#smol escribe

[noxxy-boxxy]

Hetabang time!

So, it’s finally te time to upload this! I’ve been waiting for this moment lmao

I wrote this and my amazing partner did a drawing of the last scene, but they haven’t posted it yet so imma wait till they do and tag them! 

Edit: Here is the artwork! 

https://aph-florida-shitposts.tumblr.com/post/616694960857710592/they-my-peice-for-the-hetabang-art-thing It’s made by @aph-florida-shitposts The artis amazing and everyone should go and check it out, period.

The meeting ended sooner that day. Thank God. 

Gilbert grabbed his laptop and his briefcase, stretching his neck until it popped. It was Friday, finally, and that meant a lot of things. It meant beer, a nice dinner, some of that leftover cake, and the best part:

"Gilbert! Buongiorno!" 

He could invite him for dinner. He could finally invite Italy for dinner and ask him that thing. 

"Hey, little Italy! Guten morgen!" He smiled, his heart almost doing a cartwheel when Feliciano kissed his cheeks. "What are you doing here? You're going to miss your flight." Even after saying that, Feliciano sat on the table, and Gilbert did the same, not interested If he missed his own. 

"I was looking for you." Said the Italian, and God, if he didn't die at that moment, he really had to be a tough one. His pale face took a very slight shade of pink, invisible to Italy. 

"Oh, so you were searching for me?" Gilbert said, his speech still perfect, his tone normal, but his face warming. Slow but steady. 

"Yes, I wanted to ask you something." Gilbert arched an eyebrow, blinking once or twice. 

«Keep it cool.» He thought, panicking internally. "Oh, yeah, whatever you want, little Italy. I'm all ears." And, to be honest, he didn't expect that much, but surely he didn't see that one coming.

"Can you help me with my paperwork?" 

Oh God, Italy was lucky he liked him. He wouldn't waste his weekend explaining paperwork to anybody, but him. He was the only exception. 

But now, he surely was going to be talking about boring numbers, when they could be having a delicious dinner and a delicious dessert. Amazing. 

Unless. 

"Come with me. We can stay together at my house and I can explain to you how I do my paperwork." He smiled, petting the Italian's head. "Then, we can have dinner together. I'll make some homemade pasta for you and we can have cake at the end." And that was the exact way to convince Italy. Gilbert smiled softly, seeing Italy jump from one place to another while he sang some song. "Okay, okay. Chill, Kleine. Don't hurt yourself." Italy stopped and grabbed his hand, tangling his fingers with his own. 

"I would love that, Gilbert!" He smiled widely, so beautifully. "Oh, Gil, you're red. Is something wrong?" 

"Uh, nothing..."

They were kneading the dough, and Gilbert was amazed at the way Italy did it. His movements were perfectly fluent, his voice hummed a soft song, his eyes half-open. He stopped for a second, pinching the dough slightly. 

"It's ready to stretch and cut." Prussia nodded, and then, they began to stretch the dough, making it thinner. Over, and over, and over again, until Feliciano felt like it was perfect. Then, they passed it through the cutter, making perfect spaghetti. 

"Perfect." Said Prussia, bringing a tray with flour. "It's ready to cook." Italy nodded, looking incredibly happy. They both went to the kitchen, where the water in the pot was already boiling. Italy added some salt, and then, the pasta. 

"It should be ready in two or three minutes. Could you check the sauce?" Gilbert nodded, and went to another pot, opening it and grabbing some sauce with a spoon. He tasted it, the flavor lingering in his mouth. It was absolutely... 

"Delicious." He said, smiling widely. "It's delicious." Feliciano smiled, looking at him, small little face so adorable. He wanted to take a picture, no jokes. Gilbert covered the pot, seeing how his hand trembled, feeling his throat tightening. «Everything is going to be okay.» He had to say to himself. 

And he really hoped it would be. 

"Well, I think it's ready to drain." He nodded, getting closer. Italy was holding a fork, where one string of pasta sat. "Could you taste it, Gil?" And he extended his hand, offering him not the fork, but the food. He had to stop a second, trying to gain control of his face, to avoid that God damned red. He got even closer, eating the spaghetti from his hand. 

"It's ready." He said, tasting it. It had the right amount of salt, and it wasn't incredibly soft, but a little bit chewy. It was perfect.

Italy drained it and put it in the same pot with the sauce. he moved it around with a pair of tweezers, and then, it was perfectly ready to eat. 

"Let's go. I'm hungry." Italy smiled, grabbing a bottle of wine and a bottle of beer. Prussia nodded, grabbing the pot. 

"So, did you understand that thing about your paperwork?" Italy nodded, smiling and grabbing his glass of wine. 

"Yes, thanks." He smiled, taking a sip of wine. "You're a very good teacher, Gil." 

"Oh, ask West or America, they'll probably have something else to say." He laughed. "I am a good teacher, indeed," he started, grabbing his bottle. "but I am not going soft on anyone. You're just a special case. Usually, I would be more strict and rude with any other. Only for you." And Gilbert smiled softly, booping the Italian's nose, making him laugh.

"I like you a lot, Gil!" He smiled, and Gilbert definitely felt something jump in his chest. 

"Ah, yea, ja." He mumbled, looking away. "Actually, little Italy... Feliciano" He whispered, taking a big breath. "I like you too. I like you a lot." And Italy didn't even flinch. 

"Yeah! Me too, Gil! You're an amazing friend!" Oh, no. 

"No, dearest. I mean, uh, I like you, like, more than a friend. I like you a lot more." 

"Like a best friend, then! You're my best friend!" And Gilbert rolled his eyes, but Italy kept talking before he could explain himself. "I wouldn't change you as my best friend for anything in the world! You'll always be the best friend I could ever have, and I hope nothing ruins our friendship!" For God's sake, Gilbert thought, almost speaking again. 

Unless... 

"You... Wouldn't want me to be anything more than... Your best friend? Only... That?" He said, his voice normal, but something was cracking. "Not even-"

"Always friends!" Italy interrupted him. 

Then, he understood. Italy was understanding what he really wanted to say, but he surely didn't want to reject him. He just wanted him to... Catch the cue. He only wanted him as a friend. 

He only wanted him as a friend. 

"O-oh, yeah. Always... F-friends." He whispered, forcing that painful sensation at the back of his throat. Not yet. "I should take you to the airport so you can go back, Italy. You're going to miss your flight." He said, getting up and grabbing his keys and his helmet. He went to the garage, putting the key at the contact on his motorcycle. "Move, Italy! We don't have all the time in the world!" His words sounded a lot ruder and mean, like if he was tired or angry. Obviously, Italy got scared, and just followed the orders. The garage door opened with the controller, and they went out. Suddenly, Italy had to hold himself again Gilbert, because hell, they were going 100 kph, and it was just rising. They arrived at the airport in 3 minutes, when usually it would take 15. 

"Let’s go." And as soon as they were on the ground they were running. Or well, he was almost running. Gilbert was just walking. Incredibly quickly. Gilbert had to buy the tickets for him because obviously, the people spoke German.

"Here. Have this." Italy grabbed the tickets with one hand, while he grabbed his document and passport from his briefcase with the other. 

"Is everything alright, Gil?" He literally had to take a step back when Prussia looked at him. His eyes were glowing. 

"I don't allow my own brother to call me by my name, Italy. You don't have that privilege either." He deadpanned. 

But... Italy wasn't dumb. At least, not when it came to feelings. Even if Prussia was "angry", he saw sadness. In his face, those eyes were not glowing, they were shining.

"Gilbert..." He whispered, trying to put a hand on his shoulder, but at that second, his flight was announced. Prussia didn't even say goodbye, he just left. 

His eyes were shining, yes. And he swore, he saw a tear leaving his left eye. 

«Is he sad?"

