#Ludwig Beilshmidt

[hetalianboot]

my gerita shrine wip 🇩🇪 ❤️‍🔥 🇮🇹

[doki-doki-imagines]

Day 2 (Aug 19): Mentor and pupil | "I think you're finally ready to use what you've learned."

@germanbrosweek

Ludwig is tired. He is used to his brother wei-peculiar ways, but this was really the peak.

"Finally! The crus bellflower!" Gilbert shouts, voice croaking in the middle of the night. The humidity in the forest is terrible, Ludwig's shiny leather shoes dig onto the wet soil, grass full of hoarfrost, and his uniform is getting full of wrinkles. Not to talk about the cloack he "absolutely needed to wear!" His brother's words, not his.

He looks at his brother, running like he didn't wake up at 2 a.m. to explore outside their college, breaking every possible rule and putting both of them in a bad position in case they got caught...

Ludwig hates breaking rules.

"C'mere Ludi! I think you're finally ready to use what you've learned." Gilbert shouts, crouched to the ground where a field of those blue and white flowers lighten the place.

"What are you talking about, brother?" He tries to sound respectful, but he'd just like to lay his head on his comfortable pillow in his room.

"It's time for you to prepare for the ritual."

Ludwig looks at him with pure annoyance in his baby blue irises, blonde eyebrow rised up, not ready for what's to come.

"It's just normal for second year to drink crus bellflower juice before becoming third years! It's a ritual since it's the last thing you learn from herbalist classes before summer break!" His brother red irises shine full of joy, locked with his ones "You should have picked them up all by yourself, but I wouldn't be a good big bro if I didn't help you out! I know how hard they are to find, aren't I the best brother?" His iconic laughter escapes his throat, totally not noticing the heavy sigh leaving Ludwig's thin lips

"Brother...what are you talking about?"

"Mh?" Gilbert's eyes widened, finally noticing the dripping annoyance from his younger brother's voice "They are so rare! Only blooming before dawn and in this forest. I remember when I studied them!"

"Yeah, from BC books. Now you can easily find them in the evening in whatever flower shop." Ludwig mutters, index finger scratching his closed eyes, mentally counting to 10 not to explode.

"Well, you know herbalist classes weren't my forte-" Gilbert says before nervously chuckling, blush painting his cheeks, and right hand scratching behind his head, like he always does when nervous.

"So you woke me up at asscrack of dawn, got me called a rat from a guard-"

Gilbert's breath gets caught in his throat at the memory of the dejected face of his little brother in that moment "first time getting called that?" He replied at the time to try to lighten up the moment, uselessly it seems.

"and almost risked getting suspended for a dumb ritual we could have easily done this evening?" Icy eyes now look back at Gilbert whose knees buckle under his brother intense gaze.

"...yes."

Another sigh, so loud it echoes in the forest. Then Ludwig gets on his knees, ripping off more than a handful of flowers, surprising Gilbert.

"Let's take a lot of them. You can make a lot of useful stuff with these." He says, no anger detected. "At least all those risks will be worth it." Ludwig mutters, but Gilbert clearly hears him, a big smile now plastered on his face.

"I'll show you the big bro awesome flower picking technique!" The white haired boy reply, beating his fist against his chest, before getting on the job.

Ludwig shakes his head, but he can't stop a small smile to appear on his face.

It may have been a total failure as a ritual, but at least it will be a moment they will both remember for the years to come.

[madeline-ronpa-ask]

Welcome to Madeline County!

Welcome welcome! This is a silly blog I thought about making based on a discord server RP that was based on an AU of The Mandella Catalog! If you’d like to know more on the AU, please see this link to a doc made by @/pristina29! (You’ll need it to understand most of this lmao)

We are currently on the 2nd Season of the game, so there’s that bit too. (when that doc drops I’ll link it aswell dw :3)

If you’d like to join the server, just jump on in and join the fun!

(TW: THE SERVER HAS MENTIONS OF CANIBALISM (Mentions of such topics will be avoided as much as possible on the blog))

ASK RULES:

No NSFW. I feel like this is a given but still. This blog is being run by and asks are answered by minors. Dont.

No RP/M!A asks please! The answerers would rather not RP on Tumblr due to already having the server RPs /lh

Please be sure to clearly address the chars you’re asking! Nobody likes their ask being mixed up w/ another char!

Please be patient with responses! It can be a lengthy process as we all have our personal lives/answering styles!

I’ll edit the rules as I see fit

~ Admin Cookie :3

——————————————————————————————————

CURRENT ASK ABLE CAST (Including Represented Deserts and Living Status):

S1:

Hosts:

Cesar Torres ~ Strawberry Cheesecake - Deceased

Mark Heathcliff ~ Blueberry Muffin - Deceased

Adam Murray ~ Apple Pie - Deceased

Jonah Marshal ~ Lemon Tart - Deceased

Participants:

RED Spy (TF2) ~ Cherry Chocolate Bûche De Noël - Alive

SMG4 ~ Vanilla Cake - Alive

Elizabeth Afton (FNAF, Casronpa!AU (Another server lmao)) ~ Strawberry Ice Cream - Deceased

Jay Merrick (Marble Hornets) ~ Keylime Pie - Deceased

Ludwig Beilshmidt (Hetalia) ~ Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte - Alive

Daniel Mattews (Saw) ~ Forest Cake - Deceased

Hansel Strudel (OC) ~ Candied Green Apple - Deceased

Googleplier (Markiplier Ego) ~ Blue Artificial Doughnut- Deceased

Meta Knight (Kirby) ~ Custard - Deceased

Melodie (Brawl Stars) ~ Starburst Candy - Deceased

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) ~ Strawberry Shortcake - Alive

Peter Spankoffski (Hatchetfeild) ~ Hot Chocolate - Deceased

S2:

RED Scout (TF2) ~ Boston Cream Doughnut - Alive

Mario (Mario and the Music Box) ~ Spaghettiesis Ice Cream - Alive

KAITO (PJ:SK, Base Vocaloid) ~ Blueberry Ice Cream - Alive

Cielomort (Fragaria Memories) ~ Starry Toffee Cake - Alive

Abbiy (Among Us OC) ~ Pockys - Alive

The Witch (AKA Trixie) (Slay The Princess) ~ Poison Apple - Alive

Alex Evergreen (OC) ~ Chocolate Chip Cookie - Alive

HABIT (EverymanHYBRID) ~ Dark Chocolate Mousse - Alive

Robin (Teen Titans, Fears to Fathom!AU (Another Ronpa lmao)) ~ Blueberry Yogert Parfait - Alive

Feliciano Vargas (Hetalia) ~ Banana Gelato - Alive

Robin (Batman/Superman: World’s Finest) ~ Apple Crumble - Alive

Poppy Skies (OC) ~ Rose Latte - Alive

Izumi Sou (ARSMAGNA) ~ Blueberry Cheesecake - Alive

Celestine (Pokemon S/V Protag OC) ~ Blue Raspberry Snowball - Alive

Kiku (Hetalia) ~ Dango - Alive

King DeDeDe (Kirby) ~ Strawberry Blueberry Shortcake - Alive

The Tailor (Rain World HUMAN!AU) ~ Raspberry Lemonade Ice Cream Float - Alive

Magolor (Kirby) ~ Gâteau Invisible - Alive

Peri (FO:ANW) ~ Ube Cake Roll - Alive

Spectators (under cut due to lenghty list):

Scout’s Mother (TF2)

RED Heavy (TF2)

RED Medic (TF2)

BLU Scout (Jeremy) (TF2)

BLU Scout (Jenny) (TF2 OC)

SMG3 (SMG4)

Luigi (MatMB)

Marchionne (MatMB)

Mario (SMG4)

Mario (OG)

Luigi (OG)

Cassidy (FNAF Movie)

Evan (FNAF, Casronpa!AU)

Vanessa (FNAF, Mascot!AU)

El Tigre (Yes, from the Nicktoon)

Alfred F. Jones (Hetalia)

Rin Kagamine (PJ:SK, Base Vocaloid)

Len Kagamine (PJ:SK, Base Vocaloid)

Willmesh (Fragaria Memories)

Lauren (OC)

Kirby (Kirby)

Bandanna Dee (Kirby)

Sailor Dee (Kirby)

Grusha (Pokemon S/V)

Kieran (Pokemon S/V)

Tim (Marble Hornets)

Patrick (MLAndersen0)

Collector (The Owl House)

Akira Kurusu aka Joker (Persona 5)

Raven (Teen Titans)

Starfire (Teen Titans)

Lists will be edited as more chars become available to interact with.

