Put 5 characters in my ask and I’ll put them in my preference order
1. Austria because he is my dear child also husband material
2. Prussia because huge dork
3. Kugelmugel because I love my little baby so much
4. Germany because he is badass but at the same time so sweet and fragile
5. Liechtenstein because I love her very much and she’s so badass and awesome, but you just had to take those people and make me choose. I love my little Liech so much though and she’s like a little sister but at the same time this little sister is a master when it comes to weapons. Don’t mess with her she’s the most dangerous of all of these.
Austria was no stranger to Prussia’s sleeping habits. He’d had the last two centuries to observe them as Europe fractured and broke and reshaped itself around them, and he’d had the last few years to observe them more intimately, occasionally waking to either a pushy body against his own or nothing, signalling that Prussia was having another one of his moments. Such was the case tonight, it seemed, and as Austria blinked the remnants of sleep from his eyes he cast his gaze to where he knew Prussia to be, as he was every time Austria woke alone, shaken from sleep by pure chance.
Prussia stood by the open window, his arms wrapped firmly around his body, head bowed in the darkness. There was no moon that night, no romantic sliver of silver light falling over him, but Austria knew he was there anyway, not because he had particularly good night vision but because this was a scene he had witnesses over and over, every time he inexplicably woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed and a cold breeze. He did not wake every time, of course, and he wondered, vaguely, if Prussia did this every night and he just didn’t know, but that was neither here nor there.
Forgoing his glasses he slipped from the bed, clutching the open collar of his white sleeping shirt as he ghosted across the room to where Prussia was standing, his back to the bed. As Austria neared and his eyes adjusted he could see that Prussia had extended one hand, but if he’d been staring at it previously he was not now, his eyes staring unfocused at something in the sky Austria could not see, and did not care to search for. He knew what this was, what it had always been ever since one little blonde-haired boy had been replaced with another, one who had grown too quickly and suffered the mistakes of his forebears, and the part of Austria that still clung to the old days hissed in impatience while the other part, the part he had grown into, preached patience.
He was not there to coddle Prussia and his insecurities, but nor would he exacerbate them unnecessarily.
“It’s all right,” Austria said, reaching out to rest a gentle hand on Prussia’s shoulder, an action that would have been impossible as little as fifty years ago. He felt Prussia shudder under the touch, heard a bitter laugh escape, but he ignored it, as he ignored many things. “It’s all right.”
This thing they had, this thing they’d always had–Austria was worried that, one day, it would finally destroy them both. He didn’t voice that, though. Instead he shook the thoughts of centuries past from his mind, stepping out from beneath the mantle of empire and into a role he had always played in a perfunctory fashion: partner. He allowed Prussia to shift and turn under his touch, to draw him in, to bury his face against Austria’s neck as he had several times before, his body shaking not with sobs but with frustration at what Austria knew Prussia perceived to be his own weakness.
“It’s not a weakness, you fool,” Austria said, allowing a tired sort of fondness to leak into his tone. “I tire of repeating this.”
“Repeat it once more?”
Austria sighed, reaching up to rest one hand against the back of Prussia’s neck. “The strongest and most long-lived empires did not remain the strongest because they isolated themselves and refused help. It’s all right to accept it. It’s all right to want this. It’s all right.” And as he whispered to those words he listened to Prussia hiss them back to himself and prayed, silently, that one day he would allow himself to believe them.
SEND ME A SHIP AND ONE OF THESE PROMPTS AND I’LL WRITE A MINI FIC.
Santa: Fanta (fantastiix.tumblr.com)
Type of fanwork: fanfiction
Genre: university/college AU
Rating: PG
Artist Note: Heya! I’m really excited to be participating in the gerita secret santa and I hope you like the fic I wrote. Happy holidays~!!
Part One: Attack of the Artist
Feliciano’s apartment in the afternoon is eerily quiet. At this time, he usually hears the frantic scribbling of pen against draft paper and some scattered German curses. As Feliciano takes off his jacket and drapes it over the coat hanger, he continues to hear nothing.