Gilbert went back to his house calmly. He entered and started washing the dishes. The leftover spaghetti was poured in a container and stored in the fridge, with the forgotten cake. Then, he went to the table, grabbing his bottle of beer. It was half full, but in a second, he drank the rest. The wine was stored in the fridge, and the glass... He literally spent half an hour looking at it, trying to go back in time, when he bought that glassware, the moment when he grabbed it from the counter, just some hours ago. That moment, when they were still friends. 

His knuckles turned white, and in a quick movement, he threw the glass against the floor, turning it to just useless shards. Panting, he kneeled at its side, slowly picking up the pieces, just hissing when one of them cut his finger. 

Wine stung, but the tears falling were even more painful. 

The meeting was in Berlin that day. Ironically.

"He didn't come today..." Whispered Italy, looking at the German's seat, unoccupied. In his place, Germany entered, even when he was, technically, on vacation. Apparently, though, he was not there for the meeting, because he wore just civilian clothes. 

"Italy." He said, looking at him. "Can we talk? Please?" Italy nodded, concerned. He looked slightly sad but he looked mad too. Something surely had to be going around the Germanic countries. "What happened last Sunday, Italy? When I came back, Prussia was devastated. And I mean, really, sad."

"I knew he was sad. We were just talking, and in a second he was suddenly really mad but really sad. I swear I saw him crying."

"What were you two talking about? Do you remember what you said or what he said the moment when he changed?" 

"We were talking about our friendship! I told him I liked him, and he told me he liked me too, but, like, more than a friend! Then I thought, well he wants to be my best friend, and then it went down really quick and he was like that in a second." 

Germany observed him for a second, and then he arched an eyebrow. 

I mean. He thought he was the clueless one, but even he would have understood that. 

"So. Let's set things clear. You said something like 'I like you', then he said 'I like you too.' Then you started talking about friends, but he said 'I like you more than a friend.' Then you started talking about best friends. Then, he was suddenly angry. Is that what happened?”

"¡Si Capitano!" Said Italy, smiling widely. And oh God, he thought he was the clueless one. 

"Italy, my dear friend." He started, taking a deep breath. He needed France. "Let's say, a man and a woman are together. And he says 'I like you more than a friend.' What would you think he's meaning?"

"He loves her!" Italy said, smiling. And he smiled and smiled until he didn't. "He... He loves... Her." Slowly, he whispered. 

"And what if he does things for her he wouldn't do in normal situations? Like, cooking for her, or allowing her to call him by his name, or taking the time to explain to her something slowly, when everyone would say he's a devil when he's teaching. Or calling her with endearments, when he doesn't do that. What would you think? Does he want to be her friend?" And Italy slowly came into realization. 

"Oh my God, I messed it up. I ruined everything. I wasted his time. I fell really low. I-" And Germany had to touch his arm, to prevent him from missing the line. "I have to go and talk to him." And he almost ran away, just in the for Ludwig to grab him and bring him back. 

"Do you have any idea of what you’re going to say, at least?" Italy arched his eyebrow, opening his mouth, but Ludwig spoke first. "He liked you even when we were dating, but he never said anything. He liked you since the beginning. And I can't risk you going there and messing it up even more because I haven't seen him this sad since 1945. He doesn't deserve so much pain, and I won't let you go there unless you know exactly what to say." He took a deep breath. "Do you like him? Not like a friend. Not like a best friend." And Italy, slowly, nodded, making him smile. "Give me a pen. I have to give you the address. He's not in Berlin, so you'll have to go now unless you want to miss the train that goes to Hamburg." Italy grabbed a pen, and Germany didn't even waste time on paper, writing it directly onto his skin. "Do you understand it?" Italy nodded, and flew, running to the train station, buying a ticket to Hamburg, and getting on the train in record time. He just hoped that there was still time for him.

He made it to Hamburg, and then, he started going around, trying to remember each street. He reached a big building of apartments and looked at the key in his hand. The door opened, incredibly, and then he started walking, trying to reach the apartment number 19. The door made a little sound when unlocked, and then he went in. 

«It has to be Ludwig's private department.» He thought to himself. Some books were easy to recognize for him because he saw them in his library. A jacket was on the sofa, he recognized it as Gilbert's. And there was a bed for a dog on the floor. 

He walked to the bedroom, and entered, finding him sleeping peacefully. 

«He's here...» He thought, slowly getting closer to him. He sat down on the bed, and at that moment, he woke up.

"What the fuck, Italy?" He almost screamed, going back. "What are you doing here? Get out!" Now he was screaming. 

"No!" Italy responded, but Gilbert didn't listen. He grabbed his arm, dragging him to the door, without paying attention to anything he would say. And when they were almost out, he stopped for a second. 

"What did you said?" 

"I'm sorry," Italy whispered, squirming in his place. "Prussia, my hand hurts..." And he left him to go. He dragged some tears left In his eyes, saying that again. "I'm sorry. I didn't know, I didn't understand at that moment. Please, forgive me." And his face was suddenly red, his eyes shiny again. 

"It's not fair, I try to get out, and you drag me back, you probably don't even mean what I think you're meaning. And I thought West was bad when it came to feelings." Italy grabbed his hand, pressing it. 

"I like you too." He said, feeling Prussia's hand tremble. "I like you. Not like a friend. Not like a best friend. I like you a lot. I just thought you weren't meaning it like that, or I was just a little tipsy and I wasn't thinking, but I'm sorry. For making you cry and for hurting you." And when he looked at his face, he was crying. "I'm sorry..." He whispered one last time, slowly touching his nose, and kissing him. 

It was something slow. Almost as if he was afraid of scaring him. He was suddenly so weak, so small. For a second he was a child again.

His hands just hung at his sides at the beginning, but then he slid them, right to his shoulders. They separated, looking at each other for a second. Then, Gilbert spoke. 

"I like you, Feliciano." 

"Me too, Prussia." Italy smiled. 

"Call me by my name. Please." But Italy didn't, because, of course, he had to kiss him again.

[ghqstfqce]

Me encanta el contenido que subes, estoy enamoradx de esta cuenta <3 ahora voy a armarme de valor para hacer un pedido corto (aunque probablemente vuelva porque me encanta como escribes)

¿Podrías hacer headcannons de "Rol Invertido" pero con Frank Morrison? (Amo demasiado a éste tonto) Frank vendría siendo un sobreviviente en éste caso, mientras que Reader sería un asesino ahora. Aunque estén en distintos bandos, eso no detiene a Frank de ir a hablarle a Reader a pesar de que sus compañeros le digan que es preferible no provocar a los asesinos. Reader estaría tan "Te pueden matar, ¿Sabés?" Y Frank tan "Caramelo de chocolateee"

Reader eventualmente disfruta de su compañía, pero eso no evita que lo siga colgando en los ganchos y más si se pone bien molesto, jajaja

Warnings || Reader tiene problemas para relacionarse. Frank es una pequeña mierda insistente. Joey es tan smol como siempre. Mención de asesinatos y lo típico de DBD. GN! Reader. Creo que no use ningún pronombre, pero informarme si el corrector me corrigió algo:(.

Pairing || Survivor ! Frank Morrison x Killer ! Reader — Survivor ! Joey [The Legion] x Killer ! Reader.

WA || 783.

Notas de Autor || Todxs amamos a silly Frank. Nuevamente, perdón, pero agregue a Joey porque no podía dejar de pensar en ese hombre también, JAJAJA. Quizás termine haciendo un one-shot de este Reader y Frank, porque quiero profundizar más en esto:). Espero disfrutes los hcs y siente libre de solicitar cuando gustes. 💖

Frank Morrison

Molesto, él tendría que ser el asesino, no un superviviente idiota. No le teme a nada y mucho menos a un idiota en traje que quiere matarlo. Pero cuando se topa contigo, piensa que quizás no es tan malo. Al principio podría ser solo una atracción física, pero conforme te incita verbalmente y tú le respondes, quiere conocerte.

