Brothers 1/1 .&. Primorye 1/1
Title: Brothers
Series: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: S. Italy, N. Italy
Rating: PG13
Date: Written today
Status: one-shot
And So... Lovino is rudely awakened from his siesta, only to find Feliciano at his front door with a request that only his big brother can fulfill. (Because apparently Ludwig isn't that great at it.)
Notes: pyrrhiccomedy prompts: The Italy brothers at home, cooking together. It doesn't necessarily have to be fluffy, but make them brotherly. No shipping allowed. This is the first thing I've written in 4 months. Thank god cosplay season is over for me @_@
"Ve, Lovino? Will you help me out, pretty please?"
"Eh?" The southern Italian stared down at his brother--so that's who had been knocking on his door while he'd been trying to take a damned siesta! Feliciano had that pleading gaze that Lovino should have been totally impervious to, but still wasn't for some reason. He frowned. "What the hell is it? I was asleep on the couch, dammit!"
The younger Italian smiled sheepishly from his spot on the stoop. "Help me beat this video game?"
"Go to hell!" Lovino glared at the little plastic box clasped in his brother's hands. "Beat your own fucking game!" He was about to slam the door when Feliciano's clammy little hands latched onto his waist in a needy vice-grip no other man, nation or god could hope to ever match.
"Please, Lovino, please! I have to know how the story ends and it's so tough!"
"What!? This again!?"
"I put it on easy but there are just so many buttons and--"
"It better not be about those dumb plumbers and their fucking mushrooms!"
"Lovino--"
"I'm not saving that shitty princess again--why the fuck does she get caught so much, eh!?"
“Like how you got caught by big brother Spain all the time?”
“You’re not helping yourself!”
"It's about an assassin's guild, not the plumbers, I promise," Feliciano pleaded. "I promise!"
"Tch! Why don't you just get Germany to do it, eh?"
"Well, he's... Not really as good at it as you are."
Lovino blinked. "What? Really?"
"No, I mean, he's good, but... He doesn't do any of the side missions, he just follows the story straight through so he misses the side quests’ stories." The death-grip was relinquished just slightly. "Will you play it, Lovino?"
"Tch!" The older brother couldn't completely mask the little puff of pride to his chest, so he snatched the game from Feliciano. "Assassin's Creed? This from Japan's house?" Lovino asked cautiously. The last time he'd played one of Kiku's games for Feliciano, he'd been rolling a sticky ball around the TV screen picking up all manners of crap--paperclips, cows, pedestrians, even the fucking sun. He'd gotten no sleep for weeks after Feliciano had introduced that damn Kata... Katashimaru... Katamari Dango... Whatever the fuck it was.
"Not this time," Feliciano reassured, pushing his brother back into the house towards the living room. "Let's play, get your X-Box thing on!"
"Fine, whatever," Lovino mumbled, setting up the system. The game's box did look kinda cool--a shadowy figure hooded from view with a range of weapons strapped to his person. It gave the older Italian a chill, making him think of Sicily, hidden passages, and old days when blood ran thicker than both water and wine in his hills. Feliciano must have known--subliminally, at least, Lovino would give him that much--this game would at least intrigue him. That in mind, Lovino started the system without bothering to ask if Feliciano had brought his memory card. His little brother wasn't interested in bonus points or high scores, no; Feliciano watched him play for the stories and the graphics as most people watched movies in a theater.
"I'll make us a snack, okay! I already saw the opening sequence, so you can start without me!"
Lovino snatched at the hem of his brother's shirt before he could bound into the kitchen. "Hold it! Once I start I'm not pausing for you to bake a lasagna or whatever!" At Feliciano's pout, Lovino continued: "Just cut up the tomatoes by the cupboard." He pointed in towards the kitchen. "They'll do for now."
"Okay!" Appeased, Feliciano dashed into the kitchen as the game began. "Are these from Antonio? They look so good!"
"Fuck that guy, who cares!" Lovino flopped down on the couch, controller in hand. The game looked like it mainly took place centuries ago in the Middle East during the Crusades.
"Aren't the graphics great," a voice called out from the kitchen. A knife against a chopping block could be heard as well, along with the clanging of bowls and silverware. "They're really something!"