Panic starts.
It’s unreasonable panic, but it’s always Feliciano’s first reaction. What if Ludwig fell on his way back to the apartment? What if somewhere, he’s lying in paralytic pain crying for help? What if he’s fallen unconscious? What if he got hit by a truck? Or what if he’s been out for so long he’s developed frostbite?
“L-Ludwig?” Feliciano’s voice is quiet. He’s trembling too much to be any louder.
Slowly, Feliciano walks through the rooms. He can’t help but wonder if there’s a murderer lurking around. And that, after killing Ludwig, he wants to kill Feliciano too.
There’s a sudden noise. It’s either a grunt or a slow breath. Whatever is it, it makes Feliciano jump.
It’s the murderer! It’s the murderer! Oh my God, I’m going to die. And I haven’t even finished my portfolio yet. Oh God. I’m going to die and then my professor is going to resurrect me and kill me.
The noise comes again. This time, Feliciano can tell it’s coming from the desk in the corner of the room -- where his tired roommate is sleeping on top of circuit designs.
A little abashed and a little relieved, Feliciano giggles. After two days of foregoing sleep, the mighty Ludwig Beilschmidt has fallen. His soft blond hair lays scattered on piles and piles of draft paper. On his face, is an expression of peace.
It’s a little too peaceful. And the sight makes Feliciano’s eyes light up with mischief. Oh how he has waited for this opportunity. He knew Ludwig would fall asleep before him once. And he knew that he would be ready.
Quietly, Feliciano retrieves a felt tip marker from his messenger bag. Even though the bag is a mess, he finds the marker quickly. It has been stored in a special pocket, reserved for this special occasion.
Holding his breath, Feliciano tip-toes to the sleeping German. It really isn’t necessary as Ludwig is a heavy sleeper, but Feliciano would rather take the precaution. An angry, woken-up Ludwig isn’t a particularly fun one. Still, he takes care in gently repositioning the other’s face, moving stray locks of blonde so the “canvas” is clear.
Feliciano hesitates slightly before uncapping the marker and making two swipes across Ludwig’s face with the felt-tip. Ludwig’s eyebrows are colored black, thickened, and pointed down in anger. Feliciano adds some more dramatic features to Ludwig’s mouth, creating a furious scowl.
Next, comes the fun colors. Bright orange for Ludwig’s eyelids. A neon green blush on his cheeks. And a cyan dusted on the bridge of his nose. Standing back to observe his masterpiece, Feliciano cannot stop from doubling over in laughter. The angry, colorful man looks ridiculous. In a way, he resembles a ten year old who stumbled upon their mother’s make up drawer.
Lastly, Feliciano pulls out the glitter. Bright sparkles fall over Ludwig’s hair, his clothes, and his notebooks. Feliciano empties the full 8oz jar. Small piles of glitter sit on Ludwig’s slumped shoulders. With every subtle movement, he sparkles and shimmers.
When Feliciano stands back to admire his work, he is grinning from ear to ear. He snaps a picture with his cellphone and quickly retreats to the living room, where he jumps on the couch and puts on some Netflix.
An hour and a half later, Ludwig appears to have woken up. Feliciano lowers his laptop’s volume as the floorboards of the study room creak. Suddenly, there is a scream. A loud, angry cry of terror.
Feliciano lapses into giggles as Ludwig storms into the living room. Everywhere he walks, he leaves a trail of glitter.
“YOU!” Ludwig points a finger in accusation, but Feliciano is laughing too hard to even nod. He can’t take Ludwig seriously. Not with that face, those colors, and all the sparkles. Ludwig’s a mess. A beautiful, horrible, nonsensical mess.
“WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS!?”
“For art!”
The drawn scowl on Ludwig’s place is joined by a real one. “Your teacher did not tell you to draw on your roommate.”
“Of course she didn’t,” Feliciano laughed. “She said to photograph something funny.”
“Ha ha, hilarious.”
