#you can tell this is old by how I drew Lovino

[renonv]

My ipad mega crashed because of how much hetalia shit I kept on it to the point where I can’t draw on it atm. so I’m doing a little cleaning and found some stuff I never posted lol

Here’s some Victorian spamano

[karls-writing-space]

『 Backstory 』

➵ Any TWs? :

➵ Subtle Mentions of Transphobia.

➵ Beau Romano - his deadname being Bianca - was born a year after his older sister, Faye. He lived with his semi-wealthy parents, Camilia and Dylan Romano in Manitoba.

When he was in second grade, Beau began to have a big sprout of creativity. He had drawn pictures of people and anthropomorphic animals, and create small little tales about these people/animals he has drawn. He Drew more and more of these as time slowly passed, and he enjoyed telling stories about these drawings. This had grown into a hobby, and something he enjoyed thoroughly.

His older sister came out when she was nine that she felt like a girl and that she was attracted to girls. Now, their parents are very accepting people and proceeded to assist and support Faye - who was formerly known as Lovino - get what she needed to transition.

Beau happily cheered on his big sister on, supporting her and showering her with love. He celebrated her transitions and her relationships happily, happy that he had such a prideful older sister.

By the time Beau was ten, he had begun to experiment with his sexuality by feeling some weird way towards a guy in music class. He talked with this guy more and more, and these feelings continued to grow.

After a couple of weeks, he felt the same way towards a girl in music class too. The feeling for the boy stayed, but now he had feelings for a boy and a girl.

One day, while walking to school with his mom, he heard two girls behind him talking about the people they liked. One of the girls had said that she was Bisexual, to which little Beau tugged on his mother's sleeve and asked what "Bisexual" meant. The woman explained that it was when someone liked two or more genders.

Beau put that into thought, and not even a minute later, he exclaimed "I'm Bisexual!"

His mom smiles and ruffled her son's - then daughter's - head. While Beau was still a kid, and she thought that Beau didn't know what he was talking about, the boy knew exactly what he was talking about.

Those feelings of the boy and girl faded over time. When Beau was twelve, he had fallen for another person. There had been this really cute girl in class who enjoyed drawing, and boy, what a talented artist she is.

Slowly, but surely, Beau began to fall in love with this girl, and spent time with her. Months went by, and the two had fallen in love.

The girl had confessed to Beau, which he accepted.

These two were a great, healthy Lesbian couple at the time. They were both very happy and loving. Beau had welcomed his girlfriend into the family, to which they welcomed with open arms.

The relationship lasted for two years until they fell out of love. The spark was gone. Their breakup wasn't nasty - they awkwardly stated that they lost that romantic spark on both sides. Beau had turned thirteen at the time. Beau and his ex-lover are on good terms to this day.

Once puberty hit, Beau looked at the body he had at the moment. He didn't quite fit with how it was. It made him feel like he didn't fit in a girl's body. He wanted to cut off his developing melons. So, he decided to talk to Faye later that evening, whom had fully transitioned. She was a beautiful woman. As he talked to her about what had been up, Faye stated that Beau could be Transgender, and even gave him a few articles on Gender Dysphoria.

Weeks of looking into gender identities later, Beau took the label "Trans Male" and used it to describe himself. With encouragement from Faye, he came out to his parents, who accepted him. He didn't want to transition as quickly as Faye, and wanted to take it slow. Testosterone and binding first.

As he grew older, Beau got bullied for being a Transgender Bisexual man. He was experiencing Transphobia from a few of his fellow peers. He knew that not everyone would accept him for being who he was, but this hurt quite a bit. Being bullied for this wasn't fair - he had every right to express himself! - but nooo, people were idiots.

His love for writing had grown more and more over the years. He began to write little stories that he presented in school and posted online. People loved his little stories. Whether they were fanfiction or characters and universes he had created in his head, they received a lot of positive feedback. Sure, there were haters, bullies, trolls, and rude people in general, but Beau didn't pay attention to them too much.

Beau had gotten top surgery when he was fifteen. He had been on testosterone for a year, and he had been binding for that time being. He loved his new, flat chest. Sure, he would have a scar on his chest from the surgery, but it didn't really bother him. He was happy that his tibbies were deleted. Now he could feel like a guy somewhat.

During the time passed from fourteen and fifteen years old, Beau had been watching a show known as "Total Drama" with Faye. The show was appealing to the young teen. The risky challenges were entertaining, most of the cast was likable, and it was really entertaining for the young boy. He'd talk about joining the show every now and then and would think about what his label or cliche would be on the show.

Timeskip to now, Beau and Faye are sixteen and seventeen respectively. After watching an ad to audition for the next season of Total Drama, Faye looked over at her little brother.

"Hey... You should audition to be on there!"

Beau, liking the idea, auditioned for the show. Once his audition was seen, Beau was invited to be on a season of Total Drama.

『 Voice Claim 』

『 Miscellaneous Facts』

�� Theme Song

➵ Quotes

"O-Oh, hello...!"

"I'm Beau. It's nice to meet you!"

"It's too people-y in there. I-I'd like to stay right here."

"He's... Kinda pretty."

"Are you lonely? I could hang out with you if you'd like."

"I-It's not a diary! It's just a journal that I put my writing and ideas in."

"Sorry, I'd rather be by myself. I-It's nothing personal -- I j-just don't like large groups of people."

"Sorry... I'm rambling again, aren't I? Sorry about that..."

"He's a... He's a man. And I'm just a boy."

"Ciao, bello..!" (Hello, handsome..!)

"Aren't you guys a little too old for a bedtime story?"

"Fine, fine. Once upon a time, there were a few guys on an island who needed to go the fuck to sleep. G'night, guys."

"What do you mean that 'isn't a good bedtime story? I think it's a brilliant story."

"Fine... There was once this God named Fóllame de lado-"

"Hey - do you wanna fuck around with the others?"

"H-Hey! I apologize for interrupting what you were doing, but... I'd like to confess something if that's o-okay? Look, I'll cut to the chase. I... love you, dude. And not in some bromance way. Like... I have romantic feelings for you. I love you so much I could scream it to the world..! I hope you f-feel the same way. And if you don't? That's p-perfectly fine."

"Good morning, mio amore."

"Sorry, but could you like, shut up for five seconds? Thanks..."

➵ Ship Names (OC X Crush or OC X OC)

Duncan x Beau = BeauDun/ BeauCan

DJ x Beau = BJ / BeauJ

Alejandro x Beau = AleBeau

Mike x Beau = Meau/Bike

Lightning x Beau = Blightning/BeauLight

Topher x Beau = Beaupher / Beaupher

Shawn x Beau = Sheau / Bawn

➵ Random Facts

• If they're comfortable, Beau calls his male friends "Bello" (Handsome), and his female friends "Bella" (Beautiful).

For Nonbinary folk, it depends on what they prefer.

•Beau has learned how to play the ukelele from Faye.

•He would actually like to go windsurfing sometime!

• Speaking of his sister, she's a well-known acrobat/performer for her age. He admires her for being so talented in such a thing..

• His sister is an extrovert, and more outgoing than Beau. The two are opposites,,but yknow, opposites attract!

•Beau prefers to write stories that are/include horror, action, and supernatural/fantasy. He can write romantic stories, but he doesn't prefer writing things like that.

•He has written some shitty fanfictions when he was younger. He will share them among his friends and laugh at what he wrote.

•The languages he speaks are:

• English

•Italian

• (Some) Spanish. [Italian and Spanish are similar language-wise in a few ways. That, and Beau just wanted to learn Spanish.]

• Respectful boi when it comes to Pronouns, Names, People's likes and dislikes, etc.

•Beau has some family members that live in Italy. He has gone to Italy to visit them numerous times.

• Beau doesn't believe in soulmates. He thinks that it's just some fairytale thing that people believe in. He wants to love someone on his own accord - not someone who the universe was like "Oh, let's put these people together.".

♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

[owakoblack-portspa]

(Prumano, Spamano Fanfiction) My Last Romano

Disclaimer: this is Hetalia fanfiction. I do not own the characters.

Pairing: Prussia/ South Italy, Spain/ South Italy

Summary:  The time is 1718, during the War of the Spanish Succession. Lovino (South Italy) lives at Anotonio's (Spain) house, but his heart belongs to Gilbert (Prussia).

My Last Romano

 ‘Hola, Gilbert, my dear friend, what brings you here?’ Antonio smiled, sitting on a scarlet divan embroidered with golden flowers, a crimson uniform coat hanging loosely on his shoulders.

 ‘I heard that you were injured in a battle with England. As one of your best friends, I feel fully obliged to pay you a visit.’ Gilbert sank luxuriously into a sofa, stretching both of his arms along the top of the backrest.

 ‘Injured? Me?’ Antonio glanced at his left arm hidden under his uniform, which was heavily bandaged, and then resumed his smile, ‘do you mean this? It was a piece of cake. Never mind me. By the way, there’s a button missing in the front of your coat, have you noticed?’

 ‘What?’ Gilbert looked down to examine his ‘the more stitched the more battered’ coat, only to find out that what Antonio told him was true. ‘How about this?’ he unbuttoned all the buttons in one breath, ‘it’s not that conspicuous now!’

 ‘Bravo! It’s as if there were no button left at all! But then how can your coat withstand wind with all the holes in it? Don’t you feel cold?’

 ‘Never. I am a soldier, no coldness could defeat me, kesesesese!’ Gilbert drummed his own chest smugly.

 At this moment, the heavy gilded door of the magnificent Baroque drawing-room opened, and Lovino entered with an exquisite tea set in his hands. ‘Don’t tell me you’re so busy that you’ve no time to put on clothes properly, you Teutonic asshole.’ Pouting petulantly, he laid down a teacup in front of Gilbert, and turned around to lay another teacup for Antonio who was sitting opposite. ‘Stupid Tonio, if it were not that you had been beaten by the Englishman, and Laura had been gone, I would never have made tea for you of all things, vafanculo!’

 ‘Gracias, Romano mio is always so good to your Hermano Mayor!’ Antonio smiled from ear to ear.

 ‘You are always good to each other!’ Gilbert said enviously.

 A trace of discomfort appeared on Lovino’s young face. With or without purpose, he poured hot tea onto Gilbert’s clothes, leaving instantly an ugly brown stain on it. ‘Dammit!’

 ‘Oh no, Gilbert’s crap clothes is now totally damaged!’ Antonio said matter-of-factly, his emerald eyes simply wide-opened.

 ‘I don’t think a tiny water stain can damage my clothes! Don’t you think so, Fratello?’ Gilbert grinned at Lovino, who lowered down his little dark brown head listlessly.

 ‘Don’t worry! It’s totally fine with me!’ Gilbert tried to comfort the young boy with words.

 After a moment of silence, Lovino continued, ‘I happen to have some trash clothes that might suit you…’ He left the drawing-room, and then returned with a huge uniform coat which was obviously too large for himself.

 ‘Here you are. My work of failure might be unsightly, but it’s a million times better than your damn beggar’s clothes!’ Lovino threw the handmade coat to Gilbert.

 ‘Danke sehr, Fratello!’ Gilbert caught the coat with every bit of gratitude.

 ‘Romano, did you use our curtains to make this?’ Antonio was surprised.

 ‘No way!’ Lovino retorted.

 ‘You should have told your Hermano Mayor earlier, for I can give you money to buy as many clothes as you want! But I’m afraid curtain cloth is not fit for a uniform?’

 ‘Don’t you dare criticize my work, Tonio you idiot!’ Lovino stuck out his tongue.

 ‘I think it’s a piece of good work. I’ll put it on when I get home, kesesesese!’ It could not be too careful for Gilbert to fold up the uniform coat and put it into a sack.

 At night, after Gilbert had gone home, Antonio suddenly dragged Lovino into his own bedroom, closing the door with a loud bang.

 ‘You hurt me, dumb Tonio!’ Lovino said angrily, nursing the red imprint on his delicate wrist caused by the tight grip of the much stronger man.

 ‘What did you just say, my Romano?’ Antonio put on his wonted gentle smile, rolling up his sleeves while advancing slowly towards Lovino, whom was leaning to a gilded florid wall.

 ‘Don’t you get any closer to me, damn you!’ the young boy kept on moving and moving backward until he found himself caught up into a corner, and until the tall man’s long, dark shadow projected on the seemingly thirteen-year-old thin body.

 ‘What did you say? Big Brother didn’t hear you.’ Without any warning, Antonio slapped Lovino heavily in the face, causing the boy to fall down onto the floor.

 There was a burning pain in Lovino’s cheek, and a feat of dizziness came immediately over his head. ‘I said, you hurt me, God damn you, Antonio!’ He had no remaining strength to raise himself up and fight back the tyrant, but could only demonstrate his revolt by roaring—not without tears on his face which were the shameful result from irresistible pain and fear. His little body was trembling as uncontrollably as a thirteen-year-old boy could do.

 ‘Ay, why are you crying? My cute Romano,’ Antonio crouched down, and pretended to wipe tears away from Lovino’s pink, delicate face, only to leave obscure fingerprints on the tender skin, ‘do you know why I slapped you, Romano?’

 ‘Because you are a jealous bastard.’

 ‘It seems I shall teach you a lesson today, Romano. How dare you steal my money to buy cloth for Gilbert’s new uniform?’

 ‘Didn’t you say it was made of curtain cloth?’

 ‘Must I let him know how much heart and soul you’ve put into this uniform? To make him smug beyond himself? I give you a shelter from storm, make you lead a comfortable life without worrying food or clothing, and this is what you give me in return? If it had not been me, you would have been torn up in pieces by those great powers! You would never have a chance to stand against me!’

 ‘I don’t think my life has been any better. I should have submitted to France, instead of you!’

 ‘When half of your territory was conceded, your body was reduced to half of the size too, and France was not half interested in you any more! Of course, I am not a pedophilia either, so I have to wait patiently until you grow up again…but lo,’ the Spaniard held up the weeping Lovino’s pretty chin, and squeezed it with deliberate force, ‘you’re getting more and more beautiful! I could have waited for a longer time before the fruit is totally ripe, but perhaps a bitter sweet taste is not as bad?’

 ‘Don’t touch me, you’re absolutely a pedophilia, cazzo!’ Lovino spit at his suzerain.

 ‘Joder, chingate, Romano!’ Antonio seized Lovino, turned him around, and peeled off the boy’s girdle to tie his slim hands up.

 ‘Release me, you bastard!’ Lovino cried out with terror at the top of his voice, but nobody could help him in the depth of the night and in the depth of a prison—he had been Antonio’s prisoner for centuries.

 ‘Release you? to what degree? ah…let me see if you really are a wanton puto like they said in 1282.’

 The mentioning of the event made Lovino shudder. It had been his nightmare and the reason why he was unable to be with his faithful knight any more–he was no longer pure, no longer his Holy Virgin.

