#hetalia drama

[birdscatcher]

OK, I came back into Hetalia fandom like a... few days ago cuz the new chapters were amazing and I really loved it but... Before it I left fandom in 2017, I guess, and now I really don't understand what happened. I found the posts about SOMETHING what happened in fandom and after that a lot of people started to hate Himaruya and Hetalia's fans. And I wanna ask what happened? I really tried to find some information about it but all posts were just about the reaction to what happened. Can someone explain what is wrong? I will be really grateful for answers.

[lukatheselkie]

I’ve gotten to the point I HESITANTLY follow any other Hetalia peeps because so many in this fandom are blatantly racist, ableist, xenophobic, transphobic, etc. DO BETTER.

[ego-meliorem-esse]

July 13th, 1917

Be it from a sense of paternal concern or simply patriotic duty, Arthur made sure to leave his soldiers in the charge of an older Corporal and made his way to the quite pathetic excuse of a medical section where his son was left to rot.

Arthur had heard about the attack. He had been informed the day prior.

He had seen war and famine and sickness, but never like this. Arthur wasn't young, in any sense, and what wonders and strong political oppinions young men had, had left him a long time ago like a ship leaving the harbour in a hury to claim new land. This though, had left shock echoing within his tired, millenia old frame. He wasn't used to this.

Arthur made his way through the trenches with soldiers from every corner of the globe instantly stopping whatever they were doing prior and saluting him as if etiquette and rank mattered in hell. As if it was more importaint to greet the Higher ups than to survive long enough to even write a letter back to family. Arthur did understand that though. Routine and rules were the only thing keeping these poor and wretched souls from being consumed by thoughts of an imminent death.

The path to the section where Matthew was held was quite straightforward and quite familiar. He had marched to and from it hundreds of times and had a sort of automatic rithm in his step. Arthur made his way to the small and damp room with a fast pace indicative of familiarity, only to stop in his tracks in the shabbily built doorframe at the sight that awaited him in the corner.

Matthew sat in the corner of the sad makeshift medical section of the trenches, his back firm against the cold, damp wall.

His once-piercing blue-grey eyes were now clouded over with milky white cataracts, rendering him completely blind. The newly used gas had stolen his sight. His skin, once tanned and healthy, now bore the sickly pallor of a much older man who had endured unimaginable suffering.

Matthew's uniform, discarded in favour of his worn down undershirt, was now a tattered and stained relic of his time in the trenches. The not-white-anymore shirt clung to his emaciated frame as if decency still mattered in hell. The physical toll of the war was clear on his body. Not that Matthew would have to worry about seeing that any time soon. His hands, which had once held a rifle with resolve, now trembled even while resting on his thighs.

Despite his physical and emotional anguish, Matthew remained seated upright, his back pressed against the unforgiving, stained wall. A testament to his resilience if there was any left, a silent protest against the horrors that had taken his sight and left him broken in body and spirit.

As he sat there, his spirit reduced to a hollow shell, Matthew's face bore a mixed expression of utter defeat and complete indifference. His lips were drawn into a thin, lifeless line, and his cheeks were gaunt from the weight of his suffering. His blank, unseeing eyes stared into the abyss, as if waiting for answers and also hoping they'd never arrive.

In that moment, Matthew was not a representation of Canada; he was a young man who had been scarred and broken by the senseless brutality of war. The trenches around him buzzed with activity, but he remained isolated in his silent world of darkness and despair. The young medics job was done. He had patched Matthew up and left him to his own misery. Matthew was grateful.

Arthur stood there silently under the doorframe for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few seconds. A strange and unfamiliar twinge of emotion plucked and pulled on his conscience. He hadn't felt guilt in quite some time. This feeling was reserved for drunken nights spent in solitude with the doors to the room he resided in firmly locked so that his sliver of self-deprecating emotion wasn't witnessed by any but himself, while he drunk himself to unconsciousness.

He preferred the emotional solitude to this.

Arthur had believed himself to be capable of most things. Especially conversation and confrontation. He was quite good at those as centuries of existence had proved. He believed himself quite skilful with words. Most of the time he knew what to say and when to say it without it resulting in unwanted and unforeseen consequences, while still making sure his opinion was heard.

Arthur had no words forming as he stood in that doorframe. If Arthur was a good man, his reasoning would be that he felt such strong empathy and sadness that words wouldn't be enough to express the sorrow he felt at that moment. If Arthur was a good man he'd run to his son, assure him that this wouldn't happen ever again and that he was safe. If Arthur was a good man he would fall on his knees in front of his oldest son and beg for forgiveness.

