Bassoons and shit

Hell

[doomspiral]

Messy draw of Tolys reviving Gil for @proosh 💕

[darcyexene]

[darcyexene]

The Eastern Bloc’s first meeting: Prussia POV, 1947

(It’s supposed to seem chaotic) (eventually I will fix it… maybe)

We sat around the dining table, myself and the other “residents” of Russia’s house sat among our fellow members of the Eastern Bloc who had been called to Moscow for our first meeting all together. Bulgaria, Hungary, and Romania had spent the last two years in labor camps, and looked like it too.

“This is all his fault.” Poland pointed across the table to me. “He started the war, and he dragged us down with him.”

“He wouldn't have had any of that trouble if Austria hadn’t started WWI. Don’t put the blame on him.” Hungary stared angrily at Poland.

“That war was gonna happen whether the two of you threw a hissy fit or not!” Hungary shot Romania a glare as he shouted.

“It’s not any of our faults. It's Russia.” Estonia explained.

“Can we quit playing the blame game! It's not any of us! Not even Russia!” Lithuania began shouting and Czech responded:

“Russia's a fucking psycho! Why are you protecting him?!”

“It's not his fault. It's his government.” Lithuania banged his hand on the table.

Everyone froze.

Russia walked up to the end of the table where I and the ten other nations sat. “We are all family now.” I stared down at the table, at the familiar scratches that had been made the night I arrived. “My bunny took a little convincing, but he finally let me in.” He stroked my jaw with the back of his fingers while a few averted their eyes in pity and the rest stared in confusion.

“I made something for my disobedient one.” Russia turned and walked towards the fireplace. He picked up a rod on the mantle and stuck it in the flames. He turned his head back towards us. “Close your eyes.”

I looked at him with hatred.

“Somebody close his goddamn eyes!”

Estonia grabbed me from behind and put a hand over my eyes. He whispered in my ear: “I'm sorry.”

I heard footsteps that stopped right next to me. Someone took my shirt and pulled it over my head, despite my struggles. I heard commotion and Hungary spoke with a mix of waryness and warning, “Russia?”

I screamed: The pain came all at once and it felt like my left shoulder blade was on fire. The smell of burning skin filled the room.

My shirt was yanked back down and I yelped as it passed over my newest wound. “I own you. Remember that.” Russia dropped the piece of metal on the floor and began walking towards the kitchen. “Lithuania, help me bring dinner.” 

My vision tunneled and got blurry, but I saw Lithuania get up and follow Russia, his head turned toward me for a moment, but his expression was invisible to me. Whoever the hell was next to me reached under my arm and helped me sit back down in my chair.

I heard Bulgaria’s voice from across the table, but it sounded much farther away. “The government might be whacked, but he's still fucking crazy.” 

The next few minutes were mostly silent except for people moving around and setting down plates of food. I noticed movement and smells in front of me but continued staring at nothing. Someone placed a plate of food on the table in front of me, but the world was still out of focus.

Eventually the movement stopped and I began to hear the clatter of utensils in the direction of where Russia usually sits. Of course he would eat, he’s probably enjoying it too. Another set of utensils moved. Belarus?

As the world slowly came back into focus over the next couple minutes I noticed most of the nations pushing food around their plate, they had looks of suppressed fear on their faces.

“The people toiled in the fields to provide us with this food,” he said sweetly, the way a preacher would preach about Jesus dying on the cross for us. “EAT!” They all began to eat. “That means you, East Germany.” I winced at his threat. I moved my arms up towards my utensils and gasped as my shirt pulled at my burnt flesh. But for fear of what Russia could do, would do, I picked up the fork and knife and put a piece of potato in my mouth. My eyes began to water as the pain flooded my body with every small movement I made.

This suffering was better than whatever I’d get if I disobeyed Russia.

After dinner the “non residents” of Russia’s household were made to leave. “How fun and productive! We will do this again soon!” Russia said gleefully. They shuffled out around me, with fearful, nervous faces that were reluctant to glance at me sitting in the chair, in my bloody shirt.

The Baltics got up and began to remove the plates and utensils from the table. Russia and Belarus had left. Ukraine walked towards me.