[kioneira]

A hetalia oc??? In 2024?? Wha?- Here's Eloise Darcy, An Assistant and A Governess for young nations cus I don't belive that older nations have all the time in the world to teach the younger one's Of course there's more people like her. Working for Beilshmidt brothers. Assistant for Gilbert and a Governess for young Ludwig.

Her character belongs to a small AU that i'm writing that is focused on the human characters that would work with or for nations in the time of their existance. Its still a work in progress, She's the first one to exist in the universe so there probably will be more of them. I dont include characters like Lisa/Joan or other that alredy exist in the "Universe" of hetalia. This one's will be made up/ inspired by a historical characters. It all sounds really cheesy and i hate myself for it a bit but yeah

[coralcatsea]

Kiku's head whips around when he hears him enter the room; his usual stoic expression immediately tainted by surprise, "What happened..?"

Ludwig rubbed at the back of his neck and awkwardly glanced over his shoulder towards the direction of the noise.

"They're all lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, limbs tangled, because...well..." he trailed off.

"Because?" Kiku prompted.

The German pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed with exasperation as he finished, "America and Italy said they were going to pretend to be a spinning top, so they held hands and started whirling around the room at such a high speed it was actually sort of unbelievable."

With wide eyes, Kiku asked, "Shouldn't you...check how many survived?"

[mtvcribs-but-its-hetalia]

Master post of Germany just bc I’m bored OwO (any other characters you can think of if so reblog this and put the character name)

he is indeed a very intimidating man isn’t he?

[jajatoc]

The Holy Roman Empire and her sister...

...Prussia..?

Toghether again, in a new way.

Wanted to share my Nyo Prussia, HRE and young Germany designs :) their whole dynamic makes me melt

[candyklown]

Part two of the color palette requests, all characters belong to me this time

[ask-the-germanic-family]

*clears throat* Any of y’all know where I can find a Gilbert and Ludwig Beilshmidt, Roderick Edelstein, Vash Zigwili and Lili Vogel?

Switzerland, placing hand on gun- What's it to you?

Austria- There's no reason to be so standoff ish about it, they're only asking a question.

Germany- A question that we can't answer, sorry but we've never heard of them.

Prussia- But that Gilbert character sounds like he's really awesome, I bet he's handsome too.

Kugelmugel- Wait but aren't those names-

Liechtenstein- I'll explain later.

[indecisiveauthor]

Romano + Axis reacts to his crush saying "I'm tired. I really want to kiss you .. I like you a lot"

A/N: Written for the fem!crush. (Unless specified otherwise in a request, I like to write with a fem!s/o in mind) :)

Romano Vargas:

His brows furrow, trying to process what you had just admitted to him. Slowly but surely, his face turns red and he begins to stutter a reply, “S-stupid Ragazza! T-then what are you waiting for, an invitation?” He snaps. Although he seems very embarrassed by this situation, he ends up taking the initiative. What happens from there all depends on you.

Feliciano Vargas:

“Ve~! That makes me so happy Bella!” He would smile widely, taking your hands in his and kissing you sweetly on the lips. “I’ll make sure I spoil you with tons of kisses then!” His thumbs would gently rub circles into the back of your hands as he explains even further about how happy he is that you like him.

Ludwig Beilshmidt:

His face didn’t even hesitate to show how red he had gotten due to your words. “W-what? Are you sure?” He questions, mumbling a string of inaudible words afterward. He didn’t seem to calm down after that, he was mostly just stuttering nonsense. So, you had to shoot your shot by just grabbing his face and kissing him. He was shocked by your bravery, but it had managed to shock him enough to snap him out of whatever daze he was in. His eyes met yours and he adjusted the hat on his head, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “W-what I was trying to say is that I like you too.”

Kiku Honda:

He stood there, speechless. He had absolutely no idea what to say or even do, resulting in an awkward silence. A small grin is now plastered on your face. His expression is all you really needed to see in order to understand what was going on in his mind. “Kiku, how about we go on a date? We can leave kissing to when you’re comfortable.” The grin you wore, never faded. Japan eventually mustered up some courage to reply to your proposal in his thick accent, “I-i think that will be fine. W-where would you like to go..?”

[allthingshetalia]

Submission by @thewhitequeen2001

Okay okay so I basically broke all my fingers for this and spent 24+ hours on it in total, but I like the out come so... yeah 😆

She’s my Hetalia OC, her name is Lana Beilshmidt. She’s older than Vash, Ludwig and Lilli but younger than Gilbert and Roderich. Very kind and motherly, she’s humble, humorous and a strong country which has good relationships with other countries and her, country is famous for their Businessmen and women and how good the country’s people are at learning and speaking different languages.

I hope you like her too☺️

Love your work🤍🤍🤍 can’t wait to read more 😊

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

💕💕💕I LOVE HER!!!! AHHHHHHHHHH! I especially love the name Lana, and I of course love anything to do with the Germanic nations! This is making me wish I had talent 😔🥺😫! I LOVE HER🥳🤩🤯😭💕

-AllThingsHetalia

@thewhitequeen2001 thank you for the submission! We 👏🏻need 👏🏻more 👏🏻artists👏🏻 on 👏🏻this 👏🏻blog👏🏻

[doki-doki-imagines]

How would Germany, Japan, and China react to a s/o who only cleans at like 2 am?

Ludwig Beilshmidt(APH Germany):

-He would wake up, super annoyed and ready to kill who he thought was robbing him.

-Then he found his partner. Cleaning. 

-"What the heck are you doing?"

"Cleaning the kitchen."

"It's 2 a.m. Couldn't you have helped me when I cleaned this morning."

"Too tired."

-He's gonna lift them up and take them to bed.

Kiku Honda(APH Japan):

-He already had a katana in his hand when he heard strange noises coming from the bathroom.

-"Hey Kiku!"

They scared him shitless.

"It's 2 a.m."

"Yeah."

"And you're cleaning the bathroom."

His partner nodded.

-At that point, he was already awake so he helped them.

Wang Yao(APH China):

-He'll never notice that his partner wake up to clean.

-Wang snores like a giant and not even earthquakes wake him up.

-He'll just wake up and see everything cleaner than yesterday, but he'll just shrug his shoulder and don't care.

-He will be angrier to see his partner sleeping until 12 p.m.

-It's better if they tell him what they do if they don't want to argue every time they wake up.

[urmomsstuntdouble]

so a while ago i made a post with the signatures i made for the characters in 1836, and i was kinda having a lot of fun with it, so i decided to make signatures for all the hetalia characters (im totally not procrastinating with the intensity of the sun rn wym). so here they are, with the names closest to canon that i could find. my commentary is also interspersed. anywho here’s the signatures!

so this first page is of the characters whose names are in latin and cyrillic, the scripts i feel comfortable writing in. this is 99% europeans, plus the us, canada, and cuba. this is alphabetized by the name of the country the character repesents but not their actual human name because im a dumbass, except for the last three, which are russia, belarus, and ukraine. belgium doesn’t have a canon last name, so i deferred to netherlands’ surname for her. denmark’s name here is magnus densen, which is the only full name given in canon. there are other potential first names and last names given for him (none of which are mathias kholer btw) but seeing as magnus densen is the only actual full name, that’s the one i decided to go with. i also used erzebet as hungary’s name, and beilshmidt for germany (who doesn’t have a canon last name but you know. siblings with prussia), tolys for lithuania, timo for finland, antoño for spain (more old fashioned than antonio), vash for switzerland, and irinya chernenko for ukraine. 

this second one is mostly asian countries with scripts that i dont know how to write in/am not comfortable writing in. for most of the asian countries, and egypt, it’s common to use signet rings as a form of signature. im not confident in my ability to create unique signets for all of them and in five different languages that i niether speak nor know the script for, so i left that out. egypt’s official name is gupta mohammad hassan, but since the p sound doesn’t exist in modern egyptian arabic, i decided it wouldn’t make sense for him to have gupta as one of his names. while he would probably speak coptic, i doubt that many members of the government or even your average egyptian who’d be seeing his name on official papers (cops if he gets pulled over for speeding, personal credit card, etc) would be able to pronounce it. coptic is sort of in the same boat as latin with its status as a dead language that some people speak as a second language, and i don’t think there have been any native speakers for a few hundred years. for greece, i gave him both a roman and greek signature, because im a bit more familiar with the greek script than any of the asian ones. seychelles is included here rather than on the latin only sheet because she doesn’t have a canon surname. making it bonnefoy is a bit weird imo and not logically consistent with how former colonies names work in canon (look no further than any character from the americas), so i gave her my own. her name here is michelle vinot. hong kong also has his english name, leon, next to his cantonese name, but i wasn’t sure if he had an english surname, so i just left it as a first name (he’s already got a cantonese surname so i didn’t think an english one was necessary). anyway uh final note is that i hope taiwan and hong kong’s signatures are different enough from china’s bc i wanted them to be somewhat similar, but with varying degrees of divergence from china. 