Este hombre come el peligro como postre y está a nada de devorarte, cariño. Todos sabemos que Frank no es la persona más sensata, así que a sus amigos no les sorprende que ignore sus advertencias y vaya a irrumpir en tu reino.

Aunque tienes permitido defender y lastimar a los supervivientes fuera de las pruebas, no haces más que empujar a Frank fuera de tu espacio y prohibirle la entrada. Bueno, que cierres la iglesia no lo detendrá, porque no sabe aceptar un no y porque eso solo lo incita a empujar.

Trataras de hacer que sus pruebas contigo sean más difíciles y en casos extremos, trataras de ser peor con sus amigos, pero el chico es un testarudo y aparte está enojado. No puedes colgarlo o destiprarlo solo porque no quieres aceptar una maldita cita, bebé.

Pensabas en lo molesto qué era, hasta que la Entidad dejó de ponerlos en prueba juntos ya que te distraes más que hacer tu trabajo. No, no, quieres al idiota hablador de regreso, pero te niegas a ir a esa fogata y buscarlo. Susie, la linda Susie no duda en ayudarte al verte divagar sobre cómo no deberías extrañar a Frank con todo y su actitud grosera.

Frank está vibrando físicamente al escuchar hablar a Susie sobre cómo lo extrañas y aunque quiere saltar a tus brazos inmediatamente, tratará de actuar duro contigo. Solo irá a tu reino y dará vueltas mientras tú lo observas fisgonear cada espacio del sagrado lugar.

Pero seamos sincerxs, no dura mucho su pequeño acto. No ha pasado más de media hora antes de que empiece a hacerte preguntas o comentarios burlescos sobre no tener suficiente de él.

Su relación es extraña, tú tienes la paciencia casi nula y Frank es un mocoso a quien le gusta empujarte, pero hacen funcionar este vínculo. A veces será demasiado para los dos el como te empuja y como tú te cierras, pero no lo harían de otra forma.

Nunca te lleva a la fogata, sabe cómo pueden ser los otros supervivientes, pero él siempre corre a tu reino sólo se regenera. Habrá momentos en los que La Legión vaya con él, pero prefieren dejarlos solos y dar vueltas por la Iglesia, no pueden evitar reírse cuando te escuchan maldecir a Frank porque no deja de abrazarte.

Joey | The Legion |

Joey Boi, no importa lo que digan de mi dulce hijo, él es demasiado tranquilo y amable para su propio bien.

¿Se siente atraído hacia ti? Si. ¿Hará algo para demostrarlo? Tal vez. ¿Ve que te molesta o no tomas a bien los gestos? Se mantendrá alejado por un tiempo.

Entre qué Joey quiere obedecer tus deseos de lejanía y también quiere hacerte compañía, ya que eres de los asesinos solitarios, toma un tiempo antes de que esta relación despegue.

Pero cuando lo dejas entrar a tu reino, no te arrepientes, el chico es tan respetuoso contigo y tu espacio, que a veces olvidas que está en el mismo lugar que tú. Darás la vuelta para ir a buscar donde leer este libro y Joey estará a unos metros de ti. "Joey, haz un ruido o algo" "Me dijiste que guardará silencio".

No eres la persona más expresiva, pero cuando te sientes cómodx, no dudas en hablarle del libro que estás leyendo o datos al azar sobre el edificio en tu reino, él escuchará atentamente y hará las preguntas correctas para mantenerte hablando con él.

Cuando no tienes nada que decir, harás preguntas y aunque te sientes nerviosx de ofender, él sólo te sonríe suavemente y empezara a hablar, finges mirar a la nada mientras piensas en cada palabra, pero estás tratando de ocultar tu maldito sonrojo.

Él sabe lo que haces, conoce cada gesto por el tiempo que ha pasado observando cómo lees literatura romántica o como entras en un pánico con los pocos asesinos que hablas y son amables contigo.

Creo que todos sus amigos, solo traería a Susie a tu reino, sabe que es la única capaz de comportarse. Y si los otros dos quieren conocerte, verá como reunirlos en el bosque entre reinos.

Su relación es perfecta, no puedo decir más. Él sabe cuando lo necesitas pegado a ti o cuando simplemente quieres compartir la misma habitación sin interactuar. Nunca lo dirás, pero Joey es tu lugar de confort.

[noxxy-boxxy]

Hetaween day 4, funny.

Or, as i would like to call it, Germany and Canada teaming to scare the s out of America.

Yeah.

Tw: Gore, but its not real, its just fx.

----

America was good at organizing parties. Everyone knew it and everyone accepted it. He always had a good amount of money for alcohol, always kept the best attitude with everyone, never fought with anyone, always accepted everyone in and laughed with them at their side. He just... Had crazy ideas. Incredibly crazy ideas. Like the Halloween party, he was absolutely focused on the idea of making the other countries change their costume, over and over again. Four times, to be specific. The idea was to change it once for every hour of the party.

Of course, getting four costumes was amazing for some countries, and not that much to the others.

"I'll, I don't know, probably change once. I don't have that much imagination to create four costumes out of the clothes I own." Ludwig said, sipping his coffee. Gilbert nodded in front of him. And, of course, America had to hear some of the conversation.

"But that's not fair~!" He pouted, crossing his arms. Ludwig shrieked, looking at the American. "But, oh well, I can expect it from you. Just don't get boring." And he flew.

Now, it was Ludwig's time to pout. I mean, he did really put effort into costumes, and even though he was always carefully dressed, it was something simple. But, well, America was America. He wouldn't settle down for anything but a jumpscare.

So, fast forward to the end of the meeting, Ludwig suddenly hit someone he didn't saw while walking.

"Oh Gott, I'm sorry, America. I was distracted." He said, offering his hand. Even though this little kid looked like Alfred, he thought, arching an eyebrow, he had violet eyes. Wait, what?

"Uh, I'm Canada, Mister Germany..." He whispered, and Ludwig gave himself a palmface.

"Oh, Canada, I'm sorry. You look a lot like your brother." And the little blonde nodded, laughing slightly. They ended going to the hotel together, in the same car.

"And, Mister Germany," Ludwig interrupted him, ("Just Germany, Canada, no problems.") and the Canadian nodded, smiling. "Are you going to go to the party, Germany?" And the European nodded.

"I'll probably have two costumes, though. I'm not that creative to reach four." And Matthew nodded. "America already told me to do as I want, but, and I quote, 'don't get boring'." They both laughed at his imitation of Alfred's voice. "So, I guess I have to think of something good, or he's gonna bicker me a lot." Canada nodded. "I hope someone dresses themselves as something really good and scares him for real. I would pay to see that."

"Actually." Started Canada. "I have my costumes arranged. Probably no one is going to see me, so, why don't you wear them? I'm pretty sure he's not expecting anything big from you." Germany arched an eyebrow.

"You don't have any problems with it?" He asked, really intrigued. Matthew said no with his head.

"That way, you can scare him, and I can laugh too." Germany smiled.

"I'm in."

The party was going perfectly. Gilbert, wearing a pitch black suit, and a very intelligent combination of face paint, accessories, and white contacts, had made Alfred gasp the first time he saw him. He really looked good as the Reaper.

"Do you know something about Ludwig?" Asked Italy, wearing a witch costume. Gilbert negated.

"He told me he would go somewhere first, and then come here, but he wasn't carrying anything. Maybe he didn't used his own clothes for the costume." Italy nodded.

"Are you sure he's even going to come?" Asked Spain.

"He finished his entire paperwork to come. And even with that, he would say something if he doesn't come." Gilbert suddenly heard a knocking on the door. "America! The door!" He screamed.

