Hello, this is Potato Cactus!
Right, so I'm starting a new story which is actually going to be a bunch of short stories revolving around the whole cast of Hetalia. In this serie (I will upload all the stories independently), the countries are human and all staff members of a school for "outcasts".
The first story is a three chapter one focusing around Mathew and Alfred and called "How To Be A Hero", the first chapter has already been uploaded.
I am currently writing the second one about May (Taiwan) and Yao.
Most of the stories will have as main genres family, friendship, humour and/or hurt/comfort so don't expect too much romance (unless the majority of my readership, which will probably amount to two people (one of which I will force to read this), asks for a particular pairing)
Also, I am planning on making the background characters (mostly students) OCs from YOUR stories! If you can send me a profile of your OCs, I will be most grateful towards you :)
Hetalia belongs to me. The world belongs to me. The Universe belongs to me. For I am a potato.
No but really, if Hetalia did belong to me I wouldn't be writing fanfictions for it.
~Enjoy the prologue of the series~
"It's already been four years, huh…" the oldest man of the group said, looking at the peaceful blue sky from his wheelchair. He looked so old and spent despite his muscular frame and overwhelming energy; already, his brown curly hair were turning grey and his sight dimmed by the day. His smile however, pulling his face in wrinkles, only translated sincere happiness.
"You sound like a fucking old man, gramps." Muttered Lovino, the grandson who had been pulling his chair moments before. Unlike what most would expect, his eyes held no pity for the aged man but envy. The elder had, after all, lived a full and happy life, the dream everyone has and can't achieve.
"I am an old man!" Julius laughed, gazing at his grandson's permanent scowl.
"Veeee~" his younger grandson, Feliciano, exclaimed from his seat "You're still very young!" The dull stone wall on which the small Italian sat sprang to life as he joyfully kicked the air, its every stone blinking between his leg's shadow and the bright sunlight his smile seemed to emit.
"He's right, mon ami." A fourth man purred, stroking his own shoulder length blond hair behind his ear like they were delicate sculptures of ice. "I'm sure your health is as… dynamic as it was in the past. Your many lady friends would be quite sad otherwise, non?" Dirty innuendos aside, the fenchman's words were often pearls of wisdom, though not always delivered in an appropriate way. Julius of course, was well aware of that and a chuckle escaped his lips.
"You two would make a great host club." He smirked "I can already see it in my mind: 'Two Fs and no Fail: Come relax at Feliciano's and Francis's!'… Or something like that. Surely with your great words and eloquence you'll think of something better."
A tan hand placed itself on the formerly wide shoulder, its owner, Antonio, taking the opportunity to speak: "I think the conversation should be put to a stop… Little Ludwig isn't exactly comfortable with that sort of topic." The Spaniard hid a snicker behind his words and pointed to the German who leaned against the stone wall, as red as tomatoes from Spain. His cheerfulness, unfortunately, didn't have the least influence on said German.
"Kesesese! Ludz is still shy about that kind of things!" laughed a second German, Gilbert, poking his brother with his endless teasing. The albino who usually seemed so out of place in crowds melted in the scenario. The red of his eyes imitating the many red flowers and his white hair sharing the same colours as the omnipresent statues and marble stones. It almost looked like he was made to stand there.
Amidst a graveyard.
The occasion did not call for the laughter and the good mood the group displayed. It rarely did. Yet they couldn't help but act as themselves in the most serious and tragic times. To them, life was meant to be enjoyed.
No matter how disrespectful the other mourning families saw their actions to be, their mere presence lit up the rows of engraved marble stones. The sun itself only seemed to have been brought in by their joyful mood, chasing the shadows away and feeding the beautiful vines that crawled everywhere. Ironically, as the graves bathed in light, witnesses could have sworn the dead enjoyed the incredible amount of life the group showed more than the living, who criticized them from afar.
Fortunately, criticism had little effect on the grown up kids. They were used to it by then, especially after years of being outcasts.
Ludwig cleared his throat "So, where are Roderich and Eliza?". The blond shifted uncomfortably and tried to make eye contact to look convincing… which had just about the same level of success as the North Korean rocket launch. They all sent him a look of pity, one that clearly meant 'It's cute when you try'.
Gilbert being Gilbert, it was impossible for him not to embarrass his brother further "Trying to change conversation now, are we? That's not awesome. Anyway, I know you know more about sex than any of us, how about you stop denying your passion?" he teased, bursting in laughter when an expression of pure disgust, horror and kill-me-now embarrassment overtook the younger German's face.