"Yeah, yeah, hold your horses; I'm only at the tutorial." But Lovino breezed right through it, memorizing the buttons and combos he would need to progress through the story for his brother. Something was bugging at him, though; assassinations and secret organizations were more his thing than Feliciano's. "Why did you want to see this story?"
"Oh, well, the sequel is coming out soon and that one will take place in Venice." A pause. "Leonardo is in it, with his inventions of course. I’m curious to see how they make him in a video game, I guess!"
It wasn't difficult to detect the note of fondness in his brother's voice; Feliciano had loved that man, after all. They both had, really. Lovino cleared his throat as the other Italian returned to the couch; "Well, Leonardo could probably make some awesome assassination tools, so of course he should be in the sequel." At that, Lovino killed his first in-game victim with a satisfying flourish.
"Killing tools? Don't forget he was an artist too, brother!"
"I doubt they're going to have him paint someone to death, fuck. And what took you so long, I'm already done with the tutorial!"
"I made us bruschetta!" Feliciano plopped down a tray of diced tomatoes and sliced bread before them with a triumphant smile.
"Sheesh, how the hell am I going to eat that while I'm playing?" Another enemy fell to Lovino in the game, lifeless body falling to pixelated dirt.
"I'll help feed you!"
Lovino rolled his eyes and decided just to ignore that. "So who did you get this game from? It's actually pretty good."
"Um, I think it's one of Canada's?" Feliciano said between bites of bruschetta. "But maybe it was America's; I can't always tell them apart. It's hard to, don't you think?"
"People don't confuse us nearly as much as they confuse those two," Lovino admitted as he mashed a few more buttons. "You should try harder to recognize them both since they're practically twins like us."
"Haha, but you can't even tell them apart either!"
"Shut up! At least I try to, dammit!" And really he did. "How would you like it if people thought you were me all the time, eh?"
"Oh, I'd really hate that!"
"Why'd you answer so damn fast, eh!?"
Feliciano laughed. "You're right, big brother; I'll try harder to keep Alfred and..."
"Matthew."
"...Matthew straight from now on!"
"Pft, good luck."
"I mean it," Feliciano pouted. "I'd be sad if Ludwig or Antonio was as awful as Arthur is with remembering!"
"Speaking of that wurst-eating fag--"
"Brother!"
"--I'm totally annihilating his ancestors," Lovino grinned. On the TV screen, the hooded assassin laid waste to a band of holy crusading knights dressed in white and iron crosses. "HAHAHA! Take that, potato-loving bastards!
“What!?”
“Look! They have the iron cross on their shields!”
"NO!" Feliciano shrieked, making a grab for the game controller. "Lovino! Stop killing them!"
"Hello no!" He elbowed his younger brother away, slapping at grabby hands when they got too close. "Didn't you even know what this game was about!? I'm supposed to kill them!"
"I never got past the tutorial!" Feliciano caught an elbow in the face. "Ludwig! Ludwig, I'm so sorry!"
"Cut that out, I can't concentrate! I didn't even fucking get to save it yet," Lovino growled, shoving his brother away with his foot as he slashed and stabbed madly on the screen. Finally he was forced to pause the game. "That wurst-bastard isn't going to hear you through the TV! And besides--it's really that stupid brother of his I'm hacking to pieces!"
"G-Gilbert?"
Lovino started; he hadn’t noticed the tears threatening his brother's eyes. "Yes, sheesh, fucking Gilbert," he muttered, embarrassed for just a moment.
"Y-you mean the Teutonic...?"
"He probably--definitely--deserves it anyway. Sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong," he grumbled. "Besides; it's just a game, Feliciano, so don't fuckin' cry, dammit."
A sniffle. "Sorry, you're right."
"Hmph." There was a short silence between them, then Lovino cleared his throat: "Sometimes it's hard to believe those two are brothers, eh?"
"Oh? You think so?"
"Yeah; they're so different--except that they're both assholes," Lovino quickly added. “Ludwig’s a hell of a lot quieter, for starters.”
There was a laugh from the younger Italian, and all was suddenly right again. "So are we more like Alfred and Matthew or Gilbert and Ludwig?"
"Eh? What?"
