#hetalia fictive

[tothearkivist]

Intro Post

We are the Ark system.

We use he/they pronouns.

We are bodily 23.

We are a polyfragmented DID system who is fictive heavy and have been our whole life.

We have known we are a system since we were 17.

We went through a repression phase we are recovering from.

We have over 100 known alters, including fragments, however there are many more we have repressed.

We are autistic and adhd.

We are mentally ill and neurodivergent.

We are physically disabled.

We publicly identify as a trans man.

Our collective gender is boygirl.

We are on the aroace spectrum.

We are polyamorous.

We have 2 partners.

We have 2 QPPs.

We are open to new relationships of any form. 

This blog is for logging our private system things. Please kindly refrain from reblogging unless it is tagged as okay to do so. Unless you are close to me then you can reblog as you please.

This blog will contain our pseudomemories and other information about us. We expect anyone who comes across this blog to respect us and not use this against us.

This blog is 18+ please.

Cringe is happiness cringe is free. No shaming on this blog.

I don’t care what you do in private just don’t hurt IRL people.

Below the cut we will put some more detailed information about us. Thank you for taking the time to get to know us.

Large sources:

Homestuck

Hetalia

Helluva Boss

Hazbin Hotel

Marble Hornets

Death Note

We have over 40 sources. I may post a full list eventually and link it here.

We have “problematic” sources and fictives. We urge everyone to remember that alters are not their source. We consume media critically and choose to not censor what we consume unless it is for our own comfort.

Some main fronters are:

Lucifer he/him (Hazbin Hotel)

Bryce she/her (Brandon Rogers Cinematic Universe)

Blitzø he/him (Helluva Boss)

Dirk he/they (Homestuck)

Kane he/they (Organic)

Damon he/him (Death Note)

Please feel free to message us and get to know us. We would love to chat sources with people as well.

[calicollectives]

Hello! We are the Calicollective!

★ DID/OSDD System looking for other system friends, singlets, and anyone with similar interests to befriend!

★ Bodily 22, They/He collective pronouns + agender demi for collective label

★ We have a partner system so no romantic interests please!

★ We are pro furries and therians as many of us are hybrids/animals anyway

★ We are also pro educated self-diagnosis, agesliding, pro mental health advocacy

⤷ᯓ★ Hosts/Main Fronters

⟢♡ Atlas (They/Them) • 20 • 🌊

⟢♡ Lance (He/Him) • 21 • 🩵

⟢♡ Chris (He/Him) • 25 • 🐺

⟢♡ Lovino (He/Him) • 23 • 🍅

⟢♡ Rigby (He/They) • 17 • 🏁

⤷ᯓ★ Interests/Sources

⟢♡ Voltron

⟢♡ Hetalia

⟢♡ Welcome to Night Vale

⟢♡ YouTube/YouTubers

⟢♡ K-pop (BTS,SKZ etc)

⤷ᯓ★ DNI

⟢♡ Racist, MAP, Homophobic etc

⟢♡ ProEndo, Endo Supporter/Neutral

⟢♡ Those who think mental health makes you a bad person, personality/other disorder antis

[gisforgeritagackt]

Frohe Weihnatchen, Bambino!

❄️🌲❄️ A SILLY Gerita fic

Where germany and italy become parents for Christmas!

_____________________________________________

It had started as a joke.

Or at least, Germany thought it was a joke.

Christmas Eve at the world meeting had been as chaotic as ever, filled with America’s loud proclamations about Santa Claus being real, England grumbling about it all being “bloody nonsense” (while talking to the air?), and Finland smiling mysteriously whenever the subject was brought up. Germany had ignored most of it, as usual, and focused on keeping Italy from eating England’s terrible fruitcake and getting food poisoning.

But then, after a few glasses of red wine (thanks to France’s insistence that Germany needed to “loosen up” and “danse!”), Italy had turned to him, all bright-eyed and flushed, and sighed.

“Ve~, wouldn’t it be nice if we had a baby?”

Germany had nearly choked on his drink. “What?!”

Italy had giggled, resting his head against Germany’s shoulder. “A baby! A cute little one that looks like both of us! They’d be strong like you and cute like me, and they’d love pasta, and they’d waddle around saying ‘ve~’ all the time! It’d be adorable, don’t you think?”

