Basket of Novas

hetalia blog | lee, they/them, 23

[basketofnovas]

say your prayer to the head of this bed

Mexico and Spain have a discussion about her recent life choices in the middle of the Mexican War of Independence and the Peninsular War in Spain. Spain's office might never recover. Written for Season of Kink 2019, "Punishment/discipline."

Explicit, Spain/Mexico

Detailed warnings: angry, but mutually enthusiastic sex between a prisoner and (also occupied) jailer; a flogging and a lot of blood; general references to a consensual but extremely power-imbalanced relationship; negotiation probably happened but offscreen, a very long time ago

"What did you think would happen?" Spain asked dryly. He hadn't looked up from his paperwork, so Ximena didn't have a good trajectory to spit in his face. She refused to think of him as Antonio - not here, not as a prisoner in Madrid.

She wished to see his face and not to with equal and opposite passion. She hadn't been in his bed since just after the war over his succession; hadn't seen him in person in decades. She wondered how French occupation was treating him. Apparently she was going to find out.

"Mexico will rise again," she snapped, shook off the human guards and walked into his office herself.

"Leave us," Spain said, and waited until the door clicked shut to say, "God in Heaven, Ximena, why did he retreat? You'd have had the capital eventually, they didn't have anywhere near a large enough defense."

She frowned. That was... not what she'd expected, not after being dragged all the way to Europe alongside the only rebel they hadn't executed. "Are you angry I rebelled, or that Hidalgo fucked it up?"

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[basketofnovas]

any good Aragonese left

Castile and Aragon argue about jurisdictional rights, the Inquisition and the whereabouts and well-being of Juan Coscón's Morisco tenants. Spain himself is only tired. Thematic R.

Mature, Gen but with references to Spain/Castile. Spain, Castile and Aragon.

Antonio - his name was Antonio now - had never met the Crown of Aragon before. He had only seen her from a distance; and that recently. Unlike her sister, she lived the life of a human noblewoman, shut up behind walls of stone or walls of attendants; not someone he had the chance to meet as the nation of Al Andalus.

He suspected that Aragon would have behaved differently in the course of a routine introduction.

"Mother of God, I cannot believe you!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs, stalking from the doorway into the hall. The doorman fluttered at her elbow uncertainly, clearly feeling she should not be allowed to behave like this but probably under instruction to grant her entrance. "Teresa, get down here and show your damned face, or are you going to get them to clap me in irons for heresy, too!"

She had walked straight past him without sparing him a second look, and was on her way to the stairs. He winced, and wondered if he should go retrieve Teresa - the Crown of Castile, Aragon's sister and his own wife now - for her.

"Depends," Teresa said flatly from a completely different direction, across the hall from Antonio. She had just appeared in another door. "Are you guilty of heresy?"

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[beebeesart]

[neviarchive]

a belarus sketch from class. is she contemplating cutting her hair? checking for split ends? the world may never know

instagram | twitter | commissions 

[katuman]

Caught in the orbit of Spanish Empire.

[dessinsdefrancofous]

[day 16] the best romanian folk dances involve lots of leaping

[beebeesart]

[basketofnovas]

oh if it wasn’t obvious from me actually writing fic again, hi everyone, I’m back-ish? I got married and separated last year and I’m trying to figure out how to get a divorce w/o a lawyer in this state and now I have my life at least kind of together again

[yosb]

i can't believe i'm asking a hetalia question in 2019 but can i ask what does egypt do in your mafia au? i remember you used to draw him a lot back in the day™

hmmm yes…. egypt is very important….. i dont think im ready to reveal too many details about the mediterraneans outside of my patreon just yet bc they actually have to do with PLOT (holy shit i have PLOT)

while the nordics fashion themselves as neutrals, they really aren’t and end up causing a lot of conflict by virtue of their own self-interest (low down dirty shit). the actual true neutrals are the mediterraneans (honour among thieves) who have aged out of the underworld game and act as peace-brokers (except greece who can’t resist roasting romano). they’re part of the old guard and have many secrets regarding papa rome’s assassination and persia & india’s “gone without a trace” cold cases

anyways dang yeah i really miss drawing them and they are the most interesting in the mafia au….. THEY HAVE SECRETS

and while turkey is in love with greece, they hate each other’s presence. on the bright side, turkey actually likes egypt’s company; and they make a great power couple

[basketofnovas]

Abrasion

Herakles hit the tile hard on his knees and hoped they weren't bleeding. The water came down hot across his head and back, so his hair fell wet in his eyes. Sadık's hand smoothed it back from his face, and the callous on his thumb scraped over Herakles' cheek.