She reached out a hand, I gave her my right and bit my cheek to stifle a whimper. She helped me to stand as she used her other hand to pull the chair out from behind me, making sure I didn’t have to move or twist any more than I already did. We made our way towards the bathroom where she sat me down on the floor. “I’ll be right back.” I sat in silence, staring at the bathtub. That fucking bathtub…

I heard her footsteps before she spoke: “I’m back.” Ukraine came around in front of me with a box and a pair of scissors. “I’m going to cut your shirt now.” She began at the bottom in the front, cutting all the way up. Then she cut towards my armpits, freeing me from the sleeves. I dug my nails into my palms, knowing the most painful part would be next. She stood up and wetted a piece of cloth in the sink, came around to my back, and began to wring the cold water onto where the shirt stuck to my injury. I groaned and she repeated the process.

Without warning she started to peel the cloth off of my back, apparently not deterred by my screams of pain as the skin around the burn pulled and tore.

I heard noises as she opened the box she brought and rummaged around for gauze. She dressed my wounds and left without a word.

(Soon after this, Prussia is sent to a forced labor camp (gulag) where he stays for four or five years until the “Stalin note” in 1952)

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

[darcyexene]

The Dissolution of Prussia

(This had been discussed earlier “off camera,” so it’s not like they’re making this decision with no deliberation at all. This decision was mostly reached because of America’s insistence after Prussia begged him. See previous chapter)

Prussia POV, February 1947

I did my best to gather every scattered ounce of sanity for this moment. “Let my brother go, continue helping him rebuild, give him a new life.”

“And why should we let him go, not you?” England asked.

“This war was my idea, I put thoughts of revenge and world domination in his head. Hell, Hitler admired my country! My militarism and my power. Take a look at Prussian history, it seems like after I got done with one war I had to go and throw myself into another one. The longest I’ve gone without being at war was 43 years. 43 FUCKING YEARS!”

“Wasn’t the State of Prussia generally against the Nazi Party?” England threw the information out there.

“Please, he’s my little brother. I’ll continue living with Russia and I’ll take all the new and colorful punishments he can throw at me, just please, don’t touch my little brother.” England eyed the Russian beside me. “Do you really think he did that alone? If I’m no longer here, this will never happen again.”

 England leaned back, putting his hand to his chin. “What do you think, Alfred, you’ve been awfully quiet?”

The men in that room turned to America and looked at him quizzically until he answered: “He’s right.” Eyebrows raised and glances were exchanged. They all knew something was going on to make Alfred respond that way. They all knew that he was lying.

England leaned forward and stared at him and America stared back. All eyes were on them. I held my breath. “Okay, then.”

America stood up.

Germany POV:

“Germany’s reparations and charges will remain the same. However, all the current convictions placed on Ludwig Beilschmidt, the person of Germany, have been dropped. The Western Allies will contin~...” I could see that America was still talking but I seemed to have lost the ability to understand. I ever so slowly turned to my brother in shock. His eyes looked forward and his face was full of relief.

“Germany?” America asked.

“What? Yes?”

“As I was saying, after extensive research into the origins of Nazi Germany we have come to the conclusion that the militarism and the ideals of the Third Reich have originated in the Kingdom of Prussia.” America’s stone face fell into a solemn one. He spoke through grit teeth, “Gilbert, stand.”

Prussia rose to his feet, clenching his jaw, probably forcing himself to not speak.

The rest went by in a daze for me. There was no blood or flames or pain. Only a deep sense of emptiness. Nothing had changed.

I was brought back to earth when my brother knelt in front of where I sat. His face held the expression of that of a man who had just lost everything. He yanked me out of my chair and into a crushing hug.

“Not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought of you.” He took me by the shoulders and held me out so he could look at me. He spoke desperately: “I love you so much. Please, never forget how much I love you.”

---

Prussia POV:

I watched the German countryside for the last time as the plane flew us into eastern Europe. To the naked eye, you couldn’t tell where my land ended, but I could. As my retired territory vanished from view, I could only see the struggles that were to come.

[darcyexene]

America visits Prussia in Russia in 1946:

“Hey, man! What’s up? You look like shit!” America slapped my shoulder and I almost collapsed. “Dude, what’s wrong?” I looked up and tried to give him a smile but it probably looked atrocious with my bruised face. He looked over my shoulder and around the room before asking, “Do you need to sit down?”

“Is he here?”

“Is who here?”