anyway that’s all i have for now, i hope these were cool! ta ta for now

edit: i tried tagging them in the order they appear (in case you cant read one of them) but apparently theres a limit to how many tags you can put on a post, so they’re under the cut now 

america/alfred f jones

austria/roderich edelstein

belgium/emma morgens

canada/matthew williams

cuba/máximo machado

denmark/magnus densen

england/arthur kirkland

estonia/eduard von bock

finland/timo väinämöinen

france/francis bonnefoy

germany/ludwig beilshmidt

hungary/erzebet héderváry (forgot the accent marks on the actual signatue)

iceland/emil steilsson

lithuania/tolys laurinaitis

liechtenstein/lily zwingli

latvia/raivis galante (end of 1st sheet left column)

monaco/lucille bonnefoy

norway/lukas bondevik

poland/feliks łukasiewicz

prussia/gilbert beilshmidt

romano/lovino vargas

spain/antoño fernandez carriedo

sweden/berwald oxtenstierna

switzerland/vash zwingli

veneziano/feliciano vargas

russia/ivan braginsky/Иван Брагинскы

belarus/natalya arlovskaya/Наталыа Арловскаыа

ukraine/irinya chernenko/ириныа черненко (end of 1st sheet right column)

china/wang yao/王瑤 (i used google translate for this. i apologise. also used the traditional option)

egypt/muhammad hassan/محمد حسن (arabic from google translate)

greece/herakles karpusi/Ηρακλής καρπούζι (greek from google translate)

hong kong/wang ka lung | leon/王家龙 (simplified chinese from google translate)

japan/honda kiku/本田菊 (from google translate)

south korea/im yong soo/ 임수용 (hangul from google translate)

seychelles/michelle vinot

tawian/lin xiao mei/林小梅 (simplified chinese from google translate)

turkey/sadik adnan/صادق عدنان (arabic from google translate. the turkish alphabet is very similar to the latin one and not all turks use arabic to sign their names, however, it was common for sultans and other members of the upper class to have very elaborate signets called tughras which used arabic calligraphy. i feel like a country would have something about as fancy, and that turkey is the sort of guy who would want one, so here’s his name in arabic. idk that he’d use it all that much these days, but woo! history!)

[ask-hetaaca-czechaslovak]

Ignominious

The last day before the assignment was due, Adéla paced her room anxiously, wringing her hands together as the slow realization that she was absolutely fucked dawned on her. After a week of tireless writing, training in the forest blown off in favor of nights spent in front of a laptop at her desk, the amount of work she’d placed on herself had finally set in, and even as she tried, she knew she couldn’t complete the assignment without assistance.

It was enough of a blow to her ego, the pride she took in her independence, and even more so in the realization that she’d have to admit inadequacy to a long-standing academic rival such as Beilschmidt.

Rather, a once-academic rival, who she now knew was evading charges for murder.

One who knew absolutely nothing of the classwork presented in the assignment.

So she was astoundingly, implausibly, fucked.

[Tw for yelling, manipulation mentions, panic attacks, and all triggers related to Ludwig’s past. Thank you @ask-hetaaca-germany for writing Lud’s parts, love ya!!]

And even so, Adéla pulled her phone from her pocket, groaning when she saw the time, two in the morning, why the fuck would he be awake at two in the morning, he better be awake, and unblocked his contact before steeling herself, posture rigid as she stood in the middle of her room.

After a moment of hesitation, she pressed the call button.

She didn’t much care if the string of obscenities under her breath would be heard on the other line as she waited for Beilshmidt’s answer.

Ludwig had been suffering through various sleepless nights now back within the comforts of having stable shelter. He supposed that it was ironic, he slept better on the cold and exposed streets of Berlin than the bed that he claimed as his own. However, in the supposed safety of the island, there was always a disquieting sense of danger that electrified his nerves, making every attempt to sleep an exercise in racing thoughts and trembling hands. 

It was a shame how he grew up to be both a killer and a coward. 

So when his phone rang around 0200, he was startled but coherent enough to reach over and pick it up. It didn’t surprise him that it was the glowering face of Adéla’s contact staring back at him. Not many people called him nowadays, and the one friend he did have certainly did not stay up so late. 

“Hallo?” He greeted, flat tone showing that he knew exactly why she had called. Looking through the notes that had been sent in an aggrievedly named file, he had noticed that the unit was far too hard to complete by oneself in only a week, no matter how clever or determined someone may be. 

He supposes that that was his fault too, the doubtless strain that his classmate had put herself under in order to pick up the work he had been lacking. Yet, it felt like another drop in the ocean, something he could not quite bring himself to care about in his apathetically sleepless state.  

Adéla rolled her eyes at the greeting, a fist curling around the sleeve of the sweatshirt she was draped in as she responded through a grimace, pained by the headache ringing behind her eyes in her exhaustion.

“I need your help. Now. Did you read the notes that I sent you?”

“Of course,” Ludwig confirmed, walking over to his desk and pulling up the file. There had been nothing to do in the long stretches of time spent alone in his room besides wallowing in his guilt and studying. He had obviously chosen the pastime with the least amount of introspection. “Is now the time you’ll admit that perhaps a partnered project is best done in pairs?”

Adéla scoffed, already springing to her combative nature even through her fatigue.

“Yes, perhaps, if one’s partner wasn’t guilty of causing irreparable damage to the lives of those who he deems obsolete, a burden on society, then––” 

Adéla cut herself off as she heard the volume of her voice grow, shaking her head with another roll of her eyes. Now was, decidedly, not the time. Were she in the mood to begin a screaming match with Beilschmidt, however one-sided it would be, it could at least wait until after she was guaranteed a passing grade on what should have been an easy assignment.

“The library is closed. Where can I meet you in ten minutes?”

Ludwig kept quiet as his classmate’s voice raised in pitch and intensity, the silence holding the same reserved impatience as a raised eyebrow. At any other time, he would’ve suffered through hearing the angry tirade that no doubt brewed in Adéla’s mind, offering himself as a martyr in front of her barbed words.

However, he could not stand anyone who let their emotions get in the way of a task to be impeccably executed. Which, he supposed, was his own downfall. 

“Just come to my room,” he sighed, taking a notebook from the neatly labelled stack on the corner of his desk and flipping it open to his neatly printed thoughts on the project. “It’s neat, and quiet enough. I’ve found that my classmates tend to avoid my area of the dorms.”

“I wouldn’t blame them,” she muttered under her breath.

Were she not running on a few hours of sleep per night for the last week, and were she not desperate to maintain her rank in the class, she would have already hung up the phone at the mere suggestion of sharing a private, enclosed space with her peer, nevermind at such a time of night. But, of course, fortune was not on her side, and already she was pulling on her shoes as she held the phone to her ear between her shoulder and cheek.

“I’ll be there soon.”

With her laptop and several notebooks tucked under her left arm, she hastily shuffled through the carpeted hallway, hair undone and still clad in a ridiculously oversized hoodie and pair of boxers.

As she neared her partner’s door, she thought, somewhat cynically, to a time when being seen in such a state by her rival would be out of the question. Respect and professionalism, as unspoken as they were, were always standard between the two, and looking back it was almost pathetic the esteem Adéla once held Beilschmidt to. How she once cared how he saw her, as if the consideration he showed her was anything but feigned.

But that was in the past now, and presently, Adéla muttered silent, characteristically profane prayers under her breath as she knocked on Beilschmidt’s door.

Ludwig hadn’t been expecting her to be at his door so quickly, he had just barely managed to pull on a polo and neatly pressed trousers before the rapping on his door began. His bare hands came up to brush back the hair that was for-once ungelled. However, there was simply not enough time to attempt to look presentable, even in front of someone who so clearly would pounce on any chance to mock him.

With one smooth motion, he pulled open the door, revealing the military-neat bareness of his dorm. Upon seeing Adéla’s disheveled appearance, Ludwig’s expression shifted just barely, eyebrows raising and mouth pursing in an almost-imperceptible show of judgement. 

“Welcome in,” Stepping aside, he swept out an arm in a chivalrous invitation for her to enter. “I’m glad you’ve chosen to make yourself comfortable.”

“Yes, I figured I’d rather not dirty anything nice were you to murder me in cold blood right now.” She retorted dryly, rolling her eyes once again as she kicked out of her shoes and set her belongings onto his bed. 

While it was just a passing snark, somewhere between the anger and betrayal she currently harbored towards her peer as she stood before him, and the usual sarcasm they would gravitate towards whenever they spoke, the space they were standing in was disconcerting enough. The area was completely undecorated, and very barely furnished, with the only table in the corner absolutely cluttered with bottles of painkillers. Too tired to acknowledge the clear parallels between the bedroom they were currently inside of and the set of any low-budget horror film, Adéla simply sat down and began pulling open her notes.

