#fandomfan64

[yourpalhiroya-blog]

Credits to my friend @fandomfan64 for drawing this amazing picture.

[rinshiweek]

I made something and tagged it but i don't think it's showing in the tags when i searched it myself. ^^;

Hi!, thank you so much for telling us!. it’s now reblogged. I’m assuming tumblr glitched up, it does that randomly sometimes where things don’t appear in the tags. =o=;  even more recently with them flagging posts as inappropriate when they aren’t.if it happens again just send another message, and I’ll also check your blog periodically!.

[celticfeather]

Fandomfan64:  HAPPY BIRTHDAY Celticfeather!! You’re 20! One year away from a full fledged adult (ooooh~). This year has been another awesome year with you. I’ve gotten to learn more about your interests and muses through small observations. I’m as grateful to be your friend as the years before and continue to feel an inkling of inspiration from you always. ^^ There aren’t enough words to express my gratitude so I hope this gift does the talking. I apologize if my art is sloppy and not fully inked! My body apparently doesn’t comply. :‘3 Thank you so much for the great memories and for contributing your talents to your fans. You’re someone I continue to admire and I hope you spread your writing far and wide. I hope the following year will be filled with opportunities and excitement for you– And as always, stay safe, have fun, and have a great week!

Celticfetaher: AAAHHHHH!!!! You are so sweet!! Yes you did draw me right, actually, she’s much more elegant than I am, so that’s good ;). You sure got my crazy forest witch hair right. You got all that from that altered picture of me on the deer or other little ones I’ve scattered around? Nice job! Look at all those hetalians. Gilbert is having a good time. Ludwig looks embarrassed to be seen with his goofball brother. And leave it to Alfred to bring the food and celebration. Eliza looks like me every time I see a bird. Gilbird, you birdseed sellout you! That’s ok, Lud and Gil have some pretty scary big eagles with them I’d fly the coop too. Is that our sad shaggy samurai there in the corner? Glad to see he finally looks happy. Guess I am kind of sort of an adult now, but I sure don’t feel like it xD. Thank you so much Fandom. Your talented gifts mean so much to me and I’m ever glad we became friends.

[celticfeather]

Snippet 6: Holy moly, poses, dynamic poses, and expressions. I loved the visuals in my head but hard to draw! Thank you for the prompt and I’m thankful no one got shot either! Thank you again Celticfeather!!

Four years ago on 12/28/12 I published the first chapter of what would become a 500 paged Hetalia fanfiction that changed my life. Fandomfan64 and I were chatting, and while the story is long completed, not all of it saw the light of day. I released 12 deleted and alternate draft scenes from Flight of the Valkyrie, which Fandomfan64 was generous enough to illustrate.

