#hetalia gilbert beischmidt

[pruszided]

I wanted to make a new profile picture with Prussia, but I also wanted to give a contex too, soo..

Little Germany is hanging on his brother's arm. Yes. Don't ask.

Well, it can be a succes if I want to stay optimist, buut

I'm not so good at digital art, and I always mess up Prussia :'D

Update: I hate this post, it looks so ugly :'[

[fireandiceland]

I feel challenged (wink wink @breitzbachbea ) so COOL YOUTH PASTOR GIL IN THESE SHIRTS

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Heyy, very distressed med student here! My anatomy final exam is in a month and I feel like I don’t know crap and I am panicking like crazy, barely sleeping or eating bc doing anything that is not studying anatomy feels like wasting my time. How would Germany, England and Prussia help out? Hope you are staying safe xox

Hey, Lovely~ Hope this finds you well. ♡

Kind of made this more a generic kind of "helping their s/o with studying," but absolutely had you in mind while writing them.

England:

Arthur sometimes has a habit of losing himself in his own work, so it really wasn't until the fourth day of sharing the study with you that he realised how severely you were starting to overwork yourself. Rather than offer even a hint of the stern lecture he had prepared about preserving your mental health (and risk flaunting his own hypocrisy in regards to self-destruction), he'd make an effort to dampen any outside distractions, using muffling charms around the room and even going so far as speaking with the Fae to respect your boundaries. He sticks quietly by your side, working on his own paperwork, readings, or needlepoint, and he has a set schedule to the different teas he's been brewing for you throughout the day. It would take one very pointed inquiry from you for him to confide that he's maybe been slipping some memory enhancing spells into each cuppa.

Germany:

With Ludvig around, cramming of any caliber is often extremely unlikely. This man has a precise schedule for everything in his life, and that had long ago extended to your studying. He is worried beyond imagining at seeing your panic growing and tries his best to reassure you that you know the source material; you've been studying every day for months now! When your anxieties prove far beyond the normal level associated with prior exams, he sits down with you to reorganise your schedule, knowing that keeping to a routine will help both your focus and your health. Oh, and if you think Luddy is going to let your circadian rhythm fall out of whack, then you are dead wrong; he will carry you to bed if he must. He has taken up almost all of the chores to help ensure you stay on track. He won't discourage your passion and dedication, but he will do his best to make sure you don't accidentally crash and burn in the process.

Prussia:

Gilbert would only admit this under pain of death, but he's actually been reading your textbooks and lecture notes for months now. He gets bored sometimes, and he loves learning new things, so why not get to know more about the very thing you're invested in? When he realised the stress of your pending exam was actually starting to really eat at you way more than normal, he made sure to come up with little distractions here-and-there to keep you from drowning. Yes, he will always be the first person to encourage you to keep learning, to never stop improving, but not when one starts running themselves into the ground to do so. Diligence leads to perfection, but what's the point if you're not also living? He comes up with any excuse it takes to bring you back into yourself, to help you realign your center. Every once in a while, in those moments he's successfully pried you away from your work, he'll sporadically slip in a detailed review question, smirking proudly when you answer with confidence.

I hope these were alright, lovely~

As mia professoressa always said: "In boca da lupa!"

You've got this! ♡

[rexmin203]

Been needing a new pfp for a while

[rose-wine-selfships]

My Updated F/O List!

🌹Romantic 🌹

Edgar Allen Poe (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Arthur Kirkland (Main F/O) 🌹✨

Mammon (Obey Me!) 🌹✨

Leviathan (Obey Me!)

Matthew Williams

Jotaro Kujo (Part 4) 🌹✨

Lisa Lisa (Part 2)

Oliver Kirkland (Nyo! Hetalia)

Frodo Baggins

Faramir

T’Challa (Black Panther)

N’Jadaka (Erik Killmonger)

MegaMind (DreamWorks)

Saeyoung Choi (Seven)

Yoosung Kim

Beast (Black Butler)

Grell Sutcliff

William T. Spears

Newt Scamander

Arsène Lupin III & Fujiko Mine (Polyamorous) 💕

🌷Queer Platonic🌷

Atsushi Nakajima (Main Plush F/O) 🌷✨

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Higuchi Ichiyo

Kouyou Ozaki

Akiko Yosano

🎶 Platonic 🎵

Osamu Dazai

Kunikida Doppo

Junichiro Tanizaki

Naomi Tanizaki

Izumi Kyouka

Feliciano Vargas

Ludwig Beilschmidt

Gilbert Beischmidt

Kiku Honda

Alfred Jones

Josuke Higashikata

Legolas

Gimli

Aragorn

Eowyn

Nakia

Shuri

Okoye

Jaehee Kang

Jumin Han

Hyun Ryu (Zen)

Ciel Phantomhive

Elizabeth Midford

Sebastian Michaelis

Luna Lovegood

Ron Weasley

Hermione Granger

Harry Potter

Queenie Goldstein

Tina Goldstein

Jacob Kowalski

Goemon Ishikawa XIII

Daisuke Jigen

Koichi Zenigata

The list will be continually updated from here as I go along, but for now these are all the F/Os I can list from the top of my head! For all those who are uncomfortable sharing anyone on my list; I don’t mind if you blacklist or block me. Your mental health is just as important as mine, and I don’t want people to feel horrible because of me. I personally don’t feel the need to be uncomfortable sharing my F/Os with others because I’m not really the jealous type.

I love my F/Os unconditionally, and without any restraint. And I believe love is possible through any and all universes. But for those who are comfortable enough sharing, please, I ENCOURAGE you to gush to me because I LOVE the company! Thank you all for being so supportive of me! 🙏💖✨

Sincerely,

Your local wine loving self shipper!

🍷🌹✨

[fireandiceland]

I had way too much fun making these and they turned out way better than they should have. @galactic---burst @artistocrazy and everyone else who might or might not have tumblr really bring out the best of me.