“All work related to the experiments we were to research is done. I made the outlines as planned. Most of the paper is written. That being said,” she sighed, “I can’t feasibly finish the last fifteen pages by the end of the night alone.”

“If I had wanted to kill you, I would not have waited until now,” replying in nothing but a bored monotone, Ludwig turned and grabbed his laptop from his desk, deciding to sit on the stiff wooden rolling chair that came with the dorm room. Frankly, he doubted either of them wanted to be close enough to sit on the same twin-sized bed when being in the same room together felt like they were dogs forced into a fighting ring. 

“I can help write the rest of the paper if you let me look over the results and the outline.” His sardonic tone disappeared as his mind began to focus solely on the task at hand, checking his school email for a shared paper.

Adéla nodded, gathering up a few of the relevant sheets beside her and cautiously handing them off to her partner. She drew back her hand quickly, sitting back once more as she opened up the document on her own laptop.

“All of the bullet points are set out. If you get the first seven done I can work through the last eight.”

Staring at the too-bright screen in front of her, Beilschmidt’s face directly behind in view, she let out a shaky exhale as her fingers started to tap lightly at her keyboard.  This was fine. She was fine, with Marick’s number on speed dial and her phone directly beside her if the situation went awry, and after the mess of the past few weeks, it was completely implausible that the boy across from her would try anything.

Except rationality was, unfortunately, difficult, when all Adéla saw when she looked up was the document she’d nearly memorized, the dates at the bottom burned into her exhaustion-weighted eyelids.

It was needless to say that the first time Beilschmidt had pushed his hair away from his forehead, Adéla flinched, pulling back and gripping the device beside her in reflex.

Ludwig, as focused as he was on the task set out in front of him, did not notice anything was amiss. The outside world faded away as his cursor crawled across his screen, stiffly phrased words quickly filling the page. This was what he was built for, the mindless completion of a responsibility, where he knew exactly what was expected of him and how exactly he could achieve it.

However, his concentration slowly frayed as he noticed the slow tapping of the girl across the room, her word output slow and pained. Letting out a sigh, he looked up. Perhaps it was too much to expect that Adéla, as exhausted as she was, was going to be efficient. 

“If you’re tired, I would not mind if you took a nap on my bed. I’ll have my parts completed by then and you can go back to your room to finish the rest.” It seemed the smartest solution to him. Certainly, neither of them wanted to be in the same room for long, and if Adéla got some rest, maybe she’d actually manage to type faster than an illiterate. 

That may be harsh, but Ludwig was not looking to fail his first year of secondary school. It was the one thing he had left, and he was nothing without a cause.

She halted her already crawl’s-pace typing to glare up at him, simply squinting in response.

Sure, blatant disrespect, complete dishonesty was already established. Still, she couldn’t believe the audacity he had, taking her to be some kind of idiot, her guard already so raised and her body so tensed the thought of falling asleep in his general vicinity was laughable. 

Not breaking her eye contact with him, and cocking her head pointedly, she started typing again, not a letter out of place as she sped up. 

Well, that was that sorted, Ludwig supposed. Huffing out an annoyed sigh, he too returned to his work. It was none of his responsibility if Adéla did not want to do the logical thing and he would not push the matter further, not with their already strained dynamic. 

Of course, there was a chance that she was making a statement. That seemed likely enough, with the eye contact that he quickly glanced away from. Either way though, it wasn’t as though it particularly mattered to him. The hatred of an acquaintance really meant nothing in comparison to the grades that he actually had an investment in. 

They managed to work diligently for about an hour, easily managing through a few pages each before Adéla began, once again, to slow down. Be it the presence of her classmate, silent and yet imposing in his presence, or the lack of sleep Adéla had had throughout the week, it was only a matter of time before she could feel herself wearing down again, glancing between her screen and her peer behind it.

Jaw clenching and eyes rolling, Ludwig lowered his computer screen, annoyance lacing every single one of his actions. 

“Adéla, I understand that you may be tired and I sympathize with you. However, either go back to your room and sleep or stay here and rest.” His tone was steady and even, no hint of emotion lacing the bored sounding words. “We have no need for sleep-deprived ramblings marring our already rushed work.”

Adéla scoffed, shutting her screen.

“Already rushed work? I’ve been writing tirelessly all week, alone, trying to ensure that this report is of my usual standards. I’m fucking trying.”

“Who was it that placed all that burden onto you? Surely it couldn’t have been the teacher, assigning work that everyone else is managing to do perfectly well. Nor could it be me, who offered to lend my hand in the project long before this, an offer that I seem to remember you turning down,” Ludwig’s pace increased, some long-repressed anger firing up at Adéla’s hostility. “In fact, I seem to remember that it was you who said that you would complete it all yourself. Do not blame others for your own shortcomings.”

“Can you fucking blame me? Can anyone fucking blame me for being afraid of being in the same room as you? Do you have any idea what kind of burden you’ve placed on your classmates, on those outside of the hero class, on those who’ve already lived with the knowledge of having a weak quirk their entire lives? Yes, I wanted to do the assignment myself, because I wanted to stay the fuck away from you.”

Though that tirade was clearly supposed to be something more akin to the verbal version of a slap to the face, Ludwig couldn’t find it within himself to react to it. Nothing Adéla said was surprising to him in the slightest, for these were the exact words that his own mind berated him with whenever he was alone. 

“There’s nothing we disagree about there. Do you think that I am happily living my life knowing that I have caused unimaginable pain to those who do not deserve it?” He clenched his fists, the raised scars across his hands and the rest of his body being a permanent reminder of his past. “I regret what I did every single day. More importantly, I don’t want anybody to be scared of me. Why else do you think I left?”

“I promise you, no one’s first thought when you fucked off was that you don’t want anyone to be scared of you. You left the academy without an explanation, let alone a real apology. Regret isn’t the first thing that comes to mind when a person does something like that. Cowardice is. And even were you to show some kind of remorse, what makes you think that’s enough? You hurt people. That’s all. Cheap words cannot repair ruined lives.”

Adéla began to wring her hands together, squeezing until her knuckles turned white, anything to allow the frustration spreading through her to manifest in some other way besides a cracking voice, a visible tremor, any indication of weakness.

Ludwig listened to his classmate’s words, gaze fixed to the floor. It was nothing that he hadn’t thought before, too caught up in guilt and panic and fear to do anything else but agonize over his past, but hearing it from a different voice other than his own hurt more than he expected it to. His leg began to bounce as his arms wrapped around himself, squeezing tightly as if that would calm his restless lungs. This was only proof that others thought the same, that he would never be free of his past as long as he lived. 

A tool is only defined by its use. He was foolish to think that he would be the exception. 

“I know,” He began, words rough through a clenched jaw. “I was so scared–– they found me again.” 

Cutting himself off, Ludwig squeezed himself tighter, some pathetic habit from childhood that still made him feel just a little better, reminding him that his own nerves and tendons were indeed real. Try as he might though, no new words spilled from his mouth, his throat closed up with panicked emotion. That was another one of his defects and further proof that he was not meant to live in this world.

Adéla quirked an eyebrow, her mouth falling slightly open in disbelief. She removed the laptop from its position, setting it beside her and pushing the phone away to lean forward. 

It was in her nature to keep pushing, to agitate, to continue picking at a wound until it began to bleed. She’d expected this to put her in peril, expected some kind of explosive reaction as shit hit the fan; but as she watched Ludwig sink into himself, she felt a new brand of discomfort set in, and instead of new wounds to be marked all she could focus on were the faded scars covering Ludwig’s hands, gripped around his forearms as he shut out the room around him. 

Choosing her next words carefully, Adéla willed her tone to soften at least slightly, straining her voice as every instinct in her body failed to compel her to begin raising her volume again.

“Who, exactly, are they?”

Even if he had wanted to speak, Ludwig wouldn't've been unable to. His eyes squeezed shut and his brow furrowed, the noise of incomprehensible words piercing his brain like icepicks. 

He had no honour nor virtue left, but the least he could do was attempt to preserve his dignity. 

“May you please leave?” He croaked out, standardized request seared into his brain from endless hours of childhood drilling, the last instinct he could cling to as the world crumbled to static around him. 

Adéla blinked a few times in disbelief, processing the scene before her. 

“We have work to do.” She responded under her breath, although at this point she couldn’t much bring herself to care about the biology paper at hand.

It was strange, how quickly the intimidating-looking classmate she had held mild annoyance for for so long had morphed into an unknowable monster, and in an instant back into a child, another scared face of the academy.