I was silent…

“Can I get you something?” “Maybe Russia can-”

“NO!” I screamed and grabbed his sleeve to keep him from leaving. He looked confused and worried. “Alfred, I need you to do something for me.”

“Yeah, sure. What is it?” I shook at the sincerity behind his words.

“I need you to make sure nothing happens to my brother and for God sake don’t let Russia lay a finger on him."

“I don’t know-"

“It was me!”

“What?”

“Tell them it was all me. I did this, I came up with these ideas and I ravished Europe. It was me. It makes sense; who else could have done this?”

“I-”

“Please! Please, all these years after I helped your soldiers I’ve never asked a thing of you. Think of this as a repayment. Don’t let any harm come to him. Build my brother up.”

There was a long pause. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.” America looked at me like I was growing a second head. He even seemed scared. “What is going on here?”

I looked at my feet. I could not speak for a few moments until I abruptly grabbed his bicep and looked straight into his eyes. “Please Alfred. Don’t let Russia touch my brother.”

He continued to stare at me in confusion until his eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Okay.”

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

[darcyexene]

Prussia POV, November 1945

I wasn't allowed to leave the house but for the trips to Nuremberg. I often didn't even get the pleasure of looking out the window of our plane since Russia had decided the scenery was too much of a pleasant distraction for me.

Hungary, Bulgaria, Romania, and Prussia (not until 1947) are sent to work camps to pay off their debts from the war and Czechoslovakia and Poland work in Moscow. Ukraine, Belarus, and the Baltic States (and Prussia until 1947) work at Russia's house. 

I didn't think I'd be thrown back into it all so quickly. I'd been away from the world for over half a year.

I had to laugh at the irony though. Britain was in charge of the inhumane seizing of foreign lands and people, France, stolen arts and historic artifacts, and of course Russia was in charge of crimes against humanity. America ran the thing. He had profited off of the war.

I looked over at where Germany sat. I hadn't seen real emotions on my brother's face since he had dedicated himself to his fuhrer. But now, it seemed he had remembered how horrible it was to feel. He looked terrible and had obviously not gotten a decent night's sleep in a long time. I could only think: My brother worked with these men. He and his fuhrer hired them. We hired them. I could have shot each and every one of them, but all I did was run. Like a coward.

I didn't notice that my brother was walking towards me until he was in my face, his eyes concerned. "Brother, what happened? Wh-?"

I didn't give him a chance to finish. I wrapped my arms around my brother and hugged him. "What have you done?"

---

(TW: SA implied)

The trips soon became routine. Whenever Russia felt like it he would send me off to Nuremberg.

I was forced to see the monsters who I left behind, and all this while the people in the room blamed us.

But just as the trips became a regularity, so did Russia. He continued to visit me in his sick and twisted ways. He held me down, beat me, and made me do things I could never repeat out loud. I never became used to it, it was always a horrible surprise when he had his way with me.

I was too proud to give up, I always fought back, so Russia kept on coming, trying to break me.

---

Germany POV:

Prussia entered the room with a weird gait to his step. I was having problems processing that this was my older brother. He was emaciated. Bruises covered the visible parts of his body and a few scars lined his neck. His mouth was red and puffy, like he had been punched, and his white lashes were brimmed with tears. The sparkle and hope had completely gone from his eyes. Despite his horrible physical condition, that look of determination, coupled with anger, remained on his face. I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

As soon as his eyes met mine his tears vanished and he stood up straighter and began to make his way over. I stood up and met him with an embrace. He felt as thin as he looked. I'm not sure what I expected, as only a week had passed. While holding him I looked up to see Russia entering the room and making his way towards us. Intimidating was a word I hadn’t used in a long time. He was imposing in his straight collared tunic with his gold shoulder boards and chest full of medals. The rubber soles of his shiny leather boots made far more noise on the floor than they should have. The loud footfalls must have signaled to my brother that our time today was going to be brief. He pushed me away. “I don’t want you to worry about anything. I will be fine, you will be fine, everything will be ok. I’m going to make sure of that.” He looked at me and spoke with such sincerity that I felt like I was a kid again, and my big brother would make everything bad and scary go away. I wanted, from the bottom of my heart, to undo everything I had done to disappoint him. Not only because I was beginning to understand the horror I got roped into and participated in, but because it hurt him. I just wanted him to fix it all.