Bonus under the cut!!

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

prussia x reader: zärtlich

-a glimpse at a tender moment

*

The steady glow of the kitchen light guided you through the silent house, revealing the object of your affections sitting on the floor, his back resting against the oven.

You felt your lips twitch in bemusement; his eyes were narrowed in concentration, thumbs moving over his phone screen rapidly, muffled piano riffs carrying across the small room.

It wasn't so much his gaming that amused you, nor was it the caption on his horrendous orange t-shirt. It was his stringent attention, the neon from his screen reflecting off his glasses, how his entire torso was tense as he continued progressing through the current level. His lips were pursed, and a familiar wrinkle of concentration was on his brow; you recognized it from the many nights he was up messaging Francis and Toni, debating everything from Avatar ships to the recipe of some fried treat they had sampled back in 1801.

For all the moments of reckless abandon and dysfunctional companionship, you knew your love to be strongest in moments such as this, when he put every bit of his energy into the task before him, dedicating himself wholeheartedly to his mission.

As much as you admired him for that trait, you did often find it to be a double-edged sword.

Despite having far fewer responsibilities than Ludvig, there were still many nights where he would skip sleep entirely, spending hours pouring over ancient treaties and current amendments in the study, always there to offer advice to any of the younger nations.

From your position, casually leaning against the refrigerator, you couldn't help but smile in fondness; his expression had shifted from grim determination to the confident arrogance that still often stole your breath. There was an inhale, the sparkle of hope, and then- "Fuck yeah!"- the crow of triumph.

You covered your mouth to restrain your laughter. His arms had risen in his victory, eyes closing and head tilting upwards in his euphoria. But alas, you acted too late; a few wisps of amusement slipping out too quickly for your control, and he jumped in his surprise, arms still triumphant, but eyes now wide open and lips parted in his shock. His hair was an even bigger mess than normal, several strands falling between his frames and skin.

Biting your lip momentarily to prevent too broad a smile, you offered as nonchalant a greeting as possible. "Hallo, Teuton." 

His arms lowered, thumb moving to lock his phone as he watched you suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

For a moment, you contemplated a fib, debated coming up with some ridiculous excuse or other, but instead you opted for honesty, no longer bothering to hide your affection. "Oh, nothing much. Just watching the most adorable man in the universe."

If possible, his sheepishness grew tenfold, eyes darting away before his ego caught back up, an oh-so-familiar smirk teasing his lips. "Enjoying the show, are you?"

You offered a shrug, pretending to study your nails. "Mm. Maybe a little less clothing next time?"

He scoffed, and you focused on him soon enough to catch the fond exasperation flicker across his features. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

"Awesome."

Feeling the conversation drift, you stepped forward, gently dropping to your knees in front of him. For his credit, he was making an effort to appear unamused, donning a stern expression you had come to associate with each of the Germanics. But, there was the smallest twitch of his lips that gave him away, the phantom of a smile hovering just at the right corner.

"Can I help you?"

You hummed, playing along in falsified detachment. "In fact, I think you can. It seems my husband's attention keeps getting stolen away from me."

His forearms were resting on his knees now, legs comfortably extended forward. He feigned a considering nod, the smallest flicker of mirth still shining in his eyes. "Is that right; have you tried talking to him?"

"Ah, but that's the root of my problem, Mr. Beilschmidt." You shifted forward, now stationed between his legs, still using your knees as your support. "How am I supposed to tell him that I'm jealous of a silly, little video game?"

Your voice had dropped to the lowest of whispers, yet you held back, content to watch the finest dusting of pink tint his cheeks and the slight dilation of his pupils.

Even after all this time, it was still so easy to fluster him, your words often just as damaging as your actions. He had come so far, but sometimes-

You had to stop yourself from cooing as he swallowed, the distinct hint of his shyness positively making you melt.

Feeling merciful, you gave him only the chastest of kisses, withdrawing only after a few moments.

His eyes had slipped shut, one hand resting on your elbow to hold you steady.

You nearly pushed forward again as his eyes opened once more, scarlet swimming with adoration. There was no teasing or nervousness now, only the blazing sobriety of his love and devotion. 

The urge to succumb was overwhelming; neither of you had any obligations for the next few hours.

Gently, you brushed some of his hair behind his ear, a spike of tender affection jolting through you when he leaned into your touch. Even still, his eyes remained on you, an unspoken assurance that there was nothing beyond this moment that mattered more.

At this realization you did let your smile fully bloom, your inquiry finally making itself known in a soft exhale. "What on Earth were you playing, anyway?"

He studied you for several moments more, the intensity of his gaze refusing to release its sway over your increasingly erratic heartbeat.

Finally, what felt like a century later, he named the app, each syllable spoken in a soft, subdued baritone that never failed to make you weak at the knees.

You quite nearly acted on impulse, were just on the cusp of surrender, when you noted a creeping look of mischief, the air heavy with the weight of an, as-of-yet, unspoken challenge.

"Gil?"

His smile only grew at your trepidation, mockingly innocent. "Did you wanna try?"

There was a hint of competition in his question, revealing the fiery spark that had gotten you addicted so long ago.

Now, you greeted it with your own, eyes narrowing in confident determination. "I'm gonna kick your ass."

He hummed pensively, leaning forward to hand you his phone, pausing to rest his forehead against your own. Flaming irises once more stole your breath, that wicked smirk once more dancing on his lips. "Oh, liebe… I'd love to see you try."

*

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

i would kill for some fail bros headcanons

[Hey, Anon! I'm kind of passionate about these three, so I'm giving you a heads up that this one is kind of long. Hope you enjoy~]

From a “nation” standpoint, England is the eldest of the three. He recognized his spark of sovereignty when King Ecgberht ascended to the throne of Wessex in 802, who would later go on to claim Kent, Sussex, Surrey, and Essex as part of his kingdom; Ecgberht is often regarded as the “first king of England.”

