love with you, my bellisima principessa . ” she jested, trying to speak a few words of italian and then cleared her throat as they were talking about their mission to get the princess’ ring back. “ i do not question whom you’re coming with, there is no need to explain yourself. although i am curious, wasn’t there anyone and let’s forget the dutch crown prince, who you wanted to come with ? ” she inquired, always curious about some new, dramatic and hopefully not tragic romance. 

“ worry not, the swans are safe and are resting. i think even they are in need of a break. after all the queen spends most of her time with them, the swans must be exhauste d.” she wondered if perhaps that was the reason the swans always seemed to be in such a foul mood. they matched that of the italian queen. “ what letters ? maybe i can help you to deliver some.” she offered. the swans did not seem capable and if delivering some letters meant that she could win the italian’s princess heart she’d do it. 

“ you do not need to repay me, this is what friends do, help each other out, no ? and i just want to see your beautiful smile again. ” she took martina’s hand, gently squeezing them as she gave her a soft smile. yet, inés couldn’t help but wonder what made martina think that way. that she needed to repay someone for their help. “ red queen ? why do you call her that ? ” she laughed, as she went through drawers, stuffed with cloth and journals ? the art of handling swans ? another journal filled with the names of the rinaldis and the g u a r d s ? letters , perhaps love letters but she wondered who’d even give the italian queen something as tender as a love letter. “ huh, what is this ? ” she asked, taking out what seemed to be an amaranth pink fabric, adorned with delicate lace and carefully threaded embroidery.  “ i did not suspect the queen to wear such a dress but i think it’d suit you better, martina. we should take this and ask the queen to give us the ring in return .”

[alfredosauce50]

The anatomy of the obsessed artist [2p! Italy x reader]

Synopsis: You have the golden opportunity to display your art at a newly opened gallery. Nobody stops to look at your work until an eccentric connoisseur praises it, even asking you if he can buy it. Touched and fascinated by his personality, you agree to meet him over coffee. Now that he’s no stranger, he keeps inviting you over to his lavish estate until he realizes it’s not the art he’s so obsessed with. It’s the artist. Wordcount: 3, 686 The reader is referred to as she/her. “Nihilism represented a crude form of positivism and materialism, a revolt against the established social order; it negated all authority exercised by the state, by the church, or by the family.” - Encyclopedia of Britannica

“It's hideous.” He murmured, his eyes narrowed with contempt. They were a hot magenta hue, quick-moving and critical of everything they fixed on. How much he wished to say he was standing back to admire a masterpiece. Tossing his paintbrush into the kitchen sink with a sigh, he sauntered to the couch and plummeted down on it.

A loud clang was heard, but it never fazed his companion, who barely dodged the trajectory of the brush. “Oh, really?” They snorted. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done.”

He whipped his head to him and glared.

“Like you'd have an eye for these things, Lutz.”

Said man gave a shrug. This was probably the hundredth time they had this conversation, so he could practically predict what Luciano was about to say—and how he would wind up listening unwillingly to his passionate spiels.

“Just listen to me speak for once.”

Lutz scoffed and poured himself a hot cup of coffee. “Here we go again...” He grumbled with a distinct droop to his features.

Rolling his head back to the pristine, white ceiling, Luciano threw his hands up in emphasis. “It's the only damn thing that gives this room some color. I need to do better, Lutz. Otherwise, I'll tear this whole place down!” Even then, his animated movements were minuscule compared to the tall walls that surrounded him.

The other sipped on his mug. “If you're so stuck—” He smacked his lips. “—how about going to the new art gallery downtown? Anything to get you to shut up.” Lutz grinned at that, half-expecting him to launch a few throwing knives his way. But he never did. Instead, he jumped up and extended an index to point at him accusingly.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo? Well, I might just go. Just to prove you wrong.” Grabbing his coat hanging over the couch, he threw it on and marched downstairs. As the echoes of his footsteps faded, he gave one final reckoning. “You can't rush art, dumbass! I'll turn the place upside down, and I still won't find anything worth my time.”

The volume of his thoughts had never been so loud. It was the only thing he heard in this quiet institution during its downtime. Nobody was around, save for him, but that allowed him to ramble to himself--whatever he was staring at, it was everything he had been looking for.