"Are we so similar we're practically one person, or," Feliciano continued, "are we so different it's hard to believe we're brothers?"
Lovino frowned, fingers itching to move over the buttons and kill every knight he could find. "Probably both," he mumbled finally. "Definitely both. But it’s stupid to compare us to any of them; we are us and they aren’t.”
“Lovino…”
“Now do you want me to beat this game or what, dammmph!" A tiny piece of bread packed with tomatoes was suddenly shoved into Lovino's mouth.
"Yes please!"
"Alright." Munch, munch. "I'm going to show Gilbert who's boss, dammit!"
"Ve, Lovino, I don't think he's actually in the game."
"Fucker's probably a boss fight if he is."
"Oh? Well I'm sure Miss Hungary is free tonight."
"Hmph. We'll call her 'Plan B' then I guess."
Feliciano reached behind the couch and pulled a blanket over them both, tucking Lovino in so he didn't have to release the controller. "Thanks for beating the game for me."
A glance was thrown Feliciano‘s way. "Maybe one of these days we can play a two-player together," Lovino said quietly. "You could heal me or help me shoot zombies."
There was a moment of consideration on his brother's part, and then: "They make two-player ones?"
"...Just gimme some more bruschetta." And Lovino unpaused the game.
Title: Primorye
Series: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Russia
Rating: G
Date: Written today
Status: one-shot
And So... Primorsky Krai (Russian: Примо́рский край) also known as Primorye (Примо́рье), is a federal subject of Russia (a krai). Primorsky means "maritime" in Russian, hence the region is sometimes referred to as Maritime Province.
Notes: Taken from Wiki. Just something short about the wild.
As much as he was his people, he was also the land.
Primorye’s borders were no stranger to him as they were to many; he had hunted tigers here ages ago, leopards when there were still leopards around. And as Ivan could feel the cries of his people in his very bones--hunger, war, disaster all around--a piece of him could feel the land, too. The trees cried out as they were felled, and he felt as if he must apologize; progress brings hardships, and for that I am sorry. He came here less and less it felt like, and more often than not it was simply to say goodbye.
He felt proud of this land, though, of how alike he was to these animals. Larger than their kin on other continents, deadly when provoked, serenely isolated from the outside. Everything was larger here, and Ivan found that he simply fit. There was beauty here; acres of lily pads bloomed near his lake that he shared with Yao. There was danger too, of course; Ivan often felt sorry for hatching turtles smaller than his fist, scurrying to the water that was hardly safer than the land. “If you persevere, you will become strong; you will grow,” he spoke from experience, watching another little one scurry into the waves. A rueful smile traced Ivan‘s lips. “And maybe Yao won’t have you for dinner, either.”
Ivan knew that when the people and the land fell out of balance--one way or the other--there would be strife to his body. But more than anything, he felt like he was forgetting something, like a friend's birthday or a song learned in childhood or… just something. There was a time when he had broken away from his sisters, legs telling him that he must must go east. The night had been frightening at times, owls and toads croaking at Ivan as he made his way through the forest. But they were speaking to him, he’d realized suddenly, and that’s when he’d lost his fear. This land was a part of him; it made as much sense to be afraid of the nose on his face.
And he’d found her below the trees and above the dirt, paws larger than any man’s hand and eyes wiser still. She was old, Ivan could tell, older than he. They had stared at one another for some time, curious purple eyes meeting knowing brown ones. And then, a wet nose pressed to his forehead, and Ivan understood: He was welcome in Primorye, though that wasn't what she called this place. Brown fur shielded him from the cold that night, and he’d fallen asleep against the bear’s stomach between cubs.
Today he found her once again within the forest, and she was still just as large, just as hulking and giant. Brown eyes still held that aloofness--I am Mother Russia, and what are you?--though they seemed a bit tired at the edges. Her cubs were afraid of Ivan--rightfully so, he presumed--but she was not. Ages ago, Ivan had been able to speak her tongue, talk with her of the tigers and mayflies and crows that made their home here. He would have to settle for his own tongue; “It would seem I have forgotten much.” He smiled, though not entirely in apology. “But of course you know how these things are.”
She only stared at him, and Ivan was uncertain if she accepted his excuse or not.