For Denmark, his sovereignty came with the crowning of King Harald Bluetooth around 950, who completed the goal of unifying the region into a single state. Before that point, Denmark existed more or less as a smattering of small communities led predominantly by local chieftains.

Prussia didn’t fully recognize his sovereignty or nationhood until around 997, when the Aesti- Old Prussians- slayed  Adalbert of Prague, a missionary who had been sent by Polans to try to convert the “heathens” to Christianity. It was only one of many attempts to conquer the Prussians, but with Adalbert earning a martyrdom, and such a blatant show of sedulous autonomy, the first spark of nationalism truly ignited.

Not that much of this mattered in regards to their friendship though. 

Through the Saxons, Arthur and Gilbert had been friends since the 700s at least, and Arthur and Mathius had known each other for even longer, the Jutes having first made an appearance on the Isles around late 400, when Arthur was still part of Rome’s territories. Mati and Gil were practically next door neighbors; I wouldn’t be surprised if Germania had pretty much raised them together.

Despite a lot of shifting borders and conflicts of interest- like Denmark ruling England from 1013-1042, or how Denmark lost both Holstein and Scleswig to Prussia in 1864, and England and Prussia’s on-again, off-again alliance- they’ve remained fast, firm friends for centuries.

Truth be told, I think Mati was the one to get Artie so addicted to sailing, most likely dragging him on a few coastal raids back in the day.

Hamburg is one of their favorite meeting places. Initially, it was more convenient for Gil and Artie, as it was one of the central cities in the Hanseatic League, but the real draw came with the 1500s, when there were over 500 breweries for them to sample. These days, it’s more nostalgia that keeps drawing them back.

Actually, this is part of a tradition that still stands to date; with some rare exceptions (like this one tavern on Bornholm that’s been serving the same Brennivin recipe for the past 463 years), they rarely go to the same pub, distillery, or brewery twice. There are just so many of them.

These three try to meet up at least one weekend a month, if not more. Gil has it a lot easier working out his schedule these days, for obvious reasons, so normally he will crash with either Mati or Artie and the other will show up when they can.

Friday nights are usually their “drink nights,” and they’ll usually bicker for a good hour about which pub or club they want to try; all of these nerds had lists ready of venues they had looked up in advance. They also spend another hour or so bickering about which of them has the best beer.

When they’re together, they completely shrug off their more responsible images- Arthur in particular seems almost a 180 degree shift in personality. Around most nations, he tries to keep that prim and proper persona, but… Mathius and Gilbert are not most nations.

These three have crusaded to the Holy Lands together, harassed most of Northern Europe together, even spent a few precious months pretending to be humans and traveling the world together. They’ve sworn blood oaths under scarlet skies, literally sewn each other back together on occasion.

They really share most everything with one another- from matters of the heart to political problems to those dark desires they really can’t tell anyone else about- knowing that anything shared among them will never be discussed outside of their circle.

Usually, they don’t let themselves get drunk. But really- They don’t need alcohol to become total hooligans. Mathius is naturally high energy, and with Gilbert’s simmering competitiveness and Arthur’s pride keeping him from ever backing down from a challenge…

The shenanigans these three get up to can range from pranking Mati and Artie’s former colonies to strip karaoke to sometimes, quite literally, painting the town, and then some.

They have a few reprimands for breaking and entering, and perhaps there were one or two cases of arson, or a few protests that got a tad chaotic… 

Despite having more than enough beds for each of them, they usually end up falling asleep in a giant heap.

Arthur is loath to ever actually admit how safe he feels knowing the other two are there to watch his back, though Mathius is always very open about actually expressing the exact same sentiment.

Gilbert is usually the last one to drift off and always the first to wake up; he mastered some killer hangover remedies a few decades ago, and while he knows the others are perfectly capable of making breakfast without burning the house down, it’s his way of showing how much he cares.

Sometime after they’ve nursed the remnants of their hangovers, they usually go shopping for food together, all of them chipping in on a big dinner for that night.

Said shopping trips go about as well as you’d expect: Artie usually pretends he has no idea who Gil and Mati are as they piggyback through the aisles, Arthur and Mathius bicker constantly about the proper ways to eat eel (which always traumatizes Gilbert), and Prussia constantly is making bad puns with England about the different brand names, much to Denmark’s irritation because he can’t quite keep up. 

Just fucking getting to the store was a quest on its on; buying themselves actual food before getting kicked out is another challenge entirely.

They absolutely are down for cultural and music fests, theatre, boating, or even just reading together.

They totally do LARPing together, and try to attend either ConQuest or Drachenfest each summer.

There is often an attempt to play football when they have an hour or so to kill, though it typically ends up as a brawl with two of them (usually Mati and Gil) starting a giant game of keep away against the other (usually Artie). They’ve lost count of how many grass stains they gained in the process.

They’re each hella supportive of the others’ interests, and often you can find them laying on the grass or a roof somewhere having long-winded discussions about the arts, literature, science, philosophy, and on one particularly snowy night in 1989- what happens when they die. 

In fact, the only two people Gil ever really confides in about his fears are Artie and Mati. With Ludbug, he just can’t risk the thought of hurting him or burdening him, and with Fran and Toni, he’s scared they’ll- He can’t always handle how open those two are with their worry for him.

He knows that Mathius and Arthur won’t pity him, per say. Bleeding hearts the three of them, but they know when, and when not, to show it.

Arthur and Mathius made it their goal through the entirety of the 1990s to make sure Gilbert understood just how damn important he was to them, stealing him away as often as they could get away with, doing everything from a sailing trip around the Orkneys (and annoying Alisdair to no end) to camping in Scharbeutz for two weeks straight to trying (and horribly failing) to form a band around ‘94. 

