#aph gilbert beilschmidt

[kiselwp]

I'm tired and I don't feel very well, but such drawings help me to relax, even though I did it with the last of my strength

[parsemage]

Prussia! 🇩🇪 (there's no Prussia flag 🥲) his character design is amazing, I looove drawing him 🫶

[arina-nov-talking]

Some evening sketches!

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

prussia x reader: childish games

Hello Lovelies~ Was ridiculously bored at work, and this silliness was birthed. Please enjoy!

Over the years, you had compiled a list of all the things you most loved about your husband, and somehow, only slightly surprising, his zest for life and the itch to have fun easily slotted its way into your top ten.

 For someone nearing 1000 (a fact you loved teasing him with), you would have thought that he would have grown more reserved by now, bored and listless with the world. But the truth was that he was restless, and rarely allowed for a single dull moment.

 And while you had grown yourself- maturity and social obligations demanding a certain image, he had a knack for making you forget all of it, embracing that whimsy and playful energy that you refused to completely abandon in your childhood.

 Which was what often led to moments like these.

 Gil was sitting across from you at a table in some cafe in Constanța, eyebrows furrowed in an almost comical way as he glared down at the series of incomplete triangles on your napkin.

 A little riddle or trick- you couldn't really decide which- you had briefly remembered from your childhood, one you knew would annoy your husband to no end.

 As much as you loved him, he did have a habit of over-complicating things.

 So far, his guesses had all followed a pattern you had expected: an ECG, a triangular sound wave, and then he rambled off something nearly incoherent involving quantum theory which had you giving him a Look. Seeing your expression at that last one had him offering you an embarrassed half-smile, before he went back to staring at the napkin with annoyance. "I'm going to hate myself when you tell me, right?"

 It wasn't really a question, but you hummed in acknowledgement, fighting and failing to hide your grin. "Probably."

 To his credit, he had more guesses, a couple theories, even asked if it had something to do with your own work, eyes slanting towards you in curious consideration. When you shot that down as well, he huffed melodramatically in defeat, flopping back into his chair and gesturing magnanimously towards the offending piece of recycled paper and its 18 unassuming little lines.

 "Alright; you win. Hit me with it."

 You were enjoying this way too much, but you couldn't help it; he brought out the best and worst in you. "Sure you don't want another guess?"

 "Can't you just put me out of my misery instead?"

 You leveled him with another look, fond and irritated all at once, catching too easily on the smile hidden in his words. "No martyrdom before supper."

 "Wow. Rude."

 Ignoring his comment, you spoke with perhaps a little too much presumption. "Gilbert Wilhelm? Prepare for me to blow your little mind."

 "You already do that every day." You bit your lip at his fond murmur, digging in your pocket for a different colored pen. Carrying an assortment had become a bit of a habit as of late; Gil was constantly losing his, and sometimes you just needed a change from the monotony of black-and-white. 

 Finally, you pulled out a purple, a good offset to the black. Pulling the napkin back into drawing range, you motioned for him to watch.

 You took it slow, intentionally choosing the option that would take the longest for him to guess. He loved puzzles and thought experiments, and you wanted to savor this for as long as possible.

 Starting with the furthest edge, you connected every third triangle with an inverse arc, the temporary image almost reminding you of the base of cartoon campfires. Gil was hovering over your shoulder now, having swapped chairs sometime in the past few moments.

 You paused, intentionally drew your pen away long enough for him to analyze the new data, catalog the latest information. Some part of you had a feeling he would be trying the same trick on Vlad at the conference tomorrow, and you couldn't fight your smile. "Want me to keep going, or do you want another minute?"

 He hummed after a moment- a quiet acquiescence.

 For a moment, you stared at your work in progress, contemplating your next move. With a small quirk to your lips, you scribbled what looked like three clouds, one for the top of each of the tallest triangles.

 "Was zum Teufel," Gil demanded eloquently.

 That was enough to finally make you giggle, turning to him with a smirk and a feigned attempt at innocence. He leveled you with a look of his own, before indicating with a pointed glance that you needed to continue.

 You waggled your eyebrows in playful amusement, now turning to add two dots to each of the three connected shapes, followed by another cloud-like doodle at the based of each of the three tallest triangles.

 As it stood, you could argue for some funky mountains or some kind of sailboat, but you were only half finished.

 "One more guess?" you asked in an effort to be nice, to at least sound like you weren't secretly enjoying his suffering. Instead of a proper answer, your ruse easily seen through, you received a poke at your waist, the lightest threat to continue.