Russia crossed the distance to my brother quickly, and placed a calloused hand on his shoulder. Gilbert grimaced slightly, but otherwise became emotionless, his sincere face vanishing. Russia turned him around and they walked toward their seats.

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

Once again, for the people who are just coming upon this, I made a post two days ago about how this fanfic I started ten years ago has been semi-abandoned and I've decided I'm just going to start posting the (disjointed) sections I actually think are worth posting. More context is provided in the Wattpad upload and that first post I made two days ago)

[darcyexene]

My disjointed fanfic, part two!

This is where things start getting more personal and where 16 year old me started writing (nine years ago) as a coping mechanism to deal with trauma from 6 years earlier that I had never processed. I am PURPOSEFULLY not posting the part that comes right before this. If you want to read that, you can read it on Wattpad, where random people cannot accidently stumble on something that triggering.

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

Please note that in my fanfic, Hetalia-canon Russia and Stalin era Russia are very different. Russia begins to change slowly into a more canon Russia after Stalin dies, but there will be NO redemption arc.

This is Prussia, after getting captured by Russia, put into a POW camp for a few months, and then taken to Moscow. This is after he arrives in Moscow.

TW: SA mentioned/implied

I wasn't exactly sure what happened afterwards, but I woke up in a nice bed, in a nice room. But I didn't feel nice. I could tell I had bruises and scratches everywhere and my whole body ached. That's when I remembered. 

Instead of thinking of the events of the previous night, I busied himself by taking in the surroundings. Large windows rose from the floor and up the wall to the left, draped in velvet curtains and a magnificent painting of fruit hung on the wall directly in front of me. But that’s where the interesting stopped and the dull began. Besides the ornate painting, the walls were bare and unpainted.

In an attempt to get up, I knocked over a lamp on the side table and a skinny man came walking in, as if just waiting for me to screw something up.

“Lithuania?”

“Are you ok?” He picked up the unbroken lamp and came to my side, his face was emotionless but his eyes shone with empathy. I stared at him, confused and in a daze.

“Where am I?”

“Moscow, for now. How are you feeling?”

“Peachy.” I groaned as I tried to move. 

“Please, don't move.” I flinched at those words. “Do you want a bath?” I nodded without thinking and halted before I tried to get up. Pain shot through my body as if I was struck by lightning.

“I’ll help you.” Lithuania helped me up and through the huge, exquisitely decorated hallway, which seemed out of place, given my current state. (Triggering): As we walked, a warm liquid began to slowly run down my leg. When I looked I gagged at the sight of the blood and cloudy fluid. If I had anything in my stomach I would have vomited. Lithuania caught me as I fell and practically carried me the rest of the way.

Lithuania opened the bathroom door and helped me to sit on the edge of the bathtub, which caused me to wince, and started the water. “Is this too hot?”

I didn't feel the water or even look over. “No, it's fine.”

“Prussia, look at me.” The man was almost angry. “It's a game! It's a game to him and there's nothing you can do! Just give up! That's all he wants from you. Then he'll stop.”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” I couldn’t stand to hear his pissy voice anymore, reminding me of the night before.

“Fine.” He turned to leave. “Clean yourself up.”

Once he closed the door I put my head in my hands. It felt like someone had ripped my guts out. A horrible sinking feeling sat in my stomach that weighed me down and hadn’t gone away since I had woken up. Rape. It wasn’t rape, I wasn’t raped.

When I got in the bath I could see small amounts of blood swirl around in the water between my legs. I turned my head away from the shattering scene to be faced with more blood on the side of the bathtub, where I had been sitting.

I closed my eyes and wrapped my thin arms around my bruised legs

An unknown amount of time had passed before Lithuania entered the room. I looked up as he opened the door and took a step forward before stopping. “Prussia, you have other injuries.”

“Stop, don’t look at me.” I turned my head away and covered my chest and lap. I couldn’t have anyone seeing how badly I had lost.

Lithuania reached for a washcloth and dunked it in the water. Before he did anything, he stated the obvious: “you’re really thin. Are you sick?”

“No.”

He sighed. “Lying to yourself isn't going to help you get well.”

“Why are you doing this? You hate me.”

“Yes, I do.” He paused. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“I used to beat you when we were little.” Lithuania deliberately pressed the washcloth into one of my many bruises, causing me to wince.

“Accept the help you are given.”