Photocreds to Fandomfan64

Scene 7: Royally Misplaced

She had been noticed. In the darkness she saw the man’s green eyes fearfully gleam, the moon illuminating a halo of blond hair. Light reflected onto a patch on his filthy green RAF uniform, the British flag splattered with red. A trembling pistol pointed at her. Elizabeta hadn’t allowed for a scream, but she was aware of a sharp, tenor, Hungarian accented yelp escape someone’s lips. Immediately she heard the clamor of running boots and the friction of thigh-clothing smashing against itself.  Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit. “Gilbert, don’t come!” she screamed. This did not deter the crashing boots and he whirled into sight seconds later. Gilbert’s pistol was locked in both hands. He froze, lips parted, his eyes shining in betrayal. “Liz,” he croaked. The Englishman froze. The German froze. Both with equally lethal weapons and point black range. They couldn’t afford to take their eyes off each other. The Englishman looked guilty and terrified. Caught in an unknown land, with an SS he certainly had to kill, a female witness who would alert Vienna of an enemy, and two loud gunshots that would spell his own death. Gilbert, who had ran in expecting a fair fight to extract Elizabeta from whatever street marauder, had found himself unexpectedly facing something that demanded a death. But the noise would alert the local police and spell his own. Gilbert’s gun lowered half a centimeter. “Do you speak German?” The Briton spoke. Probably asking if any of them spoke English. She repeated the same question in Hungarian to find, to no surprise, no affirmative response. “Do you speak English?” she said, eyes flickering to Gilbert. “No. I can somewhat read it if the words are similar. But I can’t produce it.” The Briton became irritated with this exchange. He was nerved by the communication. Thought they were colaborating against him. His voice raised  aggressively and he gestured for Elizabeta to step away. “Eaasy,” Gilbert soothed at him, as if to a horse. A furious torrent of English rampaged from his lips and flashing teeth and sharp, muddy yellow blue eyes. “Well chap you ain’t in any position–!” the German began. “Gilb…” she whispered. It was almost a whimper. That of a creature that did not want to die. Gilbert visibly relaxed himself. She was sure Gilbert would have shot him if the gunshot wouldn’t send soldiers running. His fingers were spread wide as he lowered his hands. “We’re just gonna..” Gilbert trailed. He started sitting on the ground, his free hand slowly guided Elizabeta down by a fold in her dress. Eyes wide in confusion, but understanding his action, the Englishman started lowering himself too, like in a game of mirror, until the three of them were sitting. Gilbert placed his gun in the grass, admittedly  just inside his reach, and the Briton matched it with his own gun at his own side. Just as slowly, Gilbert reached inside his shirt. He produced his cigarettes. “Zigarette?” he offered. It must have been close enough to English, because the Englishman took one. Gilbert smiled approvingly and offered one to Elizabeta. “You know I don’t smoke,” she whispered. “Take it.” She took it. Gilbert then drew his lighter and delicately placed it on the ground halfway between the Englishman and he. The Briton accepted it, lit his, and deposited it back. Gilbert lit his, she lit hers, and she sucked on it. It burned her lungs and tasted vile and papery. Her body expelled the unwelcome substance with a series of small coughs she tried to hide with her hand. The Briton seemed to be enjoying his about as much, only was a skilled enough gentleman to suppress his cough. But he had seemed smart enough to accept the gift. And Elizabeta and the Briton discreetly let  each of Gilbert’s precious cigarettes burn in their hands, occasionally wrapping their lips around the soggy brown end, or being as evil as to exhale out through the tube, aerating  the embers and willing the tobacco’s swifter disappearance. Gilbert smiled broadly and backed away on the ground. Eventually he had slowly risen to his knees, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet in a squat as he slowly rose. She mimicked his mirror dance. “Take my gun. Carefully,” Gilbert ordered. Not moving her feet, she did. The Briton did not object. And they left. And the Briton left. “He must be very confused why he’s still alive,” Elizabeta whispered after several silent minutes on the midnight sidewalk. Gilbert shrugged. “Someone else will find him.”

[celticfeather]

Snippet 5: It’s late in the night right now, but it was nice to be this productive. I thought the scene was endearing in a scary manner, thinking these children would be doing some fearful things in the future, in Ludwig’s mind. At least these kids are still innocent. Goodnight everyone.

Four years ago yesterday I published the first chapter of what would become a 500 paged Hetalia fanfiction that changed my life. Fandomfan64 and I were chatting, and while the story is long completed, not all of it saw the light of day. I released 12 deleted and alternate draft scenes from Flight of the Valkyrie, which Fandomfan64 was generous enough to illustrate.

Photocreds to Fandomfan64

Scene 5: Herr Soldat

A girl was jumping rope, pig tails swinging in unison with each of her arms. Boys and a few equally mud-stained girls were playing football in the street, dented tin trash cans pushed together as goals. A few glanced, but most of the children did not notice them. The SS men did not look like they wanted to search anyone’s house. That was until the ball rolled to Ludwig’s feet, and upon realizing its trajectory none of the children chased after it. The silent German picked it up, his frown calm and his thick fingers gently examining the decomposing white hexagons. It was a boy with lemony hair and sky-colored eyes who was brave enough to approach the stranger. “Good day, Mr. Solldier.” “Looking for something?” Ludwig asked. “Could we have our ball back?” She waited for the shrill screams of children that would foretell Ludwig had swooped on the boy and eaten him. “Sure,” Ludwig said with a loose smile. He lowered the ball and kicked it, with the expertise of experience, to the center of their field. “Thanks a bunch!” the boy yelled hastily over his shoulder as he loped to overtake the spinning muddy white blur. Athletic. Blonde and blue. The kind of boy Ludwig liked. The man’s smile lingered as he walked, And for a moment he appeared as those good-doing Hitler Youth leaders who helped women carry groceries. It might have been possible to not expect how many people he had killed.