“This was definitely worth my time.” He muttered with a pistol grip on his chin. As he scanned over the canvas to take in the brushstrokes, he shook his head. “I hate to think he said something smart for once.” They were so violent, yet so gentle. A unique balance of nihilism and faith. Reaching up to his dark maroon hair, he dug through it and laughed in awe. “This is magnificent. Bellisima!”

“I hope you mean what you say, sir. That means a lot to me.” He turned to the voice ended up gawking at a woman. As he processed the words, he was at a loss for his own.

“Oddio--you don't mean you painted this, do you, signorina?”

She nodded coyly, much to his delight.

“Mhm. The name on the label is mine.”

At the sound of that, he gleamed and took both her hands into his own. “How much?”

She blinked, unsure of whether she heard him correctly. Was he offering to buy her work? “Sorry?”

“How much do you want for your painting? I'll pay you handsomely. One grand. Ten grand. However much you desire! I just need this in my living room. Whatever you ask for, it's a done deal!”

In your short career, you never imagined capturing someone's attention so passionately with your work. Your initial impression of the man was a rich art collector of some kind--an eccentric enthusiast--and not a connoisseur by any means. He even dressed the part, having adorned himself in a loose, silky blouse with a coat tied around his waist. His fashion was flashy and exuded confidence, though nothing else could have suited his personality.

As you talked to him over a coffee, however, it became clear to you he was much more than that.

“I've never seen somebody use color like that! You must've done lots of practice to get that good, eh?” He mused, watching you light up at his praise. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, so you couldn't help being drawn to him and his zeal. “I'll be honest with you, bella. I'm not letting you run off before we settle on something.”

He could tell from the way you leaned in so subtly, never once breaking your eye contact as you listened to him. And knowing this did wonders--he slowly found himself drawn to you.

“Thank you, Luciano. I'm really flattered, but I can't just sell it to you. It's part of the gallery now.” You smiled gently, curling your fingers around the cup handle. Even as you sipped on your beverage, your gaze on him never faltered. And before you could catch any disappointment on his part, you waved your hands at him.

“I don't mean anything by it, honestly. I'm glad that you understand what I'm trying to say--like, you could've interpreted it completely differently. I wouldn't be able to stop you, either. But the fact that you didn't...” He followed you attentively with those sharp and mysterious orbs, but you were strangely comfortable under his scrutiny.

“Maybe we have similar minds.”

The man had been studying you as you spoke. While he did, this one, singular thought occurred to him. There was nothing in the world he loved more in the world than being heard.

“Hearing you talk is the same as being listened to,” Luciano admitted with a small laugh. Deep inside, he knew Lutz always listened. Unwillingly, that was. But being heard and understood was another story. “You take the words right out of my mouth, bella. I don't know how you do it, but you have to stop reading my mind. It's invasive.” He darted his eyes over your expression that morphed into dumbfoundedness--which served as a prelude for embarrassment.

So he couldn't help but smile flirtatiously. “Take me out to dinner first. Only then will I let you finish my sentences.”

You furrowed your brows together, but his smile was far too contagious to be staved off. The end result was an endearingly stupid face that was a cross between a frown and a grin. “Does lunch count then, you impossible little man? I mean, it's around noon.”

He shook his head, amused. Luciano expected you to pull away, but it seemed like he bit off more than he could chew. You were a handful. He was never a fan of handfuls or really anything that required his energy, but he'd be damned if this was the last time he saw you.

“But seriously, (F/N). I need your paintings. And it doesn't have to be something you've already painted.” Standing up at that, he neared your side lowered himself to your level. He settled a hand on your shoulder, much to your surprise. But you never tried to pull away. “I want you to paint for me at my place. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll drink my weight in this mediocre coffee if I have to.”

With his intoxicating personality, all he needed was a few more espressos to do the convincing.

“I can tell from your taste that you're pretty nihilistic.” You commented with a hint of disbelief. “But this is just crazy! What do you even do for a living?” All the expensive decor and extravagance of his stupidly large mansion must have costed a fortune! Lifting your head to take in the sheer size and height of his living room, you then shot him an incredulous look. “Well? I'm curious.”

Luciano leaned against the couch and folded his arms. “Oh, you don't want to know, trust me.” He grinned devilishly.

“What, are you in the mafia or something?” You joked.

He craned his head from right to left.

“Eh. Something like that.”