When Lithuania was done playing mother with me he stood up and retreated to the corner of the bathroom. “He’s going to keep doing this until he breaks you,” he said.

“What?”

“He told me. He told me he is going to do anything he can to break you and your obnoxious pride.” I huffed. His unusually angry tone switched to one of discomfort, despondency, and most unnerving: sympathy. “I didn’t think he’d go this route though. I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.” I shakily rose to my feet in the bath. “I can’t stand your whining.”

Lithuania offered me a towel and when I took it he said, “He doesn’t do this to anyone else. I make sure he doesn’t.”

My hands faltered on the towel and my breath stopped for just a moment as I tried to think of all the things he could have meant by that except the obvious, given what he had said earlier. 

He must have realized what he had said and noticed my surprise because he left almost immediately, but not before he got his last two words in:

“Give up.”

[darcyexene]

what is this fic where can i read it its so fucking good

Aww, thanks! I just added more parts to it on Wattpad and am about to do that on fanfiction.net too. My post on monday explained that I started this thing almost a decade ago when I was in high school and then abandoned it halfway through my freshman year in college. I've worked on the parts I like here and there, but haven't been able to bring myself to write the parts that don't interest me as much. I was diagnosed with ADHD a couple years ago, can you tell? Haha!

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

[darcyexene]

Germany, 1945

Feliciano was always warning me that I should stop before I hurt myself. Now I knew what he meant during those nights he’d beg me to take a break. He knew that I would stop at nothing to get what I wanted. I would eradicate anyone in my path. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t even have a goal. He always said that was the most dangerous thing of all: Stopping at nothing to get what doesn’t even exist.

(Please see my posts yesterday for context on this fanfiction, I'm posting the parts that I feel I did a decent job on, since the scenes in-between I can't bring myself to write as I'm just not interested. That's why I haven't been able to give my fanfic on fanfiction.net a decent update in several years. I just don't want to abandon the bits I genuinely worked really hard on)

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

[darcyexene]

Prussia POV

Please check out my previous posts today for the context on this fanfic. This is very rough section that I wrote nearly ten years ago and am still piecing together

August-October 1944: Prussia fights in the Warsaw Uprising

Usually I would find it inconceivable to fight my own people, but over the last decade I have learned over and over again that my country wasn’t going to listen to my voice or my reasons. Perhaps at this point I was willing to see if they’d listen to bullets, but I doubted it.

At the very root of it I was no better than the Nazis and I’d much rather die at the hands of my own people than fall to those of another. I took aim and fired the first shot

Sometime between January and March of 1945: Prussia and his compatriots are fleeing the war path. The car they’re in together hits a mine and blows up, the other people (who?) with him die, Russian soldiers were nearby and thought they were getting attacked so they began shooting at him and he runs.

I wasn't sure how far I ran. Two kilometers or fifty, it didn't make a difference, and it didn't matter how far I went, it would never be enough. I couldn’t get my friends’ dead and mangled faces out of my head.

I saw flashes of light and heard shouts in Russian drowned out with gunfire in the distance: the war had finally come home. I say let the allies handle the rest. I continued to run.

…

I had no time to process that I was falling before I hit the ground. The snow in the dark made it seem like what I was running towards was a hill, not a snowy overhang. I know I didn’t fall far, but I landed with a loud CRACK on my right side, where the blast from the landmine had broken my collarbone. 

I rolled a few times until I came to a stop on my back. I could feel something warm fill my coat in the vicinity of my right shoulder. Then came the pain.

…

Despite the pain I was in nor how much snow was on the ground, I was more than anything else tired, and I was cold. The frigid air was in my head, telling me to sleep, and a warm blanket of exhaustion shielded me from the elements and all of my maladies. 

And for the first time, I wept. Not heart wrenching sobs or small, silent tears, but cries of relief and mourning. I wept for those years, I wept for those children and those parents. I wept for Lis, and Aleksander, and whatever became of the others in that car. I wept for my love, Elżbieta, wherever she was. But finally, and most of all, I wept selfishly, because it was over.