Germany had sputtered, unsure how to respond. He did think that was adorable, but that didn’t mean—

“Germany, you’re turning all red! You’re so cute, eheh…” Italy had laughed.

Germany had grumbled and crossed his arms. “That’s just the wine.”

But later that night, as he lay in bed, he found himself wondering. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? A little baby, a perfect mix of them both. Not that it could ever happen.

With a sigh, he muttered under his breath, “If Santa Claus was real, I’d wish for that.”

Then he rolled over and went to sleep, thinking nothing of it.

Little did he know, someone had been listening.

____________________________________________________

Germany woke up early, as usual, stretching and preparing for his morning workout. Everything seemed normal—until he opened the front door to get the newspaper.

And saw a baby.

His breath caught in his throat.

Bundled up in a tiny, soft blanket, fast asleep in a basket, with a note attached.

Germany’s pulse hammered in his ears as he stared. The world seemed to tilt slightly, like he had been struck in the head. His hands, usually so steady, trembled as he reached out and picked up the basket, heart pounding violently in his chest.

The baby stirred at the movement, wriggling slightly in the blankets, and Germany felt something tighten in his chest—something terrifying in its intensity. She was so small. So impossibly fragile.

The note had neat, elegant handwriting:

"Merry Christmas! Thought you might like this. —Santa Claus."

A basket containing a baby..

A baby wrapped in a red and green blanket, gurgling happily.

A baby with bright golden hair and big, round eyes.

A baby that looked suspiciously like a perfect mix of him and Italy.

Germany stared.

The baby giggled.

Germany shut the door.

He blinked.

He opened the door.

His brain stopped working altogether. This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening.

And yet, the baby made a tiny noise, a soft coo, blinking up at him with wide, bright eyes—blue, but with a hint of amber. Germany forgot how to breathe.

Because those eyes. Those eyes. He knew them. He had seen them before. In the mirror. In Italy’s face when he smiled.

It was impossible. Completely, utterly impossible.

And yet, the proof was right here, wrapped in a tiny blanket, looking up at him with a sleepy, innocent expression, as if she wasn’t completely shattering his entire understanding of reality.

“Oh, scheiße.”

A sleepy yawn came from behind him. He then felt a pair of warm arms slide around his waist.

“Ve~,Doitsu, why are you standing in the doorway? It’s cold—” Italy rubbed his eyes with one hand, then stopped. “Eh? What’s that?”

Germany turned to him, untangling himself from Italy, pale and horrified. His voice felt scraggly, stuck in his throat. “It’s- a…säugling.”

Italy gasped, eyes widening as he rushed forward to peer inside the basket. His hands flew to his mouth.

“Ohmiodio,” he whispered. Then, his face lit up. “DOITSU!!, it’s a Christmas miracle! Il mio bambino.. Santa DOES exist, I told you so!”

Germany felt lightheaded. “That’s—That’s not—You can’t just—”

The baby let out a tiny sneeze, and Germany swore he felt his heart physically stop.

Italy practically exploded with excitement.

“DOITSU! SHE’S SO CUTE! LOOK AT HER LITTLE FACE! OH, OH, WE HAVE TO KEEP HER! EEEHEEHEHEHEEHEH HAHAHAHAHA HUHUHUHUHU”

Italy suddenly heard a germany-sounding object.

Germany felt like the floor had disappeared beneath him. Maybe it's because he fell onto the floor with a loud thud, like an unstable wooden plank.

___

What followed was complete and utter chaos. First, there was the question of whether this was real. Germany actually pinched himself—hard—just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. The baby made a soft babbling noise, tiny fists waving in the air, as if to mock his disbelief. Italy was no help at all, practically vibrating with joy as he rocked the basket gently, whispering nonsense in Italian to the baby, who responded with a delighted squeal. Germany, meanwhile, was trying to breathe.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to react to this? Was this even legal? Could you just receive a baby from Santa Claus? What were the logistics? The paperwork?!

And why—why, despite the absolute terror clawing at his mind, did some small, irrational part of him feel—warm?

“What do babies eat?”

“I think pasta?”

“No! They can’t eat pasta! They don’t even have teeth!”

“Then… soup?”

Germany groaned, rubbing his temples. After bringing the baby inside, they had gone through multiple stages of panic, including but not limited to:

Denial: (“This cannot be real. We are not parents. I refuse.”)

Bargaining: (“Maybe it belongs to someone else? Maybe we just… return it?”)