Confronted with their pasts, one could mark it as common knowledge that monsters hold self-pitying tendencies. Crying, pleas for sympathy, for mercy, rightfully to fall on deaf ears as the villain in question would be prosecuted, shamed, and shut away.

Still, such monsters were not, most commonly, crying teenagers, and it was in Adéla’s morbid curiosity that again the thick layer of marks covering her peer’s hands drew her eyes.

“Beilschmidt? Beilschmidt–– Ludwig? Answer the question.” she asked again, voice still quieted.

Upon hearing Adéla’s muttered protest, Ludwig’s head snapped up, eyes still unfocused and panicked, but his movements were purposeful enough. With still shaking hands, he uncurled his fingers from its too-tight grip of his shoulders, slowly opening the screen of the laptop still perched on his lap. 

He cleared his throat, as if that would restore the dignity that he had lost the instant he started hyperventilating in front of someone who clearly hated him. There was no need to feel this overwhelming static in his nerves any longer, not while there was still a task to be completed.

“You’re right,” He said, his wavering voice still attempting to sound like the monotone that he almost always maintained. “We need to get this project done.”

Adéla raised a hand incredulously, reaching with her other for her laptop, but not yet bothering to open the device. She watched as already, Ludwig’s focus began to retrain, the dissociation between his still-functioning mind and shivering body an unsettling dichotomy to bear witness to. Scarred hands typed rapidly, even as unfocused eyes remained red, and Adéla only held her silence for a few minutes before speaking again, tone still cautious.

“What happened with your hands?”

Though he had tried to throw himself into his work, Ludwig was still unable to stop the too-much sounds of the world from assaulting his mind, the sharp sounds of each tap of the keyboard making his brain wrench in pain. So when another question from Adéla breached the tense quiet between them, he jerked his head up, startled and almost overwhelmed by the noise. 

It was clear she was not going to let it go. It was easier to let everyone believe that he was a monster, that he was a cold-hearted killer driven by nothing but hate. It was what he wanted to believe as well. Not that he was a weak little pawn deserving of pity when the real people who needed sympathy were now buried six feet below. 

“I was a disobedient child,” He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “They did what they needed to in order for me to fall in line.”

Eyes widening just slightly in horror, Adéla winced, the small act of sympathy a knee-jerk reaction rather than show of genuine compassion. She thought back to the document, to the little boy in the picture, to the small message of encouragement scrawled at the bottom.

Baby’s first job.

Adéla felt a weight drop in her chest as she persisted.

“And, again, who are they?”

Ludwig’s quick typing stopped, the cessation of tapping on the keys of the computer feeling like the sudden end to a long-awaited rainstorm. There was nothing he could say. In his heart, he still felt a sick sense of shame and loyalty twisted together, inseparable from each other and from him. 

“It wasn’t just me,” his voice now was quiet, some mix of a criminal’s confession and a child’s story. “There were… others. Not many, but not little, either. They told me that I was special, that they knew what was best… They were always the best at lying.”

Even now, he remembered the honeyed words that dripped from a silver tongue, the soft smile and gentle touch that would come seconds before a line of pain opened itself on his skin. He hated how he still missed it.

“At the–– the organization.” Adéla stuttered out, feeling her articulation dissipate, a line of questioning she had prepared just seconds before leaving her.

A loss for words, quite literally, felt like the only rational response in such a situation. Curiosity gnawing at her mind as she suddenly felt the room grow colder, the distance she’d put between herself and someone she was once decently acquainted with, expanding to the size of the island she now realized she’d rightfully demonized. A large presence. A presence with the ability to manipulate, to lie, to put children in the line of fire as pawns. The silence between herself and Ludwig felt deafening, and as she watched his resolve slowly pick apart all she saw was, again, the child in the photograph.

It was a quickly degenerating image, a shadow on the wall evaporating to reveal the true size of the figure creating it,and the idea of a beast taking the form of one child instead of a collective felt only natural in hindsight.

“This was–– you were raised with this? And you just left? Are there more, are they following you? I swear this island is fucking cursed."

“I––I’d suppose that’s what you’d call it,” It was strange, Ludwig had never quite considered that there would’ve been thoughts on the force behind him, the group he had represented for so long of the life he was able to remember. When the truth had come to light, it had just felt like a thousand unflinching gazes on him and him alone. Yet, he wasn’t sure if the lump that rose in his throat was from relief or fear. 

But it was his story that she wanted to hear. The words, caught in a maelstrom in his brain for so long, clawed at the flesh that kept them captive. He had always wanted to be heard without his voice drawing out the screams and cries and begs of others crushed beneath his unwilling boots. Perhaps now was the time. Adela already knew the best and the worst of him, the grey and the darkest black of his moral fabric, stained by gore he could not wash out. 

“I had a mother, at some point. Back home, on the continent.” That felt like a life he did not live, the rumours of a boy with golden hair and his lonesome mother playing in the streets of Berlin. The stories he heard when he returned to his home as a fugitive still echoed in his brain, but it felt like it was someone else’s tale that he had intruded in. He shrugged, emotion sloughing off of him like dead skin off of a snake’s back. “Then I didn’t.”

“The group took me in, fed me, raised me, loved me. All I needed to do was tasks in return. They told us we were special, that we were somehow better than others because of how we were born.” He lowered his head, shame and regret lacing each harsh consonant. “They are powerful people, the Erlingrs. They gave us a taste of it, both of them… I’m sure you’ve seen the third year, Inge. They’re here too.”

Adéla’s blood ran cold at the mention of her friend’s name, fists clenching at her sides as Ludwig continued to speak.

“There was nothing else for us to cling to but that power. Doesn’t it sound good? Being superior because of something inherent and nothing else? No need to struggle or to fight to improve. It was so much to a lost child with no one else in the world. The idea of having power for once, no need to even work for it.” Lip curling with disgust and hatred, Ludwig clutched at his scalp, fingers curling in soft blond hair and fingernails digging into skin.

“But that isn’t a good enough excuse. We should’ve seen! We should’ve known.”

Watching him tear at his hair, Adéla leaned back in mild terror, not sure how to react in such a situation. She was never one for saccharine words or pity, the prospect of acting as a comforting figure after what she’d heard enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as-is. 

The Erlingrs. The docile, slightly eccentric family that Inge and their father had established themselves as, even in the media’s eye. Adéla had spoken to Inge enough times to now churn her stomach, friendly words exchanged between them as Inge feigned interest in her words, in her mind. What a joke.

How was Ludwig to be blamed for not knowing, when Adéla had fallen for their tricks in the span of a few conversations?

She couldn’t stop the shame from burning at her face, indignation at the thought of the rift the misunderstanding had caused between him and the student body, by her own intensity in her reaction, how her own peer had been ostracized for having been manipulated. He, just as she once did, thought himself safe within the walls of the Academy. She’d shattered that illusion, took to his safety net with kitchen scissors as she had the nerve to sit and cry in her dorm room.

She, in every sense, was utterly, wholly wrong.

Too caught up in his own confession to notice the emotions that twisted Adéla’s face, Ludwig continued, the rush of words like a severed artery, unable to be stopped even he had wanted to. 

“It took me years to realize that what we were doing was wrong. I looked into hundreds of faces screaming in pain and it still was a shock to me when I started considering that it may be bad.” 

He was never good at empathy. His heart never wrenched when he heard a child’s wail, nor did he feel anything but his own pain when his gaze tore apart the nervous systems of victims pleading for mercy. That was something he knew he must admit, that he was not an innocent pawn, manipulated into what he did. No, he was never built for anything but the life of a weapon and his own current escape was nothing more than a delusion of morality from a blood-stained knife. 

“Even when they did this to me,” he half-heartedly lifted his hands from his hair, flexing the scars arranged in neat lines across his skin. “I accepted it. I still do understand why they did it. Sometimes I would refuse, object to the task set out before me… Some children just need to be taught to obey.”

It was only now that, looking back, Adéla realized she’d never seen Ludwig without his gloves, another defense from his own past as he tried to move on from the childhood ripped away from him, and again she couldn’t find the words to express a proper reaction, an apology, the pure disgust she’d felt towards herself and an establishment she’d never even met.

Kind words and comfort were never her strength, and as he unravelled before her she simply took in the scene. If she couldn’t grant him the calm, level-headed support he admitted to needing, the least she could do was put them back on schedule. After Ludwig’s words had lingered sufficiently in the cold air between them, all hostility drained from Adéla’s tone.

“I was thinking about the presentation portion of this project, perhaps we could try to make the lesson interactive. It would likely earn us back the points missed in my haste to finish this. Still, I’m open to suggestions?”

Just like that, Ludwig snapped into his perfect posture once again, red rimmed eyes and shaking fingers returning to the keyboard as though they had never left.