Thank you for reading! Feel free to friend/watch faintyoungsun :D
Series: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: S. Italy, N. Italy
Rating: PG13
Date: Written today
Status: one-shot
And So... Lovino is rudely awakened from his siesta, only to find Feliciano at his front door with a request that only his big brother can fulfill. (Because apparently Ludwig isn't that great at it.)
Notes: pyrrhiccomedy prompts: The Italy brothers at home, cooking together. It doesn't necessarily have to be fluffy, but make them brotherly. No shipping allowed. This is the first thing I've written in 4 months. Thank god cosplay season is over for me @_@
"Ve, Lovino? Will you help me out, pretty please?"
"Eh?" The southern Italian stared down at his brother--so that's who had been knocking on his door while he'd been trying to take a damned siesta! Feliciano had that pleading gaze that Lovino should have been totally impervious to, but still wasn't for some reason. He frowned. "What the hell is it? I was asleep on the couch, dammit!"
The younger Italian smiled sheepishly from his spot on the stoop. "Help me beat this video game?"
"Go to hell!" Lovino glared at the little plastic box clasped in his brother's hands. "Beat your own fucking game!" He was about to slam the door when Feliciano's clammy little hands latched onto his waist in a needy vice-grip no other man, nation or god could hope to ever match.
"Please, Lovino, please! I have to know how the story ends and it's so tough!"
"What!? This again!?"
"I put it on easy but there are just so many buttons and--"
"It better not be about those dumb plumbers and their fucking mushrooms!"
"Lovino--"
"I'm not saving that shitty princess again--why the fuck does she get caught so much, eh!?"
“Like how you got caught by big brother Spain all the time?”
“You’re not helping yourself!”
"It's about an assassin's guild, not the plumbers, I promise," Feliciano pleaded. "I promise!"
"Tch! Why don't you just get Germany to do it, eh?"
"Well, he's... Not really as good at it as you are."
Lovino blinked. "What? Really?"
"No, I mean, he's good, but... He doesn't do any of the side missions, he just follows the story straight through so he misses the side quests’ stories." The death-grip was relinquished just slightly. "Will you play it, Lovino?"
"Tch!" The older brother couldn't completely mask the little puff of pride to his chest, so he snatched the game from Feliciano. "Assassin's Creed? This from Japan's house?" Lovino asked cautiously. The last time he'd played one of Kiku's games for Feliciano, he'd been rolling a sticky ball around the TV screen picking up all manners of crap--paperclips, cows, pedestrians, even the fucking sun. He'd gotten no sleep for weeks after Feliciano had introduced that damn Kata... Katashimaru... Katamari Dango... Whatever the fuck it was.
"Not this time," Feliciano reassured, pushing his brother back into the house towards the living room. "Let's play, get your X-Box thing on!"
"Fine, whatever," Lovino mumbled, setting up the system. The game's box did look kinda cool--a shadowy figure hooded from view with a range of weapons strapped to his person. It gave the older Italian a chill, making him think of Sicily, hidden passages, and old days when blood ran thicker than both water and wine in his hills. Feliciano must have known--subliminally, at least, Lovino would give him that much--this game would at least intrigue him. That in mind, Lovino started the system without bothering to ask if Feliciano had brought his memory card. His little brother wasn't interested in bonus points or high scores, no; Feliciano watched him play for the stories and the graphics as most people watched movies in a theater.
"I'll make us a snack, okay! I already saw the opening sequence, so you can start without me!"
Lovino snatched at the hem of his brother's shirt before he could bound into the kitchen. "Hold it! Once I start I'm not pausing for you to bake a lasagna or whatever!" At Feliciano's pout, Lovino continued: "Just cut up the tomatoes by the cupboard." He pointed in towards the kitchen. "They'll do for now."
"Okay!" Appeased, Feliciano dashed into the kitchen as the game began. "Are these from Antonio? They look so good!"
"Fuck that guy, who cares!" Lovino flopped down on the couch, controller in hand. The game looked like it mainly took place centuries ago in the Middle East during the Crusades.
"Aren't the graphics great," a voice called out from the kitchen. A knife against a chopping block could be heard as well, along with the clanging of bowls and silverware. "They're really something!"