More Panic: (“Ludwig, I think it’s hungry! Do babies drink coffee? What do we do?!”)

Despair: (“I AM NOT READY TO BE A FATHER, ITALY!”)

Meanwhile, the baby had remained largely unfazed, blinking up at them like they were the weird ones.

At some point, Germany had stormed into his office, grabbed his phone, and called Finland.

The call had gone something like this:

Finland: “Santa’s customer service, how may I help you.”

Germany: “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Finland: “Before that, is this regarding gifts?”

Germany: “uhh.. Ja.”

Finland: “Merry Christmas to you, Germany!”

Germany: “DON’T ‘MERRY CHRISTMAS’ ME! THERE WAS A BABY ON MY DOORSTEP!”

Finland: “Oh? That’s wonderful!”

Germany: “NO, IT’S NOT! EXPLAIN!”

Finland: laughing “Well, you did make a wish.”

Germany: “I DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD ACTUALLY HAPPEN!”

Finland: “That’s the magic of Christmas! Enjoy your new family! How much do you rate our service out of 10?’

And then he hung up.

Germany seriously considered throwing his phone into the fireplace.

____________________________________

Despite Germany’s many protests, Italy had immediately taken to the baby. He held her, cooed at her, rocked her back and forth, and giggled every time she made the tiniest sound.

“Ve~, I think she likes me, Doitsu! Look at her little smile!”

Germany, arms crossed, frowned, still wracking his head in confusion. His face is a subtle shade of red, his neck pink as well. This baby was cute. Unbearably cute. He just wanted to hug it and squish it and give it all the geschenke it wants.

Scheiße

Italy stuck his tongue out at him. “You’re just mad because you’re in denial.”

Germany was in denial. He was in extreme denial.

They were not raising a baby.

They could not raise a baby.

…Right?

That night, Germany couldn’t sleep. Not because the baby was crying—though she certainly had plenty to say—but because his mind was still spinning.

At some point, Italy had taken her into his arms and sat in the chair by the window, rocking her gently as he hummed a lullaby. The moonlight bathed them in silver, Italy’s expression soft as he cradled her close, his voice soothing. The baby, still so impossibly small, cooed quietly before finally settling into sleep, her tiny hand curling into the fabric of Italy’s shirt.

Germany stood by the doorway, unable to move, unable to think. He had spent the entire day fighting this, resisting the impossible reality of it all. But looking at Italy now, holding this tiny human with such pure affection, something in his chest cracked.

This was real. She was real.

And Germany… wanted it.

It hit him like a punch to the gut. The thought was terrifying, overwhelming, but also—strangely, painfully right.

Slowly, he walked over.

Italy looked up at him and smiled, voice barely above a whisper. “Doitsu, look. She finally fell asleep.”

Germany stared down at the tiny bundle in Italy’s arms.

His baby. Their baby.

A wish he had barely dared to admit, now curled up in Italy’s embrace.

Something warm and terrifying and fierce settled in his chest.

“…What should we name her?” he murmured, surprising himself.

Italy’s eyes lit up. “You mean… we’re keeping her?”

Germany exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ja, I mean… we can’t just leave her, can we?.. 𝘜𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘷𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘮 𝘥𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘴𝘵…”

Italy’s face practically glowed. “Doitsu! You do want her!”

Germany sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His face is still red and his heart just won’t quit pounding. He looks down at the baby, feeling something warm in his chest. “I don’t know how to be a father.” He admits, uncertain..

Italy beamed, rocking the baby gently. “That’s okay.. We’ll figure it out together, hm?”

Germany sighed again—but this time, it felt lighter. This idiot always finds a way to lighten up the mood.. to make him feel all fluffy inside. “…Fine.”

He leans over, gently taking the baby from Italy's arms. Carefully—so carefully—he reached out and took her into his arms, his large hands supporting her tiny body. She was so small, so impossibly delicate, and for a brief, horrible second, he thought he was going to drop her. But then, instinct took over. His hands adjusted, one supporting her head, the other cradling her back, and suddenly, she was resting against his chest, warm and real and his.

She babbled quietly, nuzzling into her papa’s chest. Her eyes fluttered close as she suckled on her thumb..

His heart was hammering, but not with fear anymore. It was something else—something so overwhelming and strange that he didn’t know what to do with it. The warmth of her small body against his, the way she curled into him instinctively, the way her impossibly tiny fingers twitched against the fabric of his shirt…

Something deep in his chest ached.