Herakles' breath caught in his throat. After that he couldn't have made himself stop if he wanted to.

Explicit, Turkey/Greece. This is basically just porn. Happy Valentine’s Day!

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[basketofnovas]

your love for me has just got to be real

The state of Osman sends Herakles to find out what Romania is up to and make him stop that; or, in which everyone is a collaborator and no one is happy about it.

Mature, Greece/Turkey. Greece, Turkey, Romania, Serbia, Egypt. Contains characters being nasty about imperialism and each other’s sex lives.

"I need you to tell me what he's up to," Sadık said, pacing across the room. Herakles had noticed over the years how Sadık hated to sit still and certainly found it unbearable to think that way. Perfectly on form, he had started this conversation seated on the sofa, fidgeting with his book stand; but soon he had risen and gone to the window as though to look out; then he came back over to Herakles, and now he went back and forth without even a pause.

The light through the latticed windows formed a pattern over his skin that whirled as he moved. It was dizzying.

Herakles focused on the conversation again with effort. "That isn't hard," he remarked. "Romania is very predictable. I can tell you what he's doing from right here."

"And what would that be?" Sadık whirled. The robes flared around him as he turned, red silk flashing like rubies in the afternoon sunlight. He formed a very pretty picture, Herakles admitted.

"Plotting sedition and drinking too much alcohol," Herakles said. "It's possible that he's also branched out to coffee, lately. But I wouldn't put money on it." Romania wasn't a fan of Ottoman culture as far as Herakles knew.

Sadık didn't like that. His brows arched, then contracted over his forehead, and he scowled. "I know he's plotting sedition, Herakles," he said. "That's the problem."

"It isn't as if it's a change in the situation," Herakles muttered.

Most likely it was fortunate that Sadık paid no heed to this.

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[basketofnovas]

reason, wash your hands of me

Iran looked down at his hand and said very pointedly, "I am drunk and you are a homosexual." She had to stop in the middle of the last word to make sure she was saying it right, which removed some of the impact.

*

In which Pahlavi Iran and Cold War America are subject to some serious misunderstandings on the part of others about the nature of nationhood and the spread of communism across borders; or, the establishment of the Baghdad Pact.

Explicit, Iran/America. F/M. Mutual dubious consent; neither wants to be there but no one struggles or actually says no. This is black comedy, not erotica.

"This is a stupid idea," Iran said, walking into the hotel room. Her heels sank into the carpet without a sound and she nearly turned an ankle. When America hit the lights she flinched. Damn it, she was drunker than she had thought, or possibly starting to turn the corner from inebriated to hungover.

She couldn't have that; being sober in America's presence in general was undesirable, let alone in pain before he began to speak. "You have alcohol," she said, a command and not a question; then she followed his vague gesture to the bottle of - cognac, apparently - on the table.

Not the choice of poison she would have guessed; America had always struck her as more of a cheap liquor type, or beer; and he was a showy drinker of over-engineered cocktails if he was in polite company. She wondered if someone had told him she drank brandy and resolved to punch France in the face at the next opportunity, just in case. Whether or not it had been him, he had undoubtedly done something to deserve it.

"Look," America said, resigned. "Can you actually explain the objection if you're gonna pitch a fit about it in front of Eisenhower? As a personal favor."

When he spoke she was concentrating hard on pouring the cognac without spilling it. It took her a moment to remember what they were talking about. "This treaty thing," she said.

"The Middle East Treaty Organization," he prompted, tiredly.

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[basketofnovas]

Hungary in front of her parliament building in Budapest. Probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever drawn.

[bonbravo-deactivated20180822]

wanted to try bein painterly for once

inspired and referenced by René Gruau’s artwork, specifically this piece

[veroww]

added a Lithuania as well uwu♥

[deadartblog]

For @lietpolweek day 4 - folk culture I know very little about polish and Lithuanian folk culture but I hope I at least got the pretty dresses right! Btw this was my first try on lineless art! I’m kind of in a bad place with my art lately so trying this was very refreshing and fun

[kyuhu]

For LietPolWeek day 4 c: I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to draw them dancing. O/