“Uhm, yes,” his mind, still lagging from the breakneck change in subject, struggled to truly comprehend the words coming out of Adéla’s mouth, brain still agonizing over each moment of sharp childhood memory cutting his consciousness like shattered glass. “I suppose that’d be sufficient. It would engage our fellow students with the material, which I am sure Mr. Bhatt would appreciate.”

Adéla nodded, finally opening her device again to continue her work.

“I’ll add speaker’s notes as I elaborate on the material.” 

The rest of the project, after their conversation, had been completed with surprising efficiency, with nothing exchanged between them but cordial, slightly stilted exchanges related to biological studies and paragraph format. Despite her fatigue, Adéla had managed through her last few pages rather quickly, groggily typing or her last words as she laid back in her spot, her open laptop pressed against her chest. Perhaps she could be excused for resting her eyes for just a moment…

--

Ludwig woke to the sight of sunlight shining through his window, the first rays of the day beginning to light up his room. Though he worked though the majority of the night, his body still rose with the dawn. He hadn’t exactly intended to fall asleep sprawled over his desk, but there was really no other choice when Adéla was the one still slumbering on his bed. 

There was a certain part of him that wanted to mumble out a ‘I told you so’ to her still sleeping form, but after his pathetically self-pitying breakdown last night, he did not feel like antagonizing the one person who could throw his vulnerabilities back in his face. Certainly it felt as though she wanted to do so. Though aloof, Ludwig still noticed the unbridled hostility that Adéla held for him. 

Certainly, no part of him blames her for rightfully disliking a killer and a criminal, but there was a part of him that wished he had spilled his secrets to someone who hated him less. 

His head pounded with pangs of exhaustion and his limbs were heavy with fog, still, he stood up with a muffled grunt. Since he was already awake, it was time to start on his morning routine. No need to let his night ruin his whole day, not while there was school.

It was strange to see Adéla sleep. To see his so-called ‘academic rival’ in such a state of vulnerability when she had just openly admitted that she views him as an unrepentant murderer. Still, they shared something now, willing or not. That was a bond that even he understood. 

Working through his morning routine grounded him in familiarity, calming his overworked nerves. Still, even as he slicked back his hair and steamed pressed his uniform, there was still a vindictive part of him that was smug at how Adéla continued to slumber on, remembering the file she sent him snidely mocking his absence. 

Though he certainly held no feeling towards Adéla other than nervous apathy, there was a part of him, petty as it may be, that wanted to let her sleep on just to torpedo her own perfect attendance record.

He deserved to treat himself sometimes, Ludwig decided.

[cooltrainererika]

Alt-talia Double Feature: A Prodigy and An Underachiever

YEEESSS I FINALLY FINISHED A FIC FOR @historical-hetaliaweek ! YEEEEAAAAHHHHHH-

I just hope people are still watching this blog!

So this is a double feature for Mirror, featuring Germany and Italy respectively. ...Yes, I write Germany way too much. While the Italy one was intended to come first, it turned out much longer than intended, as is common for my fics. But I thought this prompt could be utilized pretty effectively for both of my versions of them. A bit ironic. While they don’t have the same relationship they do in canon in my universe, comparing and contrasting them can still be extremely interesting IMO. Though the Germany ones is... a bit underwhelming and it isn’t much of a contrast. But I want to get these done. 

I’m just glad I’m really starting to become engaged with my version of Italy’s character though! At first I thought his incoherence would as a country would be an issue preventing that, but it actually potentially adds to his character a lot. 

Oh yeah, this is a semi-AU. Characters are pretty different, and everyone treats it as a normal thing. Special OOC warning for Prussia.

Also, while a “Veneziano” and “Romano” are mentioned, they are not North and South Italy. Yes, despite not being in the fandom for too long, I think, it does still look a bit weird to me, but they are completely different characters with different appearances. The “Italy” who is the main character here is simply Italy. Not North Italy, not Italy Veneziano, just Italy. This is extremely important. Also, for those who have read “Italy’s First Christmas”, I just want to say here that his relationship with South Italy (or Mezzogiorno) isn’t set in stone, so “Italy’s First Christmas” isn’t an accurate representation as of yet. Also, Italy has a sliiiightly different appearance. Mainly, his skin is more a tan, if not too dark, olive tone than super white, and he has somewhat more muscle definition; basically he resembles the Italian stereotype a bit more, but not too mannish either, probably. This is very relevant too. 

I have debated using Italy’s human name, but yeah... this probably fits for now.

Also, Italy’s fic may have themes that aren’t suitable for all readers. While I do want to say what, I feel it might ruin the fic a bit, so I’ll just say discretion is advised.

Hall of Beginnings

“Deutschland?”

Those were the first words he had heard. 

“Deutschland. Can you hear me?”

A strict voice, but clearly trying its best to sound gentle. 

Something rough behind the softness that surrounded him. 

His eyes fluttered open. 

The first thing he saw was the face of a silver-haired man, his blood-red eyes staring at him as he held him in a way that struggled with delicacy. On his head was perched a fearsome, majestic black eagle, quizzically dipping its head down to see his face.

He looked around. There were so many people, all staring at him, their eyes wide. One stood behind the red-eyed one, his left eye covered by a monocle which the man flipped open to get a better view.

At the foot of the steps, a tired-looking man in white sighing in relief, and nearing to look at him was an old man with a distinctly regal air despite his widened eyes at seeing a child, one that was not there before, wrapped in the blanket in his nation’s arms. 

And around them, stood many others that he sensed were like him and the monocled man and the man holding him.

The crowd dramatically stepped away, lowering their heads, allowing him a better look around the place. 

The world he saw now was so beautiful; so much gold, so much pretty colors, so bright and shiny. And reflected in the walls, he saw himself, cradled firmly, surrounded by his kind and emperor and chancellor. 

The silver-haired man was looking as well, as if taking the sight in.

The silver-haired man... his father.

Their eyes met again. 

“Your name… it will be Ludwig. Welcome to the world, Ludwig Beilshmidt. Young Deutschland.”

“...Vater?”

His father held him close, tightly, his voice only enough for him and the monocled one to hear, shaking ever so slightly. 

“Thank God… Thank God. I’ve fought so hard, just to see you born...”

His father looked like he could barely hold back his tears; the joy of a father, felt by few nations, for which he was fortunate enough to experience, overwhelming even to him.

The cheers of humans and state echoed in the hall.

“HAIL DEUTSCHLAND!”

“HAIL DEUTSCHLAND!”

————-

Germany and Prussia walked into the hall, the long table of nations, diplomats, and heads of state sitting, waiting for them. 

Germany remembered this place; his first memory, surrounded by light and fanfare. 

Now, he trudged to his table, trying his damnedest to keep a stoic face. 

His archenemy limped to him on his crutches with conviction of a man who may as well had full use of his legs, the most evil, terrible grin on his face, the eye not covered by the bandages around his head shimmering with a sadistic, vindictive blue cocktail of wrath, pain, and contempt.

“You do know why I chose this place, right, Le Prodiget?”

“We agreed to sign a treaty. Let us get it over with.”

His father had raised him well with years of discipline; his voice was stoic, cold and emotionless, betraying none of what laid beneath.

“France, please don’t-“

France seemingly didn’t even hear England’s voice as he roughly, or at least as roughly as he could in his state, shouldered his hands off him, too busy savoring what he could from his rival’s defeat. 

Germany remembered this place; it was his first memory. And the man in front of him knew that all too well.

France scoffed; his smile - he was not exactly a smiling man, even if more than Germany or Prussia - forced and barely holding back decades of condensed fury.

England looked on warily, shaking his head at his longtime rival, his children speaking among themselves nervously now that the glow of being given spots on the table had - at least somewhat - subsided, Scotland with an expression that spoke of him expecting his childhood acquaintance’s behavior.

Italy, the nation a mere decade older than him, fidgeted with his hands - was he nervous? Impatient? After all, he had already claimed his spoils of war, though it apparently wasn't enough from how he grumbled incessantly of his supposed lack of promised reward. At least he was on the winning side.

“You thought you were clever, didn’t you Papa chéri? Using my palace for the birth of your little brat? Well well, look at where we are now. I hope it was worth all the Parisians who starved and died to your cannons and bayonets. But how appropriate; this palace also used to be home to a certain man and society that I rightfully rid myself of. Papa chose well.”

Japan, the rising nation who had come to his lands to learn from him and his father mere decades ago, lacking much personal stake in the matter as he too had already claimed his spoils, yet seeming somewhat sympathetic at their state - or was it mock sympathy, as it was him who stole Tsingtao and those islands from him - sat quietly, his pen scratching against his notepad. At least the Oriental had returned his prisoners happy and healthy.

