#damnprussia

[islandiis]

continued | @damnprussia

[SMS: Gilbert] No!! I can do it, it's just. I'm embarrassed.

[SMS: Gilbert] Wait, you're in Iceland?? In Reykjavík?

[amantebravo]

@damnprussia | 1816 Thread Antonio laughs a loud, hearty and not at all healthy sounding laugh with so much strength behind it he reels back in his chair, head thrown back. Yes, he is drunk, as he usually is when hanging out with his close friend Gilbert. Still, that is no excuse for how rude and vain his words sound right now.  A better excuse may be that he is unwell. These past few years have certainly been a challenge for the Spaniard and not the least bit beneficial to one’s mental health. Feeling like he’s literally living through the end times, where his religion and worldview are constantly being torn apart in front of him, Antonio feels it a miracle that the two of them are even still here and able to share a drink together. They had just seen Francis die... only to come back crazier than before. Would it be much of a surprise to see Antonio lose it as well? “I’m just saying, my friend...” The threat doesn’t scare him. He’s high on the recent victory in New Granada. Antonio picks up his cup and faux-toasts it towards Gilbert before chugging it down and demanding another. “My recent win is pretty impressive...” The Spaniard leans back in the large extravagant chair and puts his feet up onto the nice marble table, crossing his ankles and relaxing with a big shitty smile. There was one thing keeping him together at the moment and that was South America. New Granada was secure once more which meant his strength was not gone at all! Maybe it was even going to grow again!! Antonio may need a reminder of the influence his friend had on that outcome’s possibility.

[attrociteas]

@damnprussia

"When we first met, or when we first as equals?" Gilbert smiled at him from across the dingy bar. "I'm pretty sure I didn't make much of an impact to you at all when we first met - that would come later." A round of shots that he had just ordered was placed down onf ront of them. "Why are you asking? Is there something that you remember?"

A curious smile that reaches his eyes crosses his features. “Oh, no. Our first-first meeting. And no reason, I was just thinking about it.” Of course, one rarely thinks about these things for absolutely no reason. Though sometimes one does, especially after a couple rounds of drinks. “Oh, you made an impact. Just probably not the one you’d been hoping to have,” he smiles again, amused. “But you learned very quickly. And look at us now—come so far, eh?” he says, picking up the shot glass and raising it in a quasi-toast motion, before downing it in a quick go. 

[valorblooded]

@damnprussia closed starter.

The air was crisp, the sky still dark with the touch of twilight creeping at the edges of the thick forest he found himself in. He wasn’t lost, not by a long shot, but he was not where he wanted to be. There was precious cargo in his oversize duffle bag, scientific instruments, research notes, his THESIS. While all that junk was worth his life as of right now, it wasn’t worth the lives of friends.

“Champ-- back down.” He threw out the command, a defensive hand that wasn’t clutching the bag to his chest, separating his agitated Riolu from his adversaries. It really was too bad his very large Arcanine was trapped in his backpack-- or any of the others. 

“--Listen, “ He started, moving to break eye contact of his pokemon with the assailant. Connor didn’t quite recognize the emblem they had ablaze on their uniforms, but he would be sure to remember a dragon biting its own tail.

“No, enough talking. Hand over the bag, and maybe we won’t leave you out here to die.” Their uniform was rather slick if not hinting a bit too hard on the sci-fi area, deep greens with hints of gold accents adored their jacket, pants, and boots. As corny and stereotypical their words were, they definitely had the muscle to back it up. Absolute units of a Rhydon and Boldore was doing an incredible job of keeping him and his pokemon penned to cliff wall. Champ grabbed at Connor’s pants leg, growling fiercely.

“Just back off for a moment! There’s something in here that you don’t understand and you’ll just ruin it!” 

“Why don’t you enlighten us, then?” The second well dressed individual spoke up, sounding much more calmer and put together. Are they seriously trying to do ‘good robber, bad robber’? Connor felt himself smile though it was humorless.

“Only if you tell your compliances to settle down.”

[coffeebleeds]

"Happy birthday, mate." He showers him with confetti and hands him a red white and blue cupcake, hand made - Gilbert even tried very hard to get all fifty dots in the corner of this cupcake and thirteen stripes on it. It doesn't look professional, but it was made with love. "I hope it's exciting."

[He might just cry, actually]

Thank you so much! This is so nice!

[He's going to hug the shit out of Gil]

[ofanglio]

@damnprussia sent: ❝ i’m not going in a graveyard, are you crazy? ❞ 

halloween prompts. / accepting.

       as though physically taken aback, arthur pauses, turning on heel to warily eye the prussian. in the dim dusk, his eyeliner appears more prominent, shadows framing gleaming emerald hues & making them glow in the dim light. huffing quietly, arthur places one hand on his hip as he stares gilbert down, ignoring the flush of pink that the evening's festivities have inspired in his cheeks. just at his back, the gate to the graveyard sits undisturbed yet ajar.

        " it's a shortcut. don't tell me that now you're choosing now to be paranoid. "

[mauerfrau]

@damnprussia 

East Berlin, early 1950s

It might be a little strange for young girl (no older than ten by the looks of it, but actually just a bit younger) to be sitting on the steps of an important government building, but this girl could probably be described as strange anyways. She wasn’t human, for one thing, and she seemed to be familiar with officials and soldiers that most children would hardly even acknowledge as existing. She was humming a Soviet tune and looking back over her shoulder, waiting for someone to appear. She hoped she wouldn’t miss him, but he would be rather hard to miss.

She looked at the street for a bit, then turned back again. There! Finally, coming out of the doors, was (still kind of scary looking) man with white hair. Very hard to miss. She stood up fast and ran to catch him as he reached the sidewalk on the far side of the stairs. “Comrade Beilschmidt!”

[vonprasserei]

@damnprussia | x

Gilbert closed his eyes and sank deeper into his depression chair, sitting alone in the middle of the wide dance hall of Sansoucci. It was 1991, and Gilbert was doing his best to ride out the wave of headache, nausea, and weakness that came with the end of a nation. It didn’t help that, even though this was the outcome he wanted and had fought for - he felt like an absolute failure at times.

“I really wish you wouldn’t be here,” he said, only hearing her voice and ignoring the violent increase in his headache. His mood, which was already low, sunk even lower with her there. “Leave me alone. There’s a reason why I’m here and you’re the only person who knows where I go. I don’t need you right now.” He was doing his very best to keep his voice steady.

Her footsteps echoed against the marble and the sound carried up the columns, and her eyes followed toward the gilded ceiling. The palace was still magnificent, if a bit dusty, its murals faded and nothing compared to how it gleamed in the light of its candelabras and crystal chandeliers. Before she’d found Gilbert, she imagined herself walking through the crowd of one of their kings’ grand gatherings. The ghosts of revelers of the court dancing around her, an orchestra playing near the windows. Queen Elizabeth nodding to her in passing with a tender touch of the hand, and King Frederick II giving her a rare smile from where he’d shrunk to the side of the room.

The only ghosts truly present were Gilbert and Julia.

“Everyone at the office has been looking for you. Don’t worry, I haven’t said anything.” She walked up to stand at his side and crossed her arms, choosing to speak to the air before them. For a moment, things were quiet. If Gilbert’s disposition hadn’t been so glum, it would almost look as if they were sitting for a portrait.

“I feel it too, you know. Even if you think I don’t.” She could hide things, too.