"I heard, thanks." Said the blonde, coming close to the door, and opening it. He arched an eyebrow, looking at the empty porch. He even looked left and right, not finding anything. Well, that was weird.

"Oh, America. Are you searching something?" Everyone heard a scream, and came close, finding a human sized porcelain doll. One that, no jokes, was scary as fuck.

"Oh, dude, I- uh- wasn't expecting you to- how did you do that?" The German smiled.

"How did I do what?" He said, and everyone noticed, his voice changed from time to time, as if two people were speaking at the same time.

"That appearing thing- what wrong with your voice?" And Ludwig arched his eyebrown, a dragging his hand and hitting his head one or two times. It made a cracking sound.

"I'm sorry, my dear. Someone probably b-r-o-k-e something." And everyone trembled when they heard that part, his voice sounded like something that came out of a TV with static. They noticed at that moment, too, his face had little cracks painted. "What's happening, dear? Are you going to keep me here?" And Alfred mumbled something, moving at the side. Ludwig smiled, walking at his side, glimpsing at Gilbert.

"Something wrong, Gilbert?" And he smiled. That smile. That scary smile.

"Nope. Not anything." Prussia even stepped back. And Ludwig was satisfied. If they reacted like that to that costume, the next ones would kill them.

"Okey everybody, one hour. Let's change!" Everyone nodded, disappearing to the rooms or bathrooms. Ludwig disappeared, biting his lip to hold his laugh.

"Oh my god." He whispered, feeling his stomach hurt. "The voice, the sound, he almost peed himself..." Matthew nodded, opening his bag to grab the next costume.

"Come on, take that off. We don't have more that ten minutes."

Ten minutes ringed, and Alfred ran through the house.

"It's time, guys! Out, everybody down, food is ready!" And everyone started to come out, with a different costume.

"Do you know something about Ludwig's costume?" Asked Austria, sitting with Gilbert, who resembled Marshall Lee, but white.

"Not a thing. I'm pretty sure he'll scare us, though. He really looked good in the first one." Austria nodded, grabbing some bread from the table. He looked back when he heard something, and he dropped what was on his hand, screaming in horror. Gilbert looked back, catching a black sillhouette.

"West?..." He whispered. And effectively, it was him. People were entering, attracted by the scream, and they found a man with ragged clothes, and looking like a zombie straight from The Walking Dead. He had an enormous cut in the right side of his face. It began in the crevice of his lip, and went all the way up to his ear, leaving a half smile. A little tic showed in his hand, shaking it from time to time.

Alfred did a little sound, and Ludwig's attention changed. He was suddenly looking at him, ready to bite and infect.

"Okey, you really are putting effort, isn't it?"

Ludwig wanted to smile, and probably say yes, but he sticked to the act. Just look at him, follow him with your eyes, and keep that tic in your arm. It gives the costume a charm.

And hell it did it. Alfred wanted to run away.

"Okey, not talking? Not talking. Let's go, and hour is running."

"Ten minutes, my half dead friend. Surprise me again." Ludwig sighed, leaving the room with the other countries. Some of them didn't leaved the room, settling down for their actual costume. Germany entered the room, and Canada already had a plate with food.

"Got you something to eat. You surely didn't ate anything." Ludwig nodded, peeling the latex of the fake smile.

"Danke." He said, grabbing some bread and cheese.

"I heard Austria screaming." Matthew said, smiling and laughing.

"Definitely didn't expected the face."

"Well, then I'm pretty sure you'll kill someone with the next one."

"He took the don't be boring thing literally, apparently." Alfred said, smiling. Gilbert shrugged, playing with the chain hanging from his wrist.

"Don't you say? He almost gave me a heart attack. I didn't knew it was possible to make him waste so much time and effort in special effects, makeup and clothes just because he got offended."

"And, don't forget that little thing with the voice when he was a doll. That was horrifying, and I still don't understand the trick." Everyone nodded to that.

"Well, I hope he doesn't give anyone a stroke now." Gilbert laughed.

"I don't do what?"

And fuck, he almost gave them the fucking stroke.

Ludwig looked like the final boss from a horror video game. And the costume was not just scary, it was virtually impossible, or incredibly uncomfortable. His throat was sliced, he had millions of cuts in his body as if someone had used a knife to play with him, he wore an uniform that no one recognized, and the most important thing, he was blindfolded, the white cloth showing red circles where the eyes should be.

"Well, you're mastering it." Whispered Alfred.

"What?" Germany sounded like he had some liquid on the back of his throat. No one wanted to know what it was.

"Nothing."

So, the third hour began. Slow, weird, pretty weird. Suddenly, even though he was blind, he could walk around as if he was being guided, he knew who was in front of him at every moment, he was perfectly normal.

But blind. Quite a detail.

Minutes passed more quickly as they were reaching the end of the hour, everyone expecting to see the last costume.

"One hour, my friend. Surprise us."

Ludwig reached the door easily. It had been amazing.

"So. They can't see me even though I'm in front of them, as long as they are putting their attention in something else." Ludwig nodded, taking the blindfold off.

"In general." He said, rubbing his eyes. "Finally I can take a moment. No more crazy costumes, no more liquid latex, and no more screams. That's the best part, definitely." Canada smiled.

"Yeah, sure."

"So, everything chill now? You're not bleeding, your eyes are where they need to be, your throat looks decent. Ran out of ideas?" Alfred smiled, sitting with Ludwig in the sofa. The german nodded, stretching his arms.

"I'm tired. I want to take a moment. And I'm hungry." Alfred smiled, bringing some food.

"Eat something, then. There is a lot still, and we have time."

And the remaining second, they smiled, they laughed, they drank, they ate, and they had an amazing time.

"So, we should go now." Said Gilbert, yawning. "It's late and we have hours in the jet." Ludwig nodded.

"We can sleep there, it doesn't matter." Germany said, rubbing his face. Gilbert arched an eyebrow.

"Wait, what the-"

"I can take this off, finally." He mumbled, peeling his face's skin. Literally. He looked back, his face half skin, half muscle, and smiled to Alfred.

The poor american was white. Literally.

"Good night, Alfred."

And then, America scremed. Loud. And both Ludwig and Matthew smiled.

--------

I uploaded it yesterday, somehow it was incomplete and it didn't had any tags. Beautiful.

[noxxy-boxxy]

Hetaween, day 3. End of the world.

(Rewriten bc FUCKING TUMBLR ERASED IT.) (And yeah, the original was in English too. I almost left the fucking world.)

Gilbert grabbed his bag, putting some clothes inside, then he closed the zipper, trying to make as little noise as possible. A sound came from the door, making him jump in his place. He stayed there for a second, until the door opened and Ludwig entered.

"We have to go." He whispered, the reason being probably the lack of strength in his body and the little amount of air in his lungs. Even with that, he held himself against the door. Gil felt pity.

Since the humans found out about their existence, things had changed. Entirely. They were, suddenly, the beasts. If there was a problem in the world, it was their fault.

No one knew when or how, but there was some people who knew. Two guys and a penny. No one really paid attention to them. At that moment, everything was... Safe. And then, things started to change when they began to blame them. They were guilty of every problem. If there was poverty, it was their fault, if war was rising, it was them, if anything happened, they were guilty of it. And with that mentality, two guys and a penny transformed into a whole country, who was putting pressure in the government to stop hiding them.