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

[darcyexene]

Prussia POV soon after he joins a resistance group operating in Poland and Germany:

(Please see my previous posts today for context on this fanfic. This is only a small section of what I started almost ten years ago)

It wasn’t the glamourous resistance work people like to think it was. I spent my time in cars, in shops, in army camps, in alleyways - chatting. I wasn’t running, shooting or blowing shit up. I had even acquired myself my own Heer uniform once again, thanks to my good friend Adolf. He was my favorite and most used informant. He knew more than he should of due to his assignment in a supply depot that often doubled as a meeting place for this and that. I didn’t ask exactly what was going on, we weren’t going to mess with what Adolf had going, plus he was always right. I just collected and shipped.

Did it ever get boring? Sure, but the hours sitting in wait and the most irritating conversations were made up for in the acquisition of valuable information. How and where German supplies were being shipped, the movement of troops, the various skirmishes, and the ever so important sex scandals that seemed to be a favorite conversation, mostly of the troops I got in with every once in awhile.

Adolf liked to tell me it all as well. Probably because he knew it helped to hear the going ons back home. One of my most interesting assignments led me to Nuremberg where I spoke with an old German man named Georg about forged paperwork, the black market, and a smuggling system. All of which he utilized to get his Jewish business partners and their families out of the country. Apparently the Gestapo was on to him. That of course had me wound tight and on guard but he couldn’t seem to care less. He even admitted, with no prompting, that he was entirely in it to keep his businesses surviving the war, his family’s safety and the lives of his partners be damned. I got the information and contacts and left. Of course I was back within the week when we learned he knew a hell of a lot more than he was letting on. We found out from a neighbor that Georg lived next door to an SS officer with paper thin walls. He was arrested by the Gestapo later that winter. We never heard from him again and his businesses were seized by the state.

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

[darcyexene]

Prussia POV (around late 1941 or 1942 in Poland)

(Please see my previous posts for context on this fanfic. This is only a small unfinished section of it)

Steals food back from a nearby German storehouse and gets caught by a German soldier named Adolf Stromberger:

I froze when the door behind me opened and I felt all the blood drain from my face. Ever so slowly I turned around. There stood a man in a Heer uniform. He looked at me, and then at my bag. I couldn’t be sure how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but at some point he walked over to me and snatched the bag from my hands. I let him, knowing at any moment he could have the whole station alerted to my presence. “What is this?”

Something in me gave way. I had lost all patience. They thought they could take and take from hard working people who would die for a piece of the food that they made, this scrawny man would not be the one to stop me from getting that family what they deserve.

I ripped the bag out of his hands and bolted out the door.

…

He finally caught up with me halfway in between the storehouse and the village.

He grabbed me with both hands by the collar and slammed me against a tree. I spit in his face.

After flinching, his eyes came to rest on my chest and I had to scrunch my neck awkwardly to see what he was looking at. It was my iron cross dangling unceremoniously from an old piece of thick thread.

“You’re a little young to have that,” referring to my award. He set me down and while still pinning me with one hand, wiped my spit from his cheek.

I lied quickly: “it was my father’s.” He loosened his grip.

After a pause he asked: “why would you steal from your people?”

“Why would you steal from these people?!”

“Why do you care?” I scrunched my face up in frustration. He responded: “we are ordered to.” He let go of my collar. “The war effort isn’t sustained on just supplies from the fatherland.”

The man paused in thought, never taking his eyes off of me, before saying: “You’re wanted for deserting.” My breath caught. “Your picture was posted a couple days ago.”

“Shit.” I said quietly. Did my brother know about this? Was my brother the one who did this?

“Why?”

This time I paused. Is that how I am seen: a deserter? Am I a deserter? Have I betrayed my country? What sort of explanation would make sense to this man? “I saw what it did to my little brother, and I couldn’t stop it.” I said, and looked away. “He’s out somewhere in Russia now.”

“I have a younger brother too.”

I turned back to him. “I hope yours is doing better than mine.” I meant it.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know.” There was more silence for a considerable amount of time. My heart rate had finally slowed down. “He’s slowly become fucked and twisted ever since he joined the SA in ‘34. The idea originally was to get a good job and bring in money for us and our widowed mother. But all that power went to his head” (Germany parallel) “He’s in the Balkans doing God knows what.”

I didn’t know what to say. We stood there in an understanding silence for over a minute. He was the one to break it.

“You should dye your hair”

“What?” 

“Your hair. It’s very… unique. Recognizable. I would change it if I were you.”

I looked at him in surprise. He wasn’t going to turn me in.