The band didn’t work out mostly because they all have different music tastes- Artie fell deep into the punk scene and never climbed back out, Gil’s taste falls somewhere between heavy and folk rock, and Mati is very passionate about symphonic and alternative rock. Also, meeting up for practices as frequently as they needed was nigh on impossible. Still, sometimes they do get together just to jam for a bit.

Mati and Gil are the only two people actually allowed to call Arthur by “Iggy" and not get a black eye.

They love playing board games with each other, everything from Cards Against Humanity to Crazy Cat Lady to Risk. They tend to avoid the latter however as they all get rather… intense with their gameplay.

Really though, all they need is a deck of cards and they’ll easily get invested into a game of Slap Jack or Go Fish.

I am willing to bet they swapped parenting tips through the ages, each of them freaking out because "holy fuck I am not qualified for this!"

They have several dozen inside jokes at this point, the kind that if one says anything they all eventually will succumb to tears of laughter.

No one else really makes Arthur laugh as quickly as those two, no one else really sees Mathius as pensive and philosophical, and no one else really sees Gilbert completely letting his guard down.

With each other, they are, have been, and always will be Arthur, Mathius, and Gilbert.

They trust each other unconditionally, and know that, no matter the politics, they’ll always be there to support one another, no matter how silly the shenanigans or serious the situation may be.

[This was so long, omg. Thanks for the ask, Lovely!

If anyone is interested in any sources for further reading on their own, let me know! I got quite a lot of this from textbooks, articles, and encyclopedias ^_^; ]

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

prussia x reader: überwältigen

*

Policy.

It was a precarious path to tread, a tangled maze of backhand deals and blood oaths and promises made in dark rooms by darker hearts with only the darkest intentions.

It was no secret who the ultimate masterminds were, who among the seemingly dignified representations controlled the board.

There was a tumultuous ocean of bad blood between the seafarers, conflicts of custody and power and control of everything else a constant undercurrent of tension.

There were always disputes on the mainland, many of your neighbors trapped under someone else's boot heels, willing to make any deal to regain their freedom.

There were those birthed from centuries of bloodshed, cultivating the land and the politics and their borders at their own discretion.

There was some relief at knowing others remained mildly transparent, their intentions and ambitions calmly stated from the very beginning, revealing further with each and every step, a steady progression towards their endgames.

But in the midst of it all, one still remained, turning the tables at his whim, weaving a complex net of alliances and agreements ensuring his upper hand, always. Following his methodology was pointless; there was no clear uniformity to his strategy, tying himself even to those he opposed, seemingly always ending up the victor.

Steering clear of his attentions was equally pointless, both he and his leaders seeking your favor, your support, your cooperation, your loyalty. He offered you his protection, his resources, an equal position in his court.

It was a dance you had shared many times before, but now his hands were dripping with blood, and to acquiesce would be to forfeit your very name, to trust him with no reservations.

Had it just been you and him, two equals, two blazing spirits, two brilliant minds, two sojourners who had run the same streams and streets as you had grown- Had it just been him pledging himself to you, you would have readily agreed.

But you weren't human, and this dance was far more complicated the simple promise of an ironclad alliance. His leaders had been longing to control you for decades, and he-

You were no longer naive, nor were you oblivious to the unspoken terms of such a proposal, how powerful a weapon those unsaid words would prove to be.

As much as you yearned to consent, as much as your heart ached to call out to his retreating figure and return the scarcely audible words of affection-

Policy was a precarious path to tread, and you could never, would never, damn your people.

You were a fool to think his leaders would allow him to stop his pursuit. It was only a matter of time for his leaders'- for his- focus to turn to those of weaker wills, charming propositions tying together in a complex web that was beginning to trap you from all angles, gradually forcing you closer and closer to tripping into his snare. With each side-deal, each blood-encrusted oath, each unspoken understanding-

Even those you had once considered allies drove you directly into his trap, their loyalty swayed by his threats and honeyed promises. Everyone had a price; in the end, even the most faithfully loyal among them had been bought.

You stood alone in the face of your now enemy, chin sternly set, pride and recalcitrance unwavering even in the face of pending eventuality.

You couldn't submit.

You wouldn't.

As you adjusted the grip of your broken blade, held in the very same hand he had kissed so gently what felt like mere moments ago, you couldn't help but wonder if all this bloodshed, all this anguish, could have been avoided if you had yielded to the pleas he had first offered.

He seemed bemused by your resolve, arrogance on his face as he knelt before you, boots crunching on glass that had once belonged to your home. Now, there was naught but ruin, and the face of the Devil sneering in triumph.

You couldn't stand properly, such was the severity of your injuries, but you'd be damned if you'd give him the satisfaction of your submission.

His eyes, crimson as the flames destroying your forests, scarlet as the blood soaking your fields and soiling his uniform, captured yours, an overpowering sea of ascendency and wicked delight nearly drowning you, an involuntary shudder rattling your teeth.

His smile, feral, bloodied as his cape, did nothing to quell your defiance nor soothe your growing fear, instead sparking a cold, steel, bone-deep dread that clamped itself to your very soul. He was not known for his mercies, and to have even the tiniest shred of hope-

You knew it was over; you could feel his power siphoning your own. The complex web he had so meticulously woven through the past few years was knitting itself into you now, binding you to his will.

But your people-

You couldn't-

You wouldn't-!

You didn't have the strength to deny him as he gently helped you to your feet, couldn't resist the sway he now held over you. You wished you had the strength to keep fighting, wished you could bring yourself to protest his whispered apologies and hidden caresses, wished you had the physical capability to knock that heartbroken, contrite expression right off his thrice-damned face.

But your people had yielded, your leaders and his own drafting a tentative truce.

Everything you were, everything you would be, everything you had bled and lied and cried and killed for- It had all been annexed to Prussia.

With the final imprint of a golden seal, and a venomous kiss made of smoke and iron and tears, the Black Eagle finally claimed his prey.