Arthur wasn't a good man.

He could admit to his shortcomings, but to act on them was not in his nature.

So he stood there for another 5 or 6 minutes watching his son shallowly breathe in and out, hearing the boys lungs struggle to keep up with his muscles contraction and need for air.

He must have made a noise, as Matthew's head tilted slightly to the left, almost looking at Arthur but definitely not seeing him. Arthur looked back at him.

The room was quiet, save for the desperate plea of Matthews lungs to be put out of their misery.

Sensing nothing after a few moments, Matthew turned his head back towards the blank wall ahead.

Arthur silently turned his frame around and slowly started walking the path he had taken to get here. As he took a few steps, he released the breath he didn't know he was holding.

How he longed for that whiskey bottle and that dark room where he could lock himself in and slowly drift out of consciousness instead of facing his own mistakes.

Arthur definitely was not a good man.

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Fall Yandere Prompts

Fuck Me I put prompts on the other thing at didn't actually put prompts, I suck anyways here are a few prompts made by yours truly. Others are free to use them just please tag me. Thanks. I'll make more Halloween ones if people like these.

Apple Cider: A sweet yet tangy that leaves a warm feeling. Your eyelids start drooping after drinking every drop.

Bonfire: Dry sticks and leaves are so easy to burn in high bright flames. Be wary of what the light attracts.

Crows: Inky black birds with a glimmer of intelligence in their eyes. You feel a dozen pairs of eyes watching your every move.

Dry Leaves: Crunchy and brown and always fun to mess around in. You hear a second set of feet slowly trotting behind you.

End: Autumn signifies the end of Summer and a change in season. It also signified the end of your freedom.

Flannel: The warmth of this fall apparel is so comforting in the crisp weather. Don't you like it, they picked out just for you.

Grain: Bountiful and golden, shaking in the cool breeze. You meet a friendly stranger standing in the grain field, holding a scythe.

Harvest: Fall provides us with a bountiful harvest of corn, pumpkins, apples, pears, and grain. Such bounty requires a sacrifice to be made.

Indoors: Why go outside when you can snuggle under the covers and keep warm? Just because it's your home doesn't mean you are safe.

Jack-O-Lanterns: Grinning gourds light up the night, carving them is a fun activity. They want to participate but got a little too creative.

Kettle: Boiling water for a hot beverage on the stove is so nice. The water isn't quite done but you still hear whistling.

Leaf: Colorful trees make such wonderful leaves they look good pressed in a book. You see one on your bed side every day, they have a distinct metallic scent.

Mushrooms: Clustered together they're a fungi to be around. More seem to grow near you each day in strange patterns.

Nutmeg: Fall spices are aromatic and make every dish warm with flavor. If your running low the next-door neighbor might have some, might as well come inside while they look for what you need.

Orchard: Fruit trees tended to with tender care, baring crimson fruit. Picking just one won't hurt.

Pie: Steaming goodness wrapped in a golden shell. Have another slice there's plenty to go around.

Quiet: Many an autumn night is filled with sweet and calming silence. It feels a little too quiet tonight, might want to retire early.

Reaping: How to harvest the crops grown, you reap the rewards of the Earth. Someone has come to take you or your soul, they're not very picky.

Spider: Dainty legs weave beautiful webs, enticing as they are dangerous. Any prey they catch, they won't let go.

Tree: Majestic and tall these ancient plants reach up to the dwindling sun with aching branches. Haven't you seen that tree before, you must be hopelessly lost, perhaps that's better than being found.

Umbrella: The cold weather makes rain extra chilling; with a warm smile you share your umbrella. No good deed goes unpunished, as the storm outside isn't what you should be worried about.

Vermillion: Beautiful shade of red found plentifully in the fall, its beautiful yet it can be a dangerous color too.

Wind: Rattling trees and blowing the leaves to the ground, the wind tickles your ears and nips at your nose. It carries with it the unhinged words of a person you never want to see again.

Xenial: Being most hospitable is a must during autumn. This does not change when a stranger shows up at your front door requesting shelter.

Yarn: Soft threads of vibrant colors used to create warm clothes, blankets, and other things. The string prevents you from moving while someone knits in the corner, eyes focused on you.

Zipper: Better zip up when it's so chilly outside, wouldn't want to catch a cold. You also might want to zip it before they hear you.

