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hws-cernunnos · 3 years

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Following an advice given by my friend @flamaflavio I've decided to dedicate a series of posts on Northern Italy(because there's a serious lack of them in the fandom:(),whether they might be about culture,history,folklore,stereotypes(could be an interesting addition to characterization)or misconceptions*? Maybe even cuisine ahah

In this post I'll expain what we intend for North Italy, why it doesn't line up perfectly with canon and most importantly why Feli gets called "Italy" way more often than Mano.

Let's start by stating that in our country by North Italy we mean the regions of: Aosta Valley (Valle d'Aosta), Emilia-Romagna, Friuli-Venezia Giulia, Liguria(the region your girl's from), Lombardy(Lombardia), Piedmont (Piemonte), Veneto and Trentino Alto-Adige.

So you might ask me, why is it that in Hetalia Chibitalia has been shown as Florence as well??? Is it a mistake made by Hima?? Yes.. But actually no ahah! In this post I'll cover how we came to such a perception of the North in our country and why Tuscany and the rest of Central Italy, isn't included in it and doesn't consider themselves part of it :D

I won't talk about all history until nowadays of course (I'll definitely make future historical posts) I'll simply give you basic information based on early history to have an understanding of how us italians divide our country and why in canon other nations refer to Feliciano as Italy more commonly than they do with Romano(it is indeed based in history, it's not mean spirited!!).

So during the centuries prior to romanization North Italy was inhabited by a different bunch of cultures, among them the long haired Ligures(whose origin is unsure,Celtic?? Or simply celtified by their neighbors uhmm?? Talking about them in detail would take a whole ass post) the Veneti who were known for their commerce of amber and horse breeding, the Etruscans who, coming from Tuscany, colonised parts of the North and founded cities such as Bologna and in a later period a swarm of Gaulish tribes(generally referred to as the Celts).

The latter(most likely the Insubres) founded Milan in 590 BC, naming it Medhelan(the place in the middle of the plain, or among rivers) or Mediolanum as the Roman would call it later(Meśiolano as a Celtic engraving informs us) keep Milan in mind we'll come back to her later. Their domain extended from the Alps to the Adriatic sea.

This would be stopped by roman conquest that would culminate in 194 BC in the foundation of a province under the name of Gallia Cisalpina**,Cisalpine Gaul, id est Gaul on the hither side of the Alps(from the Romans point of view) that pretty much contained the regions which nowadays we consider North Italy.

The area became one of the most influential and rich provinces in the empire and it's strategic role is emphasized by the fact that in 286 the capital of the Western Roman Empire is moved from Rome to,guess where, Milan the main city in Gallia Cisalpina(and later on in Ravenna from 402 to the fall).

Is this why Grandpa is shown to leave poor Romano behind in canon in favour of his little brother??? Most likely!!! Btw if you're interested in the subject you should totally check out jjblue's Italia Annonaria (baby Feli) and Italia Suburbicaria (baby Mano) profiles on DA.

It's really unfair that the other characters call only Feliciano Italy:/ It's actually not true, as my friend flama has talked about in one her posts both Germany and America have called him Italy in the past. The fact that this behavior hurts Romano is long lasting misunderstanding in the fandom: he really doesn't care.

What annoys him it's that he's often referred to as "Italy's older brother" but not because he's Italy as well, but because that takes away his individuality: he's peeved by the fact he's only considered in relation to his brother, he's Romano besides being Feliciano's older brother ahah.

If his identity as Italy truly mattered to him he would have some kind of reaction out of being called Italy, especially by someone he has a bad relationship with like Germany, but he was left completely indifferent by that. I've often seen fanfictions where he's moved to tears by such action by it actually seems like he doesn't mind. He just wants people to understand he has a persona outside being Feli's big brother ahah.

There's actually a reason why Feli is "Italy" and it has been actually brought up recently in the fandom. Let's go back to history ahah.

A germanic general named Odoacer overthrew the last Roman Emperor, whose name for some reason I always found funnee, Romulus Augustulus.

Now the Eastern Roman Empire was having none of that and decided to invite Theodoric the Great of the Ostrogoths to rule over Italy under their approval(btw if you'll ever visit Ravenna do check out Sant'Apollinare Nuovo and Theodoric's Mausoleum). Ostrogothic rule was short lived (lasted pretty much Theodoric's reign) but greatly improved the economy and the arts. . . Too good to be true of course, because Justinian I(Eastern Roman emperor)decided he wanted to revive the glory ™ of the empire and this brings us to Gothic Wars.

Italy, especially the North, was left devastated by them, as they brought death(duh),poverty and were accompanied by a good dose of famine and plague. Byzantine rule wouldn't last long as a Germanic tribe***, the Lombards, took advantage of their weakness and took over italy and gave birth to a reign, which had Pavia as capital.

Said reign was called Langobardia, in particular North and Central Italy were named Langobardia Maior(The great Langobardia), which is the name under which North italy would be known as for a good part of the middle age and that gives the name to the modern region Milan and Pavia are located, Lombardia/Lombardy.

For example Boccaccio in his Decameron(in particular in the first novella) uses Lombards when referring to Italian merchants because that's the name they were given even if most of them came from Piedmont and Tuscany.

Lombard language and culture slowly was assimilated into the previous one and that can be seen in names, words and laws created in that period. This came to an end in 774 when Charles the Great, king of the Franks(and future Holy Roman Emperor), conquered Pavia and annexed the Lombard kingdom... Under the name of Kingdom of Italy!

So in other words the reason why our boy is the one who's called Italy the most is because he's simply been "Italy" for longer or more specifically for more than once(as I explain in the notes:)!!). Mano on the other hand would have most likely known as Kingdom of Sicily, Kingdom of Naples or Kingdom of the two Sicilies :). And I'm very much sure he would have been proud of such identity.

But what about central Italy??? You see the Papal States forged a document the Donation of Constantine, according to which Emperor Constantine assured Pope Silvester I(in 321) and his successors the exclusive domain over the city of Rome(btw Rome isn't part of southern Italy!!the fact South Italy is called Romano is really weird and so is North Italy as Veneziano ngl). This gave the Church access to "temporal power",id est material power and with it came territorial power. And so little by little (with the exception of Tuscany that flourished on it's own) it ate up the whole of Central Italy, which would develop a linguistic group, a culture and history of its own.

And that's pretty much what you need to know to understand Hetalia's confusing lore ahah. It's not everything I could go on explaining the era of the Commons and the Renaissance and go all through medieval and modern history to make you fully grasp it but I think it's enough for today:D let me know if you want me to talk about the subjects I mentioned in detail and if you want me to go on. Read the notes :)!!!

*I've often seen Feli wearing tarantella clothes, because it's probably assumed as the italian™ traditional dance and the music is misused in videos about Italy(all of Italy!!)when it's really characteristic of the South:)! Would be nice to see more fan arts of Mano in those garments lol really nice

**Napoleon would found in the 18th century the Cisalpine Republic in North Italy, a sister republic of France, that would later become known as the Italian Republic and then the (napoleonic!!!)Kingdom of Italy:) not to be confused with the Kingdom of Italy that would be born on the 17th of March 1861,ring a bell ahah???Read Hetalia's Risorgimento strips if you want to know about that:)))Milan djdbdb was once again the capital of all these.

***considering Romano is stated to have Arabic blood which is definitely brought by the moorish occupation, I'd assume Feli's Germanic one has to do with daddy Lombards. The longobards ruled over the South as well so ehhh, but hey it's Hima we're talking about. Genetics work in a weird way in hetalia, they're like acquired??? Hima explains that Canada, America and Seychelles don't have England's bushy eyebrows because of France's influence. Wtf. Oh btw if you might be interested in the Lombards' origin in Historia Langobardorum Paulus Diaconus informs us they came from Scania(a region in Sweden) and the settled in "Scoringa".

#I've been feeling down lately and needed a distraction #hope y'all will like it #in any case i enjoyed doing this :)#aph north italy #hws north italy #aph italy #hws italy #aph south italy #hws south italy

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thatsamericano · 3 years

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The Unawesome Assumption

Characters/Pairing: Awesome Trio (Denmark, Prussia, and America), with America having an obvious crush on Romano and established Gerita. If you squint, there might be mild implications of one-sided Pruita and Prumano. Also mentions of Spamano, but that’s pretty much all in America’s paranoid brain. (Note that America does rant about the idea of Spamano in an anti-ish way, but it’s based on jealousy. I have nothing against Spamano shippers.)

Summary: The Awesome Trio is enjoying a day out at a carnival when America gets a phone call from “Little Italy” and acts strangely during the call. Believing that “Little Italy” is his brother’s boyfriend, Prussia warns America that Italy is off limits and gets a response he wasn’t expecting.

Rating: Teen for some crude sexual humor, cursing, and mentions of violence

Word Count: 1971

Notes: Credit to @bitchapalooza for the idea of what the Awesome Trio would do when hanging out together, including some specific details that got mentioned in this story. This will be posted on my AO3 account soon, if you’d rather read or comment there.

America took a bite of the snack he had just purchased from the carnival booth and made a satisfied noise. “Damn, these things are good. I swear, deep frying an Oreo just makes it better.”

Denmark grinned at him. “Try dipping it in that huge Slurpie you’re holding.”

America dipped his deep-fried Oreo into the Slurpie, took a bite, then closed his eyes and moaned in a way that was, quite frankly, obscene. “Holy shit! It’s like a flavor orgasm in my mouth!”

Prussia laughed at him. “You like having orgasms in your mouth, Al?”

America’s face turned red as Denmark joined in on the snickering too. “Shut up, dude! You know what I meant!”

Prussia reached over and ruffled America’s hair fondly. “Of course we do, kiddo.” America wasn’t really a kid anymore, but he was younger than Prussia and Denmark, and not just in physical age. And as far as Prussia was aware, America had never been in a relationship or done anything that would involve orgasms in his mouth. Maybe he just wasn’t into people that way, Prussia mused.

America rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What do you guys want to do next?”

Denmark glanced around. “It looks like there’s a petting zoo over there,” he said, pointing with his index finger. “That could be fun.”

“I’m up for it,” Prussia agreed. They’d already done most of the rides anyway, and seriously, who would pass up the opportunity to pet a cute farm animal? Not Prussia.

America nodded too, and they all started heading towards the petting zoo, which was a fair distance away from the deep-fried Oreo booth. Right after they finished up their deep-fried Oreos, an old-fashioned song began to play. Old-fashioned as in more than 50 years old, but still played often enough that most people could recognize it from the first line.

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore

Prussia looked around in confusion, wondering what could have been playing a Dean Martin song over carnival music and kids running around and screaming with delight. “Does this place have an Italy-themed booth?” Prussia wondered aloud.

“I think it’s coming from America,” Denmark replied. When Prussia glanced at him, America was scrambling to retrieve his cell phone from his jeans pocket and trying to shift a giant inflatable alien he had won at the bottle shooting booth into his other arm at the same time. In the process, his cell phone bounced out of his pocket and fell to the ground, but the screen didn’t crack. Denmark swooped in to pick up the phone before America could bend down to get it.

His eyebrows lifted in amusement as he read the contact name on the screen. “Little Italy is calling you?”

America scowled, face flushing just as red as it had earlier when Prussia had been teasing him about his accidental sexual innuendo. Prussia felt a strange, foreboding sense that something just wasn’t right. “Give me back my phone, Denmark.”

“Sure.” Denmark handed the phone over. “Wouldn’t want to keep little Italy waiting, huh?”

America shot Denmark an irritated glare as he answered the call. But as soon as Italy started speaking to him, America smiled fondly and took a few steps away so he could speak to Italy without Denmark and Prussia overhearing everything he said.

“Well, that was weird,” Denmark said.

Prussia’s eyes narrowed as he watched America talking to Italy. “Ja, it was.” America had a lot of customized ringtones for his cell phone, and it made sense that he would have one for Italy. But Prussia had never heard America’s phone ringing with a love song before. And America’s demeanor was strange too. Prussia had spent a lot of time around America, and he wasn’t normally this quiet. He smiled often, but it was a big, bright grin, not the small, almost shy smile on his face now. Did America have a crush on Italy? If he did, Prussia couldn’t really blame him. Both of the Italian brothers were cute, and Italy was especially sweet and adorable. But Italy was Germany’s boyfriend. Everyone knew that. America knew that.

America giggled in response to something Italy said. “Aww, Vene, you worry too much! I doubt I’m gonna get sick from the carnival food. But if I did, I wouldn’t mind having you nurse me back to health. I know you’d take great care of me.”

“Dude. Isn’t Italy dating your little brother?” Denmark whispered in a worried tone of voice.

“He is,” Prussia answered, nearly growling out the words. “And if America keeps talking to him like that, I’m gonna have to beat him so badly he won’t be able to walk for the next two weeks.” America was clearly picturing Italy “taking care of him” in more than just in a medical way. He was flirting with Ludwig’s boyfriend, and that was an incredibly stupid thing to do right in front of Prussia. Gilbert would protect his baby brother with his life, and he would not allow anyone to hurt him by attempting to lure Feliciano away. Not even one of his closest friends.

America talked to Italy for a couple more minutes, but Prussia didn’t overhear anything else he said, other than the goodbye that was way too affectionate for a friend. America hung up the phone and walked back towards Denmark and Prussia with a content expression on his face, and Prussia immediately began to question him.

“What the fuck were you just doing?”

America’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? I answered a phone call?”

“We saw you trying to flirt with Italy over the phone,” Denmark explained. “Your attempt was so cheesy I doubt it was effective, but it was also really obvious. Iceland’s puffin could have picked up on what you were doing.”

“What? Dude, that’s crazy! I don’t like Vene that way.” America wheezed with phony laughter, and he shifted his gaze around like he always did when he was attempting to lie. America was a notoriously horrible liar, and that’s why Denmark and Prussia usually got the beers for Alfred if they wanted to hang out in the US and drink together. America might have an excellent fake ID that said he was 21, but no bartender would believe Alfred when he showed them his ID with such a guilty expression. And Prussia didn’t believe him now.

“Listen, I don’t care if you’ve got some silly little crush on Italy,” Prussia told him. “That’s something you can’t help. But you can’t talk to him like that ever again. Italy is off limits.” Gilbert thought he was being incredibly reasonable, given the circumstances. The fact that America wasn’t lying on the ground bleeding was a goddamn miracle.

But apparently, America didn’t see it that way. He scoffed and put his hands on his hips. “Off limits? Why? Because you’ve got a thing for him? You can’t claim dibs on a person, Gil. That’s not how it works.”

“What?! No, this isn’t about me!” Why the hell would America even think that?

“Oh, I see. This is about Spain.” America’s lip curled into a disgusted sneer, but before Prussia could interrupt to correct America’s bizarre assumption, he continued, launching into a tirade against Prussia and Spain. “I guess he’s your real friend, and I’m not! It doesn’t matter how I feel, because Spain has a permanent claim on Vene just because he’s known him for longer. Well, you know something, I think you’re full of shit! And I think it’s up to Vene who he wants to be with! Maybe he wouldn’t want to be with the guy who fucking raised him from the time he was a toddler! But guess even considering that makes me the crazy one!”

Prussia was aware of some nearby humans turning to stare at them in surprise, and many of them seemed almost as shocked as the lady who guessed people’s ages had been when Denmark told her his real age. But he was pretty startled too, because America was much more bitter than he had been expecting. Prussia was also startled by the realization that his righteous anger had all been based on a ridiculous misunderstanding.

“Really, Spain too?” Denmark murmured. “I don’t get it. Is Italy emitting some kind of magic love pheromones or something?”

Prussia shook his head without taking his eyes off America. “He wasn’t talking about Italy. He was talking about Italy’s brother. Romano.”

America’s face cleared in understanding. “Oh… oh! You thought I was talking about North Italy! No wonder you got so mad at me!”

Prussia nodded and chuckled a little, at both himself and the situation. “You didn’t exactly help when you started calling him ‘Vinny.’ I thought that was short for Veneziano.”

“No, dude, that’s based on his human name, Savino. I started calling him that back when we lived together.” America sounded pretty damn nostalgic, and Prussia felt a little silly for assuming Alfred had been talking to Feliciano. He’d sounded nostalgic about the 1920s before, but Prussia had assumed it was just a friendship thing.

“Did you come up with the Little Italy thing around then too?” Denmark asked.

“Yeah.” America smiled, and his eyes went all soft, like he was staring at the world’s most adorable kitten. “It’s not just ‘cause he’s little compared to me, though he is. It’s ‘cause most of the people who lived in those neighborhoods were from his part of Italy. It would feel pretty weird to call North Italy that.”

Prussia rolled his eyes as all three of them started walking towards the petting zoo again. “Right, and we’re supposed to believe you don’t have a crush on him?”

“I don’t!” America insisted. “I swear.”

Denmark snorted. “Okay, then why’d you pick that song to be his ringtone?”

“Well, it mentions Naples. It’s a nice song, and it reminds me of Romano. Honestly, you guys should’ve known I was talking to him based on the ringtone alone.”

Prussia exchanged a smirk with Denmark. “He knows where Naples is, but I bet he couldn’t locate either of us on a map.”

“That’s not true! I know for a fact that Prussia is East Germany. Denmark is directly to the left of Finland and right above Norway.”

Denmark burst into a fit of raucous laughter, and Prussia did too. America sounded so confident about Denmark’s location even though he was completely off, and it was hilarious.

America pouted as they all got in line behind a group of children. “You guys are mean.”

Denmark shoved America’s shoulder playfully. “Cheer up, Al. We’re just teasing you a little.”

“Yeah. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about with Spain,” Prussia added. “I mean, sure, he might go overprotective on you if you try to date Romano, but I don’t think he’s into him like that. So, you’re in the clear there.”

For someone who had denied having a crush on Romano twice in the past few minutes, America looked incredibly relieved that Spain was not going to be romantic competition for him. But then, the guy running the little petting zoo announced that the next person in line would get a chance to milk a goat, and Denmark pushed past multiple children to the front of the line, so Prussia naturally turned his attention to that. The man running the zoo had a flabbergasted expression on his face as Denmark ran up to him and the goat, and both America and Prussia found it hysterical. This carnival was turning out to be one of the most awesome things Prussia had done in a while, and he was glad he got to hang out with his friends today and make entertaining memories like this one.