*

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

So like prueßen fucin gil aight???

hes sich a tragic fuckong character omg like how to

godsss just th in king of hiw mjch culture and shit he lost first with tje aessi amd then teansitioning through the ages ad tueronic knighrs and the duchy and then fukin actual kingsom and then losong all the shit he helped buold???

and how many brotherss he mist have butied??? like ja he still has luddy and friedrich is dtill pribs somewharte out thete learnijg and geowong in his own wau but

How many of the germanic states did je biry himself how many bidues jas he burned and how manu loved ones did he jabe to say goodbye to???

Und like he acts lkke this badass which yeh he is im sore he could still kick mosr of tje nations'' asses if he needed to but like- he acts so tough and independent and he is just really fucking lonely and none of the othetss can even come xlose to indetstanding what hes going theougj???

he knows jrs fsding slowlu but sirely and hes scared and he feels like je cant reach out tonanyone because hes spent so long being the steong one and he has to set a good example for ludbig and

and nyabe he can talk to yao or lpxvino abojt it bevaise yao jas seen sooo manu ppl faxd away iver the years and lovi git sucked into being a half of a whole adn hes always forgitten and no one cLls hom italy tho hes itslu too and

Fuck sjot right gilll

Gil breaks my fucojg heart bevaise hes such a strong, swert. Carinf guy who loves so deeplu and strongly and dreams so intently and shouledrs so fuckinf much and ju at wantss a feiend who can understand and despite having so many ppl wjok care about him hes so fuxkinf oblovuous ro it becausfte hes been train e d his whole lifge that he has to bek steong o n.v hos own and

It kills me beiazhe yoiew not ficking alone you doivhelander yoi havr a whole gamily ready to fucking catch you if youd just let them thsy aaznt to taje cate of you foe once bit youre si sure youre alone and it kilsls me becauw youee not

ppl love uou you fukcong sumbass and if you woild just be fucking honesf for ince in your life theyd help find a way to pritext yiu

You dont have to be everyone's knight in shinging armour all the time sweethe3rt.

Youu can put uour sweird down bby we'r got u

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

👄 ( ͝סּ ͜ʖ͡סּ)

Anon, that emoticon is kind of terrifying. ^_^;

👄- Which nation do you think has the most fitting voice actor? Whose voice do you think doesn't work?

So for the first part, I think I have to give all the awards and love to Ian Sinclair for Lovino:

He's such a dramatic dork in the comics, and honestly it just- It fits him. I can't say too much about him actually sounding like a proper Italian, but. For Romano? This is exactly how I would have pictured him.

As for the second, it's a toss up between Denmark, Veneziano, and Prussia.

Mati wasn't too bad in the beginning, back with the original VA. But the newer one just doesn't- It doesn't vibe with me. ^_^; I guess I just picture someone with Mathius' physique and stature to have a voice that could make the earth tremble, ya know?

And then there's Feli:

I adore Veneziano with all my heart and soul, and I swear essentially every role featuring Todd Haberkorn has been attached to some of my all time faves, but I just- What happened here? It did eventually grow on me but- No. Just no.

And finally, this dweeb:

I- I don't honestly know where to begin? There was once a post I wrote about how Gil did end up my fave of faves, and I think the term I used was "a metal rake scraping against asphalt," or some similar variation.

I-

Honestly, I kind of pictured something a bit more stern? Something kind of crisp like Patrick Seitz had for Ludbug? I think the closest Jonathon Brooks got to the voice I pictured was when Prussia gave up his tunic to Hungary, the very quiet, serious "You can keep it. Well then- Bye."

To date it irks me that he always sounds like he's shouting everything, and really I just don't picture his canon voice when I'm writing. I cherish those few precious seconds of soft baritone.

Anyway!

Thanks for the ask, Anon! These are a lot of fun~☆

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

while we’re at it, what would a date with gil go like?

[Hello, lovely! I’m sure this is a follow-up to a Belgium date ask from aeons ago, and I attempted to style them similarly, but Prussia always has had a mind of his own. I hope you enjoy!]

“You ever think about getting married?”

“You’re not seriously proposing to me in a McDonald’s, are you?”

Your exasperation made him snicker, quickly squeezing your hand in reassurance.

“No, no. Just curious is all.”

You were quiet for a few moments, both content to sit idly in the booth, watching the evening shift begin tidying up for the night. It was near closing time, but he was in no rush to leave. Judging by your feet still propped on the seat beside you and the weight of your head against his shoulder, neither were you.

“I’ve thought about it,” you murmured, the words reaching him as scarcely a breath, turning into an exhausted sigh as you continued. “We’d have to figure out where we’d live, a venue, guests, a date, all that other good stuff.”

He pressed a small kiss to your crown, sharing in the fatigue of all the decisions ahead. “That’s why I’m only wondering right now. We have plenty of time to decide.”

You snuggled slightly nearer to him, taking another sip of your water, peaceful quiet once more descending around the pair of you.

As far as dates go, this was far from the greatest. Both of you were recuperating after excruciatingly long weeks at work, appearance dishevelled as you lounged in the booth. Neither of you had dressed up for the occasion, and both of you were starting to regret your respective choices in meal. But you were together, and as far as he was concerned, that was the important thing.

He let his eyes drift shut, listening to the distant clattering from the kitchen, the soft Christmas music, the steady murmurs of other exhausted patrons, a few stray clacks of computer keys. And above it all, your humming, nearly silent and off-beat from the medleys crackling through the ancient sound system.

The new year had already arrived, and he was bemused with how much contentment you were displaying at the lingering remnants of the holiday season. The old year had been exhausting, seemingly endless, held together only in brief moments of happiness, a smattering of festivals, a few free concerts here-and-there.

He ran his thumb over your sleeve, lost in thought.