“And she said to photograph something that we love.”
“If you love me, next time just tell me. Don’t pull stunts like this.”
Feliciano purses his lips. His eyes light up with mischief. “Sorry, I can’t make any promises~”
Part Two: Fear the Engineer
Ludwig has always been about the numbers. Every single digit is important to him. Complete precision is what he aims for.
And so, he knows exactly what time Feliciano will be home -- half an hour after his afternoon class ends and five minutes after he calls the apartment’s landline.
“This is such a waste of a mechanical engineering degree,” Gilbert scoffs. He’s angry that he’s missing playing video games with some of the other engineering kids.
Ludwig only rolls his eyes. He doesn’t feel any sympathy for his brother. This is a debt repaid after all. And although he isn’t sure what Ludwig owes him for, he is certain that there are plenty of things Gilbert should owe him for.
“Just be quiet. Feli will come through the front door in three minutes.” Ludwig examines the barrel of the “canon” he took and rigged from one of the department rooms. Within the large, PVC pipe is a pile of pressed confetti that, upon being triggered, will fire straiinto the poor soul in front of it.
Gilbert makes an exaggerated motion as if he’s groaning. Still, he obeys his younger brother and remains -- if only for a few seconds.
“Hey. How come I never get to call him Feli?”
“Because you’re not his boyfriend.” Ludwig doesn’t take his eyes off the front door. His fingers are wrapped tightly around the canon’s trigger and his mind is thinking of too many things to be bothered with Gilbert’s nonsense.
“That’s lame.” Gilbert snorts, oblivious to Ludwig’s internal state.
“Oh be quiet.” Ludwig shoots a glance at the stopwatch on his phone. “Two minutes.”
“It’s not fair that you get to surprise your cute little Italian boyfriend and call him by some cute nickname. I’m helping you with this! What do I get?”
“You’re my older brother. This is your job.”
“Bullshit. Let me call him Feli.”
“No.”
“What about pinching his cheeks. Can I do that? Aah~ Feli has the cutest, squishiest cheeks.”
“No, you can’t. And don’t call him Feli.”
“Well you never squish his cheeks.”
Sometimes arguing with Gilbert is just impossible. “Forty seconds.”
The two brothers fall silent. The neighbor’s dog is out, again, and Feliciano has stopped to pet it, again. Fortunately, Ludwig has accounted for this.
As if waiting for his cue, Feliciano swings the door open. Immediately, he is hit with a stream of confetti. The colored paper strips fly in the air. They settle on Feliciano’s hair, his sweater, and get all over his schoolbag.
Feliciano blinks. His reaction is very slow. It’s almost as if he doesn’t quite understand what just happened. He looks at Gilbert and Ludwig wordlessly.
Ludwig’s grin falters. Is it just him, or does Feliciano look like he’s in pain?
Feliciano suddenly jerks forward. He sways off balance. His pigeon-toed feet give him almost no support. Before he can fall, Ludwig catches him. His arms wrap around the Italian’s waist, pulling him close and steadying him.
“F-Feli? Are you okay? Was the pressure setting too high?” Ludwig turns to Gilbert angrily. “That was your fault. Look what you did.”
“I didn’t touch the pressure!”
“Yes you did! And you almost killed Feliciano!” Ludwig’s breath hitches. God, he’s been so stupid. He should have known that this would be too much. He should have known that Feliciano could get seriously hurt. What type of boyfriend was he?
“F-Feli… I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. I made a mistake.”
To his surprise, Feliciano begins to laugh. He easily pulls himself to his feet, laughs becoming louder and louder. He stands up straight, tall, and with perfect balance.
“Got you again, Luddy! You can’t out-prank a prankster~”
Author: megibabe1
Type of Gift: fanart
Title: slippy-slidey
Rating: PG
Summary: well, you wanted ice-skating, so here ya’ go! i sort of have a headcanon that Italy would be really good at,whereas Germany, no so much. So he doesn’t really want to skate. but of course Italy drags him out anyway… so yeah! :D