His arms tightened just a little, holding her closer, as if shielding her from the world. “Mein Baby..”

The baby let out a tiny, contented coo.

Italy grinned, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Merry Christmas, Papa doitsu~.”

“Oh mein gott..” Germany groaned, but he couldn’t fight the pink flush that tinted his face and the tiny smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad.

____________________

ADDITIONAL CRACKFICK 👅👅👅👅👅

____________________

It had been several days since the baby arrived, and Germany had—much to Italy’s amusement—become completely obsessed.

The once-strict, no-nonsense nation who lived by routine and discipline had been replaced by a man who willingly woke up at 3 a.m. for diaper changes, meticulously researched baby nutrition (“Italy, I told you, SHE CAN’T EAT PASTA YET!”), and now spent his mornings cradling a tiny human in his arms, utterly entranced.

Italy, lounging on the couch, watched as Germany sat in the armchair, rocking the baby gently. She was nestled in his arms, blinking up at him with big, round blue-and-amber eyes, sucking on her tiny fist.

“Ve~, Doitsu, you’re obsessed,” Italy teased, tilting his head.

Germany, not even looking up, gently adjusted the baby’s little blanket, making sure she was warm. “She’s just so… small.” He murmured. “I have to keep her safe, Ja?”

Italy smirked. “You’re totally in love with her, aren’t you?”

Germany’s ears went pink. “That’s not—! I mean, obviously, I care, but—! Don’t make it weird!”

Italy giggled, but before he could tease further, there was a loud BANG as the front door was thrown open.

“YO,GERMANY! THE AWESOME ME HAS ARRIVED!”

Prussia burst into the house, as obnoxious as ever, with Romano trailing behind, looking as irritated as usual.

“I don’t even know why I came,” Romano grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I was promised food, but now I’m just here, with you losers.”

Germany turned, startled, instinctively holding the baby closer. “What the—Prussia! You can’t just barge in like that, she’s sleeping!”

Prussia froze. “She? Who’s she?”

Romano narrowed his eyes. “Wait… what’s in your arms?”

Germany opened his mouth, but before he could answer—

Prussia gasped. Loudly. Dramatically.

“GERMANY,” he practically screeched. “DID YOU HAVE A BABY?!!”

Germany choked.

Romano, face blank, turned to Italy. “WHAT.”

Italy, already giggling, waved his hands. “Ve~, wait, let me explain—”

But Prussia was already in full conspiracy mode. He grabbed Romano by the shoulders, shaking him wildly. “ROMANO! DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS MEANS?!”

“I—WHAT?!” Romano yelled, trying to pry Prussia off.

Prussia spun back to Germany, pointing an accusing finger. “THEY MADE A BABY SOMEHOW.”

Germany almost dropped the baby. “VHAT?!”

“YOU HAD A WHOLE BABY UND DIDN’T TELL ME?! YOUR OWN BROTHER?! Oh mein gott..” Prussia clutched his chest like he had been personally betrayed. “How—how could you go through everything without me knowing?! I should have been your birthing coach! I COULD HAVE HELD YOUR HAND,GERMANY.”

Germany froze.

His expression twisted into pure horror. “VHAT? AND WHY ME?”

Prussia’s eyes sparkled. “JA! JA! I mean, you’re all serious and responsible and strong—of course you’d be the one to do it! It makes so much sense! ITALY’S TOO TINY TO HANDLE IT—”

“—WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?!” Italy cut in, but was promptly ignored.

Germany, meanwhile, was seething. His face turned bright red as he carefully handed the baby to Italy before stomping toward Prussia. Italy in the meanwhile, covers the baby’s ears with his palms.

“YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT,” he bellowed. “TWO MEN CAN’T HAVE A BABY! THAT’S NOT HOW BIOLOGY WORKS!”

Prussia flinched but recovered quickly. “Uh, yeah, but obviously it happened somehow because—” He gestured wildly at the baby. “SHE’S RIGHT THERE, JA?”

Romano, eye twitching, nodded sharply. “I hate that I agree with the dumbass, but seriously, explain why she looks exactly like you two.”

Germany groaned, pressing his fingers to his temples. “I DON’T KNOW! SHE WAS LEFT ON OUR DOORSTEP IN A BASKET!”

Silence.