He picked up the sack of food and tossed it to me. By the time I looked back, he was already walking away.

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

[darcyexene]

Prussia leaving Germany (Prussia POV 1941)

(Please see one of my previous posts for context on this fanfic. This is only a small segment. This takes place after the last section, after he got back from Warsaw)

Enters Germany’s office:

I refused the seat. “I'm not coming with you.”

Germany sat in stunned silence until he seemed to come to a conclusion and chuckled. “But that's where the fighting is. Where are you gonna fight? Berlin?” He laughed.

“You will be slaughtered in Russia.” I said flatly.

“We talked of conquering Europe together! You've never given up on anything.”

I wanted to fight him on this but I knew how power warped nations. He would not back down. “I'm not giving up. I just don't feel good about this.”

“About what?” Germany’s eyes narrowed.

“Hitler. Your new beliefs. Do you really think these people deserve what is happening to them? Don't you hear the things he's saying? Do you even know what is happening to them? He's twisted! This war is wrong.”

“This war is everything! He has brought us back from nothing! So what if we have to break a few eggs along the way?”

“A few eggs?!” I was stunned. “Hitler’s a monster!” 

“He’s a hero!”

I paused while examining his face. “Ludwig.” I stopped and spoke in a quiet, menacing tone very foreign to my tongue. “You aren’t even a hundred years old. You don't understand what's going on. You’ve seen nothing.”

“I was born from war!”

With this, I snapped. “Yes you were! You saw battle before you can even remember.” I tapped my temple and got close to him. “Germany, you are naïve and jaded, if one can be both.” He just stared at me, emotionless. “Do you have any idea what I had to do to bring you into this world? The nations that died? You were born out of spite, out of revenge, out of determination, out of hatred. And you know what? It shows. So after a long time, yes, I guess you were born from war. Does that make you happy?”

Germany stood up and leaned over the table. “I don't know you. Get out.”

I turned to leave and stopped before the door. “I made you an empire, and you made me a joke.”

As I exited the room I realized something horrible. That wasn't my brother in that room. My brother was gone.

(This section is where the title comes from. I know it's cheesy, but I couldn't think of a better one. It's supposed to refer to either or both Prussia or Germany)

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

[darcyexene]

Prussia POV (1941)

(please see one of my previous posts for context. This is only a small section of this fanfic)

Feliciano looked at me and smiled. I blushed. He was beautiful. The dark caramel color of his hair looked soft and heavenly as it waved like fields in the wind. His eyes speckled with gold like a piece of brown granite. He was perfect. He was everything I wasn’t: soft, gentle, kind, and patient. I could see why my brother couldn’t get enough of him. The way Ludwig looks at the man could move mountains and crush armies. I knew he loved him, and I loved my brother more than I loved Italy.

That’s why I would be leaving for Warsaw in the morning. When my heart fluttered everytime he glanced in my direction I knew I couldn’t leave him a moment too soon. He was dangerous and I knew I was capable of doing anything for him, as was my brother. My brother would conquer the world for Italy. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how he was winning the war.

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

[darcyexene]

Italy leaves Germany (1943)

(See my previous post for context on this fanfiction, this is only a small section of it)

(Italy POV: in Germany’s office at his desk)

My stomach clenched like a fist and my breathing shallowed. Every word I read sent my world into a downward spiral and it took everything not to get sick. Romano was right. They were killing people.

The world seemed to die right in front of me. The air stiffened, the colors dulled, and the lights dimmed. Pockets of dread and fear and pain buried deep within my chest popped like bubbles trapped in tar. It was painful and sour.

Despite my ability to cry at the drop of a pin, no tears came pouring out of my eyes. The sense of disappointment and heartbreak was more than tears could express and deserved more than my horrified wails.

How could he? How could he?! His own people, my people, people! I thought of the families that lived in these places and-- I had to sit down. Women, children, even the elderly who had served their country with honor, were carted away to be killed! What kind of monster could do this, could let this happen? Himmler and Goebbels, those men terrified me and so did the scary generals and officers who yelled and made me cry. The SS and former SA were goons who tormented everyone! How could I not have seen this? Why was I so surprised?

Ludwig, my Ludwig.