 Biting your lip, trying not to flinch away, you added six arrows- two per shape, each facing the center of its respective shape from the left and the right.

 "Wait..." Gil's voice was scarcely a whisper at this point, teasing your neck. "Are those..?"

 With a small triangle and two quick flourishes each, you announced the final results with pride, no longer holding back your giddy grin. "Behold: Three Cats in Party Hats!"

 It was worth it just to see him bringing his palm to his forehead, hiding his face in his hand. You could see him fighting a smile though, and knew the last few minutes had done more than enough to help him out of his prior languor.

 "I hate you sometimes; you know that?"

 It was too affectionate to be true.

 "Love you, too."

Inspired by my remembering learning this about 20-ish years ago from some random guy while I was helping out at a market stall. He also taught me how to draw a cat by stacking C-A-T atop each other. Anyway, have some kitties~

[arina-nov]

Genshin AU/Crossover I guess?

I came up with the idea to draw Countries based on whose prototype the regions of Teivat were created. In fact, it would be worth taking Germany for Mondstadt, but have you seen him? I'm not sure that the description of the Bard will suit him. But his brother is quite suitable, yet he is really a retired country.

Any thoughts?

[schlopty]

ITS 1989!!!

AND HE’S HOME BABY!

[alloydia]

[karabin4ik]

"How Germany became a workaholic"

In general, I really like the theme of the still young brothers, when Pruss is just getting Germany accustomed to going to the summit and all that, and is slowly handing over the reins of governing their country. This is nice, I still have art on this topic in my sketchbook somewhere.

[redisart]

And process

[snoozerin]

got CanPru pilled asf… big believer in secretly asshole Matt… sorry for lowkey disliking them in the past.. forever changed

[arina-nov-talking]

🦾🦾🦾

Headcanon on the fact that in the German family, not only the body of Roderich is special (Prussia lost its arm after it ceased to be a country and lost the opportunity for regeneration)

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Hi! I love your writing, esp with Gilbert! Can I request a scenario? I have this head cannon that Gilbert wears colored contacts due to years of torment from the church and peeps. Can I get a scenario where he gets something in his eye and the reader walks in and catches him changing them?

Hello, Lovely~ This didn't quite go the way I originally intended, but so few of my posts actually do. I thank you for your patience and such a good request, and I hope you enjoy.

​​Wow, he was a mess.

Bemused, he ran a hand through his hair, a fine snowfall of flour cascading in its wake, drifting to the floor.

He really hadn't meant to let things get so out of hand, but there was something about you that made him feel young again, something about your expression- never really annoyed, though you always tried so hard to make it seem that way- that always made him a little giddy. And what had started as an innocent baking session quickly turned into a flour fight, white powder coating the countertops and cabinets.

He offered to flip a coin for the bathroom, but you had more or less shoved him in there first, worried about the clumps sticking to his lashes.

A good call, he silently agreed with a wince, the familiar sensation of something in his eyes prompting the need to change out his contacts.

He made quick work of it, relieved he thought to keep a spare pair in his pocket for emergencies. He hadn't told you about-

Yeah. He was planning on keeping those a secret until your dying day. Or his. Whichever came first.

The cold water did fast work, the soap clearing away the clumps that were were being the more stubborn of the lot. He tried not to rush too much; it'd suck if he missed some and had to change out his contacts again. Yet he couldn't fight away the sense of urgency, the sounds of your tidying up fading away, your footsteps getting closer to the door.

Shit, shit, shit.

He only had one-

"Do you think we-"

He hadn't heard you knock on the door, your hand hanging uselessly in midair, eyes wide in surprise, jaw slack.

Terrific.

He quickly turned away from you, nearly dropping the other contact in his haste. He was scarcely aware of your coming closer, only acknowledged your nearness when your reflection- still wide-eyed- appeared in the space behind his shoulder in the mirror.

A spared glance was all it took to confirm that you were, indeed, staring at his eyes. He felt that familiar flush of shame, the need to shy away, hide away.

"Please don't say anything. I know they're-"

"They're beautiful."

"-ugly." He finished while leaning over the sink to get closer to the vanity. It took a beat too long for your words to truly reach him, and he was drawing back again, turning around to face you with surprise. "Wait, what?"

You had a look on your face, one he would swear was almost awe. Which was ridiculous, really. Why would-

His thoughts short-circuited when your hand gently settled against his cheek, that soft look somehow even more gentle than before.