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kaimaciel · 4 years

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Love is a fire that burns unseen

Historical based fanfic regarding the wildfires of 2017.

I wrote this a few years ago. I've been wanting to write about my country in a Hetalia story for a while. I was living near one of the great fires that destroyed so many forests and homes. No one I loved was hurt, but there were entire families that were destroyed by these fires. The summer of 2017 felt like a neverending nightmare.

We felt desperate and alone. Thankfully, we managed to stop the fires with the help of our brave firefighters and the help from other countries like Spain, though the scars from the fires will take years to heal.

If Portugal was a person, his whole back would have been burned, which is where the idea for this story came from. I hope you like it.

Characters: Portugal, Spain, Macau, Brazil, Angola, France, England. Cameos from North Italy, Germany and Romano.

Love is a fire that burns unseen,

A wound that aches yet isn't felt,

An always discontent contentment,

A pain that rages without hurting,

A longing for nothing but to long,

A loneliness in the midst of people,

A never feeling pleased when pleased,

A passion that gains when lost in thought.

Luis Vaz de Camões, The Lusiads

2017

He could still hear them screaming. Every time he let his mind wander, Portugal could hear the screams of his people trapped by smoke and fire. Men and women screaming for their lives, watching helplessly as their homes and fields burned to ash. Children crying for their parents, mothers, and fathers screaming for their children.

Some had been trapped inside their cars, unable to escape the fire.

Wincing, he buried his nails on his palms to drive those thoughts away and once again tried to listen to the world meeting in front of him. America was trading words with Russia again. Like many times before, Ivan denied knowing anything that Alfred was talking about. This meeting was going to take a while and everyone already looked tired and depressed.

Portugal tried to listen to his fellow countries, but his burnt back was aching badly under his heavy black suit and his head felt heavy and sluggish.

Why was he in this meeting at all? He knew it was just a formal courtesy. Many of the countries present didn't even know who he was, and those who did know didn't think much of him.

He was a failure. The fact that he had once been an Empire was laughable considering how much he had failed as a country. He would never be like Spain, France or England. He should never have tried.

Speaking of which, Portugal's green eyes widened as he watched England rise from his seat and walk towards the podium.

It had been 631 years since the Treaty of Windsor when Portugal and England had forged their alliance. He could still remember that day vividly: young, belligerent England, with his blond hair and bright green eyes, promising to help him kick Spain's ass out of his territory. They both promised to watch each other’s back as allies and friends forever.

Portugal had been happy, finally having a friend on his side against Spain's many, many, many attempts to conquer him. And not just any friend. England! It made sense strategically, Spain and later France and always been a pain on both their necks, but now Portugal didn't have to fight them alone.

Watching England now, he tried to catch his friend's eyes. He heard the smoke from the fires had reached the English shores, painting their skies red. He had hoped England would call him, ask him if he was alright, but he got no word.

Portugal lowered his head, facing his bandaged hands in front of him. He understood though, England had his fair share of problems, especially now with Brexit and a very tense political climate. Arthur was under a lot of stress and he looked miserable.

If Portugal wanted to be honest with himself, he always knew their friendship was very one-sided. He had needed England more than England had needed him, and he knew he could never measure up to his friend's caliber. Sometimes, he had the feeling England felt embarrassed by the treaty, wishing he had made an alliance with a better, richer, stronger country instead.

No friendship ever lasted forever.

The cellphone in his pants' pocket buzzed, forcing Portugal to pick it up. He felt a lump inside his throat when he saw it was from one of his superiors.

Trying to appear calm, he silently rose from his seat and walked out of the white meeting room. England was having a very heated argument with France and Germany, so no one even noticed that he had left.

Finally, alone in a corridor, Portugal took a deep breath and finally took the call. As he expected, he was greeted by his superior's angry voice. They asked about the fires, how he could have allowed this to happen, how he was going to get the money to rebuild everything that had been destroyed.

"I'll get the money... somehow. I just need a little time," he answered, feeling his legs shaking. "And I will do better from now on. You have my word."

"Your word? Every year we go through this! Fires and more fires because you don't clean the forests properly!"

"There were... suspicions about arson..."

"I don't care if it was arson! That only proves that you can't even look after yourself!"

Portugal bit his lower lip. The superior was right. Every year there were fires and every year he promised he was going to prevent them. Do better.

He couldn't keep his promise. Now, his people were hurt, most of his forests were gone, and it was all his fault.

"The Pine Forest of Leiria..." he whispered.

"Gone! It's all gone!"

Portugal's mouth dropped. "All... all of it?"

"About 80% is gone."

His hands began to shake. The Pine Forest, all those tall and green pine trees, planted by the shore to protect the crops from the sands, the trees he had used to build the Caravelas, so wherever he was sailing it always felt like home.

Now it was gone.

His superior kept barking on the phone, but Portugal could barely listen. His legs gave away and he slid down to the ground, his vision blurry as he panted. He was burning, just like the trees and the fields and his people...

"... ashamed to be called a European country... world's laughing stock... a nobody..."

The cellphone slipped from Portugal's hands and lied face down on the expensive carpet, muffling the sound of his superior's voice. He pressed his sweaty forehead against the wall, his brown hair already wet, and thought of the Atlantic Ocean, it's cold waves against his aching skin, the wind blowing his long hair, the white sails of the Caravelas above him.

Love is a fire that burns unseen,

A wound that aches yet isn't felt,

An always discontent contentment,

A pain that rages without hurting

He woke up lying on his stomach on something soft, with a cool breeze on his face from an open window, white curtains blowing softly.

"Portugal? Are you awake?"

Slowly, he raised his green eyes and found a young Asian man with kind light-brown eyes staring back under a pair of glasses.

"Macau?"

His former colony smiled and pulled a chair. "How are you feeling?"

Portugal tried to stand up, but a strong hand pushed him down against the soft bed.

"Lie down! I don't want you to faint again," a firm woman's voice said on his left side, forcing the older country to turn his head to face her.

A young black woman was holding bandages and ointments on her hands, her brown eyes focused on Portugal's burnt back as she worked. A yellow ribbon kept her long hair from falling down her face.

"Hello, Angola," Portugal said with a weak smile.

Angola sighed but kept working on cleaning and bandaging his back.

"What were you thinking? Coming here when you're this hurt?" she asked him.

Portugal lowered his eyes. "I thought I should show up... But you're right, I shouldn't have come."

"Damn right, you shouldn't!" an angry voice cried out from outside the hotel room. It seemed its source was leaning against the door.

"Brazil?" Portugal asked.

Even though he couldn't see him, Portugal could almost see Brazil's green eyes roll. "No, it's Fafá de Belém. Of course it's me!"

Macau smiled as he leaned over his adopted older brother. "When we heard that you had collapsed, Angola and I came running. Brazil overheard us and insisted on coming too."

"I did not insist on coming! I just wanted to make sure the old man was dead!" Brazil cried out. "So I could throw a party!"

"He was praying the Rosary up until a few minutes ago," Angola said.

"I was praying for that thieving bastard to die!"

"I could hear him crying."

"I wasn't fucking crying, Angola! Shut up!"

Macau chuckled while Angola simply shrugged and continued bandaging Portugal's back, while Brazil sulked on the other side of the door. After a few minutes, Angola was done, and Portugal was able to raise his head to face his former colonies, his former adopted brothers, and sister.

"Thank you for coming, Angola. Macau," he moved his head in the doors direction and shouted. "You too, Brazil."

"I didn't come help you, babaca!" the South American country shouted back.

Rolling her eyes, Angola rose from her chair. "Well, you should be alright now. Get some rest."

"Thank you, Angola."

Macau also stood up and placed a heavy envelope on Portugal's hands. The older country's eyes widened when he realized it was money.

"Macau! I... thank you, but I can't accept this!" Portugal said, shaking his head and trying to give back the money, but Macau wouldn't take it.

"It's not much, but I want help you rebuild what the fires took."

"I can't take your money, Macau. You've done enough for me. I don't know how to repay you."

"Please, don't let your pride get in the way. I don't want you to repay me, I want to help. You're family," Macau said, placing his hand on Portugal's shoulder. "We'll always be family. Let me help you, dàgē."

Slowly, Portugal's hand closed around the envelope, his eyes brimming with tears. Even though he tried to control his emotions, tears were very difficult for him to stop.

"Obrigado."

"Stop sucking up to the old man, Macau!" Brazil yelled from the other side of the door.

"That's it!" Angola opened the door, causing a young, tanned man to fall to the room's floor. He quickly stood up, glaring at his adopted sister.

"What the fuck, Angola?!"

"That's what you get for being a jealous brat."

"Jealous?! I'm not jealous!" Brazil's eyes caught sight of Portugal's burnt and bandaged body on the hotel bed.

They so much looked alike. Out of his former colonies, Brazil was the one who resembled Portugal the most. They had the same green eyes and the same brown hair, though Brazil's was shorter and messier. He was wearing a yellow and green bandana around his head.

"Olá, Brasil," Portugal said, turning around so he could face him, though every movement was painful on his sensitive skin.

Brazil's cheeks turned bright red and he burst out of the room, followed closely by an angry Angola and a smiling, apologetic Macau who closed the door before once again urging Portugal to rest.

The older country did just that. Thanks to Angola's care, his back felt a lot better and he was finally able to lay back against the cushions and sleep for a few hours.

He woke up when he felt someone sitting on his bed.

The window had been closed and the sun was down, leaving his room dark except for the lights coming from the TV screen. Portugal looked at the foot of his bed, where he could see the silhouette of someone with a wrinkled shirt and short dark hair eating a tomato salad.

Portugal knew that head like the back of his hand.

"Spain?"

Spain got up from the bed so fast that he almost dropped his salad. He faced Portugal, his eyes wide and his cheeks red.

"I... I thought you were asleep!"

Portugal blinked and pointed at the foot of the bed. "I was, but you sat down on my right foot."

Spain looked at the bed then at Portugal before putting down his salad. "Right. Huh... Sorry, about that."

"It's okay."

"Can I sit down?" Spain pointed at the empty space beside Portugal rather than at the perfectly good chair on his side.

"Huh... Sure."

Almost shyly, Spain sat down on the bed beside him, taking off his shoes so he could cross his legs on the bed.

For a while, neither country said anything. They stood silently, watching some action movie on the screen, though neither was paying attention.

Portugal stared at his neighbor. For centuries, Spain had been his worst enemy, the reason he kept a weapon under his pillow in case of a surprise attack.

Spain was powerful and he made no secret that he wanted to own the entire Iberian Peninsula. Portugal was that little rectangle of land that stood in the way of his goal. Even though he wasn't considered as much of a threat as France or England, Spain had been relentless in trying to invade him.

For almost eight centuries they had been enemies and rivals, and Spain had almost succeeded taking Portugal more than once. But Portugal didn't want to be another part of Spain, he would rather die or drown in the ocean before that happened.

The rest of the world thought they were very similar, however, they could only see what made them different.

Then, as the years went by and both their empires fell, something began to change between them. Portugal wanted to keep what little he had left while Spain was ravaged by one civil war after the other. Before they realized, the world had moved on while they stood the same. The time for war over land was done.

Even though they couldn't forget their troubled past, they could try to be something more than old enemies.

"Antonio?" Portugal asked, using Spain's human name. That seemed to surprise the other country.

"What?"

"I... I never got a chance to thank you... for the fires," Portugal said, trying to look Spain in the eye. "You sent your firefighters to help me and you didn't have to do it. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been able to stop them."

Spain's green eyes, so like Portugal's, widened. "Of course I was going to help you! I wasn't going to let you burn!"

It was Portugal's turn to look confused. "You weren't?"

Spain raised his hands in the air. "Of course not!"

"Oh..." feeling embarrassed, Portugal looked away, his fingers toying with the silver crucifix around his neck.

"You thought that, didn't you? You thought I was going to happily let you burn!"

"Antonio... I'm sorry..."

Before he could finish, Spain grabbed him by his wrists and wrestled him until he was on top of him.

"Espanha!" Portugal cried out, shocked by Spain's actions. Before he could kick his neighbor out, he felt a drop of water fall on his cheek.

No. Not water. Tears.

Proud, strong, boisterous Spain was crying on top of him.

"I feel... I feel like I'm falling apart," Spain told him, letting his tears fall freely. "I used to be so powerful and strong and now... now everything is going wrong. I lost everything and now even my own land is fighting each other."

As it became obvious that Spain wasn't attacking him, Portugal relaxed, his wrist going limp on Antonio's grip.

"Sometimes... Sometimes I feel so lonely, Afonso."

Portugal's mouth dropped. It had been so long since anyone had used his human name. He couldn't even remember the last time Spain had called him by that name.

Apparently, he wasn't very good at hiding his surprise because Spain immediately reacted to his expression.

"You didn't think I remembered your name, did you?" Spain asked with a sad smile.

Portugal could have lied, but he knew he couldn't fool him.

"I thought I was too insignificant for you to remember."

Spain seemed taken aback by his words. "Is that what you think about yourself? That you're insignificant?"

Portugal opened his mouth to speak but staring at Spain's earnest expression killed his words before they reached his mouth. Instead, he looked away.

"Afonso?"

"I'm not you, Antonio. I tried to be strong and proud, but I'm none of these things. I don't matter... people barely know I exist. If I disappeared, no one would notice."

Spain let go of his wrist and grabbed his chin, forcing him to face him.

"You matter to me," Antonio said.

“Spain… don’t—”

"If you died, I would notice.”

“You wouldn’t. You would forget. You have so many friends…”

“You're my brother!"

With that, Spain buried his face on Portugal's neck and wrapped his hands around his waist. Feeling Spain's body pressed against his own, left Portugal speechless, his body and mind still trying to understand what had just happened.

"Spain...?"

"Te veo, hermano. Yo siempre te vi."

Feeling a knot growing inside his throat and tears in his eyes, Portugal slowly wrapped his bandaged arms around Spain.

"Eu também te vejo, irmão. I see you."

They stood like that for a while, let all the past fights and resentments go as they hugged each other. They were not sure they were real brothers, no one knew for sure, but there was something between them that united them in ways no other country had.

They were made from the same land, water and rocks.

After a while, Portugal chuckled.

"What?" Spain asked, his head still buried on his shoulder.

"I was just thinking of the time when you and France tried to invade me together. You know, with Napoleon?"

Remembering that Spain lifted his head and stared at Portugal blushing.

"Why are you bringing that up?"

"I never got a chance to ask and I'm curious. You and France were going to invade me, and each was going to get half of me, right?" Portugal asked with a mischievous smile on his face, while Spain's became as red as the tomatoes he loved so much.

"That doesn't matter now! France invaded me, remember?!"

"Yeah, but I want to know, Antonio. If you had succeeded, which half of me were you going to take?"

"Portugal!"

"Was it going to be the top half?" Portugal smile grew even wider as he pointed towards his lips, his neck, his chest, and abdomen.

At this point, Spain was so red that his skin irradiated heat.

"Or was it going to be the bottom half?" he asked, his hand reaching his thigh and then his...

"Stop!" Spain cried out, grabbing both his hands and pulling them on top of his head, while their lips were only inches apart.

"Brother..." Portugal whispered, feeling Spain ragged breathing against his face.

At that moment, they heard the hotel room opening followed by an angry cry.

"Bloody hell!"

The two Iberian countries looked up to see a red and furious England at the door, followed by France who, after seeing Spain lying on top of Portugal, holding his fists above his head while they were both blushing and panting, could only smile.

"Oh, mon Dieu! It seems we are interrupting, England. We should have knocked."

However, England didn't seem to have heard him. All the blond's attention seemed focused on the way Spain was holding Portugal's hands while hovering over Portugal's naked torso.

"Get off him, you Spanish wanker!" he yelled before throwing himself at Spain and kicking him out of the bed.

Portugal tried to pull his oldest ally from his brother but to no avail, while France sat by the bed and seemed to be enjoying the whole thing.

The fight lasted all night. By the time the sun came out, the hotel room was trashed, someone had thrown the tv out of the window, the minibar was empty, several bottles of alcohol were empty, and every country involved was naked.

Sitting on one corner unabashedly with his legs wide open and smoking a cigarette, France smiled at the scene before him.

"What a wonderful night, non? Just like old times!" France said, rubbing a bite mark on his left buttock.

"Shut up, you frog," England groaned, wrapping his arms around Portugal's neck while his foot pushed Spain away.

"Arthur, why are you wearing my crucifix?" Portugal asked, his head pounding from the hangover and who know what else. "Around your ankle?"

"So that God can help me keep the devil away," England answered, pulling his friend even closer while his foot kicked Spain's back.

"Ouch! Stop that, you damn pirate!" Spain moaned. Surprisingly, sitting on Spain's lap was none other than South Italy, angrily holding a bottle of red wine. "Romano? What are you doing here?"

Romano's cheeks turned bright red. "I don't know, you bastard. All I remember was seeing your bare ass through the open door!"

Portugal pressed his hands against his face. "Did anyone else get into my room because they saw one of us naked?"

From the sheets of the destroyed bed, a tall figure rose like Frankenstein's monster, causing everyone to jump and scream.

"I'm afraid I also entered the room," the sheet slid off from the man.

"GERMANY?!" everyone cried out.

The blond country winced at the loud noise. "Please, don't talk so loud! And do not tell superiors what transpired here!"

The sheets on Germany's side moved, revealing a smiling North Italy. "Don't worry, Germany. I won't tell anything!"

"ITALY!"

As the rest of the room erupted into chaos, France kept smiling benevolently. He handed Portugal a glass of wine and saluted him.

"Thanks, Afonso! This was the best meeting we've had in years!" the long-haired blond man said. "I'm sorry about what happened with the fires, but I'm sure you'll get through this. You always have and always will."

As he tried to not drop the glass while holding a drunk and angry England, Portugal couldn't help but smile in return.

"Thank you."