You blinked, not expecting him to be so frank. Then, you laughed sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if you've walked right into a trap. “... Are you serious?” The man sensed your uneasiness and walked over promptly. Before you could react, he held your arm, but it was much too gentle to stir any panic.

“Don't worry. Nobody would go after an artist I hired.” He leaned in to keep you hostage to his piercing eyes. The close proximity only heightened the tension you didn't know existed. What he said next, however, would have you blushing like a bride. “To have a target on your head means you're a liability. So unless we were an item--”

He smiled contently at the sight of your reddening cheeks. “--nothing will happen.”

Fortunately, your mortification was short-lived as you remembered your circumstances. Giving him a light shove, you walked off to his hallway. While your back was turned to him, he bit back a sharp grin, but to no avail. Man, were you feisty.

“Stop being such a womanizer and show me your studio, Luciano.” You mused, pausing in the doorway to glance at him over your shoulder. Was that playfulness he saw in your eyes?

“It isn't very professional.”

He hung his head and threw his hands up. Being scolded and ordered around was his worst pet peeve. But when you did it, he was only more compelled to misbehave.

“Mi dispiace. But I was only kidding. If I was part of the mob, my windows wouldn't be this big. Nor this abundant.” Making his way to your side, he walked with you to the said studio.

“And Luciano is a bit of a mouthful, no? You call me Luci.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, someone else had entered the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. And boy, were they in for a show.

“You got it, boss. You call the shots.” A voice spoke in a gravely-exaggerated mobster accent.

“You're milking it...”

“I'm just joking, Luci. Let me have this moment.”

“Fine. Maybe I should've kept pretending. That'll get you to be a little more obedient.”

“And where's the fun in that?”

“Hmph.”

Lutz narrowed his eyes once the voices faded into silence. And he thought he hated being called Luci.

A mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

“Looks like somebody's found their inspiration.”

A few hours later, he appeared in the studio with a canned beer in hand. Even in such a lavish estate, no form of entertainment could beat pestering an old friend. Waltzing inside like he owned the place, he grinned toothily at what he saw. You and Luciano were busy working on a painting. But rather than using brushes, you both used your fingers.

“Hey.”

Luciano glanced at him and immediately felt the beginnings of anger simmer inside. “What do you want?”

Lutz laughed breathily. “Heh. No knives today?”

“If you don't get out, there will be!” The other whisper-shouted.

You stopped painting and turned to the newcomer with nothing short of curiosity. “... Hi. Are you Luci's henchman?” The joke was probably long dead, but you couldn't resist. Not when the stranger was built on six feet of pure muscle. “Nice to meet you.”

So this was the mysterious artist who managed to tame the bastard, huh? Lutz flattened his lips thoughtfully. “... In a way.”

“No, he's not. Now, get out. Your presence is ruining the mood... And killing my brain cells.” At the sound of that, you exploded into a burst of hearty laughter. Seeing Luciano push him out and leave colorful handprints on his tank only intensified those laughs. Once he managed to get his henchman out of the room, he whipped his head to you with a flustered glare.

“What's so funny?” He frowned. For one, he was rather taken aback at how he wasn't annoyed at you. At all. If someone like Lutz pushed their luck by teasing him, there would be more than one scar marring that punchable face of his.

“Nothing, nothing. I just thought... Maybe we could ask for his top and sell it. That was definitely a masterpiece.” You sighed, catching him off guard yet again. “It's the best work you've done today...”

The blush on his face deepened. A comment like that should've ticked him off, but he only found himself thoroughly infatuated. But that was preposterous! He was only letting this slide because you weren't that German bastard of a bum. That had to be it. But no matter what you did, he didn't have a single mean bone in his body for you. And he was about to test that theory.

“If you thought that was a masterpiece, I'll make you some more.” Marching over and undoing your apron, he wiped his fingers all over your once crisp white shirt. Looking down with a gasp, you weren't prepared for him to clap your cheeks and leave two brown handprints.

“You bitch!”

In his whole life surrounded by the worst potty-mouths, himself included, he'd never heard somebody cuss with so much sincerity. So the most logical reaction was to return the favor, if not be a little annoyed. But even as you ruined his blouse, which happened to be more expensive than everything in the room, he was cackling hysterically.

By the time you both calmed down, he had settled his chin atop your head and wrapped two arms around your neck. The paint on his face was drying up, but he was in no hurry to wash it off. Giving you a squeeze, he leaned down and pressed his cheek to yours. “You're coming tomorrow, aren't you?”