 ‘You still care about him?’ It was always easy for the Spaniard to read the South Italian’s mind, ‘fine, I will fuck you up and mar you until you’ll never think about seeing him ever again, ever.’ He brought from a cabinet a crop to the wincing and whimpering Italian boy, and stripped off the white gauze shirt to reveal the youth’s badly bruised back.

 On the second day, Gilbert put on the brand-new Prussian-blue uniform he had received from Lovino, and strutted all along the way to the magnificent Palacio Real.

 On the walls of the second floor above the grand hall, there were dozens of huge paintings, almost all of them painted by famous artists, except one painting, which was placed between Caravaggio’s John the Baptist and a mahogany window, and this painting caught Gilbert’s attention:

 In the picture was a youth with stunning beauty. He was barely thirteen of age, his short charcoal hair shiny and curly, his huge lime green eyes bright and innocent, and his rosy cheeks slightly puffed up—his expression was so adorable that even the meanest man in the world could not resist from giving him a caress. Beneath his exquisite reedlike neck was a chartreuse embroidered frock coat, which met the colour of the young boy’s eyes; and the dainty buttons were made of sapphires. It seemed as if only a prosperous, loving family could have brought up such an elegant, unstained angel.

 As Gilbert was completely lost in this portrait, Antonio emerged without a sound from his behind.

 ‘Isn’t it marvellous? This painting is entitled My Last Romano.’

 ‘Last?’ Gilbert asked, surprised.

 ‘Exactly. There used to be Tim’s and Laura’s portraits hanging over there,’ Antonio pointed to the empty wall on the other side of the window, ‘but after they have moved out, Romano becomes my sole companion.’

 ‘Natürlich, natürlich.’

 ‘I will never let anyone else have him, because I love him.’ The Spaniard smiled brightly, and drew down the curtains to conceal Lovino’s portrait from the dazzling sunlight outside.

[lamentalia]

Amelia - Ch 6. Pt.5

“First, we need to make sure no one will find out that you’re a molly.” He takes a deep breath. “This is going to be uncomfortable but… please trust me.”

 --- Several Moments Later ---

 Well. Lovino was not wrong, this is pretty, dang uncomfortable!

 Amelia looks down at her new disguise and wonders if it will really be as convincing as Lovino says. As she waits for Lovino to get a change of clothes and finish his next, last-minute travel preparations in the Sanctuary, she feels like a bird sitting with all its feathers puffed up as far as they’ll go.

 Lovino seemed to know what he was doing though. Kinda like he’s done this before, and more than once. In fact, when he had methodically begun to strip off his cloak, belts, sash, and shirt, it hardly registered as an unusual occurrence until he stood before her, bare chested, and politely asked if she would please take her coat off.

 Yeah. She can’t put a pin on why exactly, but that’s when it started getting weird. 

 Having divested her coat, Lovino explained that he would wrap his wide sash around her torso to hide the curves on her body: tightly across her breast, loose around her waist. He then began to add layers. Her bulky coat followed by his blousy shirt, belted low on her hips. Then his cloak and pauldrons to top it off.

 Amelia has no idea what she looks like in this bulky, restrictive get up, so she’ll just have to trust in Lovino’s sense, like he said.

 The weirdest and most embarrassing characteristic of this disguise, though—and she hadn’t had the nerve to mention it in the moment— is that she most definitely smells like a travel-worn Lovino.

 Amelia is no stranger to the smell of sweat and musk. In fact, she’s surprised to find that Lovino’s clothes don’t smell half as bad as she’d expected them to. What throws her is how extraordinarily… well— intimate a thing it is to be smothered in the scent of another cat so thoroughly. The only reason Amelia didn’t question this decision was that bringing attention to it would have just mortified the two of them into dust, right where they stood. She could tell by the way Lovino determinedly refused to look her in the eyes even once. Besides as far as disguises go, you really can’t do better than covering up your scent like this. Lovino’s choice to use his traveled-in clothes was deliberate.

 Eugh. This is going to take some getting used to.

 “Ah. I do not envy you, Amelia.” Says a cool voice with a hint of amusement from Amelia’s back. “But Lovino really is quite good at scheming up covert operations on the fly. I can hardly recognize you.”

 Distracted as Amelia is by her predicament, Natalya had managed to sneak right up behind her, but Amelia can only turn to her and send her a pitiful look.

 Natalya returns a very small, but reassuring smile and takes Amelia’s hands in hers.

 “If anyone can do this, I believe you can do it.” Natalya says simply. Amelia feels her heart bursting with hope again, suddenly, and a prickle of tears threatens the corners of her eyes.

 “Yeah??” Amelia asks, greedy for more reassurance. 

  Natalya nods once and placidly raises her hands to the top of her head. Amelia watches as Natalya pulls apart her customary bow and pulls the long, pale ribbon from her long, pale hair. She then lowers the hood covering Amelia’s head and ties the ribbon gently around her neck before carefully tucking it into the cloak under Lovino’s pauldrons.

 “Sorry to burden you further, but I wanted to give you token of good luck.” Natalya says, returning the hood of Lovino’s cloak to its position over Amelia’s head. “I hope it will remind you of us.”

 “Oh! It’s no burden at all, Nat! Thank you!” Amelia takes Natalya’s hands again and nods fervently. “I will definitely remember! And I’ll come to visit after I find Mattie!”

 “Thank you.” Natalya repeats. 

  The sound of approaching footsteps catches Natalya’s attention. She turns her head smoothly to face source.

 Lovino has returned! Sporting a fresh travel-pack and a fresh change of clothes, Lovino stands beside Amelia and gives Natalya a strange look. A look like he wouldn’t have expected her to be here.

 “Natalya. Everything okay?” Lovino asks. He pulls a pair of dark, leather gloves out of his back pocket and begins to put them on. Wow, though, they are nicely made.

 “Yes, of course.” Natalya nods coolly, as she often does. “I am only saying goodbye.”

 Natalya faces Amelia again and squeezes her hands one last time before letting go.

 “Katya sends her regards, as well. Travel safely.” Natalya says with a small wave. She then makes her way back toward the Sanctuary. Amelia waves and hollers back.

 “Thanks, Nat! See ya!”

 Smiling, Amelia turns her full attention back to Lovino. He has an eyebrow raised briefly, but his face settles into something a little more like relief. Perhaps to see that Amelia’s mood has improved.

 “I see you’ve made friends.” He’s finished donning his second glove and leans a forearm against the rather fancily crafted hilt of a sword she’d never seen him wearing before. It’s quite long and has a very thin blade by the looks of its matching scabbard.

 Now that she’s looking, Amelia can see that the two-tone leather jacket he’s changed into is also of fine quality and tailored to fit him perfectly. Having been the primary crafter of clothing back home, Amelia knows her way around textiles and a needle well enough, and the stitching and seamlines are very impressive! Is this the kind of nice stuff you can find in Achena? Lovino’s old clothes that she’s wearing aren’t necessarily shabby in comparison, but they certainly don’t stand out the way he does now.

Lovino notices Amelia checking out his new style and looks away grimacing.

 “My other shirt is covered in mud… I ran out of options.”

 “Haha! No, dude, I’m just impressed!” Amelia says. She laughs again and claps Lovino’s back amiably. It’s great that the awkwardness and tension from earlier have dissipated and Amelia’s keen to keep it that way. “Ready-- ??”

 Lovino emits a strangled noise and stumbles forward from the force of her whacks. Oops.

 “Ah-- ! …Haha! Sorry, Lovi. Sometimes I forget to hold back!”

 ★ END Ch. 6  ★

A/N:

What, what? What is this?? An update?? 

HI FOLKS. I had Lamentalia on the backburner for a while cause. Well. 2020. But in light of some good news, I managed to get some words down! Did a little reviewing (against my own advice), some more plotting, and even drew a thing that I’ll post up momentarily!

Speaking of which, Hetalia 2021, what?? 

[badwolfwrites-sometimes]

Drawn Together: Chapter 13

!!WARNING!! This chapter includes slurs and homophobia, please proceed with caution.

Artisloveandlife: Ludwig I have a question Artisloveandlife: Do zombies get smarter after they eat a human brain?

Feliciano had no idea why he was asking that kind of question to a person he met yesterday. He has been cleaning the kitchen, as one does, when it suddenly popped into his head.

'Well, nothing in my life makes sense anymore so it's fine.' He thought, but quickly snapped out of his daze as Antonio entered with Lovino.

"I can't believe you got Feli to clean up the kitchen. This day is going down in history!" Lovino said, throwing his arms in the air as if he was thanking God for this blessing.

Antonio kissed his cheek. "He's doing a very good job at it, be nicer to him." Lovino almost chocked at that comment.

Feliciano chose not to comment anything on it and instead handed Lovino a deck brush, daring to suggest his brother actually does some work. "You're always telling me to be useful, set me a good example." He smiled before receiving a smack to his shoulder. "Ow!"

"Sassy bastard!" Lovino said, but grabbed the brush anyway. If Feliciano wants him to work, he's going to work and he'll work better than anyone.

That being said, it took him less than a minute to give up and pass the brush to Romeo, who had the unfortunate luck to show up in a very unfortunate moment. "Nonno'll be here any second and you're much faster than me." Is the reasoning Romeo got behind this sudden job. This meant that everyone, aside from Lovino, had something to do.

It was around 9 p. m. when they were finished with the chores, and just on time it seems.

"My boys! Where are you? Come greet your old grandpa!" A deep melodic voice sounded off from the hall, just as the three of them sat down. The youngest two were, naturally, the first to sprint towards their grandpa. He couldn't lift them up as he used to, but it didn't bother them much.

"Nonno!" Feliciano squeeled, glad to have him home finally.

"How was the trip, Nonno? Did you bring us presents?" Romeo asked, cuddling close to the old man still breathing with life.

"Meo, that's rude." Feliciano remarked.

"I did ask how the trip went first." Romeo defended.

Their grandpa just laughed the whole thing off, glad that his boys never change. His eyes scanned around for Lovino, finding him standing by the doorframe, looking quite uncertain. He smiled to his eldest grandson before turning his attention back to the two in front of him. "Now, now. Don't fight over such silly things. Of course I brought presents for my lovely boys."

Both Romeo's and Feliciano's eyes glowed, going back to hug their grandpa much stronger this time, just as Feliciano felt his phone vibrate, reminding him of the happiness of this moment. They finally let their grandpa free to check for presents.

"Welcome home, Mr. Vargas." Antonio greeted, joining Lovino by the doorframe.

"Oh, Toni. I didn't know you are here as well. And cut the formality already, just call me Grandpa Rome." Grandpa Rome said, shaking Antonio's hand and patting him on the shoulder, before turning his attention to Lovino. "Lovi, my beautiful boy, come give your grandpa a hug." He said and pulled the reluctant Lovino in for a hug. "You look worried, did the dinner come out bad? You know your grandpa will eat anything you boys make, isn't that right?"

Lovino laughed. He needed that, even if that wasn't what has been bothering him. "Yeah... You always ate our weird shit." He said.

"That's right." Grandpa Rome smiled. "Now chin up and fix your language, my boy." And the three of them left for the kitchen.

Grandpa Rome told them all kinds of stories on the dinner table, entertaining them as they ate, but Feliciano could sense a weird vibe from Lovino. The one he usually felt just as Lovino was about to break down and cry. And he wasn't the only one who could feel it. Antonio had been secretly holding Lovino's hand underneath the table this whole time.

"You know, you wouldn't believe how full of faggots Europe is." Grandpa Rome said, startling the four of them. "At this point, you can't even walk down the street without running into one of them."

Feliciano's eyes immediately raced towards Lovino. Lovino just looked down at his plate, silently begging his grandpa to stop. It was all so wrong. Even Romeo sensed something wasn't quite right and he had no idea what was going on. Silence fell upon them.

Antonio chose to break it first. "You know Mr. Vargas, that's not really a nice word." He looked unsure, the moment those words left his mouth he regretted them.

Grandpa Rome gave him a side eye and Feliciano knew it was all going to go downhill from now on, yet he spoke. "Toni's right. We're all human and we should be respectful of each other." Feliciano wasn't known for his courage much, but this was different. This was about his brother.

Grandpa Rome kept quiet, taking a few bites of his dinner before so obviously deciding he didn't like it anymore. "Is there something you want to tell me, Feli?" He finally spoke, his words harsh and crushing Lovino's heart.

Feliciano just shook his head, offering one final glance towards Lovino before he let his head fall down to look at his hands. He shouldn't have done that, because as soon as he looked at Lovino, Grandpa Rome noticed. Romeo really wanted to excuse himself by this point.

As he felt deep chocolate brown eyes staring deeply into his soul, Lovino looked back at them, tears already welling up in his hazel eyes. Can this be over already? He stared into his grandpa's eyes for what felt like ages, before Grandpa Rome spoke. "And you, Lovi? What do you have with the faggots?"

Lovino doesn't break the eye contact, but it was Antonio who answered. "We're together. Me and Lovi, we're dating." Lovino wasted no time in running away from the table. The secret was out, his life was over.

Grandpa Rome stared at Antonio in a way that made Feliciano and Romeo want to sink further down in their seats. Their grandpa never looked at anyone like that. "My own grandson..."  Grandpa Rome said in utter disbelief before getting up and walking towards Antonio who stood up. "I expected more from him. I expected more from you, Antonio." His voice was coated in disgust.

Antonio kept his stare firm on Grandpa Rome's eyes, his face serious. "Then you shouldn't have made him so perfect." Antonio said calmly, but he was more afraid than ever before.

Feliciano clutched his phone, hoping Lovino or Ludwig or Elizabeta or anyone would send him a text to let him know everything will be fine. Because right now, everything wasn't fine. Romeo held Feliciano's yellow sweater, hoping the same as he drew himself closer to his brother.

"Get out." Grandpa Rome said. "Get out and don't you dare come back to this house again, Antonio!" He shoved Antonio aside and left the kitchen, the three of them hoping he wouldn't go find Lovino.

Feliciano tore away from Romeo, running towards Antonio for a hug. His heart was breaking as he felt Antonio tremble under his arms, but he still lifted his hands to pet Feliciano's brown hair.

"I'm sorry, Toni." Feliciano whispered. Romeo left his seat to join the hug. "I'm really sorry." Feliciano said.

Antonio smiled, his eyes betraying his real emotion, but refused to let Feliciano and Romeo see them. He had to keep his tears for himself. "Take good care of him for me, will you both?" He asked.

They both nodded and Antonio broke the hug, making his way out of the house. As he did, he stopped and looked up towards Lovino's room, no doubt thinking that's where Lovino most likely run off to. He whispered something before leaving, not looking back. Feliciano could swear on his entire art career that Antonio's final words before leaving were directed towards Lovino. A silent 'I love you.'

Feliciano and Romeo cuddled up on the couch. They could only wait now for either Lovino or Grandpa Rome to come back down now.

"I had no idea..." Romeo whispered.

Feliciano nodded. "I found out accidentally. It wasn't supposed to come out like this." He said. "Sorry for not telling you, Lovi told me to keep it quiet."