He decided to enjoy his last hours at the hotel with his friends until they had to check out. When he got home, he was ready to start over.

#hetalia #hetalia axis powers #aph portugal #aph spain #aph england #aph france #aph brazil #aph macau #aph angola #aph germany #aph italy #aph romano #lusofam

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juliussneezerfics · 4 years

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Seborga: One-Time Party Planner

No problemo, dude! Prompts are prompts, no matter who they’re from! Unfortunately, I had a limited amount of time to write this fic before midnight tonight, so I couldn’t take you up on that challenge. It’s also a lot longer than I thought! But whatever. Hope you enjoy!

Ao3

With his brothers' birthday coming up, Seborga wants to plan the ultimate surprise party for them. He then realizes he may be a little in over his head and enlists the help of some friends.

***********

Seborga’s feet slapped the tiles of his kitchen as he cooked. It was about lunch time and he was making something light to eat. Something light to eat that wasn’t a salad, anyway. He was unable to understand how his brothers ate salads regularly. On an ordinary day, he would be singing to himself and shuffling across the tiled floor. Today, however, his mind was occupied. His

brothers’ birthday was about a month from that day and he was figuring out logistics. He finished his sandwich and carried it into the living room. His coffee table was strewn with assorted papers detailing guests and things he still needed to do to have the party set up within a month.

He knew that he had a month to get it all done. To conduct a surprise party with this many guests was already difficult, but Seborga knew that on the day of their birthday he would be invited over to spend the day with them. Birthdays in their family was all about family and spending time together. But, Italy liked to consider the world his family, right? Surely the two wouldn't be too mad at a surprise party.

He scanned the guest list, chewing a bite of his sandwich. The first few guests were obvious, but how big should the party be? Of course, whenever Seborga did anything, he did it with style. The invitations list ended up being a page and a half long. Perhaps he was guilty of inviting a couple of his own friends, but of course planning a surprise party of this magnitude earned its own reward. Seborga wouldn't say he dreaded this part, but he knew that the start of planning the party, all the work, all the well-meaning deceit would start with the first phone call. Steeling his reserve, he started with the top of the list.

“Sebby!” Spain’s voice greeted, tinny over the phone speaker. “How great of you to call! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, as you know Feliciano and Lovino have an upcoming birthday-”

“On the seventeenth!” Spain interrupted. “I was just about to call you, actually! I wanted to take you three out to lunch to celebrate your brothers’ birthday.”

Seborga smiled. “Aww, Toni, that’s so kind of you! Actually, I was just about to invite you to a surprise party.”

“Ooh, seriously?” Spain sounded excited by the very prospect. “When?”

“I was thinking this evening.”

“Oh, so you won’t be able to make it for lunch.” Spain realized.

Seborga’s smile widened as he got an idea. “Actually, hang on. Can you occupy Feli and Lovi while we set up the party?”

“Of course! Hey, if you want you can host it at my house that way you three don't have to worry about cleaning up after the party.”

“Oh, that’s actually perfect!” Seborga was touched by Spain’s generosity. “Thank you so much, Toni!”

“No problem. So, how about I go over to pick them up around eleven. You can be sick or something so you can set up for the party at my house. When do I take them back to my house?”

“Um…” Seborga hadn’t thought that far. “Maybe around five thirty?”

"Sounds good. You can have everyone park behind the house that way they don't see all the cars before they head inside."

"Won't that mess up your lawn?"

"Eh." Spain said flippantly. "Grass is grass. It all grows back."

“I suppose so. Antonio, I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Oh, anything for family!” Spain responded. “I’ll see you on the seventeenth!”

“See you then! Thanks, Toni! Oh, could you also invite…” Seborga leaned forward and went down his list. “France and Portugal?”

“Sure! Goodbye!”

“Bye!”

Seborga hanged up the phone, a weight lifted off his shoulders as he thought about what this meant for the setup of the party. Six and a half hours to set up. That would be fine, right? Then he happened to catch a glance of the guest list. How was he supposed to cook for all those people and decorate Spain’s house for the party? He would find a way. He had to. He leaned forward and crossed out Spain’s, France’s, and Prussia’s names. Okay. That was fine. Everyone he invited so far seemed to have good relationships with each other. Nothing to worry about. He hated to not invite certain people based on political circumstances and relationships between each other, but it was more important to have a friendly party than have a couple extra guests. Next on the list was Germany.

“Hello, Sebatian.” Germany’s curt voice greeted.

“Hi, Germany!” Seborga began. “Listen. I’m having a birthday party for my brothers on the seventeenth of March and I was wondering if that would work for you!”

“Of course. What time is it?”

“Five thirty at Spain’s house.”

“I can make it.” Germany said after a slight pause where he was likely checking his calendar. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Oh! Um…” Seborga hadn’t been expecting offers of help. “Actually, would you mind coming over a few hours early and helping me decorate? I’m sorry, I normally wouldn’t ask, but it’s just a lot for one person to do.”

“I’ll be over at two.” Germany answered.

“Wonderful! I can’t thank you enough, Germany.”

“No problem. I’m happy to help.”

Seborga smiled. Despite the joyful words Germany said, his words sounded monotone, as per his cadence of speaking. “Would you mind also inviting your brother, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Austria, Hungary, and Russia and his siblings?”

"Hold on, would you mind repeating that? I have to write that down."

"Of course." Seborga laughed. "Sorry, I suppose that's a lot to remember." He slowly repeated the list.

“I can invite all of them, but I’m not exactly close to Russia and his family.” Germany said apologetically.

“But Hungary hangs out with Ukraine, right? So maybe she can make that happen?”

“I’ll ask her and see what she does.”

Seborga grinned. “Thank you so much! Could you also invite Japan, and tell him to invite his siblings?”

“If you want. I’ll also have Prussia come early with me. Japan will want to be there to help too, I’m sure.”

“Germany, you’re fantastic! My brother’s a lucky man!”

Germany cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Yes, thank you. I’ll see you the night of the seventeenth.”

“See you then! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome. Goodbye.”

“Bye!”

Seborga hung up and smiled. He had a couple more calls to make, but everything was coming together. A weight lifted off his shoulders knowing that he was putting together a little committee. Suddenly, the prospect of planning the party seemed less like a chore and more like an opportunity.

The morning of the seventeenth, Seborga strode up to Italy and Romano’s house, coming in without ringing the doorbell. “Feliciano, Lovino, I’m here!”

From the distance, he could hear the sound of feet slapping the floor as Italy bolted down the hall and out into the foyer. “Seb!” He launched forward and wrapped up Seborga in a hug. “We’re so excited to see you!”

“I’m excited to see you guys, too. Happy birthday, Feli!” Seborga returned the hug.

Romano came into the foyer, holding a mug of steaming coffee, his mouth pulled into a relaxed smile. “Hi, Seb.”

“Hey, Lovino! Happy birthday!”

“Thanks.” Lovino came forward and hugged Seborga, not staying quite as long as Italy had. “How the hell are you?”

“Good, except for I think I’m coming down with something." Seborga couldn't help being nervous. He has always been a lousy liar.

“You are?! You think you could have told us before we hugged you!” Lovino exclaimed.

Italy frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“Bit of a fever. Little tired, back of my throat is sore, that kind of thing.”

“Oh, will you miss lunch?” Feliciano asked, concerned.

“May as well be safe. Don't want Toni to get sick.” Seborga said.

Lovino nodded, though he didn't appear to be delighted that Seborga was staying behind. “May as well. You look dead on your feet, Sebastian, did you get any sleep last night?”

Seborga had been up all night cooking the day before. He had gotten about half of it done, but there was still a lot to do. Not to mention delivering it all to Spain’s house in the dead of night. “No.”

“Well, you can sleep here.” Lovino said. “You can sleep in the guest room. We put fresh sheets there.”

“I put fresh sheets there.” Feliciano corrected. “We should probably stay back with Seb. We can’t leave him alone!”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Seborga said, waving a hand dismissively as he toed off his shoes. “It’s your guys’ birthday! You should at least celebrate it. I’ll take a nap, I’ll probably be feeling better by the time you guys get back.”

“Are you sure?” Italy asked.

“Absolutely. You guys go enjoy your lunch!”

Lovino frowned. “It would be pretty rude to cancel on Spain this late in the game.”

“You guys have fun, I’ll be napping.” Seborga ruffled their hair as they passed, Feliciano frowning at the action. Romano scowled, but kept his mouth shut as he passed.

“We’ll have our phones on us. Text if you need anything!” Feliciano said.

“Will do.”

Almost as if on cue, someone knocked on the door.

Spain let himself in. “Hola! Happy birthday, boys!”

“Hi, Toni!” Feliciano greeted.

“Hi,” Romano greeted as Spain bent down to kiss his fiancé’s cheek.

Spain pulled away, his brow furrowed as he pushed his hands into his jean pockets. “Is something wrong, Lovi?”

“Seb has a cold and he can’t go to lunch.”

“Aww, really?” Spain stepped forward and pulled his right hand out of his pocket, slapping it against Seb’s outreached hand. “Sorry, Seb.”

Seb returned the handshake, blinking as he registered something small and metal being pushed into his hand. As Spain pulled his hand away, Seborga put his clenched hand into his pocket, smiling. He hoped his shock didn't register too prominently on his face. “It’s okay. It happens.”

“Get plenty of sleep, drink some fluids. I hope you feel better soon!” Spain said. His back turned to Italy and Romano, he subtly winked at Seborga.

Seborga nodded. “I will. You guys have fun!”

“We will!” Italy said.

Romano pulled on his jacket. “Take care of yourself. Of course you had to get sick on our birthday, bastard.” Despite his words, Romano's words were laden with pity.

“Sorry, Lovi.” Sebastian apologized. He knew that it was just part of the surprise, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“Don’t worry about it.” Romano zipped up his jacket. “Just get better. We don’t like it when you don’t feel good.”

“I’ll be fine. You guys better get out of here, or the restaurants are going to close before you even get lunch.”

“Okay. Bye, Sebby!” Italy waved, opening the door.

The three exchanged a few more goodbyes before they finally left. Seborga waited until he could hear the car leaving the driveway before he sprung up from the couch and pulled the key Spain had given him out of his pocket. He cringed. It was a good thing he hadn't made it upstairs before Spain had arrived. He'd forgotten all about the fact that Spain's door would be locked! He pulled on his leather jacket and fished his keys out of his pocket. “Okay. I have to hurry. Gotta’ cook, have to decorate, and Germany and the others will be at Spain’s in a couple hours.” He pushed open the front door and strode over to his motorcycle, pulling his helmet on. It was a short drive to Spain’s house, but regardless he couldn’t seem to get over there quickly enough. He hurriedly parked in front of the garage and unlocked the door. He then pushed through a few doors until he got to the garage and found the button to open the garage door. He ducked under the still-opening door and kicked up the kickstand to his motorcycle, pushing it into the garage. He then shut it and, pulling off his jacket, threw it onto the couch. He knew that in the kitchen fridge he would find several pasta dishes, a lasagna, salad ingredients, and a few beginnings to a cake he was making. Something light and delicate, with a coffee flavor. Enough to satiate Italy’s sweet tooth while also catering to Romano’s love of a balanced dessert. It would be difficult to navigate Spain’s kitchen, but he had plenty of time to figure out where everything was.

He had only been cooking for a couple hours when someone rang the doorbell. Seborga peeked over to the clock over the stove. Whoever it was, they were half an hour early. He rinsed his hands of flour and dried them on a towel as he hurried to the door to let whoever it was in. He opened the door. “Oh, Germany and Prussia! Thank you two so much for coming!”

Prussia was donned in a T-shirt that featured a crowd of chicks that read: ‘hanging with my peeps’ and a pair of black jeans paired with a pair of red converse. He grinned at Seborga. “We’re super excited to help. This will be the awesomest party in the world! Especially with me decorating.”

Germany was, of course, dressed far more reservedly in a pale blue button down shirt and navy blue work slacks. “We brought some beer and wine just in case. It’s in the trunk of my car, so we can get that whenever you want it in here.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Seborga said. “We can actually bring it in now so it can get chilled before the guests arrive.”

The three stepped off the porch as Germany popped the trunk of his car.

“You look so formal, Germany, where’s your party outfit?” Seborga asked.

“I’m wearing it.” Germany answered, a slight smile on the corners of his lips. “My pants are blue. Not black.”

“Ooh, crazy!” Prussia joked. “I tried to get him to wear a party hat, but he refused.”

Germany opened up his trunk, revealing enough boxes of beer and wine to satisfy all the guests to the party. “Here we are.”

“Holy hell!” Seborga laughed. “How did you fit all this in your trunk?”

“Not just that.” Prussia rounded the back of the car with an impish grin and opened the back door of the car. “We have some in the back seat, too! Enough to get everyone hammered!”

“You guys are the best!” Seborga high-fived Prussia with a smile.

“You say that now.” Germany reached own and pulled out a case of beer without an issue. “We still have to take it all in.”

After they got all the drinks inside, Seborga straightened and clapped his hands once together.

Germany too straightened and flexed his hands to bring feeling back into them after bringing in so many boxes.

Prussia too stood up straight, a hand coming up to the small of his back as he grunted. “Ow.”

“Right!” Seborga took a look at the alcohol in the kitchen. “I’ll find some coolers and put the beers up. Germany and Prussia, Spain said he should have some decorations in several bags in the living room. You two go on ahead and start setting those up!”

Germany nodded, pleased to have a duty, and left.

Prussia waited until Germany was barely out of earshot. “Don’t be fooled by his cheerful disposition. He’s excited to be here helping out.”

“No, I know.” Seborga responded. “That’s just how he is.”

“I guess he’s just nervous.” Prussia said, a knowing smile on his face.

“Nervous about what? It’s just a party with people he knows. No big deal!”

For a moment, Seborga could recognize the tiniest flicker in Prussia’s eyes. A flicker of fear. A flicker that he realized he had said too much.

Prussia’s winning smile widened until it stretched awkwardly over his teeth. “Ah, you know him. Just so socially awkward. I bet he just wants things to be perfect for his boyfriend.”

Seborga mentally filed away Prussia’s reaction, but decided to leave it be. Prussia looked uncomfortable as it is. “As if you can tease Germany for wanting things to be perfect. Remember Canada’s birthday?”

“Eh, it’s whatever.” Prussia’s pale ears flushed pink, followed quickly by his cheeks and neck.

“The photos were really sweet!” Seborga teased, poking a finger into his ribs.

Prussia laughed, stepping away. “Ow! Hey!”

“Go help your brother. We’re going to be out of time before we know it.”

The doorbell rang, the two distracted by the noise.

Seborga smiled. “That has to be Japan! Go on in to help Germany.” He started to make his way toward the door.

“Sure! Little warning, France said he would show up a bit early to help out.” Prussia called to Seborga’s back.

“I’m glad!” Seborga responded as he reached forward to grab the doorknob. “We need the extra help!” He pulled open the door, confronted with the sight of Japan. “Good afternoon, Japan!”

“Hello.” Japan said with a polite smile. He bent at the waist. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Seborga too bowed. “Thank you for coming over early to help!”

“Of course.” Japan straightened. “I brought a gift for Italy and Romano, as well as a bottle of Saki.” Japan gestured toward a basket hanging on his arm.

“Aww, that’s so sweet! Here, let me get that for you!” Seborga reached forward and accepted the basket from Japan. “Come in, come in! Germany and Prussia are already here to help hang up decorations.”

“Thank you. Is there any way I can help you?”

“Nope, but thank you!” Seborga answered.

Japan stepped inside. “Then I will help Germany and Prussia with decorations.”

“Thank you!” Seborga said as Japan made his way to the living room. After Seborga had strode to the kitchen, he opened the basket and looked mournfully inside. “What am I supposed to do with all this booze?”

The rest of the day went by in a similar fashion, with Seborga baking and periodically interrupting his progress to answer the door. France first arrived early, followed by Hungary and Austria, and even Canada and America. The decorating got done sooner than Seborga had expected, and soon there was nothing more inside to be done. Seborga pulled the final layer of the cake out of the oven and glanced at the clock over the stove. Only two hours. That would be cutting it close for sure on the cake. He glanced outside into the back yard. Shit, he had forgotten about the tent!

He stepped out of the kitchen to the living room full of chatting people. He clapped his hands twice for everyone’s attention. “Are there any big, strong people here?”

“Hell yeah!” Prussia shouted, his open hand shooting up into the air.

Hungary reached over and pulled Prussia’s hand down. “Easy there, Prussia, I think Seborga was talking to me.”

“Cute, folks.” America added. “Sorry to say, but I think I have you beat.”

“Oh yeah?” Prussia challenged. He pushed the sleeve of his T-shirt up to his shoulder. “You. Me. Arm wrestling. Now.”

Seborga once again clapped his hands together for their attention. “It’s fine, you’ll all do. You three go down and get the canopy tent out of Spain’s basement.”

“I can still get it up quicker than you can.” America challenged, pulling his sleeves up his arms as he pushed past Prussia.

Prussia only took a moment to recover before Hungary too bumped into him as she bolted past America.

Seborga rolled his eyes, grinning. “Okay. France, Austria, and Canada. There are some lantern lights down in the basement. Can you take them up and string them in the branches of the backyard trees?”

“Of course. Anything for you, Seb!” France said. He was followed by Austria and Canada as they hustled down the steps.

“Anything you need me to do?” Germany asked.

Seborga snapped, turning around. “Actually, yes! I need your help decorating the birthday cake. I know you’re super good with that kind of thing.”

“I try to be.” Germany said bashfully, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m not good at the small details. My hands are too big.”

“That’s okay. All help is important!” Seborga affirmed, waving Germany toward the kitchen. He paused and shouted down into the basement. “Oh, before you guys start you have to park your cars in the back so the boys don’t see them before they come into the house!”

“Got it!” Canada shouted, his quiet voice only slightly amplified by the echo of the basement. “Thank you, Seborga!”

Seborga then joined Germany in the kitchen, where he was searching the cabinets for bowls and pulling them out systematically by size.

“I know you wanted me to help, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do so I... got bowls.” Germany said, awkwardly waving to the assortment on the counter.