And, on the other side, the countries were paranoid. The strongest ones constantly putting pressure on the bosses too, and the weakest ones at their side. Everything was hectic, and everyone was waiting for the bomb to explode. And suddenly, it did it. Germany's boss, tired of the pressure, told the mob the direction of their country's house, just when he was asleep. And even though Ludwig was strong, he couldn't stop an entire country. At the end, hopefully, Gilbert was out of the house at that moment, and the cameras showed him what happened, but even at that moment, even if he saved his life, he couldn't save him from the wounds. A broken leg, and a head bleeding. Sooner or later, they would notice— the wounds weren't healing. Maybe they were too severe, maybe it was the fact that his country was suddenly against him, but Ludwig was, suddenly, half blind -his contacts and glasses forgotten in his house- unable to walk, in constant pain and therefore, constantly drugged with pain killers, and, as the cherry on top, constantly bleeding from his head.

They ran away from Germany, but the anti-representation movement was growing quickly, and it would definitely catch them sometime.

"I'm tired. I want to sleep." Whispered Ludwig, carefully giving his back to Gilbert, leaving his splinted leg under his good leg.

"Yeah, sure. Try to sleep. I'll be here."

Even though it was soon to sleep yet, it was better to do it now, considering they had just been able to eat a little bit. And sleeping with something in your stomach was always better than sleeping while hungry, so, here they were, trying to catch at least two or three hours. Gilbert hugged him from behind, feeling him cold. He was always cold, no matter how much sun he took, and he tried, as always, to give him some heat, and as always, it didn't worked. He heard a little sniff, a little whimper, and he bit his lip, feeling the world run, feeling his life spin. No matter how much he tried, he was always unable to control it. That was probably the worst part. He found, then, tears in his eyes too.

"I'm sorry." Germany mumbled, grabbing the cloth under his body, almost ripping it. "I'm sorry, Gil. I'm such a nuisance right now. I can't move, I can't shot, I can't even think straight." And Prussia hugged him even harder, because things were difficult. It was difficult to find double the amount of medical stuff, it was difficult to serve as a psychological support, it was difficult to cope with hunger, and on top of that, it was difficult to keep believing. Believing in something better, something that would bring them peace.

Everything was difficult, and yes, dealing with himself and another person, in those circumstances, was even more.

Even with that, he forced those thoughts out of his mind, trying to give him comfort.

It didn't worked.

Another morning, they were walking through some jungle in some point of Germany, and suddenly, they were trapped by a lot of men with weapons. Everyone almost felt their soul leaving his body when bullets started to fly. The countries grabbed their weapons too, and bullets rained, literally.

"Keep your head down! Down!" Screamed Gilbert, putting his hand on Ludwig's head. Even with that, Ludwig was not dumb, he knew they were going to run out of ammunition quickly, so, he grabbed a shotgun and slid, behind the humans. They were not expecting someone shooting them from the back, he just needed a good hiding point. Slowly, he crawled into the bushes, pulling the trigger against the first one. He fell, after screaming, and the humans turned on their back, unable to see him yet. And then, he kept shooting, bringing them down one by one.

"You must be kidding me." Gilbert said, smiling widely, after seeing him stand up again. He came closer, hugging him, and suddenly-

Boom.

Ludwig felt life abandoning his body. His arms held Gilbert tight, both of them looking at each other, not really knowing what happened. And then they fell on their knees. And Ludwig looked down.

"No..." He whispered, making pressure on Gilbert's stomach, blood pooling from the bullet inside. "Wait no, no no!" And his eyes started to water. "Help! Kiku, help! Please!"

Gilbert smiled slightly, closing his eyes, slowly rubbing his little brother's hair.

"It's okay, West." He whispered, putting his hand in the wound. "You're an intelligent boy. You know I can't survive this unless I get surgery, and you know we're in the middle of a jungle, and it can and probably will get infected." Ludwig closed his eyes, pressing his head against his chest, tightly.

"I'm sorry, East..." Whispered Ludwig, touching Prussia's face. "It was my fault."

"No, little one. You saved us. Don't blame yourself." Gilbert started to feel sleepy. Slowly, he hugged Ludwig, kissing his forehead. "You're not a nuisance, so don't worry about it. Whatever happens, I have your back, and if you don't believe in anything, believe in me, because I'll be there with you." He took deep breaths at that moment, running out of air. "No matter where mein kleine bruder... Even at the end of the world, I'll be there with you..."

And his eyes closed, slowly.

"Ludwig! We have to go! Now!" Screamed Russia, grabbing his arm. "More humans are coming!"

But he wasn't going to leave anyone behind. Not anymore.

He grabbed an automatic left behind, and he looked up, standing as if his leg was completely fine.

"Back off." He said, grabbing a cartridge belt. "They think they can win against me? Oh well, they are lacking two wars and two hundred years. What a pity."

And the first one, as soon as he appeared, fell. The same with the second, and everyone else. It was an unstoppable force, and even the countries were impressed. Was that person right there, the same one who was almost unable to walk three seconds ago?

"Let's go." They heard, looking at the front and finding every human either dead or almost dead. Ludwig held the body between his arms.

Then, they started walking in painful silence, only interrupted by a cry or two.

«Even at the end of the world, I'll be there with you.»

"But for me..." Whispered Ludwig. "We're at the end of the world because you're not by my side anymore."

----

If there is any mistake, please don't kill me :'v

Now. Onto the discourse.

This is made to be slightly ambiguous. You can say they are just brothers and they rely a lot on each other, it's understandable and acceptable. You can say they are more than that, and it's understandable and acceptable too. I don't want to hear anything about anymore discussing with each other because "but they are brothers and they cant do this" and "They can if they want to also look at them" This is just made to entertain. Chill? Chill.

[noxxy-boxxy]

Hetaween, day 6. Pumpkin, and other stuff i can't remember

A concept.

Italy and Romano competing against Germany and Prussia to see who's better making carved pumpkins.

Gilbert usually does a weird thing, so the pumpkin, when lighted, smells like pumpkin spice and apples (Sounds weird, smells amazing) and Germany carves the pumpkin with such accuracy, it's amazing.

But, on the other side, Italy and Romano are not so careful, but their pumpkin has a homemade scent, it has this or that flaw, but it's unique. Every face is special, and, of course, Feliciano can carve pretty amazing stuff.

[noxxy-boxxy]

Hetaween day 2, mystic creatures.

Las botas de Ludwig chocaron contra la proa del barco. Cualquiera de los tripulantes en la embarcación diría que su capitán estaba volando sobre la madera, y que su cerebro estaba en automático. Típica ocurrencia en esos días. Sus compañeros se habían acostumbrado ya.

Todo había empezado con esa encantadora joven que todos habían jurado escuchar alguna madrugada, que cantaba tan bellamente, pero tan tristemente al mismo tiempo. Había resonado por todo él barco, hipnotizando a toda persona presente, y él mago con él que andaban, Arthur, les había gritado que no escuchen, que no presten atención, que era una sirena traicionera, tratando de engañarlos. Todos habían se habían volteado, habían cubierto sus oídos, menos él. Pese a que lo intentó, sintió esa voz resonar contra él, sintiendo como si ella no estuviese ahí para engañarlos, si no llamando en pena a alguien que la ayude. En segundos, se encontró con que lo había hecho llorar, incluso. Obviamente, al segundo en él que declaró que se dirigirían a la sirena, entre diez lo agarraron y lo arrastraron hacia Arthur, para que le quitasen él hechizo o lo que sea que tuviese encima. Él ingles pensó que era una broma al principio, cuando no encontró una traza de magia en él. Nada. Cero. Negativo. Y si era tan así, ¿entonces por que él seguía insistiendo en ir?

—Esta pidiendo ayuda. —Le había dicho Beilschmidt en ese momento. —Esta sufriendo y esta pidiendo ayuda. —Y en sus ojos, él de verdad parecía sincero, cuando lo había sostenido y le había pedido que le creyera. Que por favor le creyera. Que necesitaba ayudar a la mujer que lloraba por ayuda. En ese momento no era tan obvio como al final, pero luego acabaría cayendo, en que él capitán se habia enamorado. ¿Loco no?