"I get it." Romeo wiped at something close to his eye and Feliciano begged the world it wasn't a tear. "This is a bad place for being gay. If it was elsewhere in the world, I would have thrown a coming out party."

Feliciano laughed. "If it was elsewhere, we'd get to watch Lovi get so drunk we'd have to carry him back to his room."

"He'd be less grumpy too."

"That's Lovi, he's always grumpy." Feliciano said, dwelling deep into his thoughts. "Now that you mention it, he seemed a lot more happier these past few days that he spent with Toni."

Romeo was silent.

"I wish they could be happy forever." Feliciano commented, finally allowing himself to cry. Oh, how he needed to cry.

After a while, Romeo had enough of waiting and went up to his room to get his mind off everything that happened that night. Feliciano completely understood, he wanted to run away to his room as well, but doing that would only make Grandpa Rome angrier. At least his battery wasn't completely drained.

For the first time that night, Feliciano read Ludwig's message.

Lutzie71: Logically yes, but in practice no.

Artisloveandlife: Hahahahahahah Artisloveandlife: Thanks i needed that

It was well past midnight, Feliciano didn't expect a response from Ludwig anytime soon, but once he started climbing the stairs back to his room, his phone vibrated.

Lutzie71: I hope you are alright, whatever it is.

Somehow, those few words from a stranger meant more to Feliciano than anything his closest friends ever said to him. It could be that the situation was really tough and he needed some assurance, or he just didn't have friends who cared much. It didn't matter, he just needed those words.

Artisloveandlife: Thank you Artisloveandlife: Im alright but my brother isnt Artisloveandlife: And i want to help but i dont know how

Lutzie71: Sometimes just being by their side is enough Lutzie71: My brother used to read to me whenever I upset Lutzie71: Maybe something similar could help

Artisloveandlife: Id sneak into his bedroom when i had nightmares and sleep with him Artisloveandlife: Hed be mad at me but then he would tell me that its all going to be okay and that he ll protect me

Lutzie71: Maybe this time you should be the one to protect him

Artisloveandlife: Thank you Ludwig Artisloveandlife: Also sorry for not answering for a while  Artisloveandlife: We ve been cleaning all day and then the whole thing with my brother happened it was a crazy day

Lutzie71: It is alright Lutzie71: I don't mind waiting

Artisloveandlife: You didnt stay glued to the phone all this tine waiting for my reply did you ??

Lutzie71: You can't prove anything

Artisloveandlife: Your so cute Artisloveandlife: You re*

Lutzie71: You learn quickly

Artisloveandlife: I was a str8 A student Artisloveandlife: Jk i failed math Artisloveandlife: But i lived

Lutzie71: Yes life is important, but do you know what else is important?

Artisloveandlife: What

Lutzie71: Knowing the quadratic formula

Artisloveandlife: Meanie Artisloveandlife: Im an artist its all about the feeling not finding x Artisloveandlife: Ive been single since birth i dont even have an x

Lutzie71: Poor you Lutzie71: Although I must admit my dating skills aren't exactly the best either

Artisloveandlife: Forever alone club

Lutzie71: Indeed

Artisloveandlife: My battery is about to die so i guess this is goodbye for now Artisloveandlife: Ill go and try to take care of my brother but i doubt ill be successful Artisloveandlife: Ttyl Ludwig

Lutzie71: Will you ever tell me what it means? Lutzie71: Best of luck to you and your brother

Artisloveandlife: What ??

Lutzie71: What does ttyl mean?

Artisloveandlife: Talk to you later

Lutzie71: Well... that makes sense Lutzie71: Ttyl, goodnight Feliciano

Artisloveandlife: Nighty night Ludwig

As soon as he sent that message, his battery died. Sighing, Feliciano climbed up the stairs to Lovino's room.

Lovino's and Romeo's rooms were both on the 3rd floor, above Grandpa Rome's room and a guest room. The good thing was that each floor also had their own toilet, so there was no need for a race to who needs it the most. What was specific to the 3rd floor was that it was the only one with the bathtub.

Lovino's room was on the right side of the hall, directly above Grandpa Rome's room, so Feliciano suspected that Lovino wouldn't cry too loud and anger Grandpa even more. Feliciano also didn't believe that Grandpa hated non-straight people, he must have been feeling just a bit under the weather and this would all be settled properly soon. He hoped it to be true.

Feliciano slowly entered Lovino's room. "Lovi? Are you asleep?" He whispered.

Lovino just shuffled around in his bed, hiding his face away with the pillow and his back turned to Feliciano. Feliciano entered the room and crawled into Lovino's bed. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" Feliciano asked.

"Sure..." Came a soft answer, Lovino's voice numb from crying.

"Thanks." Feliciano cuddled close to his brother, just like they used to be back in the day. "Hey Lovi?" He called after a few minutes.

"Hm?" Lovino answered.

"I made a new friend."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Do you remember Lizzie from Middle school?"

"The one who used to do your biology homework?"

"Yes! That's her." Feliciano laughed at the memory. "She got married, you know. And she introduced me to her husband's cousin."

"Okay." Lovino said.

"He liked my art that I made for that book, but you know what?"

"What?"

"He's Ludwig. He's the author of the book. And he's my friend."

Silence.

"Why are you telling me this? You know I hate Germans." Lovino asked, turning around to face his brother, his eyes were red from the tears.

"I know. And I thought that if I told you that, you would focus more on your hatred towards them and the pain from the dinner will go away." Feliciano answered.

Lovino was silent yet again. He really did need to focus on something else and not that dreadful dinner. It was just so hard knowing that, after tonight, he couldn't see his beloved for who knows how long.

"Let's just sleep, Feli. No Germans, no dinners, just sleep." Lovino finally said, turning around once again and falling asleep as if he was dying.

Feliciano followed suit, but in the final moments before drifting away to sleep, his mind raced towards Ludwig's words to him. Unlike his brother, Feliciano fell asleep with a smile.

The next few days were extremely heavy on the Vargas family. Romeo would often run off somewhere, anywhere just to be away from the house. Grandpa Rome and Lovino refused to talk to each other face to face, with Lovino barely ever leaving his room. Any kind of communication was passed around through Feliciano, and Feliciano had a short living memory, meaning that most of the information trusted upon him to deliver was forgotten.

When he wasn't serving as carrier pigeon to his grandpa and brother, Feliciano entertained himself by talking to Ludwig. It was all still very casual; a few weather comparisons, talking about books and stuff like that. Occasionally, however, Feliciano would send Ludwig something which the former swore made the latter hate and love him at the same time.

Artisloveandlife: So if i were to duplicate myself would the other me get all the information i am getting or do i need to pass it in some way Artisloveandlife: Like if i learned that the chicken came before the egg would the other me know it instantly or do i need to teach them

Lutzie71: You would probably have to teach them Lutzie71: Also egg should come first considering that many species before chickens used eggs for their offspring

Artisloveandlife: How ??

Lutzie71: Well dinosaurs were hatched from eggs and, through evolution, a chicken was born

Artisloveandlife: But what about the chicken egg ??

Lutzie71: Well, with every new species new genes were developed and passed down, but theory egg is always first

Artisloveandlife: But who laid the egg ??

Lutzie71: A T-Rex

Artisloveandlife: Oh

There were other occasions when Feliciano would get too philosophical and Ludwig played along.

Artisloveandlife: I dont understand why we have arms Artisloveandlife: I mean i get it for grabbing stuff and all but Artisloveandlife: Why couldnt it have been something completely else

Lutzie71: Probably because arms were the easiest to develop Lutzie71: They are just upper legs

Artisloveandlife: Oh Artisloveandlife: Why do we have feelings

Lutzie71: Well, what you call feelings might not be feelings at all but emotions Lutzie71: Emotions come from your brain and they stir up some hormones you mistake for feelings Lutzie71: Or it could be nerves like when you touch something cold you would feel cold

Artisloveandlife: So we re kinda like robots

Lutzie71: Yes and no Lutzie71: Robots don't need emotions

Sometimes, they just talked for hours, until one of them fell asleep or their battery died.

Artisloveandlife: Ludwig what kind of movies do you like Artisloveandlife: Im looking for something to watch

Lutzie71: I don't really watch movies, but I like historical dramas Lutzie71: I guess the best example for that would be Saving Private Ryan

Artisloveandlife: Oh i like that genre too Artisloveandlife: I like romance and comedy the most but not really romcoms Artisloveandlife: And my fave historical movie is national treasure

Lutzie71: Can that even be considered a historical movie

Artisloveandlife: Ofc it can Artisloveandlife: I passed my american history exam because of that movie

Lutzie71: First part or the second part?

Artisloveandlife: Theres a 2nd part ??? Artisloveandlife: Wth ive never seen it Artisloveandlife: Now i know what to watch tnx

Lutzie71: I should probably rewatch it as well I've forgotten most of the plot

Artisloveandlife: We could watch it together Artisloveandlife: I think thered an app that lets you watch movies and talk to each othrr

Lutzie71: Are you alright?

Artisloveandlife: Yeah why

Lutzie71: You had a lot of mistakes

Artisloveandlife: Oh that  Artisloveandlife: I have big fingers and no autocorrect

Lutzie71: I see Lutzie71: About the app, why don't we just use Skype or other methods Lutzie71: I have never heard of the app that lets you watch movies and talk at the same time

Artisloveandlife: There should be some on app store as far as i know Artisloveandlife: Gotta go now its pigeon time Artisloveandlife: Ttyl Ludwig

Lutzie71: Skree skree Feliciano

That day the tension between his family was at it's peak. It was time for Grandpa Rome to leave again, this time for France, and he still hasn't made peace with Lovino.

"Nonno, you're not going to change anything by not accepting him. He's still going to love Toni." Feliciano tried to convince his grandpa for who knows what time this week. "Just get over it and let him be happy."

"You don't understand it, Feli." Grandpa Rome slapped his fist on the suitcase. "It's unnatural. It's dangerous. And he just can't be happy like that."

Feliciano sighed. "Why do you think that? Why can't he be happy? You haven't seen him with Toni the way I did." He wiped at the tear threatening to fall from his brown eyes. "I haven't seen him that happy since I finished High school. Nonno, please, just let him have that."

"He could get hurt, Feliciano! And neither you nor he understand that!"

"He could only get hurt if he's alone!" Feliciano yelled. "And right now that's exactly what he is. He's alone and hurting and Toni understands and cares for him. Lovi needs him, Nonno. No matter what anyone of us believes in."

"It's wrong, Feliciano!"

"Even if it was, what you're doing is wrong too!"

Silence fell upon them. Feliciano took it as an opportunity to calm down and breathe. He hated fighting, even if it was necessary. He just wanted everyone to accept and love each other, even if they didn't understand each other. "It's not all black and white, Nonno, and for Lovi being gay is completely white. Don't be that black spot that ruins everything. Lovi is still painting his life, staining it..." He whispered. "Staining it would ruin everything. And no one wants that."

Grandpa Rome kept quiet. Feliciano continued. "Do some research, Nonno. You don't have to understand it, but if you love Lovi, tell him. Accept him and learn because you love him and you want to protect him." After that, Feliciano left Grandpa Rome standing over his suitcase in his room.

Lovino never came downstairs to say goodbye to his grandpa. No one blamed him, this was one hell of a week and everyone wanted things to go back to normal. Romeo and Feliciano parted with Grandpa Rome, but before Feliciano could return to the house, Grandpa Rome placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell Lovino that I love him for me." Grandpa Rome said and Feliciano nodded. "And tell Toni he can come and visit, but I want him out of the house by 9 p.m." Feliciano's smile grew as he said that, nodding much more intense than before. This was progress.

Grandpa Rome left after that and Feliciano happily returned to the house, immediately racing towards Lovino's room to pass him the news.

Artisloveandlife: I DID IT!!!

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 10

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart by George deValier

Feliciano ran down the dirt track, onto the road and into the field. Lightning streaked the dark sky and thunder crashed loudly, almost deafening as it echoed between the mountains. In only seconds Feliciano was soaked through by the pouring rain, but he barely noticed. All he could feel was an aching throb in his chest, a hopeless despair that threatened to crush him, the brief warmth on his cheeks before his tears turned cold with the freezing wind. But he did not stop. He couldn't. He couldn't see how anything could ever be all right again and he just wanted to run, to run far away. To run somewhere there was no Germany and no England and no Italy, where there was no one to hate and no one to fight. Somewhere sides did not exist and he could lie in green fields with Ludwig, picking flowers and laughing and playing soccer and sitting hand in hand against an oak tree beneath a golden sun. One of their places where they could be somewhere else. But this was the world, and this was war, and Ludwig was gone. He was gone, and Feliciano would never have that somewhere else, and he wanted to fall down and scream from the pain of it.

Feliciano ran past the familiar burnt out tank and realised with a jolt that he had been running to the oak tree this entire time. He headed towards it, unable to turn away, unable to think of anywhere else in the entire world that he needed to be right now. He wanted that place, wanted the memories and the joy and the pain and everything, all of it, because it was all he had left. But as he drew closer to the tree he noticed, through the rain and his tears, with a clenching pull to his chest, that someone was standing beneath it. He did not dare to think. He did not dare to hope. Feliciano could not see properly through the dark and the rain but as he slowed down to a hesitant walk his body thrummed with a burning, pounding, inevitable beat. And then he stopped. The thunder could have come crashing down around him and he would not have noticed. Because nothing else existed. Because Ludwig was standing there, as though nothing had ever happened, as though this was any other beautiful afternoon spent forgetting the world and meeting under their oak tree. When everything finally came back, when Feliciano could feel his flashing heartbeat lurch in his chest, he ran. So did Ludwig. And they did not stop until they reached each other.

"I'm sorr..." but Feliciano did not finish the sentence because Ludwig grasped his waist, pulled him close, and with a shuddering gasp he desperately pressed his lips to Feliciano's.

And then it didn't matter. Sides, and countries, and loyalties, and all of those unimportant things. What anyone else had said; what anyone else thought. None of it mattered. Everything was all right now. Feliciano's heart soared with joy, every aching pang of grief and sorrow washed away by this moment. Because Ludwig was with him, was kissing him, was holding him like he was all that existed in the entire world.

Feliciano didn't know how long they stayed like that, lips sliding on rain soaked skin, hands clutching each other like if they let go they would fall. And he didn't know how to breathe or to move or to think and he didn't know if he was crying or laughing or both. Finally their lips parted and Ludwig gasped, ran a shaking hand over Feliciano's cheek. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Feliciano…"

"You were never a mission!" Feliciano cried immediately, desperate to make Ludwig hear him this time. "I was never working against you, the resistance had nothing to do…"

Ludwig shook his head, almost laughing. "Oh God, Feliciano, I know that! I was stunned, and I was stupid, how could I ever think that…"

"It doesn't matter," Feliciano gasped, whispered, laughed, shouted joyfully. He couldn't even tell.