Prussia squinted. “…Like Moses?”

“No! Like—like Santa Claus!” Italy chimed in. “Ve~, it was a Christmas miracle!”

Romano dragged a hand down his face. “I—what the actual—” He groaned loudly. “This is worse than the secret baby thing.”

Prussia, arms crossed, still looked unconvinced. “Sooo… you’re saying you didn’t carry this child, ja?”

Germany lost it.

“WHY—” He jabbed a finger at Prussia. “—WHY WOULD YOU THINK I WOULD BE THE ONE TO—” He stopped, unable to even finish the sentence without combusting. His face was beet red. “OF THE TWO OF US, WHY ME?!”

Prussia just shrugged. “I dunno, Germany, you’re always stressed, you eat a ton, you’re strong enough to handle it—”

“RUHIG SEIN!” Germany yells at his brother.

Romano, dead inside, sighed. “I hate this conversation. I hate it so much.”

Prussia, grinning, elbowed Romano. “C’mon, you gotta admit, this is hilarious.”

“No. No, I do not.”

Germany took a deep breath, calming himself, then turned back to the group. “Look. The baby was left at our house. Finland sent it here. We’re gonna look after her..”

Prussia hummed. “Sooooo, you technically don’t know for sure she’s not yours?”

Germany physically picked him up and threw him out the door.

Italy, still giggling, waved after him. “Bye, ve~!”

Romano stared after Prussia, then looked at Germany. “…Honestly? Fair.”

Germany sighed deeply, rubbing his face. “I need a drink.”

Italy beamed, cuddling the baby. “Ve~, you’re such a good papa~.”

Germany groaned. “Oh mein gott.”

But then the baby let out a tiny squeaky yawn and nestled further into his chest.

Germany immediately melted.

“…Mein Baby,” he whispered.

Romano gagged. “I hate this. I hate all of this.”

Prussia, from outside, banged on the window. “I STILL THINK IT COULD’VE BEEN YOU, GERMANY!”

Germany deadbolted the door.

________

Ty for reading:3

[icontalia]

Transfem Britain icons !!! 🏳️‍⚧️🇬🇧

[kz-world-hero]

Never fear, the hero's here!

Yo everyone! I'm Alfred AKA America, a Hetalia fictive! I've been a headmate of @kazanfamily since April 2021, and pretty much consistently active since I've joined. Though, I'm not as active as our host, which if you really must, I guess you can follow him at @thatonebritishheadmate (wouldn't recommend it, though, it's kinda boring).

Anyway uhh idc abt specific tags, but I might reblog Hetalia posts or chat about system stuff. Keep in mind my perspective on any in-system drama that happens is 100% correct and you should not listen to anyone else's view on it.

So... I think that's about it? If you're interested in joining my fan club, you're more than free than follow this blog! See ya around :D

[thatonebritishheadmate]

Introduction

Well hello there. I'm England AKA Arthur Kirkland from Hetalia. This is not a roleplay blog, I am a fictive.

I'm the host of Kazan World, a mixed origins system heavy on anime fictives, and a lot of our active members are also from Hetalia.

Anyways, um, this is just a blog for me to ramble about whatever comes to mind really, because frankly being host is exhausting enough and I need a space to take it out on.

Feel free to follow me if you're not a hater of Hetalia, endogenic systems, or if you just like seeing a British man complain 24/7.

Tags and boundaries under the cut.

Tags

#brit complains - For ranting and venting out frustrations.

#fandom trainwreck - Posts regarding Hetalia, most will likely be reblogs.

#teatime stories - In-system happenings and talking about other headmates.

#miscellaneous shenanigans - Everything else goes here.

#homeland memories - Discussions of headcanons and my own exomemories.

#from the rubbish heap - Responding to asks and whatever else comes from my inbox.

Boundaries

You can treat me like source, but not like a character. This means my personality is pretty much what you'd expect from canon, but you should not fangirl or simp over me, and most of all, keep your ships away.

Sourcemates and doubles are welcome and encouraged to interact. There's no one I really feel the need to avoid.

No touching, nicknames or petnames. Just no.

Source talk is fine, there's a reason I made this blog after all. Just don't be surprised if I refuse to talk about most of my past.

Main account is @kazanfamily

[hetaliakinfessions]

I want to go home. I want to be important again; I want to feel a million lives and see a million years again. I want to go back to when I was small, running barefoot through the grass. I want to love and hate and fight and die and always come back. I want to go back to that house, out in the field before the forest.