“So where did that Place In The Sun go, mon wunderkind? You thought you could be an empire? I admit, you did well. Papa chéri raised you well! ...For half a century.“

Prussia’s scowl deepened.

Poland, appearing stronger than he had ever known Posen now that he was one again, and currently the most joyous nation in the hall, silently goaded France, snickering, clearly just barely suppressing the desire to join in himself.

“You even were strong enough to beat up on a lady. Yes, he sure raised you well!”

Belgium looked on in silence as other stares directed themselves to her. Wallonia sat next to his country, the ferocity of his glare second only to France.

“Well... He has a point, sport.”

America pointed his pipe at her direction and winced empathetically; she was hardly in better shape than France.

England nodded; the reminder of what was done to Belgium was enough to let some disgust creep into his expression.

Germany grit his teeth. But he knew deep down they were right. She was just convenient. She had done nothing wrong. He resented that.

“Consider yourself lucky, wunderkind. Consider yourself lucky that because of certain allies of mine and spineless diplomats, I couldn’t make this the place I gave the upstart brat that is you what you really deserve!”

Alongside a restless Croatia and Slovenia, eyed resentfully at by Italy, a heavily injured Serbia from his wheelchair watched intently, if tiredly - while he too lacked stake in this treaty, the man's admiration of France could only be matched by his admiration for his giant cousin to the east - Bosnia sitting beside him.

Germany wished to scream it wasn’t him who shot the Archduke.

“Okay, that’s enough! Let’s not start another war here, okay? Okay!”

America, his cheerful voice cutting through the tension, finally managed to get his arm in front of France and usher him back to his seat, the man still glaring hellfire at the young nation.

The mirrors which the room took its name from reflected father and son, and their pathetic, defeated forms, surrounded by enemies, state and human. 

But unbeknownst to his them, what they didn’t see reflected in the defeated nation’s tired eyes was the smolders of a wicked fire that would threaten to consume the world once more.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chi Sonno?

Italy finally finished buttoning his new jacket, taking it in as he gazed upon himself in his mirror.

He puffed his chest out, kicked up one leg, then the other, feeling the air against them, now without a long skirt or baggy pantalettes blocking them.

He caught himself about to stumble, but stopped himself before he snagged his new jacket and trousers on something. Whew!

He grinned. He felt so grown up!

Grown up…

His smile faded.

Staring back at him, who did he see?

He placed his hand on the mirror. His reflection did the same. The stray Italic curl bobbed by the side of his face. Staring back at him were his chestnut brown eyes.

Who did he see?

It was obvious; this was him. The Kingdom of Italy.

It started to dawn on him how baggy the jacket seemed. Strange, it should have been tailored to his proportions…

His eyes were drawn to his now half-exposed legs and knees; all the bruises, his bandaged right knee. Nations were supposed to heal quickly, he had heard.

No matter, they would be covered as soon as he put his boots on.

Just outside, the rest of his family waited. But yet, he felt like he heard their voices, their presence, their stares just behind him, like a dark miasma he couldn’t shake.

“It took you long enough.”

“Wonder how long it’ll take ya to mess it up.”

“Shit. Maybe shouldn’t ‘ve used good fabric!”

“Yuw cal this a navy?”

“No, no, I put too much hop’pe in ya. Just gonna need some time away at this Am’merica kid’s place since it's not like I’m gonna be gettin’ any less broke here. Just for a bit. C’ya.”

“Italia?”

Piedmont’s cool-tempered, but soft voice snapped him out of his trance, and he whipped around quickly.

A soft knock.

“Italia? Vhat is taking you so long? You neet help?”

“N-no, I’m fine!”

He sat, pulled on his boots, and gave himself one last look. His reflection stared back.

This would do for now.

————

Italy straightened his back, pulling on his Savoyan blue ascot so it was neat and taut. He couldn’t get the damn thing to not look uneven.

But he was a man now. It took him long enough; Germany was barely half a decade old and he had overheard Prussia talk about breeching plans.

But never mind that. This was his moment. And from what he knew of Prussia, it was much like him to go forward with the process so quickly.

The boy scrutinized everything with the finest detail, meticulously smoothing out every wrinkle and crease, combing through his hair, taking the utmost care to not snag the teeth in his Italic curl as he held it in his small, shaky hands, re-adjusting his scarf.

Thanks to his heritage, he had an eye for detail. Yes.

This would probably do, for the scarf. He picked up the stick pin on the stool, turning it over in his hand, carefully, slowly, for he didn’t want to stab his hand with one of these again.

The pin was a simple, but elegant thing, a humble silver star. He knew the symbol very well; a Stella D’Italia. It was an appropriate first pin, for his bright future would surely come, eventually.

He stuck it in, admiring how it shimmered.

Who was he?

The boy who stared back at him looked awkward in his adult clothing, no matter what he did.

The star seemed to shimmer so brightly; too brightly, as if it didn’t fit what it was attached to.

His face looked too effeminate. His arms were too thin. His light olive skin looked too pale; he wished he had inherited Mezzogiorno’s skin tone. He wasn’t standing straight enough. His voice was too high.

There was one incident, from a few years ago now, that stuck in his mind even now; as he often did, he was flattering a girl, not much older than he was at the time. Her response was a giggle and a joyful “You’re pretty too!”.

“Pretty”, like a woman. It was just an innocent mistake, he knew, and according to the boys from that school he had joined playing in the street later, she wasn’t known for being particularly bright, but…

He wished that when he looked into the mirror, he could see the grand empire whose blood ran through his veins staring back, not the effeminate, impotent coward who he was now seeing.

He shook his head, shaking off the feeling, pulling on the boots Piedmont had given him.

It would be fine. Everything would be fine. The fact that he had survived this long, unlike his predecessors who had faded away, stillborn, it had to prove he wasn’t a complete failure-

Then, he stumbled.

For those few fractions of a second, his arms flailed in the air for anything to hang onto, his room swirling around him.

CRACK

He yelled and jumped back as his mirror fell and shattered, fragmenting his visage with it.

“What was that?!”

“‘Nother broken thing? C’mon!”

He trembled, staring at his shattered reflection until he started hearing footsteps, and began cleaning it up.

Of course he messed up again.

————

Italy stepped in front of the mirror, finishing the last button on his shirt.

He looked nice in black, if he had to say so himself; it was a powerful, strong color, a jet black like a proud Arditi soldier’s fez.

Perhaps he could wear such a fez with this as well? He should definitely suggest it sometime. He would write it in his sketchbook before he forgot it.

He stood up straight, puffing his chest out. He felt stronger already.

Who did he see?

As he stared into the mirror, he thought he saw his visage change and morph, swirling and distorting to reveal his true self. His slender toned arms became more muscular, his bone structure thickened, his eyes grew sharper, his chest swelled, his skin tanned, his hair grew darker, swirling into espresso-colored curls, his Italic curl being replaced with two on different parts of his head, his simple uniform transforming into golden plates of armor. Magnificent, beautiful, yet so rugged and powerful.

He was the inheritor of Imperium Romanum. No, he was Imperium.

So many had tried to repeat his success, his glory, his prestige, but never had a rightful claimant to the throne risen to the occasion. Until now.

He would show them. They would regret betraying him, for mutilating his victory in front of his very eyes for all their sweet lies about him being a fellow great power.

And Romano, Piedmontese, Veneziano, Fiorentino, Lombardo, Genovese, Siciliana, Valdostano, even Mezzogiorno… he could finally be the temple of humanity, the utopia they wanted him to be. One who could convince Sarda that this was home, who could bring pesky little Bolzano to heel, who could be the home of all rightful Italian land, who could make the other Great Powers once again respect his might.

The Stella D’Italia would shine brightly from now on, finally leading the lost, starved sailor that was him to his destiny just as he had lost all hope.

It scared him. Surely, the Entente wouldn’t be willing to give away their precious power to an effeminate brat like him.

He cursed himself at the fear and the shiver the word “war” invoked. It would be gone soon.

Oh sure, he shouldn’t rush. That was going to be years down the line, probably decades. But one day, he would become the image in the mirror. Just like he was destined to be.

Who was he?

He was Ancient Rome. He was the Renaissance. He was this continent’s cradle of civilization, he was Italia.

He gave himself a satisfied smile, and made his way to the door in an almost skipping manner, singing a little tune.

He stumbled once, but it didn’t matter. He suppressed a wave of self-pity. He didn’t give a damn.

Or at least, there would come a day he wouldn’t. For, in this glorious dawn of a new era, it was finally within reach.