[forsoobado137]

Let's be real, without England France is a hot mess. He's one step from offing everyone and himself and poor Germany doesn't know what do do because 'isn't this what you wanted? Are you telling me that without your daily fight with England you become a maniac?' it's a whole process, the fight, the make up, the release of tensions... The poor French holds the weight of the riots on his chest he needs to let it go

Germany wants to help, but he just doesn't understand how France works. France needs England because without him, where is he going to release his unhinged energy? He's always been a bit eccentric, but now everyone else has to deal with his surplus of "passion". Maybe Germany can take him hiking to cool off (but he'd probably complain about his legs hurting).

[romatito]

mmmm the pirate au is slowly turning into a multi-chaptered plotbunny that wont leave my head. so in the meantime pls take these designs while i work out whether im capable of focusing long enough to actually write it or not 🫡

[coralcatsea]

Canon Collection:

America being serious/introspective/sincere:

[ask19thcentury-doctorgilbert]

"I was always more of a quiet kid, greatly preferring my books and toys, and the company of those that I was familiar with. I suppose that's why Fritz and I got on well -- We were of the same temperament and had more than a couple shared interests. Being a part of such an unconventional family hasn't always been easy... Especially now that I'm more grown and am more aware of tensions brought about by politics and the like. But I wouldn't change it for the world."

Portrait descriptions under the cut!!

Portrait 1: The Berlin Family, painted in more recent times.

(L to R Back) Otto (Order of St. John), Niklot (Reiner's son, Neubrandenburg), Konrad (Berlin), Gilbert (Prussia), Rahela (Gilbert's wife, Romania), Reiner (Brandenburg), Ilse (Potsdam), Johanna (Koenigsberg), (L to R Front) Ludwig (German Empire), Sztefa (Silesia) - Gilbert and Rahela were wed in 1866, after Prince Karl of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen came to the Romanian throne as King Carol I of Romania. The marriage is purely political, but the two maintain a cordial and warm friendship. much to Erzsi's dismay - Niklot is Reiner's son, born from a human lover he had before the 30 Years War. Father and son were only recently reunited in the 1820s. - Sztefa is Gilbert's adopted daughter, taken in during the First Silesian war, and raised in part by Frederick II. Served in the volunteer corps during the Napoleonic era disguised as a man. Is Ludwig's scary lesbian older sister.

Portrait 2: The Vienna family, painted c. 1830s.

(L to R Back) Erzsebet (Hungary), Sztefa, Anneliese (Vienna), Roderich (Austria) (L to R Front) Ludwig, Gilbert - Roderich may be bonded to Austria, but his sister Anneliese, who embodies the capital, takes more of a leading role when it comes to government matters.

[cutepastelstarsalior]

Cringetober 2024, DAY 10 Ship Dynamic + DAY 11 5+1 Things

Ships:

Mabifica (Mabel pines + Pacifica northwest) gravity falls

Rarishy (rarity. + fluttershy) my little pony gen 4

Daynap (dogday + catnap) poppy playtime

Elizabeth + Joanne black butler

Alenoah (Alejandro + Noah) total drama

RusAme (Russia/ivan + America/alfred) hetalia

[stirringwinds]

we’ll meet again someday. people who’ve been as close as we’ve been always meet again.

😔 so, i’m having brainrot for the concept of 1990s ned/can distancing due to ned/pan rekindling: fifty years is a long and meaningful human marriage. but nations exist beyond human lifetimes, bearing centuries upon centuries of feelings and histories. and maybe, that’s where the gulf in experiences between a younger and older nation emerges: the sentiment that ‘i still hold gratitude and affection for you—but he and i were together for 300 years before that. i thought it ended—but i’m feeling that pull once more.’ the painting is a print of van gogh’s ‘almond blossoms’, which was influenced by hokusai’s ‘bullfinch and weeping cherry’ and hiroshige’s ‘plum park in kameido.’

[maryeve-the-bitch]

1756 be like

[lukatheselkie]

UGH so sad to learn one of the Hetalia artists I followed until a moment ago is ableist. 😭

[crepegosette]

tomorrow

[luderailing]

Saw you were asking for drawing prompts! Have you ever drawn Romania and Hungary together?

I have not! That is a GREAT idea anon!

[itstokkii]

네가 백번, 아니, 천 번 내게 물어도

정답은 늘 하난데

어제도, 오늘도, 내일 또 물어도

세상에 네가 제일 이뻐

[council-of-beetroot]

My Jewish ass is terrified of exploring a new fandom.

I used to love fandom