"I didn't mean those things." Ludwig touched both his hands to Feliciano's cheeks. His eyes were as dark as the sky, his cheeks wet with the rain. "Please forgive me for saying them. I would never hurt you, or your family. I would never let anyone hurt you."

Feliciano nodded, unsure how to handle the stunning happiness that flooded his veins, his heart, his head. "I know! I know, Ludwig, and it doesn't matter now, just… just tell me I'm not dreaming, and that you're here, and…"

"I'm here, Feliciano. I'm here with you."

Feliciano laughed in relief and reached up for Ludwig, for his lips, his hands, for all of him, to feel him and know this was real. It did not feel like only one afternoon they had been separated, and it was impossible to believe that only moments ago the world had been ending when now it was bright and beautiful and made whole again. It felt like a second, like a lifetime before they broke the kiss for air, laughing and panting and staring in disbelief. "But why are you here, Ludwig?" Feliciano ran his hands over Ludwig's chest, tried to convince himself he wasn't dreaming. It was too hard to believe. "What are you doing out here in the storm?"

"I didn't know where else to go. I got to my base and I realised that I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life. I turned around and came back, right after..." Ludwig choked off, then recovered to deliver the words evenly. "After I informed my General of the attack tomorrow." Feliciano's blistering happiness tainted just slightly. But he had expected it.

"I know you had to tell them, Ludwig. Because you're good, and you're fair, and you would not let them be attacked unknowingly. And you love your country."

"I'd let it burn for you," Ludwig whispered, then kissed him again, deep and thorough and searing, until Feliciano forgot about feeling anything but uncontainable joy once again. He didn't even notice the rain or the gusting wind or the crashing thunder until he started shivering and Ludwig gently pulled away. "You should not be outside in this freezing rain."

Feliciano felt a brief flash of panic. Ludwig could not leave him again... He grasped Ludwig's hand and pulled before Ludwig had time to suggest it. "Come on."

To Feliciano's relief, Ludwig followed easily, without a moments hesitation. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere out of this rain!" Feliciano laughed.

"But where can we possibly…"

"Follow me, I know a place."

They ran through the freezing wind and pouring rain, Feliciano leading, his heart pounding and his head spinning, his every thought and feeling tied to the touch of Ludwig's hand clasped in his. He squeezed it, glanced up at Ludwig to make sure this was real, and laughed joyfully when Ludwig squeezed back, smiling.

Feliciano had not been there for years, but he found his way to the old barn on the edge of the field easily. It was barely used these days except for storage, but there was not much left after years of war. Feliciano pushed open the creaky door and they both raced in, grateful, out of the storm. Feliciano shook the rain from his face and hair, not releasing Ludwig's hand, and glanced around the musty barn. The place was almost silent but for the pounding of the rain on the roof. Only a trickle of afternoon light seeped through from outside, just enough to make out the low hay-covered bunk cut below the wooden hayloft, the racks of wine and olive oil stacked in shelves, the old fireplace against the wall. Ludwig raised his eyebrows, quite taken aback. "Uh... there's a... why is there a fireplace in this barn?"

Feliciano shrugged. "Grandpa built this place, years ago. He said he spent some of the best nights of his life in here. He says if it wasn't for this barn Lovino and I wouldn't be here. I really don't know why, I mean, it's just a barn. But at least it's dry!" Feliciano shivered violently and Ludwig rubbed his arms briskly.

"Gott, you're so cold. Will this old fireplace work? Is there firewood in here anywhere?"

"I think it will work... gosh, I hope it will work. There's some wood by the wall there."

Ludwig walked to the fireplace and swiftly got to work with the kindling and firewood while mumbling to himself, something that sounded like, "A fireplace in a barn, these mad Italians..."

Feliciano shivered again and immediately started removing his soaking clothes. There was no way they were going to dry on his body, and he was freezing. He took off his jacket carefully, disappointed that he had managed to ruin both his jackets today. He had only swapped them this afternoon after soaking his other in the rain that morning. As he slipped it over his shoulders he felt something in the inner pocket brush his hand. He reached in curiously and his eyes widened when he realised what it was. The photographs he had taken with Ludwig, the ones Lovino had noticed in the cellar. He remembered thrusting them into his pocket when Grandpa Roma had entered the room... he hadn't even thought of them since. They were relatively unscathed from the rain, just a bit wet, so Feliciano placed them on a shelf above the olive oil to dry and draped his wet jacket over an old barrel.

Feliciano started unhooking his braces as he looked over at Ludwig by the fireplace. He had started the fire so quickly; he was obviously used to it, but then of course, it was so cold in Germany. Ludwig closed the screen, the fire already crackling and flaring. He stood, brushing off his hands. "There, that should warm..." Ludwig broke off as he turned around, his eyes widening in alarm. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking my clothes off!"

Ludwig looked like he could not think of a single way to respond to that. He just gaped for a few moments before managing to choke out, "Why?"

Feliciano furrowed his eyebrows. Wasn't it obvious... "Because they are wet, and I am cold. Here, you have to take yours off too." He stepped towards Ludwig and started unbuttoning his grey military jacket. Ludwig looked too shocked to stop him.

"How many of them?" His voice was slightly panicked.

"All of them! Or else you will freeze and then you'll catch a cold and then you'll die and I will be very, very, very sad." Feliciano slid Ludwig's jacket over his shoulders before pulling his own shirt over his head. Ludwig just stared. "Now sit down and take your boots off or your feet will get cold."

"Oh. Oh, all right..." Ludwig sat on the hay covered bunk, slightly dazed, and Feliciano flopped down beside him and started pulling off his own boots. Mad, delirious happiness still flooded his veins and he felt like he could start laughing at any moment. And yet he was also oddly nervous, almost excited, his heart thundering madly and his stomach twisting strangely, pleasantly. Unsure of this nervous feeling, Feliciano just kept talking as he and Ludwig both kicked off their boots, the growing fire starting to warm their skin.

"You don't want to get frostbite because then you'll lose your toes and you won't be able to walk and I'll have to push you around in a wheelchair, not that I'd mind, of course. Only there's a lot of hills around here and I don't know if I could push you all the way to town every day. Here, Ludwig, your shirt is soaked through..." Feliciano reached up for Ludwig's shirt, unbuttoned it past the iron cross at his neck, down his chest, then finally slid it over his shoulders and down his arms. Then Feliciano paused. For a moment he just looked, his breath coming faster, the nervous twisting in his stomach shooting up his spine. "Oh." He tried to swallow but found his throat was dry. Ludwig's broad chest was sculpted with muscle, his golden skin still wet from the rain and glistening in the light of the fire. Without thinking, Feliciano reached out and ran his fingertips down Ludwig's firm, warm, muscular chest. It rose and fell rapidly beneath his hand, then Ludwig's breath caught as he unexpectedly took Feliciano by the waist and brought their bare chests together. Feliciano gasped then moaned, placed his hands on Ludwig's huge upper arms, then bit his lip to control another broken sound rising in his throat. He suddenly felt almost shy and looked down, surprised by the unfamiliar feeling. Ludwig placed a kiss gently against his cheek.

"How... how do you say 'kiss me' in Italian?" Feliciano turned his head to find Ludwig staring intently, his blue eyes sparkling in the firelight, and Feliciano's pounding heart fluttered to his throat. Their lips were so close... He swallowed a few times before he could answer.

"Baciami," he whispered.

"Baciami," Ludwig repeated dutifully. Feliciano laughed softly. His pronunciation was still terrible.

"Küss mich," he whispered back against Ludwig's cheek. Their lips met at first hesitantly, gently, then the kiss quickly grew stronger and deeper. Feliciano's hands grew bolder as well, roaming over Ludwig's large arms and chest, then he breathed in sharply when Ludwig lay him back and settled over him, firm and reassuringly heavy. When their skin met again Feliciano felt it like an electrical charge, his chest full to overflowing. Their earlier kisses had been brief, stolen. But now there was nothing but a warming fire and the rain on the roof and Ludwig and the entire night before them. Everything was too perfect, too incredible. Ludwig's skin was so warm, the smell of him so vivid and intoxicating, the sound of his heavy breathing making Feliciano's heart soar. Feliciano slowly realised Ludwig was shaking slightly. "Are you still cold?" he asked, concerned.

"No."

"Are you scared of the thunder? It's all right, Ludwig, I'll protect you." Ludwig laughed quietly against his ear and kissed him again. Feliciano did not know what to do with this happiness. It was almost too much to bear. He pressed closer, leant into Ludwig's touch, ran his hands down Ludwig's back, and realised... "You need to take your trousers off as well."

Ludwig immediately froze, his expression torn between apprehension and surprise, his eyes bright with desire. "I don't know if that is a very good idea."

Feliciano looked up very slowly, imploringly, his lip between his teeth. He twisted against Ludwig and whispered breathily. "I think it's a very good idea."

Once again, Ludwig looked at a complete and utter loss for words. "I... oh. I... you mean..."

Feliciano nodded, for once not sure how to put into words what he wanted. He didn't know much about it, but he knew what lovers did together, and he knew he wanted to feel Ludwig everywhere. Beautiful Ludwig who was so strong, so enticing, so handsome and bright and wonderful that Feliciano just wanted to be closer, wanted to be as close as possible. Feliciano tried to find the words. "You and me, together..." He thrust up his hips and Ludwig stifled a groan. "Like this."

Feliciano did not give Ludwig time to comprehend before he fumbled at Ludwig's cold, heavy belt buckle. It took only seconds for Ludwig to reach down and help, until they both managed to peel off their still slightly damp trousers, then gasped and clutched each other when their bare hips met. The feeling shot through Feliciano like a lightning strike. It was a few moments before he could speak. "Have you... done it before?" Feliciano suddenly found himself completely, irrationally angry at the idea of Ludwig being with anyone else like this.

It took Ludwig longer to respond. Sweat was beading on his brow. "No," he said shakily. "But I've..." He trailed into a mumble. "Read about it…"

"Oh!" said Feliciano in understanding. "Lovino and I found some books like that under Grandpa's bed once. Lovino couldn't look Grandpa in the eye for a month. Did your books have pictures of naked ladies as well?"

Ludwig's face turned red, his eyes wide and panicked. "No! Gott, no, nothing like that, that's not what I mean, I'm talking about something else entirely…"

Feliciano giggled. "It's okay, Ludwig." He kissed Ludwig steadily, pushed his hips against Ludwig's, tried to convince him without words.

Ludwig broke the kiss, gasping, then swallowed heavily, almost a gulp. "Do you know what this means..." He looked like he didn't quite know the way to frame the question. "I'm sorry, I mean, do you understand how..."

Feliciano let his thighs part, and brought one leg up over Ludwig's side. He stared into Ludwig's wide eyes and whispered, "This means you'll be inside me, right?" Ludwig did not move. Feliciano wondered briefly if he should remind him to breathe. "Um... Ludwig?"

"JA… um, I mean, yes, I…" Ludwig coughed nervously. Feliciano bit back another giggle. "We'll need something," said Ludwig quickly.

Feliciano tilted his head. "Something?"

"To make it… easier… um.." Ludwig looked down. Feliciano had never heard him so uncertain. It was rather adorable. "Some sort of cream, or oil, or…"

"Oh, I know!" Feliciano rolled over from under Ludwig and reached up into the rows of storage. He took down a bottle of olive oil then sat back onto the bunk and handed it to Ludwig. "Here."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "Olive oil. There is olive oil stored right next to a bed of hay, by a fireplace, in a barn. Mad Italians." Feliciano could not respond before Ludwig pulled him into a kiss and pressed him back into the hay. And then Ludwig took over, his hands and lips and breath, and Feliciano just leant into it, fell into it. This was closer than he had ever dreamt of, and more than he had ever imagined. Ludwig grew more certain with every second, and Feliciano moaned as he thrust up against him, a craving building uncontrollably in his chest and spreading everywhere, everywhere Ludwig touched with those warm, strong, still slightly shaking hands.

The pain was nothing, not after the unbearable agony he had already been through. Because this was Ludwig, and this was everything, and it just melted into the perfect and indescribable feeling of Ludwig's large, warm body against his, Ludwig pressing against him, into him, and it was all so incredible and stunning that Feliciano could not stop the tears which rose to his eyes.

"Are you all right?" asked Ludwig, his face suddenly concerned even as he struggled to keep his breathing even.

"Yes," whispered Feliciano, clutching Ludwig's arms to try and make him move. "Oh, yes…"

"Am I hurting you?" Ludwig's arms shook as he held himself still.

"No, no it's fine..." Ludwig moved, Feliciano gasped, and Ludwig froze completely.

"Sorry, I'm sorry! Are you..."

"Ludwig, shush." Feliciano reached up and kissed him, wrapped his legs around his waist, pulled him in. Ludwig gasped, shuddering, against his lips.

"Ah, Gott, Feliciano..."

Feliciano had never imagined such feelings, such sensations. Like he was being surrounded by Ludwig, lost in him, like the world had shrunk until it contained nothing but this small corner of it, this single moment. And it felt so good inside him, and all through him, and Ludwig's face was so beautiful in the light of the fire that Feliciano had to reach up and touch it.

Feliciano ran his hands over Ludwig's chest and shoulders, thrilling in the feel of the hard muscle working under soft golden skin. Sweat rose to Ludwig's brow and his eyes remained fixed on Feliciano's, as though he could not look away. Feliciano's skin burned where Ludwig trailed a hand down his side and over his hip, and he gasped when Ludwig slid it between them, then shuddered and cried out as it closed around him. A sharp pulsing pleasure throbbed between his legs, in his hips, his thighs, his spine, greater than anything he'd ever felt by his own hand in dark early hours under the blanket, alone. "Ludwig," he panted breathlessly. "Feels so good..."

Feliciano never wanted it to end, but it couldn't last… nothing this perfect could last. He spiralled closer as Ludwig moved faster, whispering his name, and this tightening pulse grew uncontrollably, inevitably… "Oh... Ludwig, I... oh..." Then it all sharpened, fell, climaxed; in his stomach, his head, everywhere, and he cried out from the intense bright bliss of it.

Ludwig gasped against his ear, hot and damp, then he shuddered and groaned. "Feliciano... Ich liebe dich." The words were so soft Feliciano was not sure if he was meant to hear them.

Feliciano panted for breath as he blinked away his tears, put his arms around Ludwig's neck and reached for his lips. They kissed slowly, chests rising and falling rapidly against each other. Then Ludwig rolled to his side and brought Feliciano into his arms, kissing his hair. "I love you too," said Feliciano, throwing his arm over Ludwig, nuzzling into him. He felt Ludwig smile against his forehead.

Their hands met between their chests, fingers twisting together. Feliciano knew then that this was what mattered, that this was what life was lived for, and that if only everyone could feel like this there would be no such things as war and hatred and killing. There was no need to speak, no need to do anything but lie in each others arms and feel each other breathe. And Feliciano was not sure if he dozed off, but it didn't matter, because when he opened his eyes again Ludwig was still here, still here with him. The fire still blazed and it was so warm now, even though he could hear the howling wind and thunder and rain outside. But none of that could touch him when he was lying like this in Ludwig's arms, safe from everything. But there were still some things no one was strong enough to control...