.

[hazyaltcare]

An Inscryption card edit for a 2p! Canada (Hetalia) fictive.

Mod Haze (🕹Zampanio)

[hws-lceland]

[kikikyon]

how would you guys feel about a hetalia system server. like focus around having hetalia fictives/hetalia adjacent headmates or just liking hetalia and just so happen to also be plural in some way so we can hang out

lmk if anyone would be interested n ill put it in the works 💪💪

[icontalia]

Transmasc && lesbian Britain icons for anon !!

[lyrical-mischief]

Hiiii! It’s Feli~ I made myself my own blog @bello-ciao and Lovi has his own too @lovino-tomato if you want to check us out and follow if you’re here specifically for us! I know we have a small handful of other Hetalia fictives following us so I thought I’d direct you guys on over~!

[thatonebritishheadmate]

do list them im curious

Apologies for the late response. Keep in mind once again, these are the languages I spoke back in source. Our body is only fluent in Portuguese and English.

Without further ado, here's every language I've learned, pretty much in chronological order as much as I could:

Every version of English that has ever existed since 1066. Naturally.

Several Celtic languages I picked up from my brothers.

French, which is likely the second language I use most on a daily basis after English. I might've also picked up some older versions simply due to how long I've known him.

Portuguese. I have more of an accent from Portugal when I speak it, since that's who I spent the most time with.

Latin. A lot of my magic has spells in this language, so eventually curiosity brought me to learn the whole thing. (Also because it's a cool sophisticated scholar language to know)

Spanish and Dutch, both from colonial years. Always a good investment to know what your rivals are saying.

Hindi, from when India was part of my territory.

German. I learned it before WWI, right after they'd started making a name for themselves and we became industrial rivals.

Japanese, I feel like it's pretty self-explanatory.

Italian. This one's on the weaker side, I basically just learned as much as needed during WWII, never bothered coming back to it.

Russian, you could say it was in high demand during the Cold War.

Most recently, Danish. The Scandinavian languages in general were always in high demand but low priority for me, and I kept putting it off. I finally came back as a way to sort of connect with my viking roots.

Bonus

Due to my interest in linguistics, I'm sure I must have made at least one conlang during my lifetime, though I couldn't tell you any specifics. Plus, there's several languages I only know a fraction of:

Romanian, I picked up some things from my time with him.

Norwegian and Swedish. Before committing to Danish, part of the reason it took so long was indeciveness; I couldn't pick between the three, so I absorbed only a bit from all of them at the time.

Greek, from my mythology phase. It was the first time I actively tried to learn a language rather than just passively absorbing it, I gave up soon after.

Some Arabic and Turkish from my interactions with the Middle East.

Mandarin and Cantonese, both around the time of the Opium Wars, as one might imagine.

Finally, bits of several languages from the many colonies in Africa and Asia.

[hetaliakinfessions]

Hey, we’re a 18+ DID system :)! (thought I’d mention that we’re over 18 in case that’s a dealbreaker for some people).

I don’t know if this blog is still active, but we have a few alters that are looking for sourcematws. I myself don’t mind; also, we are not bothered by “doubles”. Majority of our frequent fronters are hetalia & 2p hetalia introjects (unfortunately /lh). We’re mainly looking for fellow hetalia systems, but we’re alright with IRL/DA and fictionkin (if you’re interested in talking to us).

In particular, we have an England introject who’s interested in seeing his brothers/family again (Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland, Ireland, America, etc). I am aware introjects are not source regardless of their source connection, so don’t worry if ‘source memories’ are different :3! We’re open to interacting with other hetalia systems in general.

As for contacting us? You can interact with this post, and we may get in touch with you✨

- 2p Italy ( ｀= ワ =')ᕤ

.

[hoisamnicegaai]

hetalia fictive in (current year). incredible. everyone applaud.

but like. hello. im kennedy, aka hong kong. im an alter in The Milks. also we're in our 20s. he/him

no dni all we ask is that you be normal. thxthx

[kazanfamily]

Host here, planning to make a sideblog just for me. It'd have posts about Hetalia and what it's like being a fictive from it. Would anyone actually care? Be honest.

Reblogs appreciated, I don't know how many people are gonna see this. Also let me know if you'd like to be tagged when/if the blog is made.