Hello everyone! From all of us here at Historical Hetalia Week, we’d like to thank you all for participating in our event! We enjoyed seeing what everyone created and spreading everyone’s wonderful content.
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I wanted to get something done for Christmas as I haven’t been that active on here recently, life’s been a bit difficult and I’m getting ready to start college in January.
Today is Toninho’s birthday, so I thought I should give him the spotlight for once. But then I remembered that it’s Valentine’s Day in two days, so here he is with Charles I of Spain (aka Holy Roman Emperor Charles V) and Isabel de Portugal, who were said to forget about everyone else when they were in each other’s presence.
These two had their honeymoon at the Alhambra (for nine months!) and legend has it that Charles gave Isabel a carnation, which she loved so much that she asked for hundreds of carnations to be planted there. And of course, now it’s the national flower of Spain. I don’t know if it’s related, but I find it really sweet.
Some D-Day Matt; I headcanon him as a paratrooper with the 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion. Content warnings: Injury, violence, death mention.
6th June, 1944
Through a thick bank of clouds—and then they’re out the other side—into hell.
The brilliant, glowing white streaks of German anti-aircraft fire light up the inky blackness. So much for hoping to sneak in, Matthew thinks. The dark silhouettes of the other C-47 Dakotas flying through this lethal gauntlet, crosses against the blinding, thunderous flashes of light.
Through the open door of the plane, a glimpse of sheer pandemonium and chaos above, behind and below. The fiery outline of a damaged plane in front spiralling down to the ground, its fuselage brilliantly wreathed in fire.
A series of violent lurches, like that of the worst out-of-control rollercoaster ride, a thousand times over. The C-47 is bucking hard, as the pilots took evasive measures, slamming several men to the side of the plane in a tangle of limbs. Loud cursing and groans of pain, as several who were sent careening into one another furiously fought to untangle their static lines, which were clipped to the main anchor line above.
Matthew grits his teeth, braces himself on the door handle as the plane banks violently again, to the right.
Ludwig sat in the trench, waiting, picking at the dirt under his nails. Lots of time spent in the trenches were spent being bored, with little moments of actual action in between. And right now was another moment of boredom.
WW1 trenches vs long gone summer days together. i spent sooo long on the first two prompts and didn’t have much time for today’s, but i got my idea down!
i like to think arthur and francis fell back in love at the turn of the century and it was a total love fest. the vibrant underground gay culture in the victorian era helped arthur deal with his feelings (he’s wearing a green carnation btw) and francis, who waited for centuries, welcomed him with open arms. and it was as if they never separated. they went on a lot of lowkey dates and carried their portraits in their uniform pockets when the world went to hell a decade later.
Show me what I have to do to be like the cool kids
[ID: HWS Japan in embroidered meiji uniform in a semi-seated position holding hws china’s bloody severed head in one white gloved hand and a sword in the other. He is looking up cautiously. In the background are designs of flowing waves and golden crysanthemums, at the bottom, with the profiles of hws england and america in the back. /end ID]
“It wasn’t a nightmare, <…> it was something more real. Lying in my bed, I saw myself sitting behind the desk. He was writing something really fast with a half smile. He never raised his head and I didn’t see my tears in his eyes”
From Andei Platonov’s letters
“Проснувшись ночью… я увидел за столом у печки, где обычно сижу я, самого себя. Это не ужас, <…> а нечто более серьезное. Лёжа в постели, я видел, как за столом сидел тоже я и, полуулыбаясь, быстро писал. Причем то, которое писало, ни разу не подняло головы и я не увидел у него своих слёз”.