"Yeah, yeah, hold your horses; I'm only at the tutorial." But Lovino breezed right through it, memorizing the buttons and combos he would need to progress through the story for his brother. Something was bugging at him, though; assassinations and secret organizations were more his thing than Feliciano's. "Why did you want to see this story?"
"Oh, well, the sequel is coming out soon and that one will take place in Venice." A pause. "Leonardo is in it, with his inventions of course. I’m curious to see how they make him in a video game, I guess!"
It wasn't difficult to detect the note of fondness in his brother's voice; Feliciano had loved that man, after all. They both had, really. Lovino cleared his throat as the other Italian returned to the couch; "Well, Leonardo could probably make some awesome assassination tools, so of course he should be in the sequel." At that, Lovino killed his first in-game victim with a satisfying flourish.
"Killing tools? Don't forget he was an artist too, brother!"
"I doubt they're going to have him paint someone to death, fuck. And what took you so long, I'm already done with the tutorial!"
"I made us bruschetta!" Feliciano plopped down a tray of diced tomatoes and sliced bread before them with a triumphant smile.
"Sheesh, how the hell am I going to eat that while I'm playing?" Another enemy fell to Lovino in the game, lifeless body falling to pixelated dirt.
"I'll help feed you!"
Lovino rolled his eyes and decided just to ignore that. "So who did you get this game from? It's actually pretty good."
"Um, I think it's one of Canada's?" Feliciano said between bites of bruschetta. "But maybe it was America's; I can't always tell them apart. It's hard to, don't you think?"
"People don't confuse us nearly as much as they confuse those two," Lovino admitted as he mashed a few more buttons. "You should try harder to recognize them both since they're practically twins like us."
"Haha, but you can't even tell them apart either!"
"Shut up! At least I try to, dammit!" And really he did. "How would you like it if people thought you were me all the time, eh?"
"Oh, I'd really hate that!"
"Why'd you answer so damn fast, eh!?"
Feliciano laughed. "You're right, big brother; I'll try harder to keep Alfred and..."
"Matthew."
"...Matthew straight from now on!"
"Pft, good luck."
"I mean it," Feliciano pouted. "I'd be sad if Ludwig or Antonio was as awful as Arthur is with remembering!"
"Speaking of that wurst-eating fag--"
"Brother!"
"--I'm totally annihilating his ancestors," Lovino grinned. On the TV screen, the hooded assassin laid waste to a band of holy crusading knights dressed in white and iron crosses. "HAHAHA! Take that, potato-loving bastards!
“What!?”
“Look! They have the iron cross on their shields!”
"NO!" Feliciano shrieked, making a grab for the game controller. "Lovino! Stop killing them!"
"Hello no!" He elbowed his younger brother away, slapping at grabby hands when they got too close. "Didn't you even know what this game was about!? I'm supposed to kill them!"
"I never got past the tutorial!" Feliciano caught an elbow in the face. "Ludwig! Ludwig, I'm so sorry!"
"Cut that out, I can't concentrate! I didn't even fucking get to save it yet," Lovino growled, shoving his brother away with his foot as he slashed and stabbed madly on the screen. Finally he was forced to pause the game. "That wurst-bastard isn't going to hear you through the TV! And besides--it's really that stupid brother of his I'm hacking to pieces!"
"G-Gilbert?"
Lovino started; he hadn’t noticed the tears threatening his brother's eyes. "Yes, sheesh, fucking Gilbert," he muttered, embarrassed for just a moment.
"Y-you mean the Teutonic...?"
"He probably--definitely--deserves it anyway. Sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong," he grumbled. "Besides; it's just a game, Feliciano, so don't fuckin' cry, dammit."
A sniffle. "Sorry, you're right."
"Hmph." There was a short silence between them, then Lovino cleared his throat: "Sometimes it's hard to believe those two are brothers, eh?"
"Oh? You think so?"
"Yeah; they're so different--except that they're both assholes," Lovino quickly added. “Ludwig’s a hell of a lot quieter, for starters.”
There was a laugh from the younger Italian, and all was suddenly right again. "So are we more like Alfred and Matthew or Gilbert and Ludwig?"
"Eh? What?"
"Are we so similar we're practically one person, or," Feliciano continued, "are we so different it's hard to believe we're brothers?"