"What will happen tomorrow?" Feliciano spoke finally, not wanting to break this golden moment, but unable to stop himself asking. Ludwig took a deep breath before answering.

"The Americans will attack. But we will be ready for them. And it will be a fair fight... not an ambush in the dark."

"Are their pilots... very good? Better than you?"

"They are good." Ludwig gave a tiny smirk. "But not better than me. A Mustang is no match for a Messerschmitt." Feliciano nodded, satisfied Ludwig was telling the truth. Because no one could be better than Ludwig, at anything. No American could beat Ludwig. Feliciano smiled against Ludwig's chest, then laughed softly. Ludwig raised his head slightly, curiously.

"Did you ever think, on the first day we met, on the road, that we would end up like this?"

"The first day we met." Ludwig smiled thoughtfully, and his face brightened. His normally neat, slicked back hair fell messy in his bright eyes, and Feliciano stared, heart skipping, trying to imprint the image on his memory. "That was the first day I had walked this far out into the countryside. I remember it clearly... I was so tired, and drained, and sick of everything. Every day, the same hell. It was as though I was seeing everything in black and white. But then you arrived from no where, and you looked up, and you spoke, and you smiled, and everything burst into colour again." For a moment Ludwig's eyes were as blue as they had been on that sunny day they had first met. Feliciano wondered if he had fallen in love the moment he saw them. "You make the world beautiful again." Ludwig looked away shyly and Feliciano almost had to suppress a joyful laugh as the happiness inside him threatened to overflow. "The next day I wandered out here again, just hoping to see you. I think I loved you already. And the whole time we met I never dreamt... never dared to hope you would feel the same. Never imagined I could deserve that."

Feliciano's chest felt tight, his heart so full. Ludwig had never spoken so openly, and Feliciano felt so amazed that he could make someone like Ludwig open his soul for him. He kissed his shoulder. "Ludwig." He wished there was something he could do, something he could say to respond. But how could he ever put his overwhelming feelings into words like that? If only there was something he could give Ludwig... then he remembered with a jolt. "Oh, I forgot!" Feliciano pushed himself up and took the two photographs down from the bench above them. "Here," he said, settling on his stomach beside Ludwig and placing the photographs before them. They had dried completely. "Do you remember the photographs we took? Up on the hill?"

"Of course." Ludwig ran his fingers carefully over the photograph of Feliciano smiling cheerfully at the camera, Ludwig's grey jacket over his shoulders.

"Now you can have one of me, and I can have one of you! You're supposed to smile in photographs, but that's all right, you look very handsome, anyway. Oh, you should write something on the back of it, my name or something, you're supposed to do that with photographs, and the place, and the date too, I think it was the twenty… where did you get a pen?"

"My shirt pocket."

Feliciano raised his eyebrows. "You have a pen in your pocket?"

"Of course. You never know when you might need one."

"Gosh, you carry the strangest things in your pockets, Ludwig. You don't have any more chocolate in there, do you?"

Ludwig's lips curled slightly. "No, sorry." He turned the photograph over and poised his pen over it. Then he paused.

Feliciano threw his arm around Ludwig's and leant against his shoulder. "What are you going to write?"

Ludwig's hand shook slightly, then he wrote slowly, carefully, in neat, angular script: two simple words. 'bella ciao.' Feliciano couldn't help but laugh at that, even as the words pulled painfully at his chest. "You wrote it wrong, silly German."

Ludwig glanced at him sideways, a tiny smile on his lips. "No, I wrote it like the song. Bella ciao."

Feliciano smiled back then turned over the photograph of Ludwig. He took the pen from Ludwig and scrawled 'auf wiedersehen, sweetheart' on the back. Then he looked down at the two photographs, side by side. Two goodbyes. Feliciano was so sick of saying goodbye. He closed his eyes and rolled over, again trying to hide himself in Ludwig's arms. The sound of the rain on the roof grew gradually softer, and the rumbling thunder came from far away. The only light now came from the dwindling fire, the night long since fallen. "Switzerland, Ludwig. I'd leave right now if you asked me. This second."

Ludwig's heartbeat sped up against Feliciano's ear, his breathing slightly uneven. When his voice came it was tinged with regret. "I have my duty. And what would your brother and grandfather say if you never came home?"

Feliciano squeezed his eyes shut painfully. He had expected the answer. But it still hurt. "They wouldn't care. They know I told you about the landings. They hate me now."

Ludwig ran a hand gently over Feliciano's back. "No. I am quite sure they don't."

"Things are going to change now, aren't they."

"Yes." Neither mentioned it, but Feliciano knew that Ludwig understood as well as he did. With the Americans landing, there was no way Ludwig could just walk out to the oak tree and meet him every day. They would be lucky enough to hold onto their base. "But this war will be over one day. And then, I'll come back for you."

"Yes, you will, or else I will come for you. I will, Ludwig, no matter how far I have to go, no matter how long it takes. I'll wait for you forever, remember? I'll see you again, Ludwig. I will. I'll see you again." Feliciano spoke firmly, determinedly, but with an edge of rising desperation. Ludwig touched his cheek and kissed him firmly.

"Yes. You'll see me again. Now don't think about that, Feliciano. Right now, I'm here with you." Feliciano nodded, tried to focus only on Ludwig here with him now, and not the uncertainty that was to come. Because right now, Ludwig was here with him, and there was no one else, and this was one of their places where they were somewhere else. Feliciano pressed as close to Ludwig as he could, felt him and breathed him, tangled their legs together, ran his fingertips over his chest, his back, his shoulders, curled them in his golden hair. Feliciano sighed contentedly at the feel of Ludwig's fingers twisting in his own hair. "This one curl of yours." Ludwig's voice rumbled through his chest and against Feliciano's ear. "So strange. It never lies flat."

Feliciano smiled and tried to fight the inescapable drowsiness that washed over him. He wanted to stay awake with Ludwig for as long as he could, for as long as they had. But he also knew he did not want to watch Ludwig leave. He knew that it would break him, and he would never be able to breath again. "Will you do something for me?" asked Feliciano quietly, so quietly he was not sure Ludwig had heard. But then Ludwig squeezed his hand and whispered back.

"What would you like me to do?"

"Stay until I fall asleep. And don't say goodbye."

Ludwig's arms tightened around him in response. Feliciano clung to Ludwig, and to consciousness, but eventually, exhausted, he could not fight it any longer. He fell asleep, the gentle, tingling touch of Ludwig's fingers running through his hair, wondering how it was possible that this was the best, worst, happiest, saddest moment of his life.

.

Next Chapter

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

[demonicpiano]

Old Farts of Hearts

Cardverse (Hearts!) fic, baby!!

This fic is also available on my ff.net account.

~

"This is fucking ridiculous."

"Do we really have to do this?!"

"I don't know what's worse. Listening to you go on and on at these stupid 'family meetings,' or you making us group exercise like school children!”

"Look, Lovino, I am fully aware how you feel about getting off the couch for once, but it's important to stay healthy so you can look and feel good for your people!”

Lovino managed an angry huff of air as the four-man group of Hearts Royalty some-what jogged, some-what painstakingly shuffled down the palace's garden lane, "I already look good, damn it!"

“You have love handles."

"Shut up, stupid King! I'll give your face love handles!"

A lighter voice whined for breath, "That doesn't make a lot of sense..."

"Be quiet! Ugh!" The Ace of Hearts faltered to one side, "I have a fucking cramp in my leg now!"

King Ludwig muttered, "And that's my fault?"

An aged, gentler-than-anything voice from the small group behind him came up, "Are you going to be all right, Lovino?"

"Fine!" Lovino actually calmed for the Queen, "I just...I just want to go back to the palace already."

Ludwig felt three pairs of eyes on his backside.

"Ve, at least it's a nice day out?"

Nobody said anything else.

It was supposed to be a simple jog through the garden, down the forest trail, and around the palace gates. Flat pavement all around, nice cherry-blossom scenery, no topsy-turvy winds. Three sets of feet hit the ground in uneven beats, breaths catching for something, anything, as soft whines burnt the tortured souls.

Ludwig sighed and slowed to a stop.

"All right, I think that's enough for today."

His court let out cries of relief to the Heavens. Even his beloved Queen ducked his head as he stunted his hands against his knees. Ludwig felt his mouth pull down at the pitiful sight.

Jack Feliciano fell against a nearby tree and flapped a hand to his pinked face. "Oh, Gods! I feel like I'm in a pizza oven!"

It was a mild fall day.

Ludwig reminded his people, "We still need to make it back to the palace..."

Cue a chorus of wails and groans. Mostly from Lovino.

"I guess we can walk back this time, since you three seem a bit...winded." Ludwig coughed out, "Enjoy the weather while it lasts."

Feliciano peeled himself from nearly dying against that tree to hop, skip, and jump to latch onto his King's arm. "Oh, Ludwig is being nice to us today! Let's go pick some flowers and look at the clouds! And when we get back to the palace, we should put in an order for some gelato, as an award for our hard work!"

Queen Kiku smiled at the prospect. Lovino glared at the imperfections along the sidewalk.

Ludwig almost winced, "What hard work?!" Instead, he kept irritation to a minimum on his face and said, "No, I'm cutting our family exercise short today as we're running behind on that pile of tax-reforms in our office. Plus we have to wash up and dinner-"

Feliciano whined against his arm, "Oh, Ludwig! Please! It's a nice dessert to help us cool off!"

Lovino spat, "A stupid family exercise, then we're all going to sit down and go over taxes? What kind of sick kicks are you getting out of this?"

"I will not say I'm sorry, if that's what you're looking for." Still receiving dirty looks, Ludwig decided to bring out the trump card, "The old King let everyone do what they wanted, and how much of a mess everything inside the palace and out was, and still is, proves that!"

The group went quiet.

"If life in the palace is not up to par, what is to say for the rest of the Kingdom?For people that look up to us? To people that need us to be there for them?"

A chorus of, "Yes, Ludwig."

Quiet again, save for weary feet against gravel.

Feliciano perked up, "Gelato over important paperwork?"

Lovino shot the King a long side glance, perhaps hoping for some, too. The Queen kept to himself.

Ludwig relented, "Gelato after important paperwork."

"Oh, Ludwig! You're such a nice King!"

Ludwig sighed.

~.~

Tea down the hatch. Tie in place. Birds chirping. A soft, requited smile from the Queen across the breakfast nook. The morning was going well. Quiet.

Too quiet.

Heavy footsteps thundered to the Jack and Ace's shared room. Ludwig threw open the door with a roar, "What are you two still doing sleeping?! We're due at the King's Summit in less than an hour!"

A lazy hand lifted from Lovino's covers, "Yeah, yeah. King's Summit. You're a King. You go on ahead."

A blood vessel threatened to pop on Ludwig's forehead. "You've been asleep since dessert last night! It's not like you even stayed up late!"

"Ugh. You're like a living nightmare."

"Lovi!" Feliciano grumbled from his pile of blankets, "Could you keep it down? I'm trying to nap here!"

"Tell that to our idiot King!"

Ludwig proceeded to smack his head against the door frame several times. There was not going to be any gelato again tonight.

~.~

"Who put the tea cups with the wine glasses?!"

Some of the kitchen staff ducked behind the counters. Ludwig sent a sharp sweep of eyes their way. Being in the same room as those three other Kings clunking their heads together in hope of some intelligent idea made Ludwig's hopes and heart go cold.

"Hello?"

One of the maids approached, performing a quick bow. "Pardon me, sire! Jack Feliciano was the one who put the glasses away, and I did not correct him. He wanted to clean up a little, as it seems to make you happy! Sire."

Ludwig felt the furrow between his eyebrows lessen. "He did that? Hm, he didn't have to, but the effort is appreciated. However, there is a place for everything."

Another servant piped up, "Sire, we will try to find a step stool for future...mishaps."

Ludwig stared.

"He's short."

So was Kiku, and Lovino, too. Ludwig blinked once. "You're right about that. For now on, the wine glasses will be up top, so the more common cups will be accessible."

"Very good, sir!"

The kitchen crew let out pleased murmurs, even cracking smiles at their King. Over something this simple. "Right. Yes..."

"Sire?" One of the cooks wandered close. "If I may ask for a quick moment?"

"Yes?"

They pointed to a couple of other servants tearing up over a particularly stubborn trash bag that would not get of its bin. "None of us can get that out!"

"I will get it."

"Oh, many thanks, sir!"

"I knew the King could do it! He is very strong!"

Ludwig pleaded, "Please don't mention it."

~.~

"I don't get it. Everything they disciplined me for. Anything that could happen. Anything that should happen. All that training...!" A bewildered King sat before the fireplace in his bedroom. His Queen was in place against his arm, nodding in beat to the haunt of flames in his piercing blues. "Not just the brothers. The staff, the servants, everything that was insisted upon me, in day-to-day life, is just not there. You've been around a little longer than I have. Do you know the reason for these...odd remarks and behavior?"

Kiku rumbled in amusement without opening his eyes to the fire's warmth, "I've been around a lot longer than you have in a sense, my love. Even when I was still a Spadian, we would hear stories of the old King, his obscene desire to party and spend every gold piece he had on drink and elaborate pranks. He was even barred from the King's Summit, if that gives you more insight."

Ludwig hung his head. "That is a dark mark on our past. He had everything at his disposal, every piece of Hearts history, all the old Royals' stories, their ways of life, what was wrong, what was right, all under his fingertips, and yet look what he did instead. Leaving me with a Kingdom nearly in shambles and begging for respite."

When Kiku stayed quiet, snippets zipped through Ludwig's mind, and he tried to reason with them, "Perhaps the lack of a Queen to keep him in check, or to make up for the gap? Blatant denial or refusal to accept the responsibilities? A deeper, more profound illness? Maybe if we dig into that, it could give us an insight to why things are like they are today-"

"He didn't have love."

Stress sizzled to nothing in Ludwig's headspace.

Kiku opened his eyes, gazing contently at the side of his husband's face. "No Queen to love, to love for his Kingdom." He delicately place a hand to Ludwig's, always careful, "No one to show him the beauty of such, perhaps?"

It seemed only the Queen of Hearts could cast that spell, to melt the ice over Ludwig's face, to make him smile like the love-struck fool he found himself to be. "Something so simple?"

"Is it really, though?"

"Not at all."

Kiku touched his man's cheek, bringing their foreheads together. "I think you should show Lovino and Feliciano love, too."

"You think?" Ludwig ducked away, choked up at the thought. Yikes. "Yes, maybe...maybe I been too rough with them, and that makes them pull the other way."

"A King needs respect and love to thrive. I would give you both, if it were in my power. If it were enough to power the entire Kingdom."

They drew close again, embracing one another and the fire, "It is enough to power me."

"And you're enough to power the Kingdom."