"Wh-What are you talking about?" Ludwig managed "I wasn't changing the conversation! There are just more important things to discuss!"
"Sex is important." Antonio declared. "It's a moment of great passion, the climax of a relationship~" He locked eyes with Ludwig, throwing a serious glare against the flustered man. Though most of the time inhumanly cheerful, the Spaniard was well known to be absolutely terrifying when defending something he loved, whether it be a person, an object (*cough* tomatoes *cough*) or an idea.
Francis stepped closer to the wall on which the German was being pinned by the Spaniard and his brother and decided to join the fun "Antoine is right, you must not take sex lightly. It is the greatest gift offered to us by God. Think about it, about the sensations that run through your veins like fire when you finally become one with your cherished partner, the feeling of finally having what you've always desired, of marking your loved one to be yours… Think of all the fantasies you have, becoming true, your every kink, your-"
"STOP IT!" Ludwig finally snapped, his blush so intense it looked like roses had bloomed on his face. The three friends, commonly known as the Bad Touch Trio, backed down from the blond man. They knew he could easily win against them in a fight and didn't want to tempt him further.
Ludwig on the other hand, was desperately trying to remove the pictures Francis had animated in his mind, though bashing his head against the stone wall was little help. After a moment of everybody watching him mentally suffer, he straightened up, rearranged his tie and leaned back against the wall, breathing out of relief. However, it is well known that even when things are over, there's always more.
"I think it was very mean of you three to gang up on Ludwig like that." Feliciano pouted, hoping off his seat and standing next to said man "You know he doesn't like to be reminded of his obsession with porn."
…
Lovino swore a faraway fly could be heard sneezing.
Everyone looked at Feliciano, eyes as wide as saucers, while the Italian hid an evil smirk behind his ever-so-innocent angelic smile. He received discreet thumbs up from his grandfather.
Ludwig blushed harder (yes, it was possible), desperately looking for a rock to hide under for a year or two. He prepared his poor abused ears for the explosions of laughter that didn't wait to burst.
The others gone, Gilbert was left alone in front of the grave.
He kneeled down as to lower his head to the level of the portrait where the deceased was seen with a rare smile… A smile that would never be seen again. If he had endless time, he could have spent it entirely staring at the tomb, lost in his seas of memories. The absence of sounds coming from his mouth surprised even him. Not that he was complaining. Silence had always been golden for the man that now laid six feet under; it was respecting him to utter not a single word.
"The memories of tomorrow are only what we make them to be."
The silver paint was already being chipped off by the many heavy rains and violent winds of the past four years, leaving behind the carved contours of the cursive letters. The whole tombstone was scratched and damaged all over, void of the past shine it had. Instead, vines were making their way over the marble surface, merging the grave with nature.
It really made the albino wonder why he still bothered to bring flowers. The man had enough vegetation clinging to his resting place already! He smiled to himself, remembering how much the man hated being spoiled by his friends and family. He could see him refusing an additional flower, saying it was a waste of money and time to give him things. But now, he was dead.
Gilbert slid a few cornflowers between the vines, which acted as vases for the visitors' gifts.
He slumped to the ground, crossing his legs and leaning back to stare at the sky.
"Hey!" he started "I don't know if you remember me after four years… What am I saying? Of course you remember the awesome me! Kesesesese! Who doesn't?... Anyway, I wanted to say that, here, in the world of the living, everything's doing fine. Not that we don't regret loosing you. It was devastating. Like really, I almost drowned when the Vargas house got flooded in tears. You should have seen Feliciano; I didn't even know it was possible for a man to cry that much!
I'm rambling on again… Makes me wonder who is the real grandpa, me or Julius? So, back on topic. I suppose you want to know what happened to your masterpiece. Well, it's still standing tall and proud like it used to. It was hell but we managed to hold on to it… As a matter of fact, the awesome me has taken in the responsibility of watching it live and grow and I've been doing so for the past few years.
Yeah, you heard me right. It's hard work, but with the help of all the others, I actually make a pretty nice job of taking care of your school. Kesesesese! You're talking to a headmaster now!..."
Gilbert sighed as he broke eye contact with the peaceful clouds and looked back at the grave. He rubbed his thumb over the engraved name before blowing all the scrubbed dust off.
"It's my job to protect the memories of tomorrow now. So please, do us one last favour:
Rest in peace grandpa."