Así que, un poco desconfiados, todos habían cambiado él rumbo hacia él lugar de donde venían los llantos. Y mientras mas se acercaban, más se preocupaba toda la tripulación por él capitán, que se hacia cada vez más taciturno. Había comenzado a perder él sueño, por las pesadillas que abordaban a la noche, pero por alguna razón, alejarse le causaba jaqueca, y acababa con la cabeza timbrando de dolor. Así que solo tuvieron que conformarse con llegar en algún momento, y rogar que eso calmase los síntomas, por que no importaba cuanto buscaba Arthur, nunca encontraba nada.

Una noche, luego de una pesadilla que acabó olvidando a los segundos, Ludwig se levantó de la cama, decidiendo ir a tomar aire. Él barco estaba desierto, todos los tripulantes durmiendo profundamente.

En ese momento, la sintió cantar otra vez.

Fue una sensación rejuvenecedora, casi. Sintió que él dolor de cabeza se iba, sintió que podía volver a dormir sin preocupación por los terrores nocturnos, sintió que todo estaría bien. La canción paró, y él la repitió para ella. Las letras, siendo desconocidas para él, estaban ausentes, pero la melodía la tenia grabada, así que la entonó para calmar los dolores de ella, y sintió en su interior, que ella sufría tanto como él, y que de esa forma, podrían, ambos, dormir toda la noche sin pesadillas.

A la mañana siguiente, todos se sorprendieron al ver al capitán como si hubiera comido un festín, y hubiera dormido una noche entera en la cama de la reina. Estaba mas fresco que una lechuga, había dicho Feliciano. Todos habían preguntado que había pasado, pero Ludwig había sonreído y había dicho que solo había tenido una buena noche. Y esa buena noche se hizo una buena semana, cuando comenzó a quedarse despierto hasta que ella le cantase, y para poder cantarle la canción, a la cual había aprendido la letra.

Todo parecía ser felicidad, hasta que una noche, ella no apareció, lo cual acabó provocándole pesadillas. Por primera vez en mucho, pudo recordar lo que ocurría en estas, y se sintió atrapado cuando vio en estas, a una silueta femenina, llorando desconsolada, siendo acechada por un monstruo. Una horrorosa alimaña que le hacia guardia y que no la dejaba escapar. Todos lo notaron. Él estaba cada vez mas determinado en llegar, y liberar a la doncella.

Entonces, una madrugada, tierra fue divisada. Todos pusieron sus esfuerzos en llegar tan rápido como sea posible, y en una media hora, dieron contra arena. Bajaron decenas de hombres, guiados a buscar provisiones, y Ludwig fue él único que se adentró a la maleza, advirtiendo a todos que no se acercaran. Que había algo que era peligroso.

De a machetazos, abrió un camino en la vegetación, esperando por algún canto de la mujer. Incluso intentó cantarle, para que ella lo reconociera. Eso funcionó, cuando la escuchó devolverle la melodía, con voz llorosa. Se dirigió a ella corriendo desesperado, hasta que llegó a una cueva. Se metió, él agua dándole hasta el pecho, pero aun continuó, hasta llegar a un punto en él que tuvo que sumergirse en él agua, llegando hasta una cueva que estaba sumergida. Y ahí estaba ella.

Una preciosa mujer, cuyos pechos estaban descubiertos, y cuya cintura se curvaba en una cola de pez azul. Los ojos de ella se pusieron brillantes, y los de él también.

—Estas aquí... —Susurró, llevándose una mano a la boca, justo para que Ludwig la tomase, llevándola hacia la suya. Dejó un beso sobre él dorso, envolviendo su cuerpo en un abrazo y acariciando su espalda, sintiendola llorar en su hombro.

—Aqui estoy. —Le dijo, sosteniéndola casi desesperadamente. —Estoy aquí. Todo va a estar bien. —Y se separó un momento de ella, tomandola de las manos. —Vámonos, no voy a dejarte aquí. Ven conmigo. —Y ella negó, sollozando.

—No me dejará irme. No me dejará abandonarlo.

Y ahí, en ese mismo instante, ambos sintieron algo raro.

—¿Viniste con mas gente? —Le preguntó ella, él terror llenando su expresión, y la cara de Ludwig hizo lo mismo.

Estaba yendo detras de su tripulación.

Se levantó casi como un resorte, retrocediendo hasta él punto desde donde había entrado.

—¡Espera! —Le gritó ella, haciéndolo voltearse. —¿Vas a volver? —Y él le sonrió, asintiendo.

—Lo juro.

Así, Ludwig retrocedió, un mal augurio siendo él disparo que escuchó. Se dirigió hacia él lugar sosteniendo en una mano el machete y en la otra una carabina, y saltó sobre él monstruo, segundos antes de que este aplastase a su hermano. Sin vacilación, forzó el machete contra su espalda, atravesándolo sin miedo. Lo arrancó, salpicando toda su chaqueta y su rostro de sangre. Este dio un grito de dolor, haciéndolo sentir un escalofrío.

«Esta bien, no te asustes.» Pensó, sintiendo una preocupación que no era suya. Apuntó la carabina al pecho del monstruo, un ser que parecía animal, o que tenia rasgos de animal. Entonces, jaló del gatillo, la bala dando justo en la espalda.

Lo dio por acabado, volteandose para regresar con ella.

Y la sintió decirle algo.

—¿West? —Escuchó a Gilbert decirle, e hizo una mueca. Oh, scheiße.

Y él brazo del animal impactó contra él, tirándolo a un lado. Él grandísimo cabrón se regeneraba. Hermoso. Entonces, apuntó a la cabeza con el machete, y todos dieron un grito de guerra, dirigiéndose a él.

Todo se volvió una carnicería cuando las balas iban y volvían. Ludwig era él primero en estar en la linea de fuego, constantemente esquivando la munición, haciendo al monstruo retroceder. Cada corte que le hacia desaparecía en cuestión de segundos. Continuó haciéndolo retroceder, así, hasta que un pequeño desliz asomó. Una piedra. Una mínima piedra, que los hizo caer a ambos. Beilschmidt cayó justo sobre él pecho del enemigo, y casi instintivamente, le clavó él machete en la garganta. La adrenalina corriendo no lo dejaba sentir nada, y con una fuerza que no sabía que tenía, sacó él machete, y lo presionó como guillotina contra él monstruo, abriendo su garganta.

De ahí, todo se fue enfriando. La adrenalina, aun fresca en su ser, no lo dejaba sentir nada. Pero eso no significaba que no había nada.

—Oh Dios. West, Ludwig, oh mein gott.  —Sintió Ludwig a su hermano, pestañeando lentamente. —Oh dios, hay que traer él equipo médico. —Y Ludwig, al ver hacia abajo, se encontró con un zarpazo que atravesaba todo su costado. Sus manos temblaron, sintiendo sus sentidos atontados. Se revolvió, tratando de alejarse de las manos de Gilbert.

—No, espera, necesito... —Murmuró, tratando de llegar hacia ella. Arthur puso una mano en él hombro de Gilbert.

—Tiene razón, él equipamiento humano no puede curar heridas de seres místicos. Tenemos que llevarlo con la sirena.

Entre todos usaron sus prendas para cubrir la herida del capitán, y entre todos lo alzaron, dirigiéndose hacia donde él apuntaba.

—Hacia... Allá... —Murmuró Ludwig, señalando un punto incierto, antes de desmayarse. Un griterío se desató, de gente que no sabia hacia donde ir, y de gente que temía por la vida del capitán.

—¡Todo él mundo haga silencio! —Gritó Gilbert, su voz sobre la de todos los otros. Ahí, todos escucharon él canto de la sirena, y prontamente comenzaron a correr hasta ese punto, llegando al mismo lugar donde ella estaba.