Seborga smiled. He’d always liked Germany. Though the man was intimidating on the outside, there was a kind of friendly awkward charm that made him impossible to dislike.

Twenty minutes later they had somehow stacked the three layers of cake and were frosting it with a crumb coat. Though Seborga knew that Germany's help would be instrumental to getting the cake done in time, but the two were actually ahead of schedule! With how well everything was going, Seborga had a difficult time thinking of anything that could make him any happier.

“So…” Germany began.

Seborga smiled as he frosted the outside of the second layer. “So?”

“I have… a question to ask you.”

Seborga looked over, alarmed by the nervous tone Germany had.

Germany was scooping more frosting onto his spatula, apparently avoiding Seborga’s gaze.

“Yes, of course!”

“So…” Germany began frosting he cake once again. “Your brother.”

“My brother.” Seborga repeated with an encouraging smile.

Germany lowered he spatula and finally met Seborga’s gaze. “I... love Feliciano very much. I have for a very long time. And maybe it’s a bad time, because I know Lovino and Spain are already engaged, but…”

Seborga’s mouth split into a joyful grin.

“I wanted to propose this evening.” Ludwig seemed to force it out, like keeping it in any longer would be painful. “If that was okay with you. I wanted your blessing.”

“Aww, Ludwig, that’s so sweet!” Seborga crooned. “Of course you have my blessing!”

Ludwig, relieved, let out a rare full smile. “That’s a relief. I already had Lovino’s blessing, but still…”

Seborga jumped up and down, clapping his hands. He already liked Ludwig, but he occasionally found himself still surprised by how sweet and considerate he could be. “Oh, this is fantastic! When are you planning on doing it?!”

Germany shrugged, scooping more frosting onto his spatula. “I thought I could do it late this evening, after most people had left. I figured the more private the better.”

“That’s perfect.” Seborga affirmed, resting a hand on Germany’s arm. “He’ll want to tell his family afterword, you know. He wouldn't be opposed to telling other people too, but I think he would prefer for it to just be a family moment."

“I know.” Germany’s lips pulled into a sentimental close-mouthed smile. “So I was hoping you and your brothers would stay here for a while after the party.”

“We can make that happen.” Seborga gave Germany a thumbs-up before he remembered they were working on a time limit. He continued to frost the cake. “Will Prussia be there?”

Germany shook his head. “No. We agreed to, if Feli says yes, go out for drinks and celebrate together this weekend. I imagine he will go home with France of Canada this evening.”

“This is perfect!” Seborga cheered, hardly able to contain himself. “Oh, and it’ll be perfect with all the lights in the trees, and the tent, and with how nice it is outside…”

“And that path Spain has around his yard, bordered by flowers.” Germany added. “It’s supposed to be a clear night.”

Seborga continued to frost the cake, smiling so wide that his cheeks began to hurt.

Ten minutes before Spain and his brothers were supposed to arrive, Seborga took one last lap around the house to check all the details. “Food warming in the oven, check. Cake in the fridge, check.” He peeked out the kitchen window. “Lanterns, tent, tables, decorations…” He then left the kitchen and made his way to the living room. “The decorations are up…”

Indeed, they were. Streamers were strung all across the room, balloons were weighed down and floating over top of the couch's side tables and a banner hung over the furniture that wished the two brothers a happy birthday.

Seborga’s gaze settled onto the coffee table, which had a vase of lilies proudly blooming. “Oh, those are gorgeous! Who brought those?”

“We did.” Austria answered, his chest puffed out with pride. “Hungary thought it would be nice to bring the boys some flowers.” His gaze settled adoringly on his wife.

Hungary smirked at Austria. “Making them their national flower was his idea.”

Austria uncomfortably cleared his throat as his cheeks flushed. “Yes, well… yes, it was.”

Seborga laughed at Austria’s discomfort. “Well, it was very sweet.” He peered around the room, the living room full of treasured friends. Invited to the party were all of the former allied powers standing around the room, with the exception of America who was sitting and leaning his elbows on the coffee table. China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea were all crowded around the coffee table, South Korea laughing at a joke America had just made. Russia’s sisters were attending, Ukraine standing between Hungary and Liechtenstein and Belarus standing by her brother looking like she would rather not be there. Switzerland was perched on a chair muttering something to Portugal, Liechtenstein leaning against the back of the chair. All of the Nordics squeezed onto one couch. The micronations had also come, crowded at the edge of the room. “Everything appears to be in order!”

“It was very good of you to set all this up, Seborga.” England’s words were accompanied by a sincere smile.

Seborga rubbed the back of his neck bashfully as the sentiment was repeated by the guests. “Aww, it was good of you all to come and celebrate my brothers with me. I’m not sure how Romano will react, he doesn’t exactly love surprises.” He felt a buzz in his back pocket, pulling his phone out of his pocket, his eyes widening.

“Something wrong?” Finland asked from the couch.

Seborga slid his phone back in his pocket. “Spain texted. They’ll be here any minute!”

China brushed past Seborga. “Taiwan, come help me turn out all the lights!”

Taiwan sprang up from her place by the coffee table.

“We have to hide!” Monaco stepped forward, crouching behind the couch.

There was a sudden scrambling as everyone tried to find places to hide.

“How do you hide this many people?!” Sealand cried.

“Sealand!” Seborga barked. “You and Wy are small! Hide under the coffee table!”

“There isn’t enough room to hide everyone.” Germany said urgently.

Seborga licked his lips as he tried to think. “Everyone, try and hide behind the counters in the kitchen!”

All the Asian countries moved to the kitchen, followed closely by Norway and Sweden.

Seborga looked around urgently as the lights went out in the living room, eventually settling on just standing against the wall where the door would open. He would just have to pray that they didn’t shut the door to reveal him before everyone stood and surprised them.

As Seborga pressed himself against the wall, he watched America whip his head around in search of hiding spots in the seemingly empty living room. Eventually he sprinted over to a corner and moved a lamp that was standing in the corner. He did a handstand where it once stood. “Someone help me!” America shouted. “I need someone to put the lampshade over my feet!”

Seborga could hear France snicker from somewhere in the living room. “Are you being serious?”

“I can’t feel my face anymore! You think I’m not being serious?!” America whisper-yelled.

Belarus finally stood from behind the couch and jogged over to the corner, pulling the lampshade off the lamp and settling it on America’s foot. On her face was a rare smile. “This is idiotic.”

“Hey, this is genius.” America refuted.

“Flatten your feet.” Belarus ordered. “The lampshade will not be staying straight up.”

“Oh, sorry.” America began sarcastically. “Let me just bend my foot to lie against my frickin’ leg. I forgot I’m a contortionist.”

“If you continue your whining, I can be making your feet bend in that way.” Despite her words, Belarus’ words held no bite.

Japan peeked his head up over the back of the armchair, his brow furrowed into a worried frown. “Please, we are running out of time before they get here.”

Belarus finally just lifted her hands off the lampshade and retreated back to her hiding place.

Seborga shushed the muttering room as he strained to listen. “That’s Spain’s car! Everyone be quiet!” He listened to the car’s engine shut off. Listened to the doors of the car open and shut. Listened to the three converse as they walked from the car to the porch.

“We’d better hurry.” Italy’s voice was muffled by the door.

A key was pushed into the lock and turned. “I will.” Spain's voice promised. “I wanted to get him something before I dropped you off to your place. I borrowed a pair of jeans from him and forgot to give it back to him.”

There was a slight pause as the door opened.

“Hold on.” Romano’s voice said, tinged with suspiciousness.

The door swung open further. Seborga sucked in his gut. If the door bounced off him, his brothers would immediately know something was up. He withheld a sigh of relief as the door stopped an inch from his torso.

Romano stepped in.

Seborga was able to see Romano’s arm.

Romano’s arm was bent, apparently resting his hands on his hips. “You two aren’t even close to the same size in pants."

Spain reached forward and paused for a moment, scanning the room. His gaze apparently settled on America for only a moment before he laughed nervously. “Sure we are! At any rate, it’s not about he pants.” He extended his arm forward, flicking the living room light on.

Everyone sprung out from their hiding places, all shouting surprises and happy birthdays.

Italy sprung in shock for a moment before he started laughing.

Romano jumped backwards, screaming Italian profanity for a moment before he apparently realized what was going on and recovered. A rare belly laugh erupted from him as he saw everyone. “Oh my God."

“This is amazing!” Italy laughed, his eyes darting around to see everyone.

Seborga sprung out from behind the door, clamping his hands down onto Romano’s shoulders. “Surprise!”

Romano spun around, screaming once again. His mouth once again split into a rare smile. “You asshole!” He punched his shoulder. “You weren’t sick at all!”

“No, I wasn’t.” Seborga laughed at his reaction. “I needed to stay behind to set all this up!”

“You did all this?!” Feliciano asked.

“Well, I had a little bit of help.” Seborga admitted.

Romano turned to face Spain, who was still laughing at his reactions. “You were in on this, weren’t you?”

Spain looked down at his fiancé. “Yes, of course I was.”

Italy looked around the room, toeing off his shoes to go greet all the guests. “This is incredible! Thank you all so much!”

The guests gathered around Italy, giving him well-wishes and greetings.

Romano hung back, turning to face Seborga. “Sebastian, thank you.”

“Of course!” Seborga grinned. “I have great older brothers. Not as good of a brother as I am, of course, but…”

Romano lightly punched Seborga on the shoulder with a smirk. “You’re such a brat.”

“Go talk to all the guests! They’re excited to see you!” Seborga waved Romano further into the living room.

Romano smiled to Seborga briefly before he made his way through the ocean of people.

Spain watched his fiancé mingle with the crowd, wordlessly lifting his hand for a fist bump.

Seborga watched America collapse from his handstand, knocking his fist against Spain’s in victory.

“See?!” America cried victoriously, standing among the shocked concern and carefree laughter. “I told you all they wouldn’t notice!”

The party went on swimmingly. The alcohol Germany and Prussia brought was a huge success, the party moving outside as everyone mingled. The food was enjoyed immensely, Seborga growing slowly more and more bashful as people praised him on his cooking. The real showstopper, though, was when the cake was brought out. Three layers of cake, Seborga’s own recipe. Coffee flavored, yet somehow light. This was a huge success to everyone except for Sealand, who didn’t like coffee. Seborga, expecting this, secretly slipped him some candy under the table for later. Everything went without an issue. No fights, no arguments, no drunken shenanigans (Seborga had France to thank for keeping Spain and Prussia under control). As the night got darker, half the guests began to break away and head home. The small party moved indoors, easily chatting in the living room. They swapped stories about the birthday boys, Germany divulging the classic favorite story of how the brothers learned to use grenades. To Romano’s credit, he took the slight humiliation with grace, the alcohol and pure happiness within him appearing to make him more easygoing. Finally, the evening was winding down and people were finally heading home.

Seborga watched as Germany and Canada escorted Prussia to the door, who was now so tipsy that he could hardly walk.

“You’re a great brother, you know.” Prussia slurred, Germany catching him as he stumbled.

Germany righted him, apparently used to his antics. “Yes, I know.”

“And you!” Prussia whipped his gaze to Canada. “You’re, like, the awesomest boyfriend in the world.”

Canada smiled. “Yes, I know.”

“I’m super serious!” Prussia continued. He tried to slide his shoes on, laughing as he was unable to. “You’re so nice all the time. Especially to me. Which is especially nice since I sometimes forget how to be nice.” He successfully slid on a shoe. “Ha! Got it!” He went limp, as if his bones suddenly lost structural integrity.

Germany grunted in surprise, catching him.

Prussia cackled. “I love you guys, you know that?”

“Yes, yes, we know that.” Germany grunted, apparently growing tired of Prussia.

“Prussia,” Canada said. His voice was rather similar to a kindergarten teacher speaking to a tired toddler. “How about you get your other shoe on?”

Prussia tried to stand. “Yes, of course! Anything for my Birdie!” He slid the other shoe on, smiling dopily at Canada. “The ultimate act of love.”

Canada appeared to be biting back a laugh. “Yes. Thank you, Prussia.”

“Alright,” Germany rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you to Canada’s car.”

“Woohoo!” Prussia stuck his two fists in the air as if he were at a concert. “Hell yeah! I get to go to my Birdie’s house!” As he was escorted to Canada’s car, he continued to shout in German.

Even as the door shut, Seborga could hear Prussia shouting with elation.

Spain laughed, his cheeks flushed. “He’s great.”

“He’s entertaining, at any rate.” Romano said, leaning back against the couch. “Don’t get me wrong, that was a good party. But I’m happy it’s over.”

Seborga too relaxed back in his chair. “Me too.”

Italy grinned. “That was the perfect party, Sebby. You did a great job.”

“Thanks.”

Spain leaned forward. “Seb, I love you, but you look like you’re dead.”

Seborga let out a surprised laugh. “You’re a real charmer, Toni, I can see why Lovino wanted to marry you.”

“Part of my natural charm, I guess.” Spain rested his arms on the back of the couch.

“Whatever you say, bastard.” Romano rested his head against Spain’s arm.

Seborga heard the door open, turning his head to watch Germany step into the house with a tired sigh.

“That bad?” Italy asked with a grin.

“Everything was fine until he started singing.” Germany shuffled into the living room, collapsing on the couch next to Italy. “I knew it was all over when he started singing ‘The Model’ by Kraftwerk at the top of his lungs.”

Italy laughed, Seborga and Spain joining in. Romano was apparently so tired that all he could muster was a smile.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Germany asked Italy.

Italy smiled. “A walk sounds nice. It’s so gorgeous outside!”

Germany stood. “Good, good. Let’s go.” There was a practiced casualty to his movements. A practiced casualty that was not executed well. His movements were almost stiff, his expression awkward.

“Okay,” Italy smiled. “No need to be so stiff, sir. All the guests are gone.”

“Right.” Germany tried for a casual smile, but it looked almost as if the smile caused him pain.

Italy shook his head with a grin. “You’re going to need a week of isolation after today, aren’t you?”

Germany laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he went to go put his shoes on. “Guess so.”

Seborga determinedly faced forward as the two put on their jackets and, conversing, left the house. He didn’t want to give anything away.

Romano lifted his head slightly as the door shu. His brow was slightly furrowed. “Let’s see if the potato bastard can get the proposal out before he spontaneously combusts.”

Seborga laughed. “I’m sure he’ll be able to.”

Spain smiled lazily. “Remember when I proposed to you, Romano?”

“Of course.” Romano smiled. The grin was full. Unguarded. “The dinner, the fashion show, the gelato under the stars. All of it. The proposal in the gazebo.”

“Did he ever tell you what we did after I proposed, Sebastien?” Spain asked.

Romano groaned. “Stop.”

“We danced.” Spain smiled at the memory. “Your brother may not look it, but he’s a romantic.”

“Don’t know what else you would expect out of an Italian.” Seborga said.

“There wasn’t any music, you know.” Spain continued.

Romano cringed, covering his face with his hands. “Stop.” His words were muffled, but no less desperate.

“But he didn’t care. I just hummed for us and we danced.”

“You never told me that part, Lovi!” Seborga teased with an impish grin.

“Because I would rather die.” His hands still concealed his face.

The three of them conversed for a while, the passing of time causing the conversation to be stunted and awkward. awkward. The three of them were each distracted by thoughts both positive and negative. Of course, Seborga was almost certain that Italy would say ‘yes’. But as time passed longer and longer, Seborga couldn’t help but realize that if they were taking this long to return, then the outcome likely wasn’t positive. Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes, which turned into half an hour, which eventually became 45 minutes.

“What’s taking them so long?” Romano asked.

Seborga frowned. “You don’t think Feli didn’t accept the proposal, do you?”

“Of course not.” Romano shook his head. “He loves Ludwig too much to.” Regardless, he looked at his watch, his expression slightly unsettled.

Spain bounced his leg. A nervous habit of his. “Everything’s probably fine.”

Regardless, the forty five minutes turned into an hour. A few minutes after the hour passed, the door opened.

Seborga kept his eyes fixed pointedly ahead, despite the fact that both Spain and Romano watched the door swing open. He knew Italy probably accepted the proposal. But if he didn’t, he wanted to afford Germany and Italy some privacy.

Shoed feet slapped against the hardwood floor, someone bolting into the house. Italy popped into the living room, his face alight with happiness. “Guys, guys, guys!”

“What?” Spain asked, smiling. To those watching without context, the expression would be of pure curiosity. But to one who knew what the three knew, it was impossible to miss the mingling relief in the toothy grin.

Germany too walked through the door, his face alight in what could only be described as pure joy.

Seborga choked back a laugh as he noticed Germany’s hair was almost completely undone, the collar of his shirt was wrinkled, and his face was flushed. Even with his mouth stretched in a wide grin, his lips were red and very obviously swollen.

Italy bound into the room. Upon closer inspection, his face was equally flushed, his lips equally swollen. He held his hand out, displaying a gold engagement ring. “We’re engaged!”

“What?!” Seborga cried, standing and clutching Italy’s hand to look at the ring.

Italy laughed. “It’s okay, guys, Luddy told me you guys knew.”

“Of course he did.” Romano shook his head, but he was smiling. “Congratulations, Feli.”

“Thank you!” Italy rubbed his cheeks. “I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt!”

“What took you guys so long?” Romano asked. “We were starting to get worried!”

Germany stepped forward, still grinning. “I was so nervous, we rounded Spain’s yard several times before I actually asked him.”

“Then he asked me, I said yes, and we walked around the yard a few more times before we finally came back in to tell you!”

“Mm-hmm.” Seborga crossed his arms. “Just walking around the yard.”

Germany cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at Spain and Italy’s brothers.

“To be fair,” Italy said. “We did walk around the yard a few times to talk a bit.”

“Congratulations, you two.” Spain grinned, stepping forward to shake their hands.

“Lovi, we’re both engaged at the same time!” Feliciano cheered, springing forward and hugging his brother.

Romano stiffened at the hug, apparently being in a good enough mood not to immediately pry his brother off of him. “Yes, we are! But I’m having my wedding first.” The words held no bite.

“Now all you have to do is get engaged too, Sebastian.” Germany joked.