Lovino frowned, fingers itching to move over the buttons and kill every knight he could find. "Probably both," he mumbled finally. "Definitely both. But it’s stupid to compare us to any of them; we are us and they aren’t.”
“Lovino…”
“Now do you want me to beat this game or what, dammmph!" A tiny piece of bread packed with tomatoes was suddenly shoved into Lovino's mouth.
"Yes please!"
"Alright." Munch, munch. "I'm going to show Gilbert who's boss, dammit!"
"Ve, Lovino, I don't think he's actually in the game."
"Fucker's probably a boss fight if he is."
"Oh? Well I'm sure Miss Hungary is free tonight."
"Hmph. We'll call her 'Plan B' then I guess."
Feliciano reached behind the couch and pulled a blanket over them both, tucking Lovino in so he didn't have to release the controller. "Thanks for beating the game for me."
A glance was thrown Feliciano‘s way. "Maybe one of these days we can play a two-player together," Lovino said quietly. "You could heal me or help me shoot zombies."
There was a moment of consideration on his brother's part, and then: "They make two-player ones?"
"...Just gimme some more bruschetta." And Lovino unpaused the game.
Title: Primorye
Series: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Russia
Rating: G
Date: Written today
Status: one-shot
And So... Primorsky Krai (Russian: Примо́рский край) also known as Primorye (Примо́рье), is a federal subject of Russia (a krai). Primorsky means "maritime" in Russian, hence the region is sometimes referred to as Maritime Province.
Notes: Taken from Wiki. Just something short about the wild.
As much as he was his people, he was also the land.
Primorye’s borders were no stranger to him as they were to many; he had hunted tigers here ages ago, leopards when there were still leopards around. And as Ivan could feel the cries of his people in his very bones--hunger, war, disaster all around--a piece of him could feel the land, too. The trees cried out as they were felled, and he felt as if he must apologize; progress brings hardships, and for that I am sorry. He came here less and less it felt like, and more often than not it was simply to say goodbye.
He felt proud of this land, though, of how alike he was to these animals. Larger than their kin on other continents, deadly when provoked, serenely isolated from the outside. Everything was larger here, and Ivan found that he simply fit. There was beauty here; acres of lily pads bloomed near his lake that he shared with Yao. There was danger too, of course; Ivan often felt sorry for hatching turtles smaller than his fist, scurrying to the water that was hardly safer than the land. “If you persevere, you will become strong; you will grow,” he spoke from experience, watching another little one scurry into the waves. A rueful smile traced Ivan‘s lips. “And maybe Yao won’t have you for dinner, either.”
Ivan knew that when the people and the land fell out of balance--one way or the other--there would be strife to his body. But more than anything, he felt like he was forgetting something, like a friend's birthday or a song learned in childhood or… just something. There was a time when he had broken away from his sisters, legs telling him that he must must go east. The night had been frightening at times, owls and toads croaking at Ivan as he made his way through the forest. But they were speaking to him, he’d realized suddenly, and that’s when he’d lost his fear. This land was a part of him; it made as much sense to be afraid of the nose on his face.
And he’d found her below the trees and above the dirt, paws larger than any man’s hand and eyes wiser still. She was old, Ivan could tell, older than he. They had stared at one another for some time, curious purple eyes meeting knowing brown ones. And then, a wet nose pressed to his forehead, and Ivan understood: He was welcome in Primorye, though that wasn't what she called this place. Brown fur shielded him from the cold that night, and he’d fallen asleep against the bear’s stomach between cubs.
Today he found her once again within the forest, and she was still just as large, just as hulking and giant. Brown eyes still held that aloofness--I am Mother Russia, and what are you?--though they seemed a bit tired at the edges. Her cubs were afraid of Ivan--rightfully so, he presumed--but she was not. Ages ago, Ivan had been able to speak her tongue, talk with her of the tigers and mayflies and crows that made their home here. He would have to settle for his own tongue; “It would seem I have forgotten much.” He smiled, though not entirely in apology. “But of course you know how these things are.”
She only stared at him, and Ivan was uncertain if she accepted his excuse or not.
Thank you for reading! Feel free to friend/watch faintyoungsun :D