CLARY FAIRCHILD IS SO FUCKING METAL

To Hetalia Fans:

We seem to have forgotten something very important.

We are all fans of the same anime.

Whether you ship USUK or FrUK, Spamano and Gerita or Germancest and