[worldcakecakecake]

The Society of Romulus and Remus

Ludwig is the product of a centuries old curse that transforms him into a dangerous werewolf. His only chance for a cure is with Feliciano, heir to the Society of Romulus and Remus, a group of hunters who hunt on the supernatural.

                                                    Chapter 7

Although he hated rising in the early mornings, he was slowly starting to get used to waking at the very first sunlight that entered through the small window of blinds in his room. With his curls everywhere, probably hanging at the other side of the bed, completely opposite of where he had fallen the night before, he would arise suddenly, eyes wide open with a big grin that greeted the new day in anticipations. The sheets around his naked body would be a mess that only made him tumble every morning, falling to the floor a normal occurrence. Lovino, who was in the room right next to his, was unfazed by the constant bumps, going along with his own preparations uncaring. Feliciano always found a way to head out of his room alive no matter the chaos of his morning preparations, so Lovino learned he really shouldn’t care that much.

Feliciano headed out in a haste, dressed in his black uniform, seals showing he was only in the beginning of his training, the same two leathered books in his hold. One was a type of notebook for him to use for Ludwig’s teachings and then there was the sketchbook his nonno gave him.

By the time he did his usual running through the halls, the base was just awakening, filling it in members preparing for the day of teachings, training, healing, missions, returning or looking for some time to spend with others in different hobbies. Feliciano would greet happily those he knew, from balconies, to terraces, by fountains, to even different rooms he passed by. His first stop was the cafeteria, where most were already lining up for their breakfast, but Feliciano didn’t need to take it, there was only one particular thing he wanted.

“Just the person I was waiting for,” their French cook turned, already holding a tray with his chocolate filled pastry and coffee.

Simple, but it was Feliciano’s ideal.

“Thank you, Francis…hmmm…” he took a whiff of the coffee.

“With a dash of Hazelnut,” Francis assured.

“You know best!”

“Heard you’re only missing a couple of more lessons until your power training, something to look forward with what your Mars heritage and everything.”

“Yeah…” to be honest Feliciano was not really that excited to use a power that was meant for killing. “…But I also have cardio,” he groaned, utter misery that pained his muscles already.

“You’re still in body training? That’s usually done in a couple of weeks. Aren’t you going into your third month?”

“As you can tell I’m not that good, but Ludwig got tired of waiting for my body to adjust so he decided to just go straight to the lessons and researching and hope it doesn’t strain anything for when my power training starts.”

“Ludwig, ever the impatient one. With you it’s like he’s working under a countdown. He should take it easy, he’s being a little too harsh.” Francis petted him sweetly, a caress that reminded Feliciano of an older brother.

Feliciano rolled his eyes, “that’s what my grandfather would have wanted though.”

“I wish you luck as always! I’ll have a bowl of borlotti beans and sausage stew waiting at lunch for you.” Feliciano was ecstatic and already eager, but it meant that midday would just come much slower.

Taking the tray he quickly found his usual breakfast spot, a high table decorated with flowers the servants would pick from outside. For this week they placed pink and purple carnations around the room beautifully. Oh he had to draw this! So while taking sips of his coffee and bites of his pastry, his right hand was dedicated on the drawing. He would only stop to give greetings, receiving the same comments of ‘Drawing again?’ ,‘Always with that sketchbook in hand’, ‘Distracted even when eating’. Occasionally a group of young girls would pass, to which he gave his charming smile or a wink and they all answered with the same shouting glee, giggling pass with the same waves. A group of men were just coming to join him, all with smirks and ready for any kind of flirting chance they could get.

“Feliciano! It’s eight!” Francis shouted.

“Oh right!” He took one last swig of his coffee and hurried off, sketching away still in his haste and leaving the boys in disappointment.

Feliciano continued through more halls of greets, of the morning routine, of people going through here and there, with weapons, with books of power and control, magical items or even their own quick breakfast. Feliciano stood out rather odd for a Valenti, who the base was used to seeing as the symbols of power, with the most fearsome weapons, the most mysterious books, the strongest armor and an air of dignity that reminded many of emperors and kings. Yet here was the youngest heir, with the beginner uniform with no seals of earning, a friendly outlook with a kind charming beauty that was more reminiscent of a prince, holding only but two simple books, one of notes and another for his sketching.

As always, he would suddenly stop to look at the new hoard Elizabeta was bringing in from the arrival central, holding a clipboard and marking everything that had arrived. She wasn’t surprised to find Feliciano already eyeing, looking for certain particular items that she quickly pointed to once Feliciano noticed she had been staring.

“Good morning, Feliciano,” she wished with a chuckle.

“Morning, Elizabeta, so um…”

“Did we get new colors and paints?” She opened the crate where they lay, the entirety filled with a rainbow of jars, pencils and markers to the sides of the highest value. “Yes, yes we did, from our Bulgarian base, made by witches, but as long as we’re concern they don’t have any kind of magical properties, just really good materials,” she introduced, taking some jars, brushes and pencils out to show him.

“Can I…?” Feliciano pointed shyly.

Elizabeta rolled her eyes but ended up throwing some of the materials to him, which he got safely in the cradle of his arms.

“You’re the only one who really gives these things use. If I could I would give you the whole box.”

Feliciano chuckled appreciative, trying to hold everything well towards his hold.

“What kind of new drawings have you made?” She asked curiously as she kept moving boxes from one pile to another.

“Look!” He quickly showed the last one of the carnations he was making.

“Oh, these look beautiful,” Elizabeta complimented, taking hold from one side of the book.

“Thank you, I’m also working on these drawings…” He turned the pages until he showed one of a Tuscan valley, two masked men fighting with elegant swords, a witch brewing a potion, going on with all kinds of stories that could fit the pictures, and finally there was a portrait, of no other than Feliciano’s private instructor, one he had taken of him in deep thought and concentration, but as powerful as he outshone to everybody. Elizabeta admitted it was amazing, something the very man should hang proudly in his office.

“Distracted and infatuated, huh?” Elizabeta teased.

“Oh please, no, he just happened to look perfectly handsome for that moment and I had to sketch it,” Feliciano excused, bringing the sketchbook to a close.

“Right, right, which reminds me, don’t you have a session with him in a couple of minutes?”

“I actually do.”

“Then get going or else I have to listen to Ludwig complain about you coming late again,” Elizaveta rolled her eyes and with a final wave Feliciano was continuing his way down the base.

He had been sure he would get there on time, that nothing would interrupt again his route, but his eyes suddenly caught one of the tapestries that hanged. It was of a werewolf, one resting, at peace, unlike any monstrous depictions Feliciano had seen. The image itself sparked an idea, one that he immediately acted upon by sitting on the edge of a wall, opening his sketchbook and already beginning. Yes, a kind werewolf, one that would be soft to rest upon, that would save others, with no vicious eyes and teeth, no haunting shadow fur, but a kind spirit that he could trust. He drew a similar to the one in the tapestry, although more holy, like something you would find in the glass of a church, with chance, kindness and just a creature Feliciano wished he could see more often in his dreams instead.

“Feliciano!” He heard a fellow Jamaican member, Anthone, call, with a teasing smile, watching from afar with Sefina by his side, who was a Samoan member, giggling beside her friend. “Shouldn’t you be getting somewhere?”

Feliciano sighed in disappointment, cursing how everybody in this base knew his schedule. Perks of being the grandson of the leader he guessed.

He stood and moved away…still sketching away on his werewolf and being more attentive to it than his actual surroundings, not noticing as he missed the spray of a fountain, as he went straight through the testing of a slicing object, somehow moving in amazing avoidance to the crowds that grew as he went through the market place.

Keron Montaje crashed into the day with a loud opening of his door, not caring that he almost hit a young woman coming into his same room complex. He was too preoccupied on making sure his dark hair was slicked back well, his beard and moustache trimmed to perfection, his uniform, with high shinning seals fitting in exactness to his large body, toned with experience of hunt. Behind him came his younger sister, Pisa Montaje, a more petite woman of intense dark skin, quite a large contrast to the paleness of her older brother and her very own shinning white hair. She apologized to the woman in favor of her brother, but the woman moved along with clear distaste still in her expression.

“You should be careful,” she meekly told him.

“About what?” Of course he hadn’t noticed and wasn’t bothering to care, now especially when he set his own attention on the routes of the base, his mind thinking about what kind of activity he should do today. Should he ask for a hunt? Should he take in a group of apprentices? Should he train that ice spell he recently learned? His mind couldn’t bother to continue thinking about these things when they instead fell on the young Valenti, making his way, soon to pass alongside him, ah yes. He tapped his sister shoulders and pointed, which earned a roll of her eyes.

“Yes, Feliciano Valenti, drawing as per usual in that sketchbook of his.” Pisa saw no difference.

“You fail to see that this is one of my chances.” And he began to prepare his uniform yet again, making sure his more powerful seals were shown and that the jacket was tight enough to reveal the contour of his muscles.

“Another one of your failed attempts?”

“Those past ones were simply not made in the right moment, he must have been distracted, stressed, no doubt Ludwig’s doing.” He always seemed to growl whenever the name was mentioned.

“Mhm,” Pisa refused to believe.

“Don’t doubt in me! I still stand by my own decree that Feliciano will be mine by the end of this year,” he still promised.

“Your homosexuality has never been clearer. I don’t get the big deal, yeah I mean, sure, he’s really cute, but nothing to get all fussed about after he hasn’t shown the same interest in you.”

“Just cute? My dear, he’s one of the human jewels of this base, going alongside Lovino, Antonio, Pedro and Herakles.”

“Why don’t you go for those other ones then?”

“Oh, but they don’t have his smile, his youth, his innocence, his vulnerability. He’s like a prince waiting for his rescue and who else to be that knight to save him,” he was convinced.

“Or to have him as an excuse to get the family power and riches,” she raised an eye, not at all convinced that he was doing this out of some righteous romance.

He glared at her and she hid a giggle under the palm of her hand. “I want him because of his beauty, his power and stature. I have proven to be just as dignified for it and will not rest until he is bedded!” He bellowed, Pisa worried that the entire base would hear it, much to her embarrassment.

“Well you better continue proving…he just passed right by us without so much as a glance towards you,” she noticed.

Feliciano indeed moved past them without a care, into the areas of the market filled with activity and crowds. Keron disappointed, even grew angry, sending a blame to his sister, but never mind, he could still reach him, he could find an excuse to talk. This was the marketplace, one of the places in the base with the most chatter. He also forget to mention heavily full, people constantly crashing into others, covering, sure to get lost anybody who dared defy it trying to meet another person who continued to move between it in faster speeds, with pure intent in reaching where he had to, especially when he was already late as it was.

It was futile, even as Keron called he could not get his attention, leaving him in a groan, close to angering, shouting it on blame to somebody who was near…until his eyes fell on a table of women clearly gawking at him. It was to be expected when Keron was known as a member of high stature, a fierce handsome warrior that surely many in the base swooned over and tried to find whatever chance for his presence. These particular women called for him that moment, a ring of their hands, of their pretty eyes and bodies and soon Keron was following to join.

These will make do. He would have Feliciano another time.

The only time Feliciano really crashed against something was the door to this particular entrance, but the action made him realize that he had arrived to where he had to. He closed his sketchbook and got the book with his work, proud of the papers he had drawn and written, actually quite excited to hand in. Into the building, up the flight of stairs and into the halls filled with presence of other higher ups, mostly teachers and instructors who didn’t fail to greet Feliciano as per usual. Ludwig’s office was one of the top ones, in a deep and singular hall meant to give the man as much privacy and space as possible, always a question as to why in Feliciano’s mind.

Ludwig always expected him not to knock, his student would always just barge in, a mess in his hands, sometimes tumbling, sometimes letting something fall or dropping some other item Ludwig held in the office. He had grown a special tolerance to just work along in his writing while Feliciano tried to settle himself in the frontal chair he always let out for him.

Why was it so hard for him to just take his seat and keep still?

Once he was finally ready, the first thing Feliciano did was present forward his work book, papers sticking out, surely the report he was supposed to work on. Feliciano opened the cover and presented the first one. “My report on the readings you sent me about the Goranka robes. All types of levels of the Balkan bases are represented.” He turned the pages so he could see the eloquent drawings he had made of the distinct dark robes. Feliciano had to admit that they were quite a beauty, sometimes making him wish he was at a higher position just to wear them.

Ludwig looked on uninterested, moving it to the side to later correct.

“My report on currency and how to properly exchange in the suddenness of a mission." He moved it forward, Ludwig pushed it to the side as well.

“And my report on the beginner robes of the western European bases, the Cesarina.” He pushed the final one, opening to the drawings he made of the very robes he had to wear while in the base. It was the one Ludwig examined the longest, quickly pointing his finger.

“You drew the insignia in the belt wrong and the sleeves do not hold those designs. I think you got confused with the intermediate ones. I’ll accept it still since I have to read your writing, but I expect you to hand me a correct one for tomorrow.” He took out a book, landing it harshly on the desk for Feliciano to take, which held clearer and more specified pictures of the robe so this time Feliciano didn’t have a chance at wronging their design. Ludwig was giving him a break by just giving him pictures to better understand instead of just reading about them, but it did not erase the distaste Feliciano was feeling about this.

“All right, that’s all your reports, now-” and he opened his hand expecting.

Feliciano’s eyes trembled, he nervously bit his lips, one hand reaching into his pocket to get the stone, slow in taking it out, afraid of the response Ludwig would give once he saw the number presented in it. It was dropped on his palm, Ludwig brought it closer to himself to analyze, instantly a disappointed huff.

“Feliciano, I asked you to do ten pushups, fifteen squats, and a three mile run.” Ludwig then dropped the stone harshly, his expression boiling, the results clear for both of them to see, for Feliciano to know why Ludwig was this mad. “You only ran half a mile, six squats and didn’t even do pushups. What is your excuse?”

Feliciano sat on in silence, eyes avoiding, fingers tapping under his chair, trying to think of the proper words to tell him.

“I got…tired,” was the weakness he could say.

Ludwig groaned and rolled his eyes, “you are behind, Feliciano, embarrassingly so. By this point you should have already taken your first field examination. I had to beg your grandfather to leave you for the next one and decided to combine your researches and book readings. This is not easy to deal with, and I would deeply appreciate it if you could please help me by being more hardworking and punctual for what I send you. We really need to finish your first year on schedule.” He tried hard from letting his voice rise, from letting the pure rage be seen in his eyes and from even smashing his fists against the table in his desperation. Even without doing any of these things, Feliciano could sense it still, reigning like an intimidating cloud that made him tremble, biting his lips and his grips on the chair tightening. Feliciano didn’t know what to properly tell him afterwards, remaining silent, strong to withstand other words of scold, but even Ludwig was getting tiresome with this, only letting a deep sigh reign as he brought forward a hand to rub at his head. Once again he handed him the stone.

“I’m giving you today after our lesson to fulfill the exercises, if not, I would have to go to your grandfather.”