“Mhm.”

“And the day after that?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Then what about the day after that?”

You faced him and pinched his cheek affectionately, but he never complained. “If I was, what's the point of leaving, hm? I have something on that day, but I'll update you.”

Standing up at that, you felt his arms slide off of your shoulders. Luciano pulled away reluctantly, and as you left his studio, he found himself trailing after you against his own will. As quiet as he was, inside, he was tearing himself apart, torn between asking you to stay in the guest room and driving you home. But in the end, he got in the car.

Once he arrived outside your house, his body acted out unexpectedly when he shot his hand out to grab yours. The sudden contact startled you, though you could only gleam at his paint-smeared face that stifled back a thousand words. “What, do you miss me that much already?” You chuckled, much to his pleasure.

“You're just missing me too less.” He closed his eyes for a satisfied look. When he opened them again, he added this. “I'll pick you up here. Same spot. 9 am. If you don't show up in five minutes, I'll break inside and pull you out of bed.” Only then did he let you go.

“You got it, boss.”

With that said, you waved at him and made your way inside. Once the door clicked shut, he returned his gaze to the dashboard and shook his head with a defeated smile. “Oh my god.”

When he climbed the flight of stairs to appear next to the kitchen, the hiss of an espresso machine was heard. Rolling his head to it absently, he dropped his keys on the island and dug his hands through his sticky hair. Without addressing the blonde, who took an obvious interest in his disheveled appearance, he sauntered to the couch and flopped down on it.

“... Luciano.”

“What do you want?” He muffled his voice into the cushion.

Lutz walked over with a mug in hand and sipped it. Pointing to his own face, he swirled his index in circles. “You have a little something there.” When the other rolled his head to him, so did their colorful face.

The next two days saw steady progress in the project he paid you to do. While the painting moved closer to completion, he cared less and less about the finished product. At the same time, his eagerness for you to come grew exponentially. He could never admit it, but that didn't mean Lutz couldn't see right through him.

A single glance at him working in the studio was more than enough to deduce the conclusion that he was hopelessly head over heels for you. For one, it wasn't right to say he was even working anymore. Instead, he was staring at you, and sometimes, for twenty minutes or more if you were particularly immersed in your art.

This was only confirmed in due time.

Trotting downstairs to the cellar, he discovered that over ten bottles of wine had disappeared. And the culprit promptly made an appearance when he returned to the living room. Luciano was holding an empty bottle when they bumped into each other, the contact on his shoulder causing him to drop it. When it shattered on the marble floor, so did his patience.

“What the fu--watch where you're going, you fucking idiot!” He hissed, giving the other a strong shove back.

Beer fizzed out of the can and splashed onto his white tank. Lutz couldn't care less about ruining his clothes, but wasting beer? He pulled back with a growl. “I could say the same for you. I'm not the stumbling drunk here cuz' I can actually hold my weight.”

Luciano rolled his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

“You know what, just leave me alone.” He huffed, kicking the shards on the ground. Once he scattered the glass all over the hall, he stormed off to his studio. Letting out a frustrated string of colorful words, he tore through more canvases than he cared to count. Punching a hole in one, then using another as target practice, half of the artwork was completely destroyed by the time Lutz showed up.

“I don't get it! Why am I so angry? Why can't I paint something like this?” Luciano exasperated, gesturing forcefully to the painting you were working on. Then, he marched up to the man and gripped the front of his tank. “Am I just that shit? But that can't be!”

At this point, Lutz was done with arguing.

“... You know what I'm about to say.”

Luciano threw his hands up as they chorused the same line simultaneously. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done--yeah, I know! I didn't really expect you to give me any useful advice. I just wanted you to listen to me.”

“Don't I always listen to you?”

“No--”

“Wasn't it me who suggested for you to go to that art gallery?”

“Yeah, but it's not like--it's not like you knew she was gonna show up! (F/N) being there only happened once in a blue moon. You were just lucky, so don't think you're a genius or anything, ha!”

Lutz scoffed, but his unimpressed expression quickly morphed into a shrewd one. “Accept it, liebling. You're down bad. Down astronomically. Just invite her over, and when she comes, you'll know what I mean. It's not the paintings you're making a fuss over.” He watched Luciano's hair spike up like a cat, then him light up like a Christmas tree. That little man was many things, but an honest person was not one of them.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo?” Luciano pointed at him accusingly. “Well, I might just do it. Just to prove you wrong.”