We, as nations, could get just as brainwashed as our citizens. Especially one as young as Germany. But his youth did not excuse his actions or inactions but did that change anything? It really didn’t. I hated his actions and would condemn them for the rest of my life but he- I-

I slammed my fist into my thigh, relishing the little bit of distraction and relief the pain gave me. The tears finally came but I held back my wails. I didn’t deserve to grieve.

When I heard the door open I made no movement to turn around, just kept staring at the damnation in my hands.

“Italy? What are you doing in here?” Germany asked.

“Who are you?” It was an honest question. Who was he? Who did he think he was?

“What? It’s me, Germany. What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know you. I thought I knew you.” I held the papers tight against my chest and turned around. “I knew you were a little rough and too serious and couldn’t take a joke or break any rules. But I also thought that you were sweet and patient and kind. I thought you were sincere and honest. I thought you were a proud man who loved your citizens and your nation, I thought you cared about them.” I stood up. “But you are a shell. You love feeling great and mighty; you get that from your brother. You love it when thousands are singing Deutschland Uber Alles and shouting heil, heil, heil.” I slammed my fist into the table with every sick word. I walked around the desk and got in his face. “But how will you feel when the war is over, you’re alone, and millions are now screaming shame, shame, SHAME!” This time it was his chest I hit with my finger. He didn’t move. “There is nothing inside you.”

“What are you talking about?” He even had the audacity to have an expression of shock on his perfect fucking face!

“You know what I’m talking about.” I shoved the papers into his chest and he took a brief glance. 

He looked up. “I-I didn’t think you’d find out.”

“Oh, you didn’t think I’d find out?” Something dawned on me. “Did you think your brother wouldn’t find out either? Is this why he left?!” I pointed to the papers in his hands.

“I can make this up to you.” 

I scoffed in response. “This isn’t about me! There is nothing you can say that can turn this around. There is nothing you can do to fix this!” My tears stained my uniform and suddenly my military jacket was too heavy. I weighed it down with lives and lies and responsibilities. Suddenly it felt like a sign of my ignorance. I tore it off and threw it to the ground. 

He just stood there, dumbfounded. “I had no say.” He was lying.

“But you condoned it, you let it happen! At least your war fiend of a brother had the decency to leave when he had enough of the bullshit!” I emptied my pockets of my German pocket knife, my list of commands, the meetings I had planned on skipping and let the contents fall to the floor with an unsatisfying clatter. I sobbed, “How could you let this happen?” Tears spilled down my cheeks and I took a step back. He reached for me. I slapped his hand away. A feeling of disappointment and loss washed over me. “I don’t know you.” I turned and walked out of the room, closing the door lightly.

Prussia never imagined it would turn out this way. After the First World War, Germany was thrown into chaos. Poverty, famine, people throwin

[darcyexene]

Hetalia fanfic I started 10 years ago and abandoned 7 years ago… Don’t know what to do

I started this fanfic in 2016 when I was 16 and worked on it for about two years. It is 11 point font, single spaced, and got to over 100 pages. When I got a good portion through my freshman year in college I kept telling myself I’d pick it back up when summer came, or when I was done with undergrad, when I was done with grad school, blah blah. Now I’ve been married for four years and am going to start trying for kids in a couple months.

This fanfic is about Prussia (who has always been my favorite) and follows him from 1939 to idk, some years after the wall comes down. It has a B plot too about Germany and Italy, but the main plot is Prussia. It follows him leaving his brother in 1941, playing a support role in the Polish resistance, getting captured by Russia, and in part two purposefully taking the fall for all that happened during the war so his brother would be spared. He is then sent East and suffers immensely. In part three he reunites with his brother and all that happened earlier on in the story comes to light.

I do not ask this lightly since this I used writing this fanfic to not only process a lot of what I was uncovering about my family history, but most importantly, to process horrific childhood trauma. But if someone would like to take what I’ve so lovingly started, and complete it for me, I think a lot of Hetalia fans would be grateful. There are certain sections that cannot be changed, since I feel that they are already perfect, and/or they are pieces I had written to directly cope with the trauma I had suffered years before, surfacing.

Here’s the link to what’s already been published:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/150073140-child-of-war? https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12894891/1/War-Child

I’ll post copies of what I consider the best chapters of the story today or tomorrow.

All I ask is that you message me with that you want to do this, update me, and credit me when you do post it.

Please reblog this so it reaches more people who might want to help resurrect this dying fanfic ❤️

[bearcide]

red dragon