How you had possibly stuck with him throughout all that chaos-

It was a miracle how strong of a team you had become, working together to care for your pets, your loved ones, weaving your conflicting schedules together time-and-time again to ensure that you always had one another, never missing a date. While some of those Fridays may have been spent on Facetime from different continents, it never mattered.

You had each other, and so long as he knew that, he was happy.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed; the idle conversations had started to fade away, the scent of disinfectant had grown stronger as the cleaners neared the table, and Mariah Carrey had played at least five times now.

“Gil-” His name passed your lips in an exhausted whine, woven into a squeaking yawn that immediately brought a smile to his face.

“You’re so cute when you’re sleepy.”

He needn’t open his eyes to know exactly which look you were giving him, the huff hitting his neck indicative of your temporary annoyance. His smile only grew fonder as your head fell once more against him.

“We should go home.”

“I agree. But I’m kind of comfy.”

“Gil.” Another whine escaped you, coated with more exasperation and sincerity, your tone just insistent enough to make him slowly start to stretch, eyes opening as you fully pulled away from him. A quick glance to his right wrist revealed the time, eyes widening in surprise.

“Did I-”

He turned to you, worried, guilt-ridden by his brief lapse of unconsciousness.

You smirked, eyes shining in delighted mirth. “You’re so cute when you’re sleepy.”

He felt himself pout as you repeated his earlier compliment, relenting when you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

You tidied up the seating area as much as you could as he pulled on his own coat, discarding the trash and refilling your drinks before joining him at the doors, fingers brushing as you passed him his soda, sharing a soft smile before stepping into the world beyond.

Passing headlights framed your figure, highlighted the steam of your breath, sent a stutter to his pulse. You were perfectly oblivious to the sudden rush of adoration flickering though his veins, remained ignorant of his awe as you half-flopped against him, weaving your free fingers with his in his jacket pocket.

He sighed in contentment, leaning his head against your own, closing his eyes in this lingering bliss.

Perhaps, somehow, after all this time of learning each other’s unspoken cues, you did pick up some of his thoughts. Your own frame leaned more into him, a hum reaching him just below the heady din of the city.

“Ich liebe dich.”

“Ich liebe dich auch, Herzmensch.”

More than words could ever say.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

for the flower prompts how about prussia & azalea? :0c

[Apologies in advance for this, Lovely. I’m really into historical pieces right now, and my muse decided we needed to throw some light angst on top. Hope you enjoy!]

*

1 August 1945: Potsdam, Germany

He had known before the final meeting the fate that lay ahead of him.

He could feel it slipping away from him already, the power and prestige falling away from his shoulders before the final draft had even been ratified.

Prussia would be no more.

There was a distinct possibility that Gilbert would also be no more.

You remained forever the optimist, continuing to hold faith in the Others. The Nations were not their leaders, and politics meant nothing when faced with centuries of friendship.

He wished he could share that optimism, wished he could hold even an ounce of your unwavering conviction.

But even God had forsaken him; there was no reason to hope for anything better than his eventuality.

Seemingly sensing his despair, you soon joined him at his desk, hand hovering over his shoulder. Lowering his pen, he closed his eyes, tilting his head back to rest against you.

You released a soft sigh, fingers of one hand sweeping his hair from his forehead, other placed on his chair to turn him to face you.

He shifted, opening his eyes to take in your tender gaze, the heavy empathy you had to offer. He offered a mimicry of a smile, feigning contentment. It did little good; you always knew best how to read him.

Your fingers, now shifting down to his shoulder, guided him into your embrace, your warmth enveloping him.

Still in his desk chair, he buried his head in your stomach, his own arms surrounding your midriff.

A heavy curtain of uncertainty weighed on his shoulders, but your gentle ministrations, soft voice, and now the weight of your figure in his lap- Just the very presence of you was enough to ease away the panics and anxieties.

As for the dread, the solemnity- There was no banishing the harshness of Reality.

The two of you were subdued throughout the night, a certain ceremony in the execution of preparing for bed, a certain sobriety to studying the reflecting moonlight in your eyes, a certain solemnity to tracing his fingertips across your cheeks.

His sleepless night gradually bled into a humid morning, the humid morning bled into a sunlit afternoon, and by early evening he was on a train bound for Moscow.

Seeking out his journal, desperate for some form of distraction, he was surprised to see a gap between the pages, leatherbound tome not fully closed.

Wary curiosity revealed a creamy azalea blossom, a damp imprint marring what he immediately recognized as your script.

A brief inscription- including an apology for scribbling in his ledger- lamented your love for him and all of your hopes for the future.

"But this above all else my darling: Take care of yourself for me, until we meet again."

He took a deep breath; even kilometres away, your words were a comfort.

He would return to you, mortal or immortal, human or republic.

He had taken an oath to cherish you forever, and now he would amend his vows.

Whatever the cost, he would persevere; he would come home.

*

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

prussia x reader: heimweh

a story about coming home.

The house hadn't changed while you were gone.

The sidewalk was still lined with solar lights, the yard was meticulously maintained, and the porch light was steadily glowing, a warm beacon calling for any lost souls to step into the warmth and love that was just past the door.

It was exactly 26 steps to the front door, 2 steps to ascend to pass the threshold, and exactly 8.7 seconds to get inside and close the door behind you.

Yet, somehow, those few moves summoned a bone-deep dread so strong you could feel yourself starting to choke.

You had to do this, however.

It was your responsibility.

Even if he could never forgive you, you needed to apologize, offer him an explanation. 

He deserved that at the very least.

One-two-three steps.

Your heart began to race, arms tensing as your suitcase rolled behind you.

Four through nine.

You glanced into each window, hoping to see some sign of life beyond the curtains, uneased by the stillness.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

More than halfway now. 

No point in turning back.

You shifted your backpack in determination, setting your shoulders.

Steps sixteen through twenty-six were decidedly easier, with your gusto propelling you onward.