Seborga smiled to himself, looking down at his shoes. “I dunno’. Don’t think I’m the marrying type.”

“That’s what Romano said.” Italy reminded him. “Look at him now!”

Seborga laughed in agreement, though he internally rolled his eyes. He knew there was a certain pressure to be with someone as a romantic country. He did enjoy flirting every now and again, but the part he liked about it was how people's faces would light up at the attention. He had never been one for romance, and he doubted he ever would be. He was too elated about the new engagement, however, to pursue that conversation with his brothers. About half an hour later, Seborga was about ready to fall asleep in his chair.

“Getting a little tired, Sebby?” Spain asked.

Seborga opened his eyes, not realizing he had allowed them to close. “Hmm? I guess so.”

“Will you be okay to drive home?” Germany asked from the couch. “I can drive you, if you want.”

Seborga shook his head. “No. I’ll be fine. The wind will keep me awake. I should head out, though, before I get any more tired.”

“Bye, Seb!” Italy stood and wrapped his arms around Seborga. “Drive safely.”

“I will.”

Romano too stood. “Thank you for the party, Seb. It was wonderful.”

“Of course!” Seborga responded, smiling.

“Just promise me one thing.”

“Sure.”

Romano smirked. “Never do it again. You look exhausted.”

Seborga laughed, shaking his head. “If again, not for a long time.”

Spain stood, also hugging Seborga. “Sleep well tonight. You’ve earned it.”

“I plan on it.”

Germany also stood, stepping forward. He awkwardly raised his arms up for a hug.

Seborga smiled, sticking his hand out for a handshake. “It’s okay, Big guy. I know you’re not a hugger.”

Germany looked relieved as he shook Seborga’s hand, giving a close-mouthed smile. “Thank you. Drive safely.”

It took Seborga only ten more minutes to pull himself away from his siblings and future brothers-in-law, him rolling his motorcycle out of the garage with relief. He pulled on his helmet, starting up his motorcycle. He was glad it was a short drive to his house. While he normally would have parked it in his garage, the sky was completely clear. He settled to just park it in his driveway. He was exhausted. Seborga slipped out of his jacket, hanging it on a peg on the door. He walked into his hallway, past the living room and out to his white wooden deck. The moon was full, the beams reflecting on the waves as they lapped onto his white-sand beach. He finally let out a long, slow, exhausted sigh. “You killed it, Sebby.” He closed his eyes, relishing the lack of voices. The lack of phone calls, the sounds of crepe streamers, the smell of the ocean rather than the smell of baking cake. The sounds of the water moving against itself, mixing and mingling with grains of sand relaxed him and slowed his heartbeat. For a moment, he stood and relished the sound of being completely alone.

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turn-your-gaze-on-this-dumptruck · 5 years

Text

His Past, His Present, His Future: A Gerita Fic

Germany is shocked when Italy attacks France at a world meeting. Germany promises to stay with Italy in his country while he recuperates. Will he learn why Italy was so hostile to France? Will he unlock secrets to his past there? Sucky summary, good fic. Mostly just vacation fluff, honestly. Very little angst. Rated M for Romano's language

The link to Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13252420/1/His-Past-His-Present-His-Future

The link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18349700/chapters/43443953

**********

Chapter 1: The Fight

To say that Germany was frightened would have been a gross understatement. He grabbed the arm rests of his car seat with a white-knuckle grip, his slicked-back hair coming undone as the wind rushed through the open roof of the car. His blue eyes were wide open with fear as the car whipped around a corner into another lane. He glanced with blatant disbelief at the driver.

Italy was completely calm as he drove with a content smile, one arm resting on the open window as he drove one-handed, his hair batting madly around his head. Germany could not believe his eyes as he realized that Italy was driving with his usual narrow squint.

Germany had no idea how Japan was reacting, knowing that the last member of the trio had driven with Italy before. Germany was in no state of mind to check the back seat, keeping his eyes glued forward as if his concentration could save them from a crash. To his immense relief, he could see the white house in the distance. The World Meeting was being hosted by America this year. Germany’s moment of relief was gone as soon as it came as Italy breezed through an intersection, the nose of the car barreling toward the building.

“Italy!” Germany shouted over the honking of other cars.

Just as they were about to drive onto the sidewalk, Italy jerked the wheel to the side.

Germany raised a hand to the handle attached to the ceiling, shutting his eyes.

The car turned to a 90-degree angle, sliding into a perfect parallel park.

Italy let out a content sigh, unbuckling his seatbelt. He leaned forward in his seat, pulled a comb out of his pocket, and combed his auburn hair in the rearview mirror. “What a pretty day for driving!”

Germany sat there for a moment, his chest heaving as his mind caught up with him. “I- Mein Gott.” He turned, straining against the seat belt as he checked on Japan. “Japan are you okay?”

Japan was sitting in the car with a seemingly serene air. Germany would have thought he were completely fine if not for his ashen complexion, his dilated eyes, and the fierce white grip his hands had on his knees. “Yes.” He said simply, his voice unusually shaky.

Germany looked over to Italy, his eyebrows furrowing into a fierce glare. “Were you trying to get us killed?!”

Italy’s hand paused in mid-air as he turned to Germany. “What do you mean? We were totally safe! And I got us here early!” He pointed to the car’s dashboard.

Germany glanced over to the clock briefly. 8:26. They were supposed to be here by 9:00. “You call that safe?!”

“Of course! We didn’t crash, did we?” He asked.

“Just because we didn’t crash doesn’t mean we were safe! Multiple traffic laws broken, you almost ran over several birds and a cat…” He trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose. Italy would be the death of him, surely. But then again, today he almost was.

Italy smiled. “But we didn’t crash! We didn’t run over any birds or cats, and don’t tell me you haven’t ever broken a couple traffic laws yourself, Germany.”

“I haven’t.” Germany’s hand left his face as he glared over at Italy.

Italy’s smile dropped. “You haven’t? You haven’t taken a five-minute drive without a seat belt?”

“No.”

“Changed lanes without a turn signal?”

“Never. I don’t have a death wish.”

“Even when no one was there?” Italy asked, quirking a brow.

Germany crossed his arms with stubborn pride. “Of course not.”

Italy furrowed his brow. “Hmm.” He turned in his seat. “What about you, Japan?”

Japan finally looked up from the floor. “A- a couple of times, I suppose.”

“Exactly! Japan does it, Romano does it whenever he drives, everyone breaks a couple of traffic laws sometimes. Am I really so bad if I do it?”

Germany raised an eyebrow at Italy. “I’m not sure I understand your-”

“-Excuse me,” Japan interrupted, escaping the car frantically. He stumbled over to a nearby trash can and bent over it, vomiting.

Before Germany’s hand even contacted his seat buckle, Italy was already there rubbing soothing circles on Japan’s back. “There, there, it’s okay! I’m sorry, Japan, I forgot you got motion sickness.”

As Germany unbuckled his seatbelt, he remembered his unopened water battle sitting in the cupholder. He grabbed it before leaving the car and joining the other two nations. Just as he made it over there, Japan straightened and spit into the garbage can. “It is okay, Italy.”

“Doesn’t look okay,” Germany added as he handed Japan the water bottle.

“Thank you, Germany.” He took a long drag from the water bottle, swishing the water around his cheeks before he swallowed it. “It is good to get it out before my presentation, I suppose.” He took another sip.

Italy brightened, a hand returning to Japan’s shoulder. “That’s right! Your presentation! Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” he said as he capped the water bottle. He led the two back to the car to grab their stuff. “I’ve been working on it for months. I practiced all day yesterday.”

Germany was not surprised. Japan was one of the most hardworking people he knew, and he had become accustomed to the fact that he wanted to provide a quality presentations for the other nations. “You sound prepared.”

Japan nodded, swinging the strap of his laptop bag around his shoulder.

Germany leaned across the driver’s seat to grab his notebook and pen. He stood up and was about to pat his pockets for his backup pen as Italy brushed past him.

“You’re going to do great!” He bent over to grab his notebooks and box of pastels.

Germany shook his head at his colleague’s antics, trying not to focus too hard on how well-tailored Italy’s suit was as he straightened back up. Germany’s eyes flickered over Italy. He was wearing a steel grey suit, tailored to fit his lithe form, with a black button-up shirt and a tie that matched his suit. His hair was perfect, of course. Damn it.

Italy waved. “Germany, you okay?”

To Germany’s despair, his cheeks were turning pink. “I was making sure you looked presentable.” He turned to Japan, noticing the slight upturn on the smaller nation’s lips. Damn, he noticed. “Do I look okay, Germany?”

Germany had no doubt in his mind, but he surveyed Japan quickly just to make sure. He was wearing a black suit, also tailored, with a starched white shirt and a black tie. He nodded. “Yes.”

Italy snickered. “You may want to check yourself, Germany…”

Germany frowned. “I checked myself in the mirror this morning, What I’m wearing is perfectly fine.” He remembered his black suit, his white shirt, his grey tie.

Italy pointed at Germany’s hair. “Your gel came undone while we were driving.”

Germany’s eyes widened slightly. He self-consciously smoothed his hair down with his hand. “Is it okay?”

“It’s… not the best.” Japan answered. “Perhaps we can fix it inside.”

Germany looked up at the white house, decisively smoothing his hair down again. “Right.” He walked toward the building, starting up the steps.

Behind him, Italy and Japan exchanged a glance before they followed him up.

Their steps echoed on the floor of the entrance hall as they made their way through. Germany blushed slightly as he noticed all the attention they were gaining. How could they not gain attention? They were the personifications of nations. At the sound of a couple whispers, Germany flattened his hair again.

“There’s a restroom.” Japan muttered to Germany.

Germany made a beeline toward the restrooms, resisting the urge to fast-walk. That would make the situation worse. The more dignity he held on to, the better.

His mouth fell open as he glanced in the mirror. While the strands had their gel on still, his hair was still lazily drooping to the side in a middle part. There was no way to fix this, was there? Upon hearing Italy laughing, he turned fiercely. “Stop laughing! There is no way I can go into the meeting like this!”

Italy’s laughing reduced to a giggle. “Sorry, Germany, your expression was just so funny. I can fix it!”

Japan’s brow furrowed slightly. “How?”

Italy’s smile dampened slightly. “Germany’s not going to like it,”

“Anything is better than this.” Germany protested, refusing to look in the mirror again.

Italy withdrew the comb from his pocket. “You’re going to have to wash your hair in the sink.”

There were a couple of quiet seconds. The only sound was the dripping of a faucet in a sink.

“No.” Was Germany’s simple answer.

Italy’s smile fell away. “B- why not? You said yourself you can’t walk into the meeting like this!”

“What do we do if someone walks in and I’m bent over a sink?” Germany couldn’t even comprehend how humiliating that would be.

“Nothing?” Italy offered. “What are they going to do, tell us to stop? We’re nations! Anyone who walks in here will just ignore us.”

“There’s no way I’m doing that.” Germany crossed his arms stubbornly.

Japan raised his palms in a peace-making gesture. “Germany, it is really the only thing Italy can do. Nobody will take us seriously otherwise.”

Germany paused, considering Japan. He sighed, turning to the mirror. His hair was as messy as ever. Not to mention getting it fixed might ease Japan’s mind about how seriously others would take his presentation. “Fine. How long do we have?”

Italy tilted the Rolex on his right wrist up. “Twenty-five minutes.”

“My hair should dry in time…” He allowed.

“If we start now,” Italy pointed out.

Without a word, Germany unbuttoned his jacket and handed it to Japan. He threw his tie over his shoulder, leaned over, and turned on the water. He took one last resolving breath before dipping his head into the sink and scrubbing furiously.

They walked into the meeting at 8:50, Germany’s cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. Germany’s hair was in a side-part, his bangs combed toward the left side of his face. He took his seat without saying a word to the others, hoping that no-one would notice. Italy took a seat on his right, and Japan on his left. The both of them gave him reassuring glances that he ignored as he took out his paper and pens. All was going well, he supposed. No one had seemed to-

“Dude!” A shrill voice interrupted his thoughts.

Germany let out a sigh just loud enough for him and his friends to hear. Of all the people who could have noticed… “Ciao, America!” Italy said.

America high-fived him. “’Sup, dudes?! Germany, is that a new hairstyle?”

Germany sighed again, this time loud enough for America to hear. “Ja, I only have it because-”

“’Cause it looks pretty great!”

Germany looked up for the first time at America. “What?”

“Yeah!” America planted both palms firmly on the table. “You look less angry this way, y’know. It’s something different, but still sensible! Looks good!” He offered Germany a handshake. “Welcome, by the way. Hope the D.C. traffic wasn’t too bad for you.”

“Thank you.” He sent a glance over to Italy. “The traffic wasn’t the problem.”

Italy had the sense to rub the back of his head sheepishly.

America nodded. “Glad to hear it. Japan, dude! How’ve you been?” He went around Germany to take the unoccupied seat next to Japan. The two unlikely friends launched into a conversation about Japan’s presentation.

“I wanted to invite you and Japan over to my house for dinner after the meeting.” Italy offered, looking over at Germany. Though Germany knew he was trying to hide it, he could see that Italy’s eyes kept flickering up to the new hairstyle.

Germany considered the invitation, turning his notebook to an open page and writing the date at the top as a distraction. “That sounds good, I don’t think I have anything going on this evening.” Germany smiled a bit at the thought, excited to join Italy for dinner that evening. His smile faded, however, as he realized that a tiny bit of him was hoping that Japan would not be able to make it. That it would just be him and Italy. Together. Eating dinner. Just talking and laughing. He hunched over his paper and determinedly scrawled the words: Meeting- Ocean Pollution – America. This was no way to think. Japan was their friend. And Italy… He looked over at the nation as he thumbed through the pages of his note book to a fresh page.

Ever since World War Two… that one Valentine’s day… it spurned feelings, thoughts, and confusion in him. And now in 2019… It’s been almost 80 years. He has been in denial for a long time, but he was logical. He knew that he felt for Italy. He’s known he has for a long time now. But it was never to be. Maybe if they were human. Maybe- maybe if Italy felt the same way about him. He spurned the thought away as America made his way to the other side of the table, sitting at the head, opposite of Germany. He noticed America leaning over to Russia and pointing to Germany. He leaned over his papers again. Damn America…

The meeting was called to order at 9:02. It was decided that Japan would present his bit right after lunch (which was catered by Red Robin, America added). In the meantime, they would discuss the pollution in the ocean, how big the problem was, and after lunch Japan would give his presentation on potential solutions. During the meeting, Japan was dutifully taking notes on what was happening, as was Germany. As he glanced over at Italy’s notes, he noticed that he was drawing with his pastels. Upon further examination, he noticed that he was drawing Switzerland, who was currently speaking. It was a perfect picture. He furrowed his brows. While he was plenty impressed with Italy’s drawing skills, he felt that the middle of a meeting was not the place to utilize them. Nonetheless, he let it be. It wasn’t worth the effort.

America adjourned for lunch gleefully, excited to share the catering with everyone. Everyone ate their meals gladly. Germany listened as Japan accepted Italy’s dinner invitation, guilt-ridden as he felt a twinge of disappointment. Everyone finished their lunch around twenty minutes into the hour and a half long break, separating into different groups to chat.

The trio joined a conversation with France, America, England, Russia, and Canada. They were talking about current affairs going on in their country.

“My country is kinda’ hell right now, dudes.” America said with a smile. “My boss is stirring the pot quite a bit, and I can tell your bosses are getting tired of him.” He looked around the group, noticing that everyone was kind of avoiding his eyes. “It’s fine, guys, I can join the club there.” He said with a bit of a laugh. “What about you, France? You’ve been kind of quiet,”

France shrugged a slight bit. “Nothing much to report here!” He said in a relieved tone. “All has been rather peaceful.”

America snickered. “We know. You haven’t really gotten up to much in a long while. Even during the world wars you were kind of sitting back, huh?”

France allowed a smile and shook his head, much to Germany’s relief. He was worried that this would aggravate France, but he appeared to take it in good humor. “What can I say? I can only do what my boss says.”

Germany was about to agree but decided to stay silent. The world wars were still a bit of a sensitive topic for him, and he didn’t like bringing up his past mistakes. Even if it was the bosses of the country that caused them.

“To be fair, since the United Nations were formed there haven’t been nearly as many wars as there were back in the old days.” England chimed in, raising a single bushy eyebrow.

“Well yeah, dude, but we’ve still had stuff going on even after that. France has been kind of chilling except for a bunch of strikes, I feel like you’ve been sitting on your ass since you caused Holy Rome’s fall. And that was before I was even born!” America pointed out with a laugh.

There was a tense pause. Germany felt confused as Italy tensed beside him. He looked over as he noticed that Italy’s eyes were wide open. “What?” Italy almost whispered.

America continued to laugh, unaware of what he’d just done. “Yeah, dude! That was pretty badass, but that’s no excuse to leave the rest of the work to us.” He glanced around, wondering if his jokes landed. But all eyes were on Italy and France.

Germany glanced around the group, gauging everyone’s reactions. England was aghast. Japan’s expression was almost exactly like it was back in the car. Like he was going to throw up. Russia’s usual smile was not on his face, making him even more unsettling than usual. Canada and America just seemed confused, looking at each other questioningly. Germany noticed with a pang that England and France shot urgent looks at each other before considering Germany for a moment. What the hell was going on?

“France… he’s kidding, right?” Italy said it with a small smile, but his voice was still almost at a whisper. Almost like if he spoke any louder, the atmosphere would shatter. “You wouldn’t…” France finally looked into his eyes. “Italy…” He sighed, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “I- yes… I did, but-”

Italy launched forward and his hands seized France by the collar, effectively interrupting France’s explanation. He pushed France up against the wall, his usually soft brown eyes filled with poison. “You bastard!”

The others were too taken aback to take any action.

“Little brother, I-”

“I am not your little brother!” Italy pulled France away from the wall and slammed him back into it. “Not after what you did!”

The lull of conversation in the background faded into nothingness as the other nations started to notice. Germany barely noted Spain and Prussia materializing behind him, watching what was going on.