“♫Me ne frego

me ne frego

me ne frego è il nostro motto…♫”

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Some explanation for the characters (for those unfamiliar with Alt-talia) and historical stuff. Just don’t expect these for all my fics, at least not immediately:

Prussia: A strict father. ...So basically a lot like canon Germany, except probably less prone to loud anger. He’s basically where Germany gets his strictness from. Also, Gilbird is a full-grown eagle now. Yes, that’s Gilbird. Or “Kreiger”, as he’s known here. 

Germany: He’s about... physically 1 - 3 years old in the first scene maybe? I liked of the idea of him being known as a “prodigy” or “wunderkind” due to him being so successful from the outset, and yeah, it sums up my interpretation of him pretty well. Also, hopefully I’ll be able to reuse my post title for a fic which actually contrasts him and Italy...

Monocled Man behind Prussia: Brandenburg. Since apparently monocles were a stereotypical Prussian thing for British people, and I can’t imagine Prussia having one constantly, I gave Brandenburg one. 

Tired man in white: Otto von Bismarck. I read somewhere that apparently by the time of the ceremony, he was so tired and just kind of wanted it over with.

Regal old man: Kaiser Wilhelm I, obviously.

The two scenes depict the Proclamation of the German Empire and the Treaty of Versailles that ended WWI in the Hall of Mirrors in the Palace of Versailles, though I’m pretty sure everyone interested in history enough to be reading this knows. Then again I’m pretty sure the Germany fic was pretty straightfoward in general. Though this brings me to...

France: People tend to forget that as much as France and England’s rivalry is a central part to their character dynamics in canon, in this era France and Prussia/Germany were massive rivals for each other. He would hate this guy with a burning passion, and the fact that Prussia decided that he should be born in the Palace of freakin’ Versailles did not help whatsoever. He’s also extremely beat up from the war, as France’s land was massively scarred by the whole ordeal, and it lost as much as 4.29 - 4.39% of its population. Though I thought he would have a bandaged head and shoulder only, since most of the damage was in the north, I gave him crutches to emphasize it, as a reminder that he has a very good reason to be mad and as spiteful as he is. Honestly if he had it his way and he could he’d probably be strangling Germany here. I’m glad I’m finally getting to actually show the rivalry these two had, even if it is just a little bit at the end, instead of just the aftermath.

Oh yeah, IDK why the Bad Touch Trio is a thing. They allied and fought on the same side like once. Once. If anything, these three were often rivals. RIVALS. If they were competitive “friends” I could maybe forgive it, but they get a freakin’ song together? What? Spain was even Hapsburg for a while, I.e. the family that had a huge beef with the French royals. And Prussia? As you can see well for all of their modern relationship they did not get along whatsoever. Even during the pre-modern era, ever since the Reformstion Prussia was Protestant and France Catholic. Do you see the problem here? England and Portugal were the exception, not the rule. WTF is this BTT business about? If those three were best friends the continent of Europe would have been dominated with that monster of a triple alliance. I don’t understand.

Now, onto the less straightforward stuff:

While not conveyed fully due to POV bias, what France says here is true; Germany got it easy. Compared to what France got in 1871, what Germany got was extremely merciful. Britain and America and the others took pity on him and didn't go too hard. It's just that Germany was too high on nationalism (and on a character level, too young and naive to have any frame of reference) that he wasn't able to see that, especially by the 1930s. He and Prussia escalated the war, starting with brutalizing Belgium so bad the invasion and occupation was called the Rape of Belgium and he objectively violated her neutrality, others also suffered, and France, again, was beaten up severely and has a right to be pissed. France would have killed Germany if he got his way, or at least stripped him of so much he couldn't come back to start WWII.

Wallonia is the French speaking area of Belgium. Especially because of the status of women at the time, I’d imagine he often accompanied Belgium to official gatherings like this.

Japan is a bit detached from European Drama but he’s more just happy to be there sitting at the table with the other empires. Also unlike in WWII WWI Japan actually treated his POWs very well. Like while yeah they were prisoners I can imagine it was like heaven after getting out of being shot at on the muddy, grimy battlefield, because they obeyed humane standards on POWs to the letter. It was run like a summer camp, basically. He also took a lot of inspiration from Germany in nation-building, so I thought that despite basically opportunistically yoinking his territory while he wasn’t looking, maybe he feels a bit of pity for Germany here.

Posen was the fragment of Poland Prussia took. As of now the HC is that he was literally split into three people instead of just dying. I’d imagine he was treated as a punching bag by the German family and he got his territory cut up so of course he’s spiteful.

Croatia and Slovenia are restless because they didn’t really get what they want out of Yugoslavia; Serbia got the best deal, because he was liked the most by the Allies or something. Meanwhile Serbia is in a wheelchair because he lost anywhere from 16.7% to 27.8% (!!!) of his population. He absolutely got his teeth kicked in.

As for the second fic:

And then we have Italy. He’s less of a ditz, but much more of a klutz and can still be a bit scatterbrained and unfocused, especially before WWII. Also he has massive identity issues. I was a bit surprised to find how he somehow can come across as even more pathetic than his canon incarnation at times. Ironically he kind of is starting to look like a deconstruction of the canon version of the character. It’s also a bit surprising how his very boyish appearance actually kind of worked in my favor here. 

He’s a klutz because the Kingdom of Italy wasn’t the most stable of nations, with regional identities pulling at the seams and the government a bit of a mess. His confidence issues are because Italian nationalists often were critical of their people, calling them effeminate and cowardly, i.e. they basically thought of their fellow citizens as a bunch of canon!Italies. It doesn’t help that he embarrasses himself with his clumsiness and that what with the failures in Ethiopia. A lot of people also still had strong regional identities and were skeptical of the United Italy experiment, so as soon as things started experiencing issues, i.e. immediately, they were also pretty critical of the idea. Hence his family being so toxic. Compared to Germany, so much just went wrong with Italy.

This started to be broken by victory in WWI, but that was when Italy learned he had to compromise. He was not happy. Hence Mutilated Victory. Despite what Hetalia will imply, Italy was as power hungry as any. As the first fic implies as he glares at Croatia and Slovenia, he wanted Yugoslavian land but got none. So just when his confidence was finally high enough he gets shut down, or so he thinks; again, like Germany, he's kind of high on his newfound nationalism and has no frame of reference. Then again Italy didn’t want to go to war in the first place, and he only did because of the supposed handsome land reward he’d be getting if he won. Yes, that is why Italy “switched sides”. Not cowardice, but because of good old fashioned “land, my dear boy!”. Not to mention the Triple Alliance was supposed to be defensive.

Changing clothes was seen as a huge part of childhood development; as the kid got older, he took on more adult clothes. At first kids wore dresses called frocks, before getting breeched when the parents decided he was old enough to wear them. As for breeching, to quote Wikipedia, "Breeching was an important rite of passage in the life of a boy, looked forward to with much excitement, and often celebrated with a small party." Italy in the first segment is getting breeched, in somewhere in the mid 1860s, where he's probably physically about 8. It’s also a bit symbolic, what with him going from a feminine looking piece of clothing to a more at the time masculine one. The second takes place in the mid 1870s and I'd say Italy is about in his preteens to early teens here, and Italy is a bit envious of how fast Germany is growing. In the last one he's an adult, about to march on Rome. So yes, the content warning at the start was referring to fascism, if that wasn't apparent. Manliness was a huge important thing in fascism and in general at the time. So Alt-Italy, also being a nation known for its machismo, wants to be a real man, not a boy. He can't grow up fast enough. Unlike canon Italy, he resents his perceived femininity and how he thinks the world sees him as that.

And oh yeah if you can't tell by that description if you're a GerIta fan you may dislike my fics lol.

Fascist Italy deemed itself the second Roman Empire and sought to re-create it. I mean imagine being the descendant of Ancient freaking Rome, that would be a lot pressure. While I still depict Italy as jolly and outgoing, his insecurities run very deep.

Italy's family in true Italian fashion is huge. The regions BTW are still alive today (I mean South Italy is a staple character after all), though the family is probably a lot less toxic now (but it's still divisive). Technically Piedmont could be considered Italy's dad in the way Prussia is Germany's dad, but in practice it's just a huge mess and he's functionally another uncle with somewhat more authority. Especially when Not-Lavinio-Romano joins. And Bolzano is South Tyrol; it was of course a bit of a thorn in Italy's side, and he never really considers himself part of the family because he speaks German. He (or I think he's a he?) probably still insists on his surname being Edelmann at this point, though no one in the family calls him that. Sarda is Sardinia, Piedmont's probable wife, but in reality she's pretty left out of this and doesn't get acknowledged by her husband much in favor of caring for Italy, despite the kingdom often being called Sardinia. So yeah, again, this family ain't healthy.

I ended up turning both stories end on the nation's reaction to the end of WWI and I just realized that.

[coralcatsea]

I–...-shrugs- I saw this picture and I had to do this.