Feliciano had determined himself to doing so then, he really did not feel like having the added scold of his grandfather this week. He nodded and held the stone with promise and Ludwig could confide that he would do it this time…but how many times had that already happened? First time teaching a single student and already it was proving harder than having a group, but perhaps it had to do with what he was expecting from Feliciano by the end of the year.

The Venetian Mark, the Bronze stare, the Eros curl, the Blood of the land of Beauty, the 13th…he was nowhere near to proving himself in any of these spells, as being the one to break his curse, but he would have to keep pushing and trying, he had to.

“Our lesson today will be on vampires-”

�� Instead of actually going to run those miles after his lesson, he found himself being called elsewhere, to a little workshop that he always found the time to visit. It was the late afternoon, by then everybody was already leaving their classes, returning from field practice or missions, from work, from researching, to head to the main dining room for dinner. Of course, Feliciano was one of those plenty that would rush off at the first calling of food, but he also knew that it was at this time that the workshop was mostly empty, only but one presence still working on, enjoying from the silence and the singularity.

His brother hummed a song silently, a thin paintbrush working over the newly formed wood. He was at peace, he was smiling, his head surely adding and thinking to the things he could add to the craftsmanship of this sword. Feliciano took silent steps down the stairs, admiring the serene air that his brother of all people actually settled here. Not wanting to disturb it so harshly but wanting to still be a part of it, he leaned close enough to notice the blue he used, the intricacy of the handle, the shining blade and the blankness that left for more to happen.

“Oh Lovino, it looks absolutely beautiful,” he complimented, letting his head lean closer.

Lovino did give him a rise of his eyes, a part of him angry about his sudden entrance after he found just the right peace, but the way Feliciano admired his work made him smile and accept, letting himself grab another paintbrush with white to start on the designs of stars.

“Thanks, but do you think it would be enough for Toris?” Lovino still faltered.

“It’s much more than what he asked for. He’ll love it! Probably just put it to decorate in his base room instead of using it to fight.”

Lovino chuckled, cleaning some pieces and dust from the handle, deciding that it needed some extra scrapping before he started on the paint there. “Doubt it. He’s really counting on it. There’s been an uproar of werewolves sightings in the Baltic area and he really needs this kind of weapon along with the blessing of my spell, I just overdid the design, bored I guess." He tapped against it rather embarrassingly.

“But it’s still so wonderful! Toris would probably give it a lot of meaning and feel so cool when using it.” Feliciano could already dream it.

“Eh, I guess you’re right. Would help to make that guy more intimidating. He needs it with all the wimps in that base.”

“Don’t be so rude, this kind of job is not easy,” Feliciano pouted, understanding that base’s known cowardice that he felt in this more prestigious one.

“Well they still have to get over it if they plan on staying. That kind of facing would end up killing them one day.” He went back to designing, occasionally balancing to make sure that everything still stuck together.

Feliciano settled with just watching by taking his seat near a stool, wondered at every stroke and touch he made.

“So hey, how were your lessons with potato bastard today?” Lovino was curious as he began with painting some purple.

“We started on vampires,” he admitted, not wanting to groan and sadden with the rest that happened.

“Took you long enough.”

“I handed in my reports."

“Good."

“I have to re-do some of them."

“Knowing Ludwig, was it something stupidly small?”

“Kind of.”

Lovino rolled his eyes, “bitch.”

“And I…um…”

“You what?”

“I got scolded for not doing my exercises,” Feliciano pouted.

“As much as I dislike the potato, I agree that you have to keep working on them. It’s necessary in the field and can help you to better take tactics. So yeah, fucking work on your training,” he scolded himself, earning a roll of Feliciano’s eyes.

“It’s not going to make much of a difference in my case."

“If you want to become a strong fighter, it will.”

“But how many times have I told you that I don’t want to.”

“Don’t start this bullshit.” Lovino didn’t feel like going at this topic again, cleaning his brushes, a sign that he would finalize on his work for the day. Feliciano decided on remaining silent, slumping against his raised knees, leaving any arguments in his head and for Lovino to go on in his cleaning.

“What are they even serving up today?” Lovino asked as a good way to change any tenseness that might settle.

“Vegetable stew, Oeufs en meurette, Russian salad, paella and fruit and nuts granola for dessert.”

Lovino groaned, “I miss eating at home.”

“I do too. I miss mamma’s Fettuccine pasta,” he could almost salivate it in his tongue as he remembered it.

“Her gorgonzola with figs and honey,” Lovino thought he might as well join.

“Easter lamb!”

“And her focaccia sandwiches,” Lovino moaned and indeed he wanted to join in Feliciano’s desire to be at that familiar table once again.

“But well…we have Russian salad,” Lovino rolled his eyes as he finished packing everything in its bag and placing it in his locker.

“It can’t be that bad."

“I can already see myself having to sneak into the kitchen tonight,” he dreaded, picking the keys and his bag to leave.

“Can I join you?”

“If I feel like it when I wake up.” He brought his arm around Feliciano’s neck and pulled him close to him as they made their way out.

“Aw come on, some brother bonding time before you leave to the Baltic base to bring the sword."

“That trip is in two weeks, Feliciano.”

And out they were to the routine of their dinner nights, door shut and the workshop brought into darkness and sure silence this time.

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[alittlecstaticxilophone]

Stories

This one is for @maryranstadler1 who requested number 14 gerita, I hope it desn’t bother you that I made italy a girl and I hope you like it :). And I’m sorry it took this long life caught me and didn’t gave me any free time.

Just like any seven years old kid Ludwig never liked going to school, for him it was boring and the fact that he only had two friends when his entire class seemed to get along pretty well wasn’t of any help. He turned his head at the feeling of someone staring at him, only to find Alice, the Italian girl and one of his only friends staring at him with a huge smile in her face. In the moment she discovered she got caught she waved at the German boy who turned to the other side with a small blush on his face.

The classroom was a mess, nearly no one was in their chair because the teacher had gone out because the principal had called her, and franckly, the poor woman needed a break from the hyperactive bunch of kids. Kiku had told him once that he heard that the teacher putted something weird on her coffee every morning so she could endure the rest of the day.

It was then when a paper ball landed on his face, based on the shocked faces of his classmates the most likely to be responsible was Alfred Jones, anooyed the blond boy stood up from his chair and headed to the front of the classroom, now the entire class’ eyes were on him looking forward to see what he would do. Once Ludwig was on the front of the class he took a deep breath

-Listen to me!- he screamed at the top of his lungs startling the kids -Every single one of you are going to seat in silence! I don’t care if you talk between each other but you have to be as quiet as possible! If any of you misbehave I’ll make sure you get punished! Am I clear?!- The German boy finished making his classmates nod quickly from their seats engaging in small conversations.

-Ve~ That was really cool Luddy!- Alice said -You even scared me!- She confessed with a soft smile in his face, Ludwig didn’t know what to respond unsure of the fact that he didn’t know if he should take the last one as an insult or as a compliment considering that the Italian girl got scared quite easily.

When the teacher got inside the classroom she was highly surprised of the fact that all of the kids were on their seats talking amongst each other instead of screaming and fighting like they usually were. She took one look at the coffee in her hand wondering if she was dreaming.

-Alright class!- She yelled when she got inside the classroom to attract the kids attention, when all of the children turned their heads almost immediately she almost felt like she could shed a tear. -For today I want you to draw someone special for you, any of you know why we are having this assignment?- The woman asked; as soon as she finished the question Alice raised her hand eagerly

-Ve~-she muttered -Is it because Valentine’s day is coming?- Alice asked anxious with a smile on her face -My nonno said it was ve~-The Italian claimed 

-That is correct Alice, very good- The teacher congratulated. -So get working kids, each one of you have to give this pictured to the person you drew, you can even make multiple draws for every single person you think is special- The teacher said while she sat in her chair, her coffee still in hand.

Ludwig regretted the assignment almost instantly, he was really bad at drawing like most of his class and besides thanks to getting most of his genetic traits from his grandpa he was bad at expressing feelings and even worst at showing them. His grandpa had always told him that if he was in front of something difficult he should divide it by steps, so Ludwig compelled.

The first step was the hardest, he had to figure out who he was going to draw, it was difficult because he never really classified the people around him, They just were there with him; he figured out he should draw his grandpa, the man had raised him and always pulled up with Ludwig’s older brother who the little boy was going to draw as well. He passed his eyes around the classroom looking at his classmates, most of them had already started, when his eyes posed on Alice he decided to draw her too, the little girl always was there  for him.

He stared at the three pages in front of him they had drawings yes, but they were awful, Alice always managed to make pretty drawings even at her short age, his were messy to say the least and most of the time they didn’t looked like what they were supposed to be

-Very good Kids!- the woman called taking Ludwig out from his thoughts to pay attention to the woman -Now, who wants to be the first one to show their drawings to the entire class?- The teacher asked and Alice raised her hand entusiastic, when the teacher nodded the girl took the drawings with one hand and headed to the front of the class.

-This is my nonno- she said holding a draw with what appeared to be an old man. -This is my fratello, he is kinda grumpy but he is good deep down he is a good person-She explained a smile in her face, Ludwig had dealed with Lovino already,he never knew someone could mutter all those curses in one breath -And this is my friend Ludwig- She said catching his attention, his cheeks turned red from the mention of his name, the entire class let out a small choir of uhhs

-Alright Alice you may sit now- The teacher indicated 

The rest of the time Ludwig’s classmates started to pass and tell some of their stories, he was grateful when the bell that indicated recess sounded so he didn’t have to pass to the front.

As soon as he was out with his lunch in hand he searched for a place to sit founding it next to the Italian girl who seemed to be waiting for him, she was eating a lasagna, he would be taked aback if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Alice and it was something she would bring to school.

He made his way to her sitting in the bench by her side, both of them started to eat and he was unsure of how to let out the question that had haunted him with the curiosity denying his capacity to let it out

-Why do you think I’m special?- Ludwig asked nervous after a few seconds, she stared at him, food still on her mouth.

-Because you are cool- she talked wih her mouth full making impossible for him to understand her

-What?- he asked in confussion, she smiled and swallowed everything

-Beacause you are cool- she repeated, 

-I’m not- he said confused, he never described himself as cool, and none of his classmates described him as cool

-Yes you are!- the little seven years old said excited waving her hands in the air- You are always calmed, you can put the entire class in order, not even the teacher can do that! Ve~ and also you resolve the math problems really quickly, and you always help me when I can’t solve them!- she was using her stained fingers to count every single one of the things she was saying baffling him -And finally you always have extra pencils and you always let me grab one when I forget mines- She exclaimed with her hands in the air careful to not drop her and his food

-Oh I see- he said unsure of what to respond -Thank you- he smiled softly

-Your welcome-She answered -You never got a turn to talk- she realized -Who did you draw?- she asked in genuine concern and his cheeks turned pink

-Oh, well, I drew my brother and my Grandpa- he admitted a little embarrased, her smile grew wider

-How are they?- she asked excited, so Ludwig exped most of the recess sharing some of his grandpa’s and brother’s stories while Alice told him as many as she could taking the most part of the conversation.

He promised himself he would never tell her he drew her as well.

Here’s the list of prompts and feel free to request

[lithugraph]

Fanfiction asks ! Could you answer questions 2, 3 & 4 for Lost Generation please ? :)

Well, since both @niniel-kirkland and @gummyboots asked about Lost Generation, I’ll answer both here:

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?As silly as it sounds, the original idea for this came from the name of a country western bar that is now closed I think. I never went, but I had a lot of friends who did. It was called The Cheyenne Supper Club. The name made me think of an old west saloon or an upscale “house of ill repute.” I wanted to write a PruAus where Roderich is just a complete bastard. In the fandom, he’s always portrayed as this weakling, but from an historical perspective, Austria was freakin’ boss! So I wanted to do something that showed his darker, more manipulative side. I originally thought about setting it in the old American West. If you’ve ever read East of Eden by John Steinbeck, or seen the movie Pretty Baby, I had initially based Roderich’s character off the madames in each of those. If I had gone the Wild West route, he definitely would have been the male version of Cathy from East of Eden – although I still feel he’s kind of like Madame Mosebery, just with a moral side. I switched from the Wild West theme to Weimar Germany because I felt it was more interesting and i didn’t think the western motif would hold up for long, and I felt Roddy would have just been this one dimensional asshole of a character. Plus I knew how I wanted to end the story set in Germany versus the one set in the American west.

2: What scene did you first put down?The first scene I put down is the first chapter, lol! Actually, it was the part when Gil and Lutz show up out of the blue at Roderich’s club.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?“He thought of his mother’s voice, his uncle’s house – the corners where he used to hide, where he thought the light could not quite reach and yet always seemed to find him. He never could run from it.” This came from the very last chapter and was a theme I tried to reiterate throughout. Without trying to sound too academic or snobbish about my own writing, I was basically playing around with the idea of duality and the tug-of-war of Ludwig’s character. He’s essentially had to hide a major part of himself, in this case his sexuality, because he’s faced such hate for it from his uncle and his schoolmates. The only place he feels “safe” is at the cabaret. He’s seen how open Roderich and Gilbert are with their relationship in public and how open the “girls” are about performing, and he wants to be able to experience that openness too, but he still carries that stigma.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?Not so much a favorite line, more like favorite scenes of dialogue: Any time Ludwig and Lovino are talking together. The dialogue is so simple but I think it conveys what I was trying to get across and I just had a fun time writing their interactions.

5: What part was hardest to write?Ludwig’s sex scene with Irina because it was supposed to be so awkward – and it felt so awkward to write! Also, the build up to Ludwig asking Roderich about being a part of the cabaret act.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?It’s the longest fic I’ve ever written and my continued investment in this world I created.

7: Where did the title come from?The original title, “Bye Bye Blackbird,” was a placeholder until I could think of something better. Well. It stuck for almost five years. As mentioned in the first Author’s Note of the first chapter, some people debate the meaning of the song Bye Bye Blackbird and attribute it to a prostitute getting out of the “business.” I thought that interpretation fit, especially with regards to Roderich and Ludwig. I changed the title to “Lost Generation” because I felt it fit the overall story rather than just two of characters. “Lost generation” is a term typically applied to the generation that reached maturity during and after World War I. More generally, it defines a generation coming to maturity during a period of instability. This world was a catastrophic one. Weimar Germany may have looked pretty and fun and fascinating on the surface, but underneath was a whole different story. (Hence Ivan’s line: “This decade’s decadence can not be allowed to last.”). Periods of extreme change are typically followed by a reversal or even a backlash – ::nudge nudge wink wink:: I’m looking at you, America.

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?Uh, yeah. Just crack open a history book, lolz!

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?Other than the wild west one that never came to fruition, no.

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?It’s PruAus. Need I say more? No, seriously – these two dorks are what’s kept me in this fandom for so long.