—Oh dios. —La cara de todos fue de impresión, al ver a una dama medio pez. —Oh dios. Oh dios no. —Sollozó, cuando entre todos bajaron al rubio frente a ella. Se secó las lágrimas, perdiéndose un momento en él agua, dejando a todos en silencio, hasta que volvió a resurgir, sosteniendo una botella azulada. —Por favor, por favor reacciona. Oh dios. —Dijo ella, abriendo la tapa y alzando la cabeza del hombre, pero era mas que obvio que él no estaba respirando.

—¿Esta...? —Susurró Gilbert, mientras sus ojos se ponian brillantes también. Sin embargo, la mujer, negó con la cabeza.

—No mientras yo este aquí.— Dijo, abriendo la botella, y tomando él contenido. Lo mantuvo en su boca, alzando él rostro de Ludwig, para poder besarlo.

La cara de todos los otros tripulantes quedó blanca. Algunos rieron, otros apartaron la mirada, y la mujer se separó de él, habiendo depositando todo él líquido en su boca. Todos se acercaron aun mas, esperando por una reacción. Y ahí, oyeron un leve "fzzz...". La herida se estaba cerrando, y Ludwig tosió, sacudiendose.

—Estas vivo... —Susurró ella, sólo antes de que él la mirara, como quien ve a un ángel que ha caído del cielo. Le había salvado la vida. Le había devuelto él aliento. Los vítores llovieron de todas direcciones, cuando al fin se decidió por besarla. —Lo lograste... —Susurró ella, y él asintió con la cabeza, tomándola de las manos.

—Ven conmigo. —Dijo Ludwig, sonriendo. —Deja que te saque de aquí. No soporto escucharte llorar. —Y ella asintió.

—Amelia. —Murmuró. —Soy Amelia. —Y Ludwig sonrió, tomándola del rostro, para besarla una vez mas.

—Ven conmigo, Amelia.

Ya estaban saliendo de la cueva, y él sol se estaba poniendo. Ludwig cargaba entre sus brazos a Amelía, que llevaba puesta su chaqueta, para cubrir su desnudez. 

—Entonces, Lud. ¿Que harás ahora? —Preguntó Arthur, mirando a la dama que . Él rubio sonrió, estirándose para besarla.

—Y, lo mismo de siempre. Sólo que... Acompañado. —Murmuró.

—¿Y usted, señorita Amelía? ¿Desea que hagamos algo para que este cómoda? —Ambos sabían que se refería a su peculiar cuerpo de la cintura para abajo. La mujer hizo un pequeño sonido.

—Lud, ¿Puedes ponerme al sol? —Y él arqueó una ceja, pero igual se encogió de hombros, bajándola en un lugar donde él sol aún llegaba a tocar. Ella suspiró, profundamente, sintiendo esa tibieza tan familiar, y ahí frente a todos, las escamas perdieron brillo, se resquebrajaron, y se cayeron, dejando ver un par de piernas. Todos quedaron con la cara pintada, los ojos como platos. Ludwig la tomó de la mano, delicadamente ayudándola a pararse.

—Interesante situación, debo decir. —Murmuró Gilbert, acercándose y poniendo una de sus manos en le hombro de su hermano. —Mira tu, querido, que te sacaste la lotería. —Y entonces cambió su atención de él a ella. Justo cuando estaba por hablarle, los brazos de Ludwig la cubrieron firmemente. Gilbert dio un salto, retrocediendo ante la mirada de Ludwig, por que sus ojos brillaban. Y no era una expresión, literalmente sus ojos brillaban en un azul intenso y consumidor, y todos supieron que no tenían que meterse entre Ludwig y Amelia.

—Whoops. Efectos colaterales. —Murmuró ella, sonriendo.

—Whoops. Efectos colaterales. —Murmuró ella, sonriendo.

----------

This is 2000 words, and I literally wrote it entirely in one sitting. I'm proud tho.

So, Germany is the Capitan of a ship, one day, they hear a mermaid singing, but Lud believes she's in pain and sadness. They end in the island where she is, and Lud finds her suffering because there is a monster who is keeping her trapped. Lud kills him, but is severely damaged in the process, and dies after being taken to her. She doesn't approve it, and revives him. Then, they go out, and when the sunlight reaches her, the tail disappears. Gilbert tries to talk to her, and Lud doesn't let him, scaring the s out of him, because his eyes are now glowing blue.

And the mermaid is Nyo America, so. Yeah.

[noxxy-boxxy]

ITS HETAWEEN BITCH.

Yea, I should chill. SO. @hetaween invited me to participate, ans i can't refuse a direct invitation, so, here I am, doing the do. Writing things in Spanish for a fandom that's almost entirely English-speaker. Can I get a wahoo?

Yeah. Unfortunately I'm Argentinian, ans even though I do speak English, its quite difficult for me to write long things, I can slip one or two or more mistakes that are invisible for me but obvious to people who are fluent, so, I'll probably write something at the bottom explaining what happened. If someone wants to make me a question after, my ask is open, don't be shy.

Hetaween, day 1. Crossover.

Ivan estaba cansado, estaba nervioso, estaba alterado, y tenía frío. Ya había recorrido él bosque entero de principio a fin, y no había forma humana de encontrar rastro de Gilbert. Ya faltaba poco tiempo para él anochecer y ellos aun tenían que encontrar un refugio para pasar la noche. Él cielo, aun iluminado por la poca luz que quedaba, estaba nublado. Una leve llovizna caía sobre su cabeza, pero ya sabia que en muy poco tiempo se volvería lluvia torrencial. Él arma entre sus manos, ya casi sin munición, temblaba también, y no por él frío, por que sus manos estaban enguantadas. Una rápida mirada al sol, para saber que quedaba poco menos de 40 minutos para él anochecer.

Decidió, entonces, subirse a un árbol. Encontró una rama que era lo suficientemente gruesa para poder cargar su peso, y trepó. Luego se agarró a la siguiente, la siguiente, y así sucesivamente. Al llegar a la copa tomó sus binoculares, y miró hacia izquierda y derecha una y otra vez. Desgraciadamente, no consideró mirar hacia abajo, justo cuando un clicker lo tomaba del pie, para arrastrarlo hacia abajo. Dió un grito, apoyando su mano en él mazacote que era la cabeza del caminante, y su pie en él pecho. Con la otra mano intentó llegar a su arma, pero estirarse para alcanzarla lo hacia perder soporte.

—Maldita sea. —Murmuró, escuchando otros de esos distintivos clicks acercándose. Agarró un garrote que estaba por ahí, y lo impactó directamente a la cara del monstruo, tratando al menos de atontarlo un segundo, al menos  Una y otra vez, de lado a lado, pero fue poco efectivo.

Y entonces, cuando de verdad se sintió que estaba acabado, dos escopetazos atravesaron él aire, la munición blindada atravesando al clicker a como manteca. Ivan se deslizó de abajo del monstruo ese, tratando de evitar hacer contacto con su sangre.

—Vamos, Ivan. —Sintió a Gilbert decir, antes de ser arrastrado hacia atrás. Tomó su arma, y corrieron hacia él interior del bosque, poniendo tanta distancia posible entre ellos y los clickers. Se treparon a un árbol, agarrando una piedra que estaba por ahí, y él grupo de clickers llegó detrás de ellos, forzándolos a mantener él aliento. Los no muertos, como era de esperarse, se dispersaron, buscándolos a ellos, y para eso era la piedra. Gilbert la tiró, haciéndolos regresar en estampida al punto de inicio, buscando desesperadamente lo que hizo él sonido. Luego, un coctel molotov fue lo que atrajo su atención, y los 4 monstruos ardieron hasta él final.

—Vámonos. —Murmuró Gilbert, bajando del árbol y rápidamente alejándose, para no llamar la atención de nadie. —Encontré un lugar en el que podemos ocultarnos por la noche. Nos cubrirá momentáneamente de la lluvia, y tiene mucha basura adentro para hacer barricadas. —Ivan ignoró así él enojo que tenía contra él por desaparecer, y lo siguió, guardando él arma casi vacía, y sacando un machete de su funda. Se movieron rápido y ni hablaron en él camino, mas concentrados en deshacerse de cualquier caminante que estuviese a la vista.

—Llegamos. —Murmuró Gilbert, deslizándose por una ventana abierta hasta lo que parecía una sala de estar. Aun sin estar relajados, ambos alzaron sus armas, recorriendo cada milímetro de la casa de arriba para abajo, de izquierda a derecha, para cerciorarse de que no habrían sorpresas.

—Asegurado aquí. —Dijo Ivan, y Gilbert asintió con su cabeza, asomándose por una habitación. —Cerremos todo entonces. —Y comenzó la tarea de asegurar todas las entradas posibles, para evitar algo que pueda ingresar. Una hora después, al fin podían relajarse.

—Tomaré él primer turno. —Murmuró Gilbert, cargando su arma. —Ve a dormir.

Ivan asintió, estirándose en los sillones que habían juntado para hacer una cama. Se encogió, justo para que él mas joven lo cubriera con una manta.

—Duerme bien. Te levanto en unas horas. —El asintió con la cabeza, cubriéndose un poco mejor, y quedando profundamente dormido. La casa quedó en un silencio absoluto, solo interrumpido por los pasos de Gilbert, que circulaba la casa, aun arma en mano, con los oídos en alto, por si llegaba a escuchar algo. De vez en cuando, soltaba la escopeta para chequear su reloj, y luego seguía. Cuando se aseguró definitivamente de que no había nadie en los puntos aledaños al territorio, regresó a la sala, habiendo pasado solo una hora. Sonrió al ver a Ivan dormir, como quien no le debe nada a nadie.

¿Y entonces?

Crack.

Y Gilbert sintió que él mundo se paraba. Un ruido. No parecía ser muy cerca de ellos, lo sentía a mucha distancia, pero muy fuerte. Se sintió tentado a correr hasta él lugar, pero suprimió él impulso casi tan rápido como llegó. Tomó él arma con manos firmes y puso el dedo en él gatillo, solo para asegurarse. Luego, se encaminó hacia él lugar, sin hacer un mínimo sonido. Se asomó a una ventana, sintiendo él corazón pararse.

Un sudor frío cayó por su cuello al ver al bloater caminando afuera de la casa, a unos ínfimos 20 metros y pico. Parecía buscar algo, ¿o era solo paranoia suya? Parecía que no, dado que ahí lo vio detenerse, apuntando hacia el lugar donde ellos estaban. Ahí supo que no era imaginación.

Retrocedió un paso, bajando él arma y regresando a la sala con una cara que alertó a Ivan al segundo que se levantó, de que había algo mal. Él eslavo no dijo nada, siendo que, por esa expresión que veía, o estaban rodeados por una horda de caminantes, o aun peor, por humanos. Y sus sospechas se confirmaron cuando, con manos temblorosas, Gilbert le dijo mediante señas que había un bloater.

Eso era aun peor que los humanos.

Agarraron todo él armamento posible que tenían, y subieron al segundo piso de la casa, abriendo una rendija para poder usar como punto de francotirador. Gilbert abrió él estuche de su rifle, sacando él arma, y aparte de eso, sacó tres municiones blindadas que parecían (y eran) hechas específicamente para los caminantes mas duros, y eran él resultado de darle vuelta al mundo de arriba para abajo haciendo encargos para todo él mundo, en pos de conseguirlas.

Acomodó el rifle en él marco, y ahí, no solo sintió que él mundo se había parado, por que él mundo efectivamente se había parado. Inhaló profundamente, y en él intervalo entre un latido de corazón y el otro, jaló del gatillo.

Él disparo le pegó él tímpano, y ese ruido fue lo que lo sacó de su ensoñación para agarrar del cerrojo y tirar. Él monstruo, al descubrir RL punto desde él cual le estaban atacando, comenzó a correr hacia la casa, soltando un grito de guerra escalofriante. Gilbert jaló del gatillo, enviando la segunda bala, pero él miedo y los nervios lo agarraron cuando esta fue esquivada por él monstruo. Ivan también se sintió sin aire, mientras agarraba una automática, abriendo otro punto para disparar. Entre ambos, soltaron fuego contra él caminante que se les venia encima como un tanque. La tercera bala de Gilbert sólo llegó a atravesar la coraza en la cabeza del bloater, pero las balas de Ivan se dirigieron ahí, tratando de no perder la oportunidad. Esos hongos, sin embargo, se regeneraron, sin dejarles una opción, y con un caminante enojado a menos de 5 metros. Ivan cerró sus ojos, esperando él impacto, pero sólo escuchó él traqueteo de las maderas. Alzó su mirada para ver a Gilbert, que había arrancado todo él recubrimiento de la ventana, y que tenia la mitad del cuerpo a la vista, apuntando a la masa de carne con él lanzallamas. Tiró del gatillo, y una larga tira roja se precipitó. Él bloater dejó de pensar en ellos, y comenzó a correr de un lado para otro, tratando de apagarse, hasta que cayó al suelo. Tanto Gilbert como Ivan suspiraron, mientras volvían a envolver todo, y procedían a alejarse de la casa. Era posible que ya hubiesen atraído caminantes, y a humanos también, en busca de armamento. Él terreno estaba comprometido. Además, las flamas habían llegado a la casa. Se iba a quemar, y nadie quería estar cerca de esa columna de humo.

Suspiraron, y sonrieron.

—Vamos. —Susurró Gilbert. —Voy a poner la carpa flotante, y seguro me las arreglo para poder acomodar la correa que se le rompió. Ya lo voy a coser. —E Ivan asintió. Tener a Gilbert era suficiente. Gilbert era la razón para continuar.

-------

Hoe. I did it. Omg. I'm shook. 😂

So. For anyone wondering, this is ruspru but with The Last of Us. Gil and Ivan are hiding in a house after running away from some clickers, and then, Gilbert finds a bloater 20 meters away. They finish him with a flamethrower and accidentally burn the house too, so they end up running away.

So. Yeah. That's it. I hope yall can understand (?

[noxxy-boxxy]

Hetaween, day 7. Bloody.

(Imlateimlateimsolateimsorryschoolisabitch.)

A concept.

Middle of the Halloween party. Countries are dresses in their costumes, everything normal, everything chill, but England is a little bit angry.

Why? No one knows. Maybe America did something stupid, maybe France was being exceptionally tiresome, maybe the world wanted it that way. So, long story short, he puts a spell in every country. Now, everyone represents what they costume was. Some countries take it the nice way, it's so funny, look, I can fly, I can trespass the walls, and blah blah blah. Some others are falling apart.

Literally.

So. Suddenly, Gilbert finds himself in quite a situation, he feels his fangs itching, and they are suddenly so sharp now, what the hell. He looks up to the mirror on the wall, not being able to find himself.

And oh my goodness, he feels such hunger.

"I'm hungry." He whispers, pressing the other country's hand. "Let me..."

And everything is left behind. The spell wears off in the morning, and Gilbert finds himself in his bed, perfectly normal fangs, white sheets with red marks all over them. The other country is awake already, looking at him with a smile. Blood is still dripping down their neck.

"Still hungry?"

----

LATE, I KNOW. SCHOOL'S A BITCH. WAS LOOSING MOTIVATION, GAINED IT BACK. ONE DOWN, THREE LEFT.