France opened his mouth and closed it, apparently making the wise decision not to say anything.

“He was a child!” Italy shouted, louder than ever. His usual light aired voice was replaced by something raw and dark. Something pained and tortured. “And you killed him!” Italy leaned into France, his voice still loud. “I loved him! You knew I loved him! I told you and you killed him!” He once again slammed France into the wall, harder this time. The sickening smack echoed through the room. “He was a child!” He repeated in full volume.

Germany was shocked out of his frozen state, pushing England to the side as he gripped Italy’s shoulders and pulled him away from France.

Italy struggled against Germany’s arms.“Let me go! Let me-” Italy broke out of Germany’s arms. He stepped forward and pulled his fist back, stepping forward and swinging it into France’s face. France reeled back from the force.

“Italy!” Germany’s eyes wide, he stepped forward and grabbed at Italy again. This time, Italy made no attempt to escape. He curled into Germany’s chest and stayed. Though this display would have normally embarrassed Germany, he knew that he had to get Italy out of there. There was no way he could stay there after what happened. He looked back up at France.

France stood there and touched his fingers below his nose, pulling away bloodied fingertips. But he didn’t look mad or angry. He didn’t look shocked. He looked sorrowful. Germany could have sworn that he looked at him in this way. Not Italy.

Germany looked around. Only a few nations including himself were surprised. He noticed that Spain, Prussia, Austria, and Hungary looked crestfallen. He furrowed his brow. What was wrong with these people? “Let’s go, Italy.”

Italy said nothing, allowing Germany to push him slightly toward the door. Germany’s hands never left Italy’s shoulders. As his back turned, he heard Japan.

“I have to go.”

“Japan, you still have to do your presentation.” America said, his voice unusually muted.

Japan pulled a flash drive out of his pocket. “My laptop bag is in my seat. Everything is already prepared. The slides should explain everything.” He handed it to America. “I trust you will deliver this presentation well, but I have to help my friend.”

America’s fist curled around the flash drive. “Should have expected that. Take good care of him.”

Japan nodded once and turned to fast walk toward Germany and Italy.

Germany continued his path, stopping as he passed his brother. “Prussia.” He began, facing him. “I know you and France are close. Why didn’t you help him?”

Prussia’s normally cheerful, confident face was one of heartbroken sorrow. His normal raspy voice was soft with tenderness. “Because he deserved it.”

#Gerita #Holy Rome #Italy #Japan #Romano #aph spain #aph italy #aph Japan #aph germany #aph gerita #aph england #aph france #aph world #aph spamano #spamano #hetalia

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mmd-ask-italy · 6 years

Text

Cuddles

Summary: Italy describes his thoughts and feelings, about hugging different important people in his life

Rating. General

Paring. none

words: 996

Notes: the 2p Italy and 2p Romano here are based on @asktheitalianempire interpretations of the characters

AO3 link

Hugs? Hugs are the best. Well, maybe second best to cuddling...but that is just a very long version of a hug, so it’s technically still the best.

Because you can convey so much with a hug, and everyone hugs differently!

For example my brother Romano he is not the biggest fan of hugs. But when we do hug he always hugs me with one arm around my waist and the other around the upper back just below my shoulder. We often rest our chin on each other's shoulders. This is often a hug for comfort and it’s a rarity so I treasure it.

Germany on the other hand, I hug a lot, but somehow the beginning always feels a bit awkward, even after all these years. It’s is a sign that he doesn’t hug a lot still. My arms can’t quite reach across his broad frame but his hugs never fail to make me feel warm, safe and loved. And I hope my hugs convey even a fraction of those feelings back at him.

Japan and I almost never hug. I have learned over the years when it was and was not okay to hug him. The most frequent hug we do is the side hug. Which is sitting next to each other and wrapping an arm around the lower back, this can give the comfort the other needs without touch becoming too much. Tho it’s awesome when he does fully hug me on the rare occasions

Speaking of awesome, there are of course Prussia’s hugs. His could be back-breakingly strong. But that is a reason I enjoy them so much. He really throws his all into a hug. If he is very happy he’ll even spin me around. His hugs always lift me off the ground regardless tho, and they make me laugh.

But if I talk about bone breaking hugs, I, of course, have to talk about America. We don’t hug often, but that boy doesn't know his own power. His hugs always leave me to feel winded and a bit out of breath. It's quite a unique hug.

His brother Canada’s hugs in comparison are really warm and soft. He hugs very carefully, and always invoke a calm kind of warmth. Fitting with the calm soft spoken personality of him and his people. It’s very relaxing to be hugged by him.

Russia looks also soft and warm, but it’s far less than it looks. You do feel he is really trying to convey nice feeling through his hugs tho. But he tries so hard it almost always gets a bit awkward or creepy. Even if I am a bit put off by them, I still enjoy them, because he tries his best. And that makes it sweet and nice in its own special way

England's hugs are nice too. I think he is one of the people I hug least. And the last couple of times I took him by surprise with hugging him. So he was very stiff, but as he melted into it and it became something soft yet protective. Like a father or grandfather hugging his child close.

France's hugs have some of that feeling too. But that can also because I know him for far longer than the others. I think I hug him the most and longest from all the ex Allies. His beard is sometimes a bit scratchy against my skin, which can get a bit uncomfortable at times. But so I always recognize it’s him.

I have to be careful not to hurt China while hugging him. I could hurt his back if I squeeze him to tight. I felt so awful the first time that happened. So now I am super careful when I do hug him, afraid to hurt him again. I think it’s a reason he avoids hugging me

Someone who never avoids my hugs is Miss Hungary. We always hug when I come over to visit. As greeting and as we leave. We hug a LOT when we go looking through old picture albums. Often cuddling up beside each other on the couch, which also ends in her petting my hair.

And when I go see her, I also go see Austria. We don’t really hug, we more sit next to each other and our sides touch. And maybe the occasional shoulder hug. That usually only happens when I impress him, often with music skills. It always makes me feel so proud

Proud. … … … Would my grandpa be proud if he knew with how many people I have been able to become friends with? I always loved his hugs. They made me feel safe, like nothing in the world could go wrong. And that no matter how bleak things seemed, it would be alright.

I think he would have loved my other self. Luciano. He is very stiff and some might consider him dangerous. And he most certainly is when he is doing his work. But to his family, he is a sweetheart. We cuddle quite often actually. But only when we are sure only family can see us, he has an image to maintain after all. His hugs can bring me great comfort.

His brother, and my brothers other self, Flavio. He has trouble with physical touch, The only one he really touches is his own brother. So we never hug actually. But he is so nice, and always looking out for me. I was allowed to hold his hand the other day tho! So that is a hand hug and that is just as great. I will never push him to hug me, I like him the way he is.

I love every one of my friends and family. And everyone hugs so different, some fitting their personality to a T and the others are so different. But I love every single one of them. I hope I’ll enjoy hugging you too when I meet you

Italy Veneziano

Feliciano Vargas

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notherefortheanonhate · 6 years

Text

Who You Gonna Call?

Prompt: Nyotalia Pairing: Prussia x Romano, implied Germany x Italy Veneziano Word Count: 653 Rating: General

Chiara unloaded the last box. Daisy, as usual, was flitting about not actually helping. However, it was her car, so Chiara couldn’t get too mad at her. “Thank you for helping me move in.” Chiara said gruffly.

The real estate agent, Monika, cleared her throat. “Is there anything I can do—” “No.” Said Chiara flippantly, slamming the box down on the counter. “I’ve signed the lease. I’ve paid you your money. Take my sister and leave.” Monika looked troubled. “Speaking of sisters… my sister died here. I… renovated it, but there’s a reason I’m selling it so soon after getting my license…” “What’s the point of this?” Chiara said tiredly.

“Just… if you find anything weird around, it’s probably from Julchen.” Monika choked it out. Daisy immediately cooed over her. Chiara eventually got them out, and took out the Tupperware of food she had made at Daisy’s house and put in her purse. She sat down on her couch, which was haphazardly placed in the middle of the living room. Chiara looked around at her new domain. It was all hers.

She went upstairs on her unmade bed, and spread out. Yes, this was truly amazing. She was about to drift off to sleep when she heard someone say, “You know this used to be my workout room, right?” Chiara bolted upright. There was a woman in her room, with silver hair. Chiara couldn’t tell what colour her eyes were, but Chiara didn’t care.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?!” Chiara screamed. “Well, it used to be my house.” The woman snorted. Chiara flipped on the light. The woman looked slightly more transparent, and reminded Chiara a great deal of Monika.

Chiara swallowed. It couldn’t be… “W-well… I signed the lease! I paid for it! So you can just—go to hell, ghost bitch!” The ghost raised an eyebrow. “If I could move on, do you think I’d still be here?” The ghost sat down on the edge of the bed, and Chiara pulled her legs up. “Oh, come on! I don’t bite—much.” The ghost grinned wickedly.

“You’re cold.” Chiara said accusingly. “You’re hot.” The ghost winked. “What are you implying?” Chiara demanded as she flushed.

The ghost drifted closer. “We could always share… I won’t take advantage of being dead—or whatever—but it’s really my luck that the hottest woman in the world is the only one able to see me.” Chiara sniffed. “You already saw Daisy.” “And? You’re prettier.” The ghost had a dopey grin on her face. “And have… more of a personality, if I can put it like that? I’m glad Monika is happy with hers. But quite honestly, I’m also happy that you’re the one who’s here.”

“…fucking flatterer ghost bitch.” Chiara huffed. “Come over here and tell me about yourself, and I will consider not kicking you out.” The ghost laughed. “Well, for starters, my name is Juliana. Julchen is the diminutive form—and what Monika called me earlier. I prefer it to my real name.” Chiara made a space in the covers for Julchen to lie next to her. “Julchen isn’t a shitty name. I’ve never heard of a ghost with a cute name.”

“Aw, you think my name’s cute!” Julchen cooed. Chiara looked away. “You’re a moron. You’ll be lucky if I don’t get a priest in here to exorcise you!” Julchen chuckled. “Sure you will.” Chiara glowered at her, but they continued to talk throughout the night until Chiara fell asleep. Chiara never moved out of that house, nor did she start dating, despite Daisy’s best efforts.

She would simply mumble something about being taken, and disappear. She wouldn’t tell Daisy who she was dating. But she was happy. And Monika swore that one dark night, she saw Julchen and Chiara laughing in the kitchen, before Chiara kissed Julchen.

But after all, that must have been fake—right?

#prumanoweek2018 #prumano #hetalia #aph prussia #aph romano

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chibiclem · 4 years

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“APH alternate : Italy’s dark and light spectrum”

This is directly linked to my Eternat’s universe i’m develloping on deviantart, and it is the explanation of a concept about having different version of same people with a tendency to light and dark, depending of a materia called “Clauz” (a light Clauz and a shadow Clauz repectively). Each being have 2 Clauzs, the very first entity that ever existed in the Universe. Italy and Romano’s light Clauz is named “Iöga” and the shadow Clauz is named “Decerept”. (They both have the same Clauzs) The Clauz names have an impact on the names of their “Children”, as well as for their personality but the environment can change the “course” of their basic evolution.

If you want to know more about Clauzs and how a life is made in Eternat you can go there : https://www.deviantart.com/chibiclem/art/Life-and-Clauz-714737565

It is also the consequences of the destruction of the “God of Dimension”, resulting in all these doppleganger of mainly any beings but also planets at the time of his destruction, and thus, directly inspired from Tsubasa Reservoir chronicles, the creation of multiples dimensions/planets with more or less different evolutions!

Too many concepts that I tried to elabore more on deviantart than here.

Each character here have his stories :

->From left to right

Feli (The pro-chiari): The most pure of all Feli! The "Pro chiari" means in spiritual language (an universal language that all being with a soul can theorically understand) " pre-light". It's a special being that is protected by the lights and that will become one. (If you've read/watched the anime "Magi", it's there that the concept is born!) That's why Feli is treated like a messiah in his land, participating to ceremonies by dancing and attracting the lights. However, he's an humble character that live among the other in a village around the castle of her majesty. In the story where he is involved unfortunately, his planet will be consumed by a dark spell that broke the dimension and let "dimension devorers" enters theirs. The queen sacrified herself to activate a secret weapon, "The time clockers", which are 2 brothers, one being the needle and the other the dial (which have 2 personalities: the "dial of destruction" and the dial of reconstruction"). (And...they are alternate Germany and Prussia by the way) The time clockers "saves" (more like in a computer even if nothing digital is involved) the people, beings and objects inside the dial by destroying them into “data” and then recreate them in another reality (which can just be another planet) while erasing the threat they were activated for, but the counterpart is huge: 1) Everything outside the dial (which is around..50km^2 of diameter approximatively) will be purely erased from existence and memories, like it never existed in the course of time. So basically, the queen sacrified like 95% of her planet and inhabitants to save only a few. 2) The beings that were too damaged before the activation have to lose all their memory, and the others randomly lose it or keep it. Saying that not much people keep their memories intact during the process! 3) The ones that were already dead...are still dead but can be remembered (great consolation...). I could make a whole comics about this but really....I've no time nor energy to do so right now! XD

Ioga (The angel): You may know that I love the concept of an angel Italy, and there are many Iogas existing. Their common point are their specialisation in exorcism. They generally live in society with other angels and are much more serious and devoted than Feliciano the Hetalia character, but they generally keep their innocent behaviour, though a lot of them have to face hardship.

Feliciano Vargas/Lovino Vargas: I hope you know them because if not you’ve got nothing to do her! XD

Felicia (Or "Feli The Commander"): I've already make an art of her were I explained her story! --> https://chibiclem.tumblr.com/post/618265157131550720/aph-alternate-feli-the-commander-i-was

Feli (FX306): FX306 is a child experiment and the example of how a snapped version of Feliciano can be born. First, it's a little girl that would have the same personality as Feliciano or Lovino if she wasn't completely traumatized and her mind broken inside. FX306 lived in captivity with other children in one kingdom were the objective was to form an army of children with psychic powers, great longevity and skills in fighting. Her's is teriffic: she can control the body of other beings to a certain extent. However, she wasn't controlling it very well....She had to practice on the others captive children and almost all the time, the child's head before her exploded. Failing to her meant losing one of her "brothers" and "sisters", and even after crying, begging, she couldn't avoid the exercise that damaged her mind. One day, her most close friend went face to her, and she did everything to save him this time while both of them were terrified to their core. It worked in the beginning, but like always she lost the control, and the splash of blood came to her face . It was at this moment she completely snapped. Her scream of madness was so powerfull that she killed everything in her near perimeter even with the protection the scientist had. It also had another effect : sending a signal to the ennemies of the kingdom she was in, which was in reconnaissance expedition. The secret base was attacked while the children, which didn't understand anything of their situation, started to flee. But FX306 was berserk, she was making scientist kill each other, making their heads explodes, and killed in fact anything without distinction. Until she faced one of the scout, Bazy, an eternal-little zoion (zoion: half wolf half human with the apparence of a child and "eternal-litle" is a kind of zoion that are immortal as long as nobody kill them). They fought against each other, and for the first time she couldn't killed it by one though because she couldn't focuse enough on him; he was too fast, too used to fight, much more than her. In the ruins of the facility she was in, he defeated her, but didn't killed her because suddenly, the ennemy he faced seemed more human, as she was crying in distress. Maybe it was the prelude of their future mariage, but he offered her to join his majesty and she accepted, falling in love with the one she considered her saviour and the only one that had defeated her. Afterward, they became inseperable. FX306 was baptised "Feli", and she became part of the special force of the queen from the kingdom of Cresseptia along with her husband; becoming really devoted to her majesty to the point of fanatism. Feli still is insane, but with more maliciousness as you can see on my drawing. Wearing a pink dress, she looks cute but have much control over her powers now and likes to use them to play with the ennemy of her queen. Also she has a bad temper and can easily become mad and instable. Only Bazy (which is by the way an alternate of Germany..again! ;) ) can stop her and create a balance, as he's the exact contrary: stern old soldier, collected. Even if both have childish forms, they are much older than they look! So you see, a weird couple!

Iota: Iota is aside from the others. It's a stressed man living in a semi-steampunk world and an industrial city. He works as a math scientist that have powers over constants and physical laws. A magical powers that is quite complex, as it looks somehow like a more detailed alchemy. (If I were to give an example, he can make the wind blow faster in one direction, but for that he have to modify the velocity of the wind, adjust the other constant such as temperature, and create a vector for the travelling direction!) Another of his power, and one that is causing his life to be hell is his vision of fragments of the future, resulting in a chronic case of insomnia and stress. Asocial, he sometimes has to write/solve compulsively formulas and maths to decipher the future, or simply to action his mind. This lot of activity he has to do is making him even more tired, hence the dark circle down his eyes. The government is really interested in his work for reasons you may easily guess, but he doesn't want anything to do with them anymore. Besides, he has saved a prisoner, Tykki, a zoion half maritime lezard half human (which is an alternate of England!) and of course doesn't need them to discover THAT. He also lives with a child ghost, Matthew (do I need to tell who he's inspired from?) in his little apartment where he rarely come out from. The food comes from a young boy, Xicke (alternate of China) which family lives in the same building and have a restaurant open to the street. (kind of a chinese restaurant, but not exactly) 10-year-old Xicke is actually pretty mature even if he complains a lot, and act like a mom to him, but also his confident, even if Xicke don't want to know secret that would put his family in danger!

Iöga: Mysterious young men, we don't know much about Iöga except that he changes dimension and has powers of controlling bodies like FX306, the difference being 1) he has perfect control over it 2) he can affect a larger zone. Forming a trio with his friends Ollicky and Shafugo (which are alternate of Russia and Korea respectively), they travels thanks to Shafugo's power (teleportation) to dimension in dimension like a group of teenagers travelling around the world. Except that they are quite dangerous and totally inpredictable. In the band, Shafugo likes to fight, Iöga makes fun of people to trigger them and then use his powers to make them regret it and Ollicky follows innocently the duo like a blooming flower. Nobody know how old they are, not even if they are eternally young or if Shafugo's teleportation also does time travel. Never have their irritating smiles dissapeared from their faces. They are the definition of trolling!