[celticfeather]

Fandomfan64: Snippet 2, that Austrian authority and regal posture, is only made possible by that lovely deleted scene! Enjoy~

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Four years ago yesterday I published the first chapter of what would become a 500 paged Hetalia fanfiction that changed my life. Fandomfan64 and I were chatting, and while the story is long completed, not all of it saw the light of day. I released 12 deleted and alternate draft scenes from Flight of the Valkyrie, which Fandomfan64 was generous enough to illustrate.

Photocreds to Fandomfan64

Scene 2:

“You know what the prisoners say. Better worms than no flesh at all,” Roderich’s musical words echoed off the prison walls.

Gilbert observed a small brown cube, ersatz bread, mostly sawdust. There was a tin of soup. It was clear but slick with translucent globules of whale lard. Half submerged on the surface squirmed fat white maggots. With a sweep of his arm Gilbert crashed the soup and sent the tin hurdling towards Roderich and the bars. It spilled noisily but missed the Austrian. With furious power Gilbert paced the cell, like a wolf in a circus cage, his long teeth flashing when he spoke.  "You subhuman Austrian southern European…” "Then starve," came the cold reply. And Gilbert knew, with no sink in the cell, the laces torn from his boots, his removed belt from his waist, he would not be allowed to die in this cell if he wanted to. A maggot crawled out from the upturned tin. The gallows would have their prize.

[celticfeather]

Four years ago yesterday I published the first chapter of what would become a 500 paged Hetalia fanfiction that changed my life. Fandomfan64 and I were chatting, and while the story is long completed, not all of it saw the light of day. I released 12 deleted and alternate draft scenes from Flight of the Valkyrie, which Fandomfan64 was generous enough to illustrate.

Photocreds to Fandomfan64

Scene 1: Cry of a Falcon

Like the cry of a falcon over the din of battle Elizabeta’s hysteric shriek pierced the air. She struggled, shoulders and breast shaking and pulling between two guards. Eyes wide wild and opaque with wrath she flared her nostrils and bared her teeth. With a wild plunge she struck her incisors into the flesh of the nearest hand that held her. The fragile birdlike bones waned and crunched under her jaws, slitting through muscle, and the guard was screaming, arterial blood thick and bright and frothed with air spraying from his split white hand. She released, and turned to see Ludwig for a milisecond, her mouth wide and stained gums showing. It wasn't a smile; there was no pride, no triumph, it was a threat. Her mouth was as red and dribbling as Gilbert's, only with something that was not her own. The dark blood of man, like grease, dripped fattily from her lips and gathered in the creases of her teeth and stained their snarling facets a dylike yellow. Scariest of all was the eyes, like a mother bear, thoughtless with rage. He could not have warned her. Like an ax swing a rifle butt stuck her, she was on the ground, and a foot connected under her ribcage like a kicked dog and her small body flew through the air and with a crunch landed against a tree. The guard with the mangled hand shrieked with frenzy and seized his chance and raced to stomp on her. He jumped on her once. Twice. "Come on!" Ludwig roared, grabbing his comrade's good arm and yanking him away. "Elevate it!" He kicked her once. Twice. "Go! That's an order!" The boy spit on her body and loped towards the truck bay, which was already rumbling and filling, his bloody hand swinging with each leap, painting the snow in wide spattered arcs of red like flicks from an artist's brush. Two SS men gathered her limp form messily between them. They were brutish in their handling, but wary around her lolling skull, as if wondering whether a hydra's head could still bite after it was shorn. One of them kicked her. "Commandant wants her alive," Ludwig reminded like an impatient teacher. It was all he would say.

[celticfeather]

HAPPY 19th BIRTHDAY CELTICFEATHER!! I hope you have a wonderful year and had a terrific day! As a person who knows to an extent of your amazing writing ability, you have a bright future and as a friend who thinks your lovely, smart and awesome, I’m glad to have met you. Thank you for your works and for bringing joy to your fans. Enjoy!

Celticfeather: AHHHHHHHHH!!!! This is Prussia caliber awesome!!! Look at how good you are at drawing those faces again, ahhhh, everybody is so handsome. I wish I could party with these guys. My proud daddy nation and these awesome central Europeans wishing me a happy birthday. And dear Gilbert stretching up that big banner. Gilbird is whistling a little song, I bet it’s happy birthday. And that hawk poking out from the background looks marvelously dangerous. I wish I could draw like this. I’m so grateful and glad you’re my friend Fandom!!