When he left, Lutz clicked his tongue with raised brows.

“That's what you said last time...”

And invite you over he did. When he spotted a silhouette on the other side of the blurry glass, he sprung up from the couch and swung open the door with great gusto. There you were, as effortlessly charming as he remembered, and a little startled. You never had the chance to knock, nor process his scruffy appearance.

“Luci--hey! You look... A little more tired than I remember.”

Without a shred of hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to his bedroom. Yet again, his body was acting against his will, but perhaps, this was what he wanted in the first place. He just never admitted it. As he slowly came to terms with it, his eyes widened to dinner plates, and his heart pounded obnoxiously in his chest.

“Hey, what're you--”

He pointed wordlessly to the bed.

You shook your head, unable to figure out what he meant. “What do you want me to do?”

Luciano glowered at you, but it served as a stark contrast to the softness in his voice. “I'll pay you. As much as you want. Just stay there.” Seeing that you had yet to go along with his requests, he marched over to you and laid you down. Before you could object, he threw the blanket over you and tucked you in.

Sliding himself in from the other side, he scooted in and coiled his arms around your stomach. “Now, sleep.”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you rolled to him and brushed his mussy bangs back. “For someone so straightforward, you're not very honest, are you?” Sitting up to unzip your jacket, you proceeded to take your shirt off. When you stripped down, blood rushed to flush his cheeks as he came to realize he was completely love-struck.

“... Holy shit.”

Climbing onto his lap, you laughed over his lips and squeezed his neck. “You're really bad at hiding things. But like you said, I can read your mind.”

Luciano knitted his brows together. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “And it's very invasive. Please stop it.”

“Only if you promise to pay me in the morning.”

“... You're not a prostitute.”

“Oh, but you are one too. We're all whores, if you think about it. We just sell different parts of ourselves.”

“Go to sleep, idiota.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[rae-does-stuff]

Chocolate Brown and Olive Green Japan x Nyo!Greece (Part 8)

Started: March 27th 2021

Ended: March 31st 2021

Word Count: 6651

Reminder: I do not own Hetalia or Nyotalia. I'm also using Nyo!Greece instead of Canon!Greece but everyone else's gender is the same as what it is in canon. I apologize if characters are OOC.

October, 1940

Greece gritted her teeth while the Italy brothers talked.

Romano complimented her, "Greece, you look bellisima (beautiful) as always."

Italy attempted to charm her, "Ve~ I think that you look bellisima too!"

Greece glared at the brothers, "Cut the crap. Your Italian charm doesn't affect me so what do you want?"

Both brothers seemed to be caught off guard by her outburst.

"Good.", she thought.

Italy started, "Well, our boss told us to ask you if we can invade you!"

Romano smacked him on the head, "You weren't supposed to say that dammit!"

Greece stared at them in disbelief. They actually had the audacity to ask if they could invade her?

She gave a short and to the point answer, "Oxi (No)."

Both brothers looked at her in confusion.

Romano began, sounding a little nervous, "Greece, we didn't mean it like that."

Greece glared at them, "I don't care. Get out before I have to force you out."

Before they left, Italy rambled, "Greece, I think Japan misses you. I thought you should know and I miss you too. We could make pasta together-"

Italy kept on rambling so Greece simply pushed him and his brother out and closed the door.

Though one part of Italy's ramblings stuck with her. Why would Japan miss her? Their last meeting wasn't the best and he had literally no reason to.

She muttered to herself, "It's just a trick. It was just a last ditch effort to convince me."

But a small voice in the back of her head told her, "But what if Japan actually missed you?"

[bellisima-writes]

Reblogging this again for…reasons.

Adam you are on notice. Stop…mucking…up…my…plans…ANTICHRIST.

The writing process is a lot like this gif:

Gif by @favxritethings

Crowley is the writer, desperately begging their characters to stick to the story they mapped out.

And Aziraphale is the characters, taking your story and making it disappear into a puff of smoke. Because your characters will do whatever the f#ck they want, and the writer is just along for the ride.

Sometimes it’s amazing and sometimes it’s frustrating. But man do you love your characters exactly as they are, and you enjoy the journey they take you on, even if it’s different than you intended.