Dercer : That's the better for the end, may be not the most insane but the most dangerous of all the one I presented to you! Dercer is a silent scientist with eyes percing your very secrets. He is cruel and will experiment even on his own mother, and you know what he likes? Dissections... (You see, like the child that kills cats or dogs for fun?) He put a lot of pleasure in torturing his experiments, but is truly invested in science too. By that he is pretty much similar to "the Scientist", a demon making experiments to solve magical and scientific questions without any care for ethic. The worst is that he isn't insane at all, he wasn't traumatized as a child : he does everything without remorce, he planify everything, he is meticulous, discreet with bad maliciousness. His blood is cold and his smile unnerving. He however lives in a structure welcoming multiple scientists that mostly hate each other and it's the perfect thing for him because he can mess with them. How to describe him in one word? Psychopath....

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scarlettlillies · 7 years

Photo

POKETALIA AU: NYOTALIA II

Art credit: Hidekaz Himaruya, Transparents by me and 2p-hetalia-nations Pokemon sprites from (x), (x), (x), (x) Inspir. (x), (x), (x)

Click for the full view!

Continuing on with the Nyotalia sets! You can find more sets and info about the AU here. Bios and additional team members are under the cut!

Nyo!Italy Name: Bianca Gagliardi Age: 24 Specialty: N/A Main Team: (Mega) Audino, Brionne, Slurpuff, Lapras, Cloyster, Ninetales In Rotation: Alomomola, Floette, Beautifly Not Used For Battle: N/A

Bianca and her sister Chiara are grand-daughters of the legendary battler who went by the name of Augusta; travelling all over Europe and stealing (and crushing) the hearts of both men and woman everywhere she went. Bianca tries her best to live up to her grandmother’s name but the Italian battle scene is tough and many trainers are stronger than she is. Still, Bianca has made a decent name for herself and mostly battles for fun. She dabbles in contests when she feels like it but does not consider herself to be a coordinator.

Nyo!Germany Name: Monika Trumbauer Age: 24 Specialty: N/A Main Team: Luxray, Machamp, Mightyena, Stoutland, Salamence, (Mega) Lucario In Rotation: Houndoom, Drapion, Gabite Not Used For Battle: N/A

Train, train, train is all that Monika does. When she is not facing against tough trainers, she spends every waking moment improving herself and her team. She trains alongside her Pokemon and her style is very physical and on-hands. She takes after her older sister Juila, who trains in the same style as her and helped Monika get started as a trainer. Very rarely does she leave a battle unsatisfied and always sees room for improvement, even as a winner. She is currently listed as one of the top trainers in all of Germany.

Nyo!Japan Name: Honda Sakura Age: N/A Specialty: Grass Main Team: Cherrim, Oricorio (Sensu style), Froslass, Laurantis, Flareon, (Mega) Gyarados In Rotation: Lilligant, Bellossom Not Used For Battle: Lillipup

Sakura lives and works at a shrine that her family has operated for several generations. On her spare time, she studies traditional art and dance and is both a mythology and history buff. She enjoys battling and organizes events at her home for trainers of all levels to come and test their skills. Trainers enjoy battling Sakura because of her kind and respectable nature; she always shows great sportsmanship with everyone she faces. She is currently being trained by the Gym Leader in her city to take over the facility which specializes in Grass-types.

Nyo!Prussia Name: Juila Trumbauer Age: 28 Specialty: Dark Main Team: (Mega) Houndoom, Aegislash, Staraptor, Zoroark, Haxorus, Weavile In Rotation: Zangoose, Seviper, Mightyena Not Used For Battle: (Shiny) Torchic

Juila has been battling for as long as she can remember. She spends much of her time training in the outskirts of the city where she can’t be bothered and is very physical with her training techniques. She took her younger sister under her wings and taught her everything she knew about battling and raising Pokemon. It is not uncommon to see them training together.

She was once one of the best trainers in all of Germany but she has since taken a step back to allow her sister to shine in the limelight. She is far from weak however and some of Europe’s best struggle to win against her. She is currently eyeing a seat among Germany’s Elite Four.

Nyo!Romano Name: Chiara Gagliardi Age: 26 Specialty: N/A Main Team: Flareon, Delcatty, Pyroar, Vileplume, Seaking, (Mega) Lopunny In Rotation: Breloom, Kingler Not Used For Battle: Squirtle

The eldest sibling, she is a grand-daughter of the legendary Augusta. Like her sister, she struggles to get noticed on the Italian battle scene despite her relatively strong team. She has a fiery temper and doesn’t handle losses well. She appears to have found her niche in contests and is eager to be a big sister to newcomers in the sport. She frequently models to make extra money to afford her lavish costumes and it’s not uncommon to see her in magazines and posters across the country.

#Poketalia #nyotalia #APH Italy #APH Germany #APH Japan #APH Prussia #APH Romano #hetalia #Poketalia!AU #Lilly's Graphics

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unworthy-stars · 7 years

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Formaggio- HFH North Italy Week 2k17

This is my forst submission for the North Italy week hosted by the @hetaliafandomhub . I had said this earlier to Hub Epsilon and Pi that I dedicate this to the Hub Gods because they deserve it to the full.

We love you.

This is the prompt for day no. 2: Photography with optional AU Gakuen Hetalia.

This is Formaggio

"Say 'formaggio', fratello mio!" Italy Veneziano held the old camera in front of his face.

Italy Romano sighed but said the familiar word trying to pull a smile. After the staggering flash hit Italy Romano right in his eyes he continued to sew the oair of trousers he worked on for the 'Home Economy' class. They turned out to be more stylish than expected.

"So, fratello, have you decided about last semester's project?" Veneziano asked with a bright smile on his shiny face.

"I'll probably do something in my orbit, like a dissertation on Westerner's policy or perhaps about the importance of the first production section in our lives. What I must worry about now is the club's presentation. There's not enough time to teach the other goofs how to dance the tarantella!"

"Ugh...I'm sure you'll do great! After all you guys are excellent dancers!" Veneziano smiled.

"It will settle itself somehow...grazie mille fratello!" he placed his HB pencil on top of his ear and looked his prompts.

"La tua felicità è la mia felicità!" he kissed Romano's tanned cheek, grabbed his camera and ran outside their dormitory.

Italy checked the photo he had shot previously. His brother was really good-looking and his beauty was perfectly refelected by the device. The sunlight fell on Romano's brunet hair making it look shiny, unlike his grumpy expression. He was about to finish his assigned homework and he wished to be left alone, something Veneziano didn't grant. The photo was interesting by the sewing macchine's presence too. An old Sainger was considered to be a wonderful antique.

As he was walking inside World Academy W, he came across a pretty familiar sight; China feeding a cute panda bamboo leaves. China wasn't in the same class as North Italy, but he was a close friend from the Asian class. China noticed him too and smiled. His slanted eyes made his cheekbones almost touch his thin eyebrows.

"Nǐ hǎo Yìdàlì! Nǐ hǎo ma?" he waved at him.

North Italy walked to his peer's side and sat next to him "I wanted to ask you if I could take a picture of you and your adorable panda!"

"Of course and you can! Why did you even ask? Japan always takes shots of me and I myself can't count how many 'selfies' I have shot! Go on!" he embraced the oanda and with a childish smile he looked at the flashing light.

"Grazie mille Cina! I really appreciate it!" he let the camera hang on his neck "What theme have you chosen about your project?"

"Endangered species! I know it is common but I really want to sentisise people about it!" he was always so cheerful.

"That's really cool!" he suddenly saw France pass by the nearest corridor "If you can excuse me..."

North Italy ran to catch up with his colleague. Fortunately France was really recognisable. He wore diverse clothes, yet always in fashion, and his golden locks never were out of perfect condition.

"France! Wait!" he exclaimed hooked on France's shoulders.

"Huh? Italie! Didn't expect to see you before class!" he tried to make N. Italy relax "What's all the fuss? Big brother is here to help!" he caressed his brown, towards red, hair.

"I just wanted to take a picture of you!" Italy smiled and showed France his camera.

"Is it for the Newspaper Club? Not that I mind if you keep it private..." he scratched the back of his neck "You can always take pictures of me. J-just wait for the next break- right now I have a really important meeting to attend. It concerns the Gourmet Club!"

North Italy wouldn't miss the opportunity to interview the holly trio of cuisine even if the end of the world occured. Moreover he needed Turkey's photo too and seeing two beautiful countries together was the chance of a lifetime.

He decided to secretly follow France to their meeting point. Apparently Turkey was always waiting for the other members. He was known for his punctuality, as a sideffect of his perfectionist ideology.

France greeted his friend by kissing both of his cheeks, a common European way of greeting. Turkey responded right away and started to chat with the other club member.

N. Italy took a photo quickly and ran away trying to remain unnoticed. Giggling he hid behind the trash bin, which was located two corridors away. He checked the picture; they looked lovely as always.

"Hello," said a quiet soft voice.

Veneziano turned around. A familiar, yet unrecognisable, country had approached him. He was experiencing something like a deja vu.

"You must be Canada, America's brother!" N. Italy remembered.

"Oh yes I am...have you seen my glasses?" he asked kindly.

"I've just arrived here, but I'm more than eager to hel- they are in your cardigan's top pocket!" he touched them.

"Oh mon Dieu! Thank you...I am really silly!" he wore them again and showed Veneziano his teeth, smiling.

Italy took a photo of Canada smiling. The flash hit Canada right in the eyes so he closed them immediately.

"What was that for?" Canada pushed his glasses closer to his forehead.

"Surprise!" he exclaimed and ran away again.

Veneziano moved to the toilets. Almost no one entered but lots rpefered to hang out outside them. That particular day Russia was eating his lunch resting his back on the wall outside the boys' bathroom.

"Ciao!" Italy waved at him bravely.

Russia noticed the Italian and waved back "Privet! Want some pirozhki?" he showed the opened lunch box.

"No grazie, I have already eaten!" he sat by him.

Russia curled up and brought the lunch box next to his crooked nose. Russia, despite his large size (or even because of it) felt quite insecure around his peers. Nevertheless he was considered to be very sociable when forced to socialise.

"Could you please say 'formaggio' and smile for the camera?"

"I suppose so...why do you want a picture of me Italy/" he lifted his head.

Italy pressed to button and five seconds after the click sound the flash gave lightness to Russia's round head. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes after.

"Because you are pretty!" Italy smiled once again with his always-closed eyes.

"Oh..."Russia flushed brightly "Spasibo! I feel flatterned!"

"You're welcome! And your food looks tasty!" he stood up and moved to his next encounter, at the wall of the girls' bathroom, Belarus.

Belarus wasn't particularly clingy to her brother that day, given that she would normally be at her brother's side. However that day she was almost three metres away by her own will.

Italy approached the young lass. He lowered his position and looked her in the eyes.

"Want to see it?" Italy took off his camera, which was hung on his cheek and presented it to his classmate.

Belarus grasped the device. She checked all its sides and proceeded on checking the image gallery. She squeeled at the sight of her beloved brother's picture however she quickly scrolled to right and saw the other countries' pictures. She laughed. She actuslly laughed.

"May I have a picture of you?" Italy asked.

"Of course!" she said still laughing.

This was Veneziano's favourite picture. He greeted the maiden again and walked to his friends' dormitories.

N. Italy was well-known to have been hanging out with Germany and Japan. They together formed the Newspaper Club which was created to inform all World Academy W students about current events, achievements and interviews.

On his way back though he entered the art room. He loved art and he was really good at it, especially at painting according to Reinessance's movements. In the art room he came across two recognisable figures, America and Greece.

"...and this happened before Jesus?" said America surprised.

'Well...yes! And many more...but I like this one in particular!" he pointed at a marble statue.

"Dude, I remember bringing one of those to the surface! They are really cool! Literally your ground is precious!" America claimed.

"I suppose so...it was all my mother's..." he snorred.

Italy took a picture of them looking at the magnificent statue and walked on the tip of his toes back to the exit. He didn't want to interrupt such an intellectual converstation. And he was afraid that he would be carried away by it too.

Thus he went quickly to Germany's bedroom and stopped his research there.

~*~

Dancing, awarding, explosions and Johan Strauss II could be mixed only in a World Academy W school year ending presentation! All the colours, the fragancies and the unbelievable sights were all gathered in the school gymnasium where all projects could be seen and all club presentation took place.

"Did you see Russia's project?" said England.

"Yes I did actually! It was exciting! I didn't know about all these musicians!" Hungary replied.

"How could you have not known? They are quite famous! Just...not for being Russian." Austria added.

"Since our projects are finished, we don't have to see them again right? We could just- oh my glob! Merlin's beards, is this me?" England moved quickly to the white wall.

No one had noticed before but the wall was covered by photos of each student of the Academy. England's specifically was taken when he was serving tea to Liechtenstein and Monaco. All of them looked really fancy and elegant.

Ameica's and Greece's photo was standing next to England's but it was surrounded by a mysterious aura like they were performing something mystic the moment the picture was taken. But what secretive could they do in the art room?

Belarus's, Russia's, Romano's, Switzerland's, Seychelles', Taiwan's, India's, South Africa's, Nigeria's, Brazil's, Peru's. Everyone's photo was taken and placed on the white dull wall of the gymnasium. It filled the room with awe and happiness.

Hungary had never seen Austria play chess, but the photo captured the moment perfectly. Neither had Belgium ever seen Sweden play with Sealand. Nor Moldova had ever seen Australia with his koalas taking a selfie with New Zealand holding a kiwi.

North Italy

Project Theme: Difference Notes: La tua felicità è la mia felicità

The End

#hub north italy week #the-awesome-sia #hetalia #aph #formaggio #fanfiction #fanfic #eh i tried

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renaroo · 7 years

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A Packed Lunch

Disclaimer: Hetalia and associated characters are the creative property of Hidekaz Himaruya. Warnings: Canon-typical language. Original Character version of India (written prior to his introduction) Rating: T Summary: Food unites people around the world and sharing it brings three unlikely friends together.

A/N: This was originally published with my joint account I shared with @theeffar in 2011 for our Hetalia works, and in my unending need to cultivate and streamline my online works, I’m reposting some of the ones I’m still proud of here and on my AO3.

Original A/N: The last of my trio of close friends from high school is graduating tonight and it seemed like perfect timing to publish this little story I wrote a month ago that’s dedicated to my three closest high school friends. We were united in our unique interest in heritage (I being a second generation German-American, today’s graduate being a first generation Korean-American, and our third member being an Indian immigrant) and packing our lunches to school. So here’s to my homies!

Sometimes the greatest achievements we have are not in the friendships of our past but the ones we construct anew. There is nothing more terrifying than opening yourself up to the strangers around you.

Most of the time, he ate alone. His lunch was packed neatly in tubaware containers of at least three different sizes. All was placed in an ecologically friendly cloth sack and sealed with a draw string.

Each wurst was cooked with the anticipation of being heated up in the break room. It had a microwave about ten years old that no one would bother to replace. If a country didn’t want to eat in the food court, they were more likely to use the stove and start from scratch.

Still, there was a tomato sauce stain from America’s last demonstration to England on why Spaghetti O’s were world changing.

It also sometimes smelled like olive oil which often made Germany wonder if Romano or Greece had used it beforehand. He quickly wrote those off, though.

He did not eat alone due to a lack of friends or important business lunches. He had enough friends in his pocket to keep himself satisfied and his contact list on his cell in need of a scroll bar.

Germany just needed times where it was him and his lunch. Everyone did.

Even Italy had eventually accepted, albeit unhappily, that many occasions were meant to be reflected on in privacy.

As such, it was not a lonely thing to take a lunch on his own to the break room.

He sat at the table not terribly far away from the sectional that at one point surrounded a television but no longer did. (Someone would eventually have to tell Russia that he had to reimburse the embassy for staking the flat screen with his pipe.) He sat in one of the two chairs that were not cracked and opened each tubaware container as he needed to. It was just easier to heat them up as needed rather than heat them all up only to have the last of his meal be cold before he touched it.

Germany found this often-but-not-too-often routine comforting.

Without warning, though, it changed. When the room wasn’t empty as he walked in.

India had always been a strange acquaintance of Germany.

Seemingly the two would have little to do with each other, but the truth of the matter was they had been friendly since even before the World Wars. He was always encouraging to her about her feelings on breaking away from colonization and, in turn, she was the first of the Allies to end her declaration of war with him after the second World War.

He still hadn’t thought of a proper way to thank her for the support of German Reunification.

Therefore it was not a terribly distressing thing to see her in the break room, sitting on one of the two unbroken chairs, eating what he thought looked like one of Mexico’s tortillas with brown rice and hen pecked quantities of vegetables and beans.

When she looked at him she seemed equally surprised and equally undeterred. She nodded and he made his way to the microwave.

“I enjoyed your presentation today,” she said as he decided to warm the wurst first.

“Thank you,” He said and turned toward her so as to not be rude. “I was rather concerned that I was boring the assembly.”

A wry smile grew upon the regal ancient’s face. “Ah, only America,” she assured him.

It was rather reassuring, he had to admit.

“It’s called roti,” she told him as she tore a bite size piece from the flat bread. “I noticed you looking at it.”

“So I see,” Germany nodded before tearing a piece from his own rye-wheat.

He had decided against thinking too much on how both of their packed meals had changed over the several weeks of meeting each other, unplanned as it might have been, in the break room.

Germany was much more interested in thinking about how Italy and Japan seemed rather put off by the fact that his often-but-not-too-often days of packed lunches had turned into a consistent every-time-we-have-meetings deal.

At the last meeting he had invited them to pack their own lunches, which they both considered. He hadn’t seen them come yet, though.

“For another meeting topic,” Germany thought out loud, “I should talk about how fast food has eliminated some of our more interpersonal relations.”

India thought for a moment and stirred her vegetables absently. “You will certainly get America’s attention with that.”

The routine changed yet again when Germany arrived slightly later than usual.

He had been cleaning off the board in the room after a particularly tough debate about global warming regulation turned into a contest to see who was capable of drawing the best landscape. That, of course developed into a nasty debate on whether or not the sun should have a face or not.