The brick stairs outside the door may as well have been a mountain however, suddenly insurmountable.

It would be too easy to turn back, to leave, to disappear forever.

But you loved him too much for that level of cowardice.

Twenty-seven.

Twenty-eight.

You were surprised and remorseful upon discovering that your key still fit, that the locks had never been changed.

He had been waiting for you, all this time?

You stepped into the foyer, quietly closing the door behind you.

Your stomach was knotted in tension, nervousness and dread and anxious anticipation roiling within you.

Somehow, despite all of that, you were still able to summon your voice, wincing as it echoed around you.

"Gil?"

It felt as if the house itself were suddenly holding its breath, a deathly silence filling the walls that had so often echoed in laughter and lighthearted chaos.

A breath passed, and another- so long a pause you were beginning to believe you had missed him entirely.

But then there was a creak from the second floor, followed by several more distinct footsteps.

You braced yourself, eyes shutting against the reality for a moment, summoning whatever strength you had left in you for the conversation ahead.

Your name from his lips was enough to stop you heart, to summon that overwhelming, aching need again.

Your eyes flew open, lips drawing in a gasp of breath upon spotting him at the top of the stairs.

His expression was unreadable, the dim lighting offering no hints as to what he could possibly be thinking.

Accusation, most likely.

That would be the least surprising.

Never had he seemed so intimidating, silhouetted by the candles flickering on the end table, soft glow of orange fairie lights reflecting in his eyes like flames.

Your resolve was crumbling faster than you had anticipated.

You were drawing in on yourself, little by little, with each step he slowly took down carpeted stairs.

Your words came out in a rush, nonsensical and panicked.

For all the speeches you had prepared, for all the feelings you had to lament, you were ill-equipped to handle the simple, glaring truth of the matter: he was unresponsive to all your explanations, steady gaze never leaving your own.

Firm.

Stern.

Indeterminable.

Perfect soldier to the end, you had no idea what more to say, what he could possibly be waiting to hear.

Your apology had been sincere, and direct.

But, perhaps, you were disheartened to admit, it was too late for an apology.

"I can understand if you never want me to come back."

Your words were scarcely a whisper, but for how silent, for how tense, the space between the two of you remained, it could have been a shout.

You watched him, praying for any form of reaction.

But he remained in the same position, arms crossed, right hip resting against the wall, expression cast in perfectly crafted stoicism.

Enough time had passed for his reply, enough explanation offered on your end.

It was time.

"I'm sorry."

The words hung in the air with a touch of finality, heavy with your decision.

"I never meant to hurt you, and I was an absolute ass to let it happen."

He reacted, only a small twitch of the lips, the smallest shift of his brow.

It was enough however.

Enough to have you step away from him, turning away long enough to seek the door once more.

It was time to leave.

"Goodbye."

"Wait!"

His words startled you, capturing your attention as he backtracked, softening his tone and expression. 

"Please."

He shuffled forward, socked feet finally descending entirely onto the oaken floorboards.

His shoulders were hunched in his bashfulness, in a sudden revelation of regret and humility.

Clearly, this had been tormenting him just as deeply as it had been troubling you, a slow creeping poison that had left you both in agony.

"I'm sorry, too. I should have talked to you first, instead of just making assumptions."

Your fingers drifted away from the cool brass of the doorknob as you turned to acknowledge him, confusion written in every shift of your gaze.

"I've been such an idiot; I should have been the one to apologize first."

Where on Earth did he come up with some of these things; he wasn't to blame for any of this.

"I was the one who left, Gil."

"And I'm the one who drove you away!"

The vehemence in his tone and the anger in his posture triggered a subconscious retreat, your senses attuned for any threat he may pose.

You cursed your reflexes as he positively crumbled, marble chipping away to reveal the bone-deep sadness that crushed your heart.

"No, please- You can't-"

He released a weary sigh, a steadying breath, hands shifting to a more placating motion.

"You know I would never hurt you."

"I know."

The murmur was a reminder to both your restless anxiety and to the man scarcely 20 feet away from you.

There was another sigh, a hissing sound of relief as he accepted your words.

Your name passed his lips once more, framed in layers of anguish and regret and yearning, one soul calling desperately to another.

Tears pricked your vision, soul silently replying with just as frantic a need.

"I forgave you a long time ago."

He spoke with sincerity, with confidence.

And yet, there was a shift, that determination and act falling away yet again to reveal the vulnerable man you had fallen so irrevocably for.

"Can you forgive me, too?"

All of your emotions rose to the surface, the longing and the loneliness and the love. 

Most importantly: love.

"Oh, sweetheart-"

You were carried away in the sudden rush of it all, launching towards him, bags falling to the floor in your wake.

He easily caught you, though the momentum was enough to have him rocking on the balls of his feet, fighting for balance.

Like many, many times before, those strong, warm, familiar arms were surrounding you, his head burrowing into your shoulder, the rims of his glasses digging lightly through your shirt.

But you didn't care.

You couldn't care.

You were finally together again.

Finally back where you belonged.

It was a mystery how you had convinced yourself of anything else, how you could have conceived a life without him by your side.

Your buried your face into his sweater, inhaling deeply to fight away your anxieties, hints of apple and cinnamon teasing your senses.

He was safe.

You were safe.

You were together.

Nothing would rip you away from him again.

Together, you would work through this, improve each other, guide each other, better communicate with one another.

Together, you would become stronger.

A soft shower of kisses rained from above, pressed on your crown, your temples- anywhere he could reach, arms still firmly holding you against him.

As the wave of worry finally subsided, you felt a smile growing, playful and light. 

"Miss me, did you?"

There was a sharp exhale, teasing your ear, a firm tension in his grip on your jacket.

An anger was hidden in those small cues, tempered with just enough desperation for you to feel the pinprick of regret once more.