There was a smile to it now, and he could feel his treacherous ears warming in response.

"It's like falling in a field of poppies, or a warm sunset."

"You aren't-" He started, failed, retreated, regrouped, resumed. "You don't think they're ugly?"

Your expression shifted into disbelief, annoyance, concern. "God, no. It's such a pretty color!"

He forced some of his tension away. This was you after all; if there was one person he knew he could trust, one person he could let past his defenses- It was always going to be you.

"You'd be the first to think that."

This close, he could see the way your eyes narrowed, the subtle movement of the muscles in your jaw. In a breath, you had processed your understanding, schooled your features, though there was no removing the slim brush of anger in your words, gentle and calm as they were. "That's why you've been hiding them?"

Centuries, a millennium- He lost count of how many years he'd been hunted, tormented, mocked, tortured for his appearances, never mind the whole immortality thing.

Even as the world changed, as ideals and perspectives and society changed, he had still received the looks, heard the whispers that were intentionally spoken just loud enough for him to catch. He was something other, something else.

"The Others- They can blend in more easily. Even Vlad can convince people his are just a weird shade of hazel, but when you're deathly pale walking around with blood red eyes-"

"I'm so sorry."

He felt his heart melt just a fraction at that, his thoughts pulled momentarily from their downward spiral. "Hey, it's okay. It's not your fault."

You frowned, far from reassured, but he continued. "It wasn't till the '50s when I first was able to get a pair. Only thing I could smuggle in were some brown ones, but they worked." His words trailed off, thoughts fading to wisps.

It was quiet for a few moments when a question was slipping past his lips, unbidden, unexpectedly. "You really like them?"

You had been studying him intently, surprise swiftly following when you realized he had asked you a question. He could see you weighing it carefully, needing only a moment before you were speaking.

"I do. They're like- Like a warm campfire at the end of a long day. They make me think of ripe strawberries, and the roses you bought me last week- which I'm still upset about!"

He couldn't fight his grin at your exasperation. "I'm allowed to spoil you once in a while."

"But you should save your money..."

"If I can't treat my better half to flowers and their favorite dinner when they had a shitty day at work, then I don't deserve to be with them."

"Gil..."

He would never get tired of your hugs.

You hugged with your everything, your entire heart and soul pouring into it. It was always warm, always with a promise to whoever you were embracing that nothing, no one, mattered than them, that the moment you were sharing was the most important moment, that every moment before or after was inconsequential.

He let himself melt into it, tried to convey how important you were, tried to show how much he loved you without words. Judging by your sigh, the way you melted into him, you followed his meaning perfectly.

He lost track of time there, neither of you really adamant to pull away. But after a while, you were humming pensively, a stray sentence slipping past your lips. "Father Christmas."

He tried not to laugh- really, he did- but a confused huff of laughter had him pulling away, just enough to raise an eyebrow at you, studying you with amusement. "Was ist das?"

You were smiling, something that made the years fall from your shoulders, that light he loved so much shining bright. "Your eyes... They make me think of Father Christmas, that bright, warm red. Or maybe a cardinal in the snow. Holly berries?"

"My eyes make you think of Yule?"

"Yeah. But not just that..."

He really shouldn't press, should let this conversation pass, let tradition reclaim its role. But oddly enough, surprisingly enough, the comparisons-

"Have any more?"

"Just a few," you hummed, while also trying to force away a small, bashful smile.

"Enlighten me?"

You were exaggerating when you said you had only a few.

Over the next few weeks, at random times, you would give him more suggestions; sometimes a quick Snap to show exactly the shade (the 6 am fog with its trail of tail lights making their morning commute), and sometimes a random Telegram ding would interrupt his workflow, bringing him a single word that would made him smile (ladybugs!, rubies., Louboutin?, BOOKS!).

It took a few weeks, but he soon grew comfortable enough to stick to his glasses when alone with you.

The whole world could go on with all of its inflexibilities and narrow-minded ways; when he was alone with you, he was no longer the demon child, the son of a witch, the Devil's herald.

You told him that his eyes made you think of warmth, of light, of all the bright and beautiful parts of the world.

After a few weeks, he was actually starting to believe you.​

Thanks for reading!

[shushiiax]

Prussia !!!

[sisalrian]

team 🧚‍♂️

[eisenrosen]

CEO of daydrinking has spoken

[alloydia]