After a cry of ‘if the moon has one, why can’t the sun?’ they had adjourned for lunch.

All except Germany who was cleaning up the mess and wondering if anyone would be interested after lunch in hearing about his theory on fast food.

By the time he had reached the break room at last, India was already there. She had not started eating without him.

Korea, however, had.

He had a bowl of what smelled like something steamed and caused Germany’s stomach to rumble slightly. Not enough, however, for Germany not to notice that there was only one chair left and it had a noticeable crack through the bottom of the seat.

“Did you pack your lunch today as well, Korea?” Germany asked and made his way to the microwave as was customary.

“Tteokguk,” he said with a great, beaming smile on his face. It reminded the European that the youthful Asian nation had been spending too much of his time with America. “Nothing special.”

Germany nodded and waited for the ding to alert him that the Solyanka his brother gave him a recipe for was done warming up. “It smells good.”

India had not spoke up besides gentle chides to Korea who, if Germany recalled correctly, had been doing business with her since he was born out of the fall of the three kingdoms. Ancient friends, he supposed, though India seemed surprisingly maternal.

Germany sat in the cracked chair. It whined but so long as he did not move much it was fine, only occasionally creaking.

Their meals were very different and, despite this, it smelled very good when all together, steam mixing in the air until it was all the same thing.

Germany sometimes wondered if the relationship they shared at their meal was only that.

Since his addition to the rat pack, Korea had done the majority of the speaking throughout their meals. Germany would interject and attempt to ground the insane topics Korea would bring up. In truth, though, he despised when Korea allowed that to happen.

India and Germany may have eaten together in happy, mundane silence but they both smiled more and ate more with Korea around them.

Break at the World Conferences had become a non-sequitter for the three of them.

On the day one of them could not attend the break room for whatever reason, it was mention in passing the day before. Then, even though the other two would not speak about it beyond that, they would not meet in the break room. Germany would see them fitted back into their social positions in the food court.

He was just as guilty as the other two.

He began to wonder why he never brought up the meeting point about fast food and the depravation of more international relationships. But he didn’t think too hard on it.

In truth, he already knew the reason. And it was necessary selfish.

"I think tomorrow we should make a pot luck out of this break room,” Korea said.

Germany envied the other’s creativeness and innocent naïvity. As insane and uncalled for as his ideas were most of the time, there was a spark behind Korea’s eyes that made the other two nations take pause and consider.

They looked at each other before coming to an agreement.

“Yes,” Germany said out loud.

Content, Korea went back to his own meal. The other two followed suit.

No one said anything, but they all marveled at the fact that in two yeas of this arrangement it was the first time any of them had mentioned the strangely powerful bond out loud.

Trying to figure out what to cook for the pot luck was much more stressful than it should have been. His stomach did flip flops as he tried to be considerate of the other two nations’ cultural norms and definitions of kosher.

The dogs whining to be fed and the constant berating of his brother did not really do anything to assist matters either.

As a sign of tradition, India ate little that deterred from her land’s natural diet. It was always homemade spices that radiated their heat so much it would cause the German’s eyes to water at a simple sniff. She enjoyed a wide variety of fruits and vegetables that were cooked in ways that were still a mystery to him.

Fast like the times they found themselves in, Korea’s food was a segway between tradition and spontaneous energy. He would eat the meats Gemany was comfortable with cooking but he would also most likely eat the traditional noodles, soups, and tofu. He was unpredictable and less of a worry.

But Germany had always made a habit of worrying. The more senseless the more likely he was to worry.

He cursed under his breath and collapsed into the nearest chair.

Blackie was the first of the animals to respond to the action. She did so by whining and laying her oversized head on his lap.

Germany sighed and rubbed her between her ears as he thought deeply on the subject at hand. There was so many things that could go wrong with a pot luck.

“I need something unique,” he informed his precious pets. “But it also needs to be something that can be enjoyed in small quantities. It would also help it was kosher for my friends’ beliefs and traditions. All I can think of is wurst and stew.”

He looked away from Blackie to Berlitz and Aster. Berlitz was rigid as any Doberman, but Aster was dopey and complacent as ever, her head swaying to the side as another of Prussia’s chicks landed on her. They pecked her flat, Labrador head like they were gathering seed.

And that’s when Germany received some inspiration.

He immediately retuned to cooking, much to Blackie’s distress.

"Oh, so what is this, Germany? A pumpkin roll?” Korea asked as he pawed at the dessert set before him and India.

The table was already decorated with dainty treats from the other two lunch buddies. So much so that Germany was slightly ashamed at the tiny contribution of mohn stollen.

It took him quite a while to make but, seeing and smelling the wonderful dishes like samgyeopsai and kofta it felt incredibly underwhelming.

“It’s mohn stollen,” he explained. “It’s made with poppy seeds.” After a breath he added, “It’s not much.”

India smiled gratefully. “Today,” she explained, “it is everything.”

Then the three corners of the globe partook in a single meal.

Germany and Korea shared their tears as Korea cried out ‘too much curry!’ India nibbled respectfully at each dish before her, tearing off extas from the mohn stollen when she thought the others would not notice. She and Germany then both ate from Korea’s enthusiastically offered samgyopsai. Then Korea snuck two of the rolls of mohn stollen into his brief case, folded sloppily in stain covered napkins.

“I was unaware you ate meat,” Germany said to India as they rested back against their chairs and absorbed the feeling of being much too full.

India smiled. “I share practices with all my people,” she said before growing a curious smile. “However, I have found in thousands of years of allowing my people’s religious sects decide their own rules, I would never eat without bending some of them.”

Germany smiled and nodded to this news. He understood what it felt like to be pulled by his own people in too many directions at once.

The break room gang ended almost as abruptly as it came into existence.

It was an unassuming day as the three crossed paths and their individual ways to the break room. They nodded and agreed to walk together the rest of the trek without speaking a single word.

By the time they got to the room where a small table waited with two chairs that there were fine and one chair that was broken and squeaked, the microwave was running.

And America was cussing at how his Wendy’s was suddenly ruined.

They would have asked him how so if they hand’t already been able to smell it. Or see the remains of the chili’s contents plastered on the inside of the door.

He turned and saw them, smiled his big, American smile, and waved them over.

“Hey, fancy seeing you all in the break room,” he said. “Lucky you guys! There’s plenty of room for more, even with the hero in here already.”

And there was. So none of them bothered to mention that they had, in fact, brought their own foods into the kitchenette first. It was a useless struggle and no one outside of their unspoken group would understand it.

So India turned around part of the sectional to align it with the open side of the table. Korea took a turn in the cracked chair, perhaps to look across the table at America who he was already in an explosive conversation with.

Germany merely sat across from India, feeling smaller and smaller between the two louder nations. It wasn’t a meeting, though, so it was not like there was a rhyme or reason to interrupt.

It was never the same after that day. Though, they only bothered to meet in the new arrangement once.

That was plenty enough for the original trio to realize that the quaint structure they had established had died with an unassuming whisper.

America was an easy scapegoat to blame for it, but they all knew that it was not him. They all tolerated him much easier than the majority of nations who spent time with him. In fact, the two days that had been eaten with America added to the group had been very sociable and fun to say the least.

The culprit was America’s food. Even if it was a home baked apple pie on the second day, it was a fourth culture, a fourth toxin and taste added to the air of the break room and it no longer smelled like a unique blend of counter cultures.

It only smelled like apple pie.

Even when they bit into the poignant curry that India had brought, the zest had been altered into something almost sweeter.

They no longer had food to share. Likewise, their reason for meeting vanished.

It was the last time Germany ate in the break room.

Italy and Japan seemed happy enough to welcome Germany back to the food court. They even asked him how his thesis was coming along for the presentation on why fast food was bad.

He was eternally grateful for their dependable natures and even more so for the fact that they were still genuinely interested in his subject. Even if he had dropped it nearly a month beforehand.

There seemed to be something missing when he smelled the air of the food court, though, and all there was to greet his nose was an indescribable mass of scents. The individual foods no longer had their own tastes in the air, it was all the same. It was white noise.

Until he smelled something that was surprisingly close to tteokguk and something else that he could have sworn was kofta.

When he looked around he saw his break room companions offering up some of their extra food to the countries America had drug to their table.

“It’s great stuff!” America exclaimed loudly. “I started going to some markets in D.C. that sells it and, man, oh, man. You’ve got to try some. You like curry, don’t you, England?”

Germany, now intrigued, made his way to the table where his friends smiled up at him. Then America turned and grinned.

“Oh, hey, Germany!” I brought some Awesomest-Apple-Pie if you want some! Did you bring any wurst or anything?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I was planning on eating in the food court today.

America made a disappointed noise and crossed his arms. “Okay, fine. But you can’t use that excuse next month! We’e totally having a pot luck. What do you think?”

India smiled softly up the German. “It was an idea I had in passing.”

Korea flailed his ams in the ai. “Pot lucks originated in Korea!”

After a moment of soaking in the information, Germany nodded, a faint smile dancing on his own lips. “I think a pot luck sounds like a great suggestion.”

The universal truth, through cultures around the world, is that the one thing that unites us all is food.

#writing #hetalia fic #APH Germany #APH India #APH South Korea #APH America

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js2-hetalia · 7 years

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Can’t believe it’s been a whole damn year since I created Hetalia Tomodachi Life. So I thought I’d make a little list of things that happened in the game that made me laugh, or get mad, or something. (Warning: it’s long!)

1. China is a dirty old man who pursues young women. Especially Nyo!Russia. He went after her at least a dozen times before she got married. Then he just started picking random girls left and right. For those familiar with Vinesauce Tomodachi Life, he’s basically Karl, except he actually gets the girl a couple of times, only to break up. His boy charm score typically sits at the -200 mark.

2. Denmark has been my best friend since the very beginning. Early on, everybody on the island, including us, shipped us together and wanted us to go out. I, the look-alike, wanted none of that, and foiled every single attempt. I got so mad that I made a song about it. But anyway, HTL Denmark is even cuter than canon Denmark. If I had to besties with anyone, I’m glad it’s him.

3. Estonia was a typical school nerd (still is) and Spain, the “baddest of the Bad Friends,” was his bully. Nowadays, the two get along fairly well, even making an agreement to leave their past behind them.

4. Nyo!Macau, a character with no canon personality whatsoever, actually wound up as one of my favorite characters. After I gave her the Meadow interior, I thought to myself that it kinda looked like the standard Windows 7 (?) desktop. Combined with her voice, I got it in my head that she was the personification of Windows, so I changed her name to that. Later, she started dating Ladonia. Fitting, since he’s the Internet future boy. But she’s WAY older than him. So then I got it in my mind that she was an old cougar. So. Her name’s now pronounced “the old cougar,” although one of her phrases is still “Error,” a leftover from her Windows days.

5. Austria had a jester phase. Seriously. I even made the game pronounce it “Jestria” for a time. Basically, I gave him a jester outfit and he just kept wearing it all the time. I eventually got sick of it and made him wear women’s clothes and other ridiculous outfits, which he still does to this day.

6. Nyo!New Zealand is all white. Empty white interior, white-painted hair, and only white clothes. It is white on white on white. I honestly can’t remember why I started doing that, but I did, and I will not stop until I have given her every white hat and outfit that I can possibly give her. Somehow she still hasn’t made it up to the top of my most pampered list.

7. Sealand is permanently known in my head as “Piss Stain.” There was this one time when he had a fight with New Zealand. He was wearing an all-yellow outfit (a body suit, I think), and I thought to myself, wow, he looks like a piss stain amidst all this white. Ta-da! Piss Stain. I think it fits his canon bratty personality, too. I can see England calling him that.

8. Rome x Liechtenstein is a thing. And they are boring as fuck, despite all odds. They don’t do anything of interest, and so far, they’re the ones who have had my least favorite baby by far. And they’re showing no signs of breaking up anytime soon. Fuck. At least Nyo!Russia x Finland was interesting, even if they pissed me off for reasons I don’t know.

9. Oh by the way, Nyo!Russia is married to Nyo!Belarus. HUZZAH!!! Now have a fucking kid already.

10. Fart Voice Bulgaria. I don’t know. I gave him the lowest-pitched but also squeakiest and, well, fartiest voice I could. I ran with it. I also love fucking around with how the game pronounces things in his voice, making his angry phrase nothing but a string of euro signs. It just sounds like “Yurururururuurururururu.” It’s hilarious. He has a son with a voice that’s just as glorious. I made a song about it. Bulgaria is proud of Nathan’s voice and likes to show it off. Nathan himself is ashamed.

11. Nyo!Germany and Romano were the first couple to get married and have a baby. Their first baby was all right. Nothing too exciting. Their second baby was a tree-hugging hippie.

12. France is called “Daddy.” It was a stupid joke. But one of the news clips made it amazing. The news about how a burger with a random-food ingredient completely fails, and it’s at the restaurant called “Big [islander name]’s.” It randomly picked France’s name, so the restaurant’s name is pronounced “Big Daddy’s.” It was so glorious I had to make his full name Francois “Big Daddy” Bonnefoy.

13. Luxembourg was given the catchphrase “High-claas!” That is not a typo or misspell. I accidentally typed “claas” instead of “class” and I liked how it sounded, so I kept it. lol

14. Nyo!Iceland is a wannabe fish. (Or a mermaid. But I like “wannabe fish” more.) She has the Seabed apartment and her worried phrase is “Time to spawn!” because I’m a weird fucker like that.

15. Somehow Japan always raised his hand to the really dirty Quirky Questions. Nice to know, dude...

16. EGYPT IS BORING AS FUCK GOOD GOD. I don’t like any coupling with him in it. Seriously considering deleting him even though he’s a mainstay. Also, I figured out a way to make him say “...” without the game pronouncing it as anything (normally it says “dot”). There’s period marks in the Greek keyboard. Those will stay silent. All of his phrases are “...”

17. Nyo!South Korea is also known as “That Bitch” with a trademark sign. Thing is, the game actually says “trademark sign” in her catchphrase. It’s soooo good. Plus, her best friend is Nyo!Poland, a catty girl herself. They’re absolutely perfect alpha bitches together. Her husband Australia was likewise given the catchphrase “She’s MY bitch!” They had two beautiful children.

18. Nyo!Spain is a teacher who’s hot for at least one of her students, and has no qualms about asking them out.

19. Spain and Nyo!New Zealand make the CUTEST babies. Too bad I have a strict two-per-couple limit. Also that they, uh, divorced. (Their son, Elijah, is a wannabe supervillain. Or is he just a wannabe...?)

20. There are two Carters. That’s Seychelles and Hong Kong’s son. The first one is forever stuck as a traveler on This Damn Island (who even streetpasses around here). The second one was recreated and lives on the island, but has a love for travel.

21. Winter is still the funniest character by virtue of how out of place he is.

22. For the longest time, I just typed the characters’ names and let the game try to pronounce them, and just run with it. (Now I actually try to get the game to pronounce them as correctly as it can.) This is especially hilarious when listening to the game mangle Finland’s or Chris’s (Russwe) last names. But even some of the simpler-seeming names get mispronounced - Natasha, notably, gets pronounced as “NAT-uh-shuh” without further fixing.

23. I made sure Nyo!Latvia’s name got as many A’s tacked on to the end as I could. It’s still funny.

24. Greece started life as a furry. Now he’s not, at least not openly. I remember calling him into his apartment when he was in a good mood, and as I’m searching through the menu, he says “Let’s get laid!” and I completely lost it. I did NOT remember giving him that phrase. The other great phrase of his is “Fuck Sadik!!1!” which he pronounces as “fuck SAD-ik exclamation point one.” It’s hilarious in his slow, monotone, dead voice.

25. Switzerland is another character whose voice is hilariously out of character for him. It’s high-pitched and the pitch curves upward at the end of his sentences. He’s still as pissy as he is in canon, with phrases like “GET OUT!!!” and “I’ll shoot!” This combination makes him one of my favorite islanders.

26. For whatever stupid reason, I gave Liechtenstein surfer dude slang for phrases. She also lives in the Ring (like, a boxing/wrestling ring) apartment. Maybe it’s just me, but Liechtenstein is my favorite character to make out-of-character.

27. Serenity, born to Japan and Nyo!Norway, is by far my favorite baby. Owen, Chris, Elijah, Alyssa, Sophie, and Nathan are really good, too. The HTL babies are my OC’s and I will cherish them. Don’t know if I’ll make fics with them or not...

28. Nyo!Lithuania is known as “Heartbreaker.” Why? Because she divorced Denmark on Valentine’s Day, and she’s only been dumping guys ever since. Although she has hung on to Romania for a while now...

29. Finland is known as “That Finnish Ass-Hall” (can’t say “asshole” in the game). I hated him for dating Nyo!Russia and being extremely persistent about marrying her. I don’t even know why I hated them so much, I just did. He still has his phrase “Fukk off, Yao!” from the days when he was chasing after her booty.

30. Nyo!Canada used to have the phrase “Please, Daddy...” because she dated France (”Daddy”) for a while. I’ve since changed it because it was weird, plus she’s married to Turkey, but I might change it back...

31. I originally planned for Nyo!Ukraine to be a total friendless loser, even giving him the phrase “I’m a loser.” Mostly because of my headcanon that he just has no confidence in relationships. Except, he made a lot of friends really fast, and it was Ripper, Nyo!France, and Monaco who were the friendless losers for the longest time.

32. Italy is living in the haunted mansion interior. For reasons.

33. I’ve noticed that in Judgment Bay, characters tend to form the same groups over and over again, and I’ve made some songs out of the results, such as “Slaughter Planet Earth” (all three Italy brothers, Australia, Nyo!Lithuania, America, Nyo!Prussia) and “Just You and I Here” (America and Nyo!South Korea, and later Owen).

34. Oh, yeah. There was that series I did with Egypt and Sweden where the lyrics to all the songs were just “..........................................” and “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.” One of the songs crashes every time lmao.

And that’s all I have for now. Damn, I invested a lot into this game.

#hetalia #hetalia tomodachi life #aph too many for tagging #not a reblog for once #this has been going on for too long but I can't... stop...

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