11: What do you like best about this fic?Character exploration. Ludwig essentially became the main character in this – which was not my original intention – but I felt to get him to the point of wanting to be in the cabaret, I had to develop him more. In the wild west version, Roderich basically tells him “You’re doing this because I said so and I need the money” (again, see “Pretty Baby” Madam Mosebery reference), but I thought it would be more fun to fuck with everyone and throw in those pesky morals.

Also, this fic was completely new to me with regards to world-building, so to help my scattered brain, I collected images from that time period and drew simple layouts for things like Roddy’s and Lovino’s flats because I wanted it to be as believable as possible. Doing that was really fun, especially on the days I didn’t feel like writing but still wanted to contribute to the fic somehow – and it also helped with inspiration.

12: What do you like least about this fic?It. Is. So. Long. I feel I could have edited it better? But I also feel like everything I wrote needed to be included, so….

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?I have a Pandora station programmed to Duke Ellington, which plays some great early jazz – and even some modern stuff which is not bad. It was all I listened to when I wrote this. I still listen to it when I write “Contrapasso.”

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?Some people are worth your trust. Embrace who you are. Hiding your Self only creates more problems.

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?That I should have made more of a timeline, lol! I wrote one out, but it doesn’t capture the scope of this fic, like, at all. I usually plan stuff out in my head, but there’s only so much my brain can hold on any given day. I’ve never worked with outlines for stories before, but am slowly changing that. (My timeline for Bewteen the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea is already longer than the one for this fic, jfc.)

[yourlocalcringekid]

Screaming. Sobbing. Crying. Vomitting. Feet kicking. Hand flapping. Pillow screaming. 10/10

My ipad mega crashed because of how much hetalia shit I kept on it to the point where I can’t draw on it atm. so I’m doing a little cleaning and found some stuff I never posted lol

Here’s some Victorian spamano

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 6

We’ll Meet Again by George deValier

Sunday 26 March 1944

My Dearest Arthur,

Bonjourno! (That's Italian for hello, you know.) This letter is being sent courtesy of the Italian resistance. The world really does work in weird and wonderful ways sometimes.

Not a day after I sent my last letter to you, Matthew and I met this friendly group of Italians while visiting the local village. There we were, chatting away, when I noticed that one of them looked really familiar… it took me a moment to realise where I had seen him before. The German's photo! He was the young man with the dark eyes and the wild hair! I pulled him aside and asked if he knew a German fighter pilot named Ludwig. Oh, Arthur. The look of shock, then joy, then utter despair. He obviously knew him… and obviously knew what it meant that I knew of him as well.

His name is Feliciano, he is a part of the Italian resistance, and he speaks English really well… unlike his brother Lovino who tends to just yell at us in Italian real loud and angry like. Their grandfather (who is known as Rome) leads the movement and they are very skilled at moving Allied prisoners of war to Spain where they can then make their way home. Feliciano does not seem to be as fervent about the cause as his grandfather or his brother, but he is cheerful and sweet and seems just a little scared. When we first met him he jumped out in front of us frantically waving a small white flag and yelling "I surrender" in four different languages.

Feliciano met Ludwig while the Germans were stationed near his village and fell immediately in love. He didn't care about sides or allegiances… he just met him and loved him. And it was mutual. Feliciano is so helpful to us but he knows at the same time that I helped shoot down Ludwig and imprison him… and yet Feliciano was fighting against the Germans the whole time. It seems there are no sides when it comes to love.

The village here really is very beautiful. One day, when all of this is over, we'll come back here and see it together… without the tanks and the flattened buildings and the burning fields.

I miss you so much. I spend every day thinking about how much I can't wait to get back to you. You're the one, Arthur - the one I want to spend every day of my life with. And the longer I'm here the stronger the conviction grows. I love you. It feels so good just to be able to write the words!

Things might not be going perfectly, but I'll make sure I come back to you, Arthur. I'm the Magician, after all!

Love always, Alfred.

.

Arthur ran his hand gingerly over the letter, folded it, and placed it carefully in his top dresser drawer beside all the others. It was the last letter he had received from Alfred, arriving the morning after the heartbreaking news. The letter was dated a few days before that awful news broadcast. Alfred must have written it only hours before he was captured.

For days Arthur had tried to stop the evil thoughts which assaulted his mind; but he found it impossible. What had the SS done to Alfred? Did he talk? Did he scream? Was he scared? Or did he laugh defiantly and play the hero that he always thought he was? Arthur tried desperately to shake the fears from his head. But God, why Alfred? Why the most honest, cheerful, wonderful person he'd ever known; why the one person in the world who least deserved it?

Once again, Arthur pulled himself together and headed downstairs to work. He plastered on a smile as he walked into the pub and one of his regulars nodded to him as he passed. "How are you holding up there, old chap?"

Arthur waved a hand. "I'm fine, the doctor says it was just exhaustion."

"Ah, you work yourself too hard! Slow down or you'll make yourself ill like last time!"

Arthur laughed and nodded. He'd managed to pass off his reaction to the radio broadcast as a fainting fit brought on by overwork. Nothing more. Everyone had accepted it, and life went on.

Arthur glanced around the pub as he reached the bar. There weren't so many American soldiers around these days, much to his relief. Just the sound of an American accent was enough to pull at Arthur's heart so strongly he thought it might break. Every soldier grinning at him and asking for a bourbon tore him in two once again. Every young, green American with those stupid idealistic views and naive ideas brought back memories of Alfred and shattered the hours Arthur had spent trying to forget. But it was quiet today, and he was grateful.

Arthur got through the rest of the day the way he always did. And every day after that. And through each one, Arthur tried not to think, not to remember, not to feel. Life went on and Arthur tried to go on with it. Hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month. Everything blurred together, one day into the next. He maintained his composure and carried on the same as he always had before. He smiled at the customers. He poured the drinks. He wiped the tables. He did his job.

But everything seemed grey somehow. Arthur hadn't realised how dull life had been before Alfred. Alfred was life: vibrant and real. Though he had only been in Arthur's life a few short weeks, he had quickly become the greatest thing in it. He was sunshine and reality and beauty. And he was gone. So life went on. Dull, and grey, and empty. And though every day Arthur tried his hardest to forget, every night he pulled out that last letter and read those final paragraphs over and over, the ones he had memorised word for word.

"I miss you so much. I spend every day thinking about how much I can't wait to get back to you. You're the one, Arthur - the one I want to spend every day of my life with. And the longer I'm here the stronger the conviction grows. I love you. It feels so good just to be able to write the words!

… I'll make sure I'll come back to you, Arthur."

.

Autumn, 1944 London, England

Another evening ended the way it always did, with Arthur not quite knowing where the time had gone or what he had done with it. He busied himself cleaning and when he reached the table by the second front window, Alfred's table, he tried to wipe it down as fast as possible. After all these months, strong memory still hit him, of Alfred sitting there grinning and winking and raising his bourbon glass for another refill. Arthur tried to shake the memory away. He glanced up at the sound of the front door opening.

A jolt of shock shot through him so strongly it was almost painful. Alfred walked into the pub. Arthur's heart hammered against his chest and he clutched tightly onto the cloth in his hand. His head swam in a sudden wave of unreality. Alfred smiled sadly at him, but there was something wrong. His hair was too long. His eyes were too dark. He had a polar bear attached to his lapel. Arthur's stomach sank to his feet. He went back to wiping the table and fell back into the manner he had accustomed over the last months. Calm. Composed. Emotionless.

"Hello, Matthew."

"Hi, Arthur. How are you?"

"Bloody marvellous. How are you?"

Matthew shrugged. "About the same."

"Oh good." Arthur felt small stab of guilt for his cold welcome, but an irrational wave of anger suppressed it. Why did Alfred's friend and wingman have to come back here? Why was he here to remind Arthur, when all Arthur wanted was to forget?

"Are you just closing?" asked Matthew as he walked to the bar and looked around.

"Yes," said Arthur as he walked back to the bar and threw the cloth down onto the counter. Looking around, he realised that the pub was empty and he hadn't even noticed. He reached for the bottle of rum and poured two glasses, passing one to Matthew and swiftly downing the other. He poured himself another.

Matthew nodded in thanks as he took the glass. "I suppose you… I mean, it's been so long, you must have heard…"

"Yes," said Arthur, saving himself the pain and Matthew the unease of trying to complete that sentence.

"Oh." Matthew took a long sip of rum. "How? If you don't mind my…"

"Radio," interrupted Arthur. "One of our friend Haw Haw's informative broadcasts."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Matthew looked genuinely dismayed. "What did you hear?"

Arthur sighed deeply and took a large gulp of his rum. Did he really have to say this out loud… "Shot down. Captured barely alive. Taken by the SS to be…" Arthur choked out the last word. "…interrogated." The words were engraved in his memory.

Matthew looked down into his glass. "I'm sorry," he said again. "He went down behind enemy lines. We haven't heard anything since, but since it's been so long… there's very little hope."

Arthur nodded. He knew this. What he didn't know was why Matthew was here to voice Arthur's fears and make it so much worse.

And Matthew continued. "It was a trap. He was surrounded. But he was amazing… none of us have ever seen anything like it. He shot down seven of them. That's unheard of. He drew their fire away from the rest of us, and…"

Arthur couldn't stand it. "Is this where you tell me he was a hero who fought and died bravely and I should be very proud? I'm quite aware of that. And it isn't as though I am his widow. Perhaps you should be telling all this to his family."

There was a moment of silence as a spasm of hurt passed across Matthew's face. Arthur looked away, feeling a little guilty. "I'm sorry, Matthew."

"It's all right." Matthew stood in silence for a moment. "You know, he didn't actually have a family. He didn't have anyone. Until you." Arthur couldn't bear the words... why was Matthew still talking... "You were all he talked about. Arthur this, and Arthur that…" Matthew smiled sadly. "'I'm gonna take Arthur up in Lady Beth one day... I bet Arthur would love this village... when this war is over, I'm gonna show Arthur America...'" Matthew almost laughed. "I tell you what, he nearly drove me insane with it." Arthur closed his eyes tightly. "He loved you, Arthur. Please don't ever forget that."

Arthur breathed deeply before finally opening his eyes. "No. I don't think I ever will."

"I'm sorry. I've just caused you pain coming here." Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Arthur gasped as he saw what it was. Matthew looked almost apologetic as he handed it over. "We found it in the wreckage."

Arthur's hand felt leaden as he reached out and took the handkerchief. He swallowed heavily and, unable to say anything, he just nodded. He looked down at the embroidered handkerchief, the gift he had given Alfred to serve as a good luck talisman. The irony was too cruel.

"And one more thing." Arthur's heart flipped as Matthew handed him a battered envelope. "He wrote this the morning before… well, you know. He never got to send it. I'm sorry I waited so long, but I thought I should give it to you personally."

Choked up, Arthur nodded again. Here Matthew was just trying to make him feel better, trying to help, and Arthur was being horrible. Arthur wanted to apologise but he simply could not speak.

"We're heading to France soon. I'll come and say goodbye before we head over." Matthew finished his drink, put down his glass, and headed for the door.

"Matthew," Arthur finally managed to choke out. Matthew turned. "Thank you."

Matthew smiled and nodded, then left.

Arthur looked down at the handkerchief, ran his fingers over it, then held it up to his face. He inhaled deeply, clutching desperately for the slightest touch of Alfred from the small piece of cloth. Had it touched Alfred's skin? His lips? Had Alfred been holding it when his plane crashed down? Arthur quickly held back the dark thoughts and ripped open the letter.

.

My Dearest Arthur,

I have done something. It may have been incredibly stupid. It may have been treason.

I don't know if it was wrong. It didn't feel wrong… but now I don't know what may happen to me. All I know is that I don't regret it.

Arthur… whether I come back to you or not… I will love you forever.

My love always, Alfred.

.

Arthur stared at the page, completely unsure what to make of the words. He read them what felt like a hundred times. Eventually he did the only thing he could really do. He poured a glass of bourbon, drank it, then poured another. Bourbon was Alfred's drink. It felt appropriate.

Arthur walked slowly to the mantelpiece and carefully placed the full glass on its surface. Memories started to flood his mind unbidden. The first time this fresh faced American pilot stood at his bar, grinning widely and asking for a glass of bourbon… Bourbon, straight over ice… you Brits have bourbon over here, right? The first time he introduced himself… Alfred F. Jones, American hero, here to save England! The first time of many he asked Arthur to have a drink with him… I've never drunk with an Englishman before! That fateful time he finally succeeded… Arthur, buddy, how about you come have that drink you promised? And of course the night Alfred tried desperately to grasp a glass of scotch off a customer at this very mantelpiece, terrified of the story of the ghost of the Emerald Lion.

Arthur laughed as he looked at the single glass of bourbon sitting on the mantelpiece. Alfred always was so fanatical, so passionate, so boisterous in everything he did. Arthur shook his head as the smile fell from his face. "Alfred, you bastard… you promised you'd come back."

It took only a few seconds for Arthur's composure to fall to pieces. All his carefully constructed, calm self-control fell apart, and his despair overwhelmed him for the first time since those moments he heard the heartbreaking news on the radio. He couldn't stay in this room. The memories were too overwhelming. The bedroom would be even worse. With nowhere else to go, finally Arthur fled down the stairs to the cellar, and headed straight for the rows of bourbon. Taking a bottle from the shelf, he looked down at it for a brief moment, then in a sudden fit of impulse he hurled it as hard as he could at the stone wall. He wanted to shatter the memories, shatter the pain. He watched as the bottle smashed into a million brilliant glass pieces. Just like his heart.

And then Arthur finally let it all come out. Grasping two more bottles from the shelf, he didn't pause to think before smashing them both against the wall, one after the other. Why did this bloody war have to happen? Why did he have to meet someone so amazing only to have him snatched away? Why did he have to find such happiness only to lose it and then know forever what he was living without? Why were there no bloody answers to any of these questions?

Arthur screamed, he yelled, he cried. He wanted this feeling gone. He wanted Alfred back. He wanted it so badly it hurt. He didn't notice as a shard of glass flew back and sliced his cheek. He simply grabbed more bottles and smashed them as hard as he could. Turning to grab another bottle, he finally fell to the ground, pulled off the lid and drank. It took only seconds to down a bottle of bourbon and reach for more. He didn't stop. When one was empty, he reached for another.

Perhaps an hour passed. Perhaps a day. Perhaps more. People may have been speaking to him, but Arthur ignored them. He simply grasped for more bourbon. The dark turned to light, then back to darkness. Arthur reached for more of the liquid void. Blackness. Blessed oblivion.

Arthur was dreaming. The soft melody of 'We'll Meet Again' wafted through the air. Alfred was there… grinning, winking, laughing, smiling. "I'm gonna show you it all, Arthur!" "You'll love it you really will!" "I like that… when you smile…"

The air was thick and the cellar floor hard and cold beneath him. Arthur finally opened his eyes… and there he was, right in front of him. That golden hair, that golden skin, those bright, blue eyes. Arthur looked up into Alfred's beautiful face and smiled. "I knew you'd come back to me."

And then oblivion took over once more.

.

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