Yet it was a reminder, just enough of a reassurance to allow your smile to become warmer, softer, bashful.

You trailed a hand lazily along his back, reveling in the softness of his shirt, happily keeping your cheek against his chest as you simply took the moment in, eyes drifting shut as you listened to his heartbeat.

Another kiss, this one more firm than the rest, lingering longer, was pressed against your forehead.

"Welcome home."

That was where you fully intended to stay.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Some Prussia Stuff

Gil taught himself how to primarily work with his right hand in an effort to dispel further rumours that he was a witch and/or demon.

He kind of considers most of the younger and smaller nations to be his adopted siblings; he'd protect any one of them in a heartbeat.

His friendship with Roderich is still rocky. They're working on it though, if even only for Elizaveta's sake.

Every Nation carries some small, helpful trinket with them at all times. Toni has his crucifix (holding holy water), Artie a lockpick kit, Mattie a compass, and Alfred matches. Gil always carries a pen.

Gil buys the green sticky notes.

On particularly lazy mornings, the only thing that can get him out of bed is the promise of cinnamon crepes and pomegranate tea.

He has exactly one photo of him, Freidrich, and Ludwig smiling. He keeps it paperclipped to the inside cover of his journal.

Journal entries will vary in language, style, length, and direction, but they are always written in tawny ink.

He has an unconscious habit of running his hand on iron fences when out walking.

He spends a lot of time visiting with the elderly.

He has a lingering melancholy that he's not sure how to completely shrug off.

The most recurring colour in his wardrobe is currently purple.

He is not a fan of fishing.

He has never been lost in his life and is thoroughly confused as to how Roderich sometimes gets lost in his own apartments.

He'll play video games if Lovi asks him to, but in truth, he'd much rather be reading.

He's impatiently counting down the days till Christmas.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

lucifer or prussia

You are cruel, lovely Anon. This is most difficult decision I've ever had to face- And that includes trying to decide what color to paint my shed, what college I wanted to attend, and what to eat for supper.

I think the easiest way to answer this is to give a brief rundown of why I like each of them, and go from there?

Yeh- That seems feasible.

So first we address Lucifer.

When I make mention of him in my writings, odds are the first image to come to mind may be this guy:

Or maybe this guy:

Or perhaps even something like /this guy/:

But when I write about him, I'm picturing this guy:

Lucifer, as a literary character, or as a real entity (which I'm not ruling out, but hey a gal needs her evidence), has become the iconic example of an autonomist, a free thinker, the first true patron for free will and knowledge and curiousity. Milton instilled a deep love within me, one that drove me to read Blake, to hunt down every bit of lore I could on him. My English teacher told me my Curiousity would be my tragic flaw, but the more I learn of Lucifer, the more I long to discover.

I respect his choice. I respect his decision to rebel against the Author. I respect his decision to build his own Paradise, to take the initiative to seek his own path, and the gift he unintentionally gave to Humanity by encouraging us to pursue knowledge.

When I first got into the lore (encouraged strongly by my love for the first guy~), I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Having grown up in a strongly Christian community, I knew that any interest in the Devil was considered a faux pas, and that only the "edgiest" of kids were interested in Demonology. But as I dove back into the book, now far more sympathetic-

So, trying to be succinct again- Lucifer, to me, is the Patron of Autonomy, the Father of Curiousity, the Light Bringer- instilling the first dawn of the Enlightenment into us from the very Beginning.

I actually had an interesting thread with @weepylucifer here about this very thing.

Again, I'm only approaching this at a literary perspective, and see it all as an epic lore millenia in the making, but- Who knows? He'd encourage me to pursue any answer, and honestly?

I have the deepest respect for any character who thrives on others improving themselves and valuing themselves first. He pretty much stands for everything I have ever believed about Humanity.

And then there's Prussia.

Many of you are long familiar with my absolute and inescapable fondness for Gilbert Wilhelm. There is no denying how much I care for the bastard- Most of this blog's theme is a lowkey tribute to him as it is.

But look at this dork:

How could I not love him?

Gil took a while to grow on me. At first, I thought of him as annoying, with a laugh that reminded me of a metal rake grating across gravel. But with time, he wormed his way into my heart.

I love Gil mostly because he has so much untapped potential as a character. I'm not sure if it was intentional, but Himaruya wrote Prussia to be one of the most complex characters in this series, something I come to discover each time there is an update featuring my favorite zombieboi.

In my humblest opinion, Gil seemed the most /human/ of the nations, as well. I often have the habit of latching onto the most humane of any ensemble, some long simmering pride in our species. But it went beyond more than just his inability to eat food with faces, his obsession with anime, his need for all kinds of cute things in his life.

My love came in his determination to keep learning, in his intelligence, in knowing that he taught Japan and Germany, in watching him make his grand entrance with India at a party with a dance routine they had to an art. It came in the moments he showed his vulnerabilities, in the moments he put Hungary's and Austria's happiness before his own.

He is wicked intelligent, a total dork, and carries this tough guy act with him in an effort to supress how vulnerable he can truly be.

I found a lot of myself in him- the belief that we have no true friends (which I've accepted is no longer true), our faux confidence (a skill that has gotten me far, actually), and our never ending habit of casually adopting every child we happen to come across. These similarities tugged my heartstrings, tapped into a chord that no other character had before, and honestly truly hasn't since.

Gil became my favorite slowly, then all at once.

So, Anon- I think that's where my answer stands.

Lucifer I treasure as one of my favorite mythological characters, right up there with The God of Stories (Loki, baby~) and The God of Knowledge (Enki, my dude~). ((FItting that all my favorites are regarded as purveyors of knowledge AND some variant of mischeif. Hmmmm......))

But Gil-

Gilbert Beilschmidt is one of the most fleshed out characters I have ever encountered. For that, he remains my favorite, and if the choice came down to Lucifer or Gil?

Come now. I think the decision should be fairly obvious.