Deutsche Echtheit

With deep, amethyst eyes, Lutz tilted his head when he saw the Italian. Then, with a smirk and a sharp grin, he said, "I remember you."

It was a beautiful, sunny day. On days like this, Feli loved to paint outside. Pastel hues of any color were painted onto the canvas, a reflection of he how felt about that spring day.

Hearing the voice at first, he thought it was Ludwig and he nearly spun around in his chair to greet him. But then realization hit him. This voice sounded different from Ludwig’s. Was he still sick? No, that’s not it. Turning on his seat, he looked to the other confused and curious. He looked like his best friend in some way, but at the same time he didn’t. “You remember me?” he questioned. It was very unusual for the Italian to not greet first, but he couldn’t help be a bit confused.

The boy smirked and began turning away from the other. “No need to worry. I knew an old man who put his whole life into his paintings. He was very good like you are” The boy held the ball under his foot. “He liked painting with darker colors, but, it was probably because he was old. Maybe he’s reincarnated into one of your Italians.”

The boy dribbled the ball lazily away from Feliciano and began kicking it against a tree. He was at a diagonal angle, positioned smartly so that even if he missed the tree or it bounced off, it couldn’t possibly hit the Italian or his easel.

"Who?" he asked as he carefully sat back into his chair. Then he got an an idea. With a small smile, he switched canvases and began painting Lutz dribbling a football. "Was he a famous painter? Rembrandt used dark colors."

Feliciano was friends with Leonardo da Vinci before the Renaissance man moved to French court. He wanted to bring it up, but figured Lutz wouldn’t believe him.

"That old guy?" Lutz asked as he aimed, ran, and sent the ball onto the tree. It bounced right back into his hands. His grin grew wider. "That man was around The Holy Roman Empire! He was way before I was born. It would be cool if it were him, though. Actually he died just recently, so he couldn't have been famous. On my street, too. I do remember his face, though."

Lutz grinned and sent the ball at the tree again. "I always remember how faces look," he said haughtily. The boy caught the ball, and began crushing it in between in hands as a frown formed. "Yeah. Always." Lutz shook his head and looked to Feliciano. His eyes lit up pleasantly again as his lips drew back to grin. "What do you think you're doing, Painter Boy? Don't you want to paint the new flowers?"

republikvonkunst-blog

justalittlelutz followed you

republikvonkunst-blog

"No, thank you."

*He looked at the way the boy was drawing his coat tightly around himself.*

"Aren’t you warm? It’s not that cold out today."

#ic #((Very very fine. And you?))

-Lutz laughed.-

"I am just fine! As long as I have food, I am just fine."

-The boy maneuvered the coat off of him and settled it on the ground out like a blanket with the strawberries in a pile.-

"My name is Lutz. And who are you? I haven't seen you around the village before."

aph-brxndenburg-deactivated2015

justalittlelutz started following you

Reiner was apparently to have his violin fixed as one of the strings had been snapped. Sigh. He need to take extra good care of it since it was his treasure. For some reason, he felt like someone is following from behind and he turned around. To his surprise, it was a blonde-haired boy and he looked familiar.

"Um….is there anything I can help…?"

#ic #reinerbeilschmidtbrandenburg #((^^ No problem!))

Royal purple eyes gleamed as the man took notice of him. Immediately, he folded his hands behind his back and gave a toothy smile.

"Well, you look new, and I was curious," he replied. He puckered his lips as he rubbed a bit of dirt off his scarred cheek. "Are you looking for Herr Unger?" he asked, gesturing with his head towards the case in the man's hand.

little-miss-addicted-deactivate

Great souls suffer in silence.

Friedrich Schiller (via kingdomofginix)

#Lutz.txt

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Justalittlelutz Gazed into a Mirror

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And his aim was apparently correct. The Chinese man took it by surprise, quickly turning and letting out a shout as the apple fell. Of course, no-one was there to greet him. And so he examined his surroundings silently for a quite a while. It finally dawned on him that maybe he should look up.

"Ey, what’s the big idea?" Yang questioned to what he assumed was a figure in the leaves, though he had trouble making them out without his contacts. Perhaps he was seeing things? Shaking his head, he sat down. This city… it was actually getting to him, wasn’t it? Though, he hesitantly looked up to the tree again, to see if he could make out any sort of figure.

As pale fingers pushed the foliage back, royal, purple eyes glowed down. A candy grin soon accompanied it.

"Oh? Did I drop that? I'm sorry." He laughed to himself and swung his legs over the branch, kicking his legs as his right hand held onto the trunk and his left, the red delicious. "I had one too many and I was just thinking that maybe I'd drop the other one."

#ic #ominousreflection

spatzivonberlin

Welcome to Berlin

justalittlelutz

famille-est-amour

"Oh, hello there. What brings you guys here?"

#((Sorry he's a little-))#((Yeah-))#((Hello!))#ic #royaltyofberlin

"Oh- I didn't know Brother had little kids greet you at the outskirts of Berlin now. I bet he's really trying to compete against France now, isn't he?"

in2wild

The Schlosshotel Kronberg.

20 minutes outside of Frankfurt, Germany

#Even richer rich people place

With deep, amethyst eyes, Lutz tilted his head when he saw the Italian. Then, with a smirk and a sharp grin, he said, "I remember you."

It was a beautiful, sunny day. On days like this, Feli loved to paint outside. Pastel hues of any color were painted onto the canvas, a reflection of he how felt about that spring day.

Hearing the voice at first, he thought it was Ludwig and he nearly spun around in his chair to greet him. But then realization hit him. This voice sounded different from Ludwig’s. Was he still sick? No, that’s not it. Turning on his seat, he looked to the other confused and curious. He looked like his best friend in some way, but at the same time he didn’t. “You remember me?” he questioned. It was very unusual for the Italian to not greet first, but he couldn’t help be a bit confused.

Oh good. It was nice to meet someone else who loved football as much as Feli did. He was shocked at how much the other boy dribbled the ball. He seemed to be very good. At the mention of the names, he wondered who those girls were.

Feli wasn’t too sure about the offer. A ball could go anywhere it wanted to if one didn’t control it well. Hesitant, his eyes focused on his canvas for what seemed like several minutes before he spoke. “Um….Okay…. Just please be careful. This easel is very old.” He didn’t even realize he had stood up and put his hands on either side of the canvas. “It means a lot to me.”

The boy smirked and began turning away from the other. "No need to worry. I knew an old man who put his whole life into his paintings. He was very good like you are" The boy held the ball under his foot. "He liked painting with darker colors, but, it was probably because he was old. Maybe he's reincarnated into one of your Italians."

The boy dribbled the ball lazily away from Feliciano and began kicking it against a tree. He was at a diagonal angle, positioned smartly so that even if he missed the tree or it bounced off, it couldn't possibly hit the Italian or his easel.

marukaitecheckinyouout-arch-blog

Pixiv ID: 40627067

Member: 826

#Don't lie back like that I cant see your face that way #Looks like Feliciano

Little Lutz actually has pan-Germanism drilled into his mind. He’s pretty iffy on people who aren’t German.

However, if he is somehow convinced otherwise, he’ll make an exception.

#Lutz at his finest

With deep, amethyst eyes, Lutz tilted his head when he saw the Italian. Then, with a smirk and a sharp grin, he said, "I remember you."

It was a beautiful, sunny day. On days like this, Feli loved to paint outside. Pastel hues of any color were painted onto the canvas, a reflection of he how felt about that spring day.

Hearing the voice at first, he thought it was Ludwig and he nearly spun around in his chair to greet him. But then realization hit him. This voice sounded different from Ludwig’s. Was he still sick? No, that’s not it. Turning on his seat, he looked to the other confused and curious. He looked like his best friend in some way, but at the same time he didn’t. “You remember me?” he questioned. It was very unusual for the Italian to not greet first, but he couldn’t help be a bit confused.

Lutz froze, then shook his head. “I don’t know how to make paints!” he explained. “I also can’t do that kind of thing. That’s for the richer people to do.” But even though he said this, he looked longingly at the canvas. For a moment, he stood there, petrified. His eyes bore into the painting.

But, this didn’t last too long. Quickly boy rocked back onto his heels and gestured to the dingy ball in the crook between his arm and side. “I kick this around instead. You know football, Feliciano?”

The boy’s side-grin grew sharper and wider as his lip drew back happily to reveal an eyetooth.

"I don’t think that I’m rich," his voice soft with a hint of confusion. "I paint anyway. I think anyone can." At the other’s reaction to the canvas, Feli wondered what his life was like.

"I love football," he replied. Judging by the worn out texture, it seemed as if this boy played a lot. He almost asked such a thing, yet stopped himself from doing so. "It seems that you do too," he smiled slightly.

The boy nodded tilted his head in a strange way of confirmation. "Of course! Even if I didn't like it, I'd be forced to play it every day until I did." Lutz put the ball down and lazily dribbled it between his legs. "I think its rank of fun is right below trying to impress the girls like Monika and Katja." He gave the other a wink.

"So, let's make a deal. I promise I won't kick the ball into you, your canvas, or your scenary, and in return, you'll let me practice and talk to you from time to time as you do." The boy started dribbling the ball more intensely.

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Francis was having one of his dress up days, but had left his front door unlocked.

Ah, well, don’t ask why he decided to come in. His mouth dropped open, and actually the apple piece he was sucking on almost fell out. But, after looking at the…

The boy frowned, but soon, his face turned red as he forced out a short, burst of laughter into his hand. “Wonderful! Even if it isn’t like the maids I see. Actually, you look much nicer than the girls on my street do when they have to dress up!” The boy let out a happy puff of air. “Oh, and the door was open.”

#ic

With deep, amethyst eyes, Lutz tilted his head when he saw the Italian. Then, with a smirk and a sharp grin, he said, "I remember you."

It was a beautiful, sunny day. On days like this, Feli loved to paint outside. Pastel hues of any color were painted onto the canvas, a reflection of he how felt about that spring day.

Hearing the voice at first, he thought it was Ludwig and he nearly spun around in his chair to greet him. But then realization hit him. This voice sounded different from Ludwig’s. Was he still sick? No, that’s not it. Turning on his seat, he looked to the other confused and curious. He looked like his best friend in some way, but at the same time he didn’t. “You remember me?” he questioned. It was very unusual for the Italian to not greet first, but he couldn’t help be a bit confused.

The boy stiffened at the Italian’s response before shrugging his shoulders with a smile so wide, his eyes closed shut.

"Oh, I’m sorry," he apologized. "My mistake-" As the boy slowly opened up his eyes, a prominent flash of hazardous emotions crossed his face, but quickly it dissipated as the the boy rubbed at his dirtied, pink-streaked cheek.

"So, you are painting?" he asked brightly, as he bound over closer to the canvas, messy, blonde hair bouncing as he walked. "How can you stand doing something as long and boring as that?"

The friendly little sunny boy felt nervous around the other boy. He doubted it was the lack of introduction that caused it. Watching the other bound closer, his eyes focused on the painting as those words struck his heart. “Ummm…… But I think it’s fun. I like to blend the colors and make them pretty. Have you ever tried painting?”

Lutz froze, then shook his head. "I don't know how to make paints!" he explained. "I also can't do that kind of thing. That's for the richer people to do." But even though he said this, he looked longingly at the canvas. For a moment, he stood there, petrified. His eyes bore into the painting.

But, this didn't last too long. Quickly boy rocked back onto his heels and gestured to the dingy ball in the crook between his arm and side. "I kick this around instead. You know football, Feliciano?"

The boy's side-grin grew sharper and wider as his lip drew back happily to reveal an eyetooth.

Lutz has many, different toys given to him by Lud. All of them either have at least one of their limbs broken off or a stitch to hold the toy back together.

#Lutz at his finest

With deep, amethyst eyes, Lutz tilted his head when he saw the Italian. Then, with a smirk and a sharp grin, he said, "I remember you."

It was a beautiful, sunny day. On days like this, Feli loved to paint outside. Pastel hues of any color were painted onto the canvas, a reflection of he how felt about that spring day.

Hearing the voice at first, he thought it was Ludwig and he nearly spun around in his chair to greet him. But then realization hit him. This voice sounded different from Ludwig’s. Was he still sick? No, that’s not it. Turning on his seat, he looked to the other confused and curious. He looked like his best friend in some way, but at the same time he didn’t. “You remember me?” he questioned. It was very unusual for the Italian to not greet first, but he couldn’t help be a bit confused.

The boy stiffened at the Italian's response before shrugging his shoulders with a smile so wide, his eyes closed shut.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized. "My mistake-" As the boy slowly opened up his eyes, a prominent flash of hazardous emotions crossed his face, but quickly it dissipated as the the boy rubbed at his dirtied, pink-streaked cheek.

"So, you are painting?" he asked brightly, as he bound over closer to the canvas, messy, blonde hair bouncing as he walked. "How can you stand doing something as long and boring as that?"