I'm not going to say much here. Just a little one-shot based around the darker side of my family. I hope you like it.

WARNINGS: Germancest, very slight implied one-sided Itacest, extremely confusing backgrounds, mentioned mental instability, mentioned past physical/emotional/mental/psychological abuse, mentioned eating disorders, mentioned self-injuring, and a whole lot of mentioned yuri/lesbianism.

KEY:

Lovina = FemRomano

Feliciano = FemItaly, but transgendered

Julie = FemPrussia

Monika = FemGermany

Kristina = FemNorway

Chun-Yuan = FemChina

Yekaterina = Ukraine

Roderich = Austria

Elizaveta = Hungary

Antonio = Spain

Bella = Belgium

Romulus = Ancient/Grandpa Rome

"Lovi? Dinner!"

How different things were…

"Lovinito~! Dinner~!"

"Don't fucking call me that, bastard, I'm not a boy! And why the Hell would I want to eat your Spanish crap, anyway?!"

"Don't speak to your father that way, Lovina; you need to learn to be more respectful."

"S-Shut-up. I can fucking talk to the bastard however I want to, and I have plenty of respect, just not for you people."

Never shouted at the so-called "mother;" always taught that being rude to ladies was bad manners. Never did extend the same courtesy to men, even if it "would keep her from ever getting a boyfriend, let alone a husband." Good thing she didn't want either, then; good thing she was a lesbian. Good thing she wanted the one person she could never have.

The "father" tried again, the child – teenager – once more flinging harsh words, and along with it a plate of the "Spanish crap" she had no intention of eating. A palm across the face from the "mother," but she doesn't flinch; let them hit her, she's too damned used to it by now. The "father" puts in his two cents – her back collides with the wall, hard. It bruises, she can feel it; she flinches, this time, since it's usually the blonde woman delivering the blows, while the green-eyed male watches, silently angry.

She never could defend herself against him, if only because she thought he loved her, once.

She shakes herself from the memories, brushing the bangs of chin-length dark brown-auburn hair from her dark hazel eyes. She looks nothing like her parents; her looks come from – no. She isn't going to think about that. Flicking her gaze to the mirror, she looks for only a moment (she hates her reflection, but can't explain another broken mirror and missing gauze) to plaster on her Smile of the Hour. She has different ones, but all serve the same purpose – like in Harry Potter, her smiles are crafted to be like Notice-Me-Not charms. She re-uses smiles, but always makes sure no-one can see through them, not even the people she loves most.

This time, it's her "I'm-Humoring-You-Because-I-Love-You" smile – this one is for her family, when she doesn't curse so much, doesn't push away like with everyone (anyone) else, doesn't really scowl or look as pissed off as usual.

"Coming, Mommy!"

S-Shut-up, she can call her Mother what she likes, damnit! Even if it's only been two years. Even if it's still hard to let them see anything at all. Even if she contradicts herself every moment she's with them.

Even then – because she's been damaged before, by people (a person) that were (was) supposed to love her, and she doesn't know how to work past her own broken pieces.

Especially when someone so very like her is so much better at hiding it.

She – he – watches, somewhat idiotic, slightly air-headed smile in place, as a darker version of himself comes down the stairs and enters the kitchen. Same auburn hair, but with a more brown tint to it. Same hazel eyes, but with less gold to them. Same pale, Mediterranean olive complexion, but with a slightly less rosy cast to it. Same strange curl, but on the right rather than the left, and curling upward rather than in a downward slope.

Same smile, that was equally as fake.

Same hidden scars; hers more emotionally and mentally, his both and physically – both psychologically.

She doesn't even eat anything, and what little she does doesn't stay down long enough to make a difference... Why does she even bother…?

Because it makes Mommy and Daddy happy, and she wants to make them happy. She wants to make me happy, too, I think – even though she knows I know. She puts on the act anyway, for everyone's sake but her own.

…Humans are strange, but intriguing creatures… Her especially.

You say that like we aren't human ourselves… and your continued interest is something I'm wary of…

Sometimes I'm quite sure we aren't.No mention about the interest in her. Look alive, vessel – you, too, have an act to perform.

Not bothering to reply, he offers a sunny (fake) smile, not even a hint of the internal, mental conversation shown, as he relates of his own day at school, taking any scrutiny that may have been on his sorella (though she prefers fratello, just as he does, he reminds himself) away and placing it upon himself. His act is just as good as hers, but less new. He's quite sure that she's not used to having people that care she has to hide from. (Not for a very long time, at least; not since Nonno died, he thinks.) He's been hiding for so long, that hiding is second nature by now.

Especially when it comes to hiding from people he loves – because, really, even when he was being fucked over, he loved them, too.

The awesome – though she often doesn't (if she ever does) feel awesome – wonders why her children pretend. She carried them for nine months, after all; she knows them almost as well as they know themselves. She can see what they hide, and though it pains her, she knows she can do little about it; they have to come to her – to want help, or to talk, or something (anything) for her to not risk driving them away. She worries for them, truly, she does, but she worries the most that she might hurt them more by pressing the issue.

So she watches, considers taking up their own methods – a few moments' relief from a pretty, shiny blade, or the twisted self-validation of starvation – and her fingers stain more with ink, as the journals begin to fill three shelves.

Though some would think she cares little, she truly cares very much. Though some would think her distant, she is truly close to the pain of her family. Even if she is kept at a slight distance by work or her studies, she loves her family dearly. She watches her children hurt, but, like her lover, knows she can do very little unless they are willing. Of course, her lover is another matter; she knows what she (lover, older sister, best friend, her everything) thinks of herself, and though she does try her best, she wonders if this doesn't need to be a group effort – all of them supporting each other. Logically, she knows it is so, but with the way things are now, there is still a distance between them all, no matter that they all undeniably love each other (and live in the same house). That distance needs to be willingly crossed first.

Logically, she knows this, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't wish there were more that she could do – and it also doesn't mean that a small part of her doesn't hate the people who broke her children, and those that took them away in the first place.

From the notes and evaluations of Dr. Kristina Bondevik-Kohler, family and personal psychiatrist and therapist, over a six month period –

Lovina "Lovi" Vargas. She was given her Grandfather's – Romulus Vargas' – surname when she and her twin were taken into his custody fifteen years previously. Seven years previously, she was adopted by Antonio and Bella Carriedo. She was returned to her parents' custody two years previously with the change in laws, and when the abuse she had been subject to was discovered by her social worker, Yekaterina Braginskaya. Diagnosed with Anorexia Nervousa; self-injuring tendancies beyond the eating disorder) suspected, along with strongly suspected Bipolar Personality Disorder and disproportionate anger. Has no desire for a relationship with anyone but her family, though has expressed feelings of a romantic nature for her twin.

Feliciano (Feliciana) "Feli" Vargas. His surname was changed at the same time and for the same reason as his twin sister's. Roderich and Elizaveta Edelstein adopted him seven years previously, but after their divorce, he primarily lived with his adoptive mother. Two years previously he was returned to his parents' custody, though his social worker Chun-Yuan Wang, noted a marked change in personality at times. Diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder; self-injures, but states that pain doesn't register. Only known alter a darker version of the host personality, and both prefer to be known by male pronouns. Has never mentioned relationships other than family members.

Julie "Julchen" Beilschmidt. Lovina and Feliciano's mother, known by both as Mommy; currently a culinary school student part-time. Often uses journaling as self-therapy, but has admitted to considering her children's own methods at times. Describes herself as "awesome" and "amazing," but privately admits to having the "self-esteem of dirt." Mentions having few friends, and loving her family dearly; has a fondness for small and cute animals, as evidenced by the pet birds she keeps.

Monika "Moni" Beilschmidt. Lovina and Feliciano's father, known by both as Daddy; currently studying cosmology, and working an unspecified occupation. Cares deeply for her family, but is often kept at a distance due to work or studies. Seems to display no signs of ill mental health or other such at this time; is simply willing to support her family 100%. (Under evaluation for OCD and chronic stress-related anger-management issues.) Also mentions few friends, more inclined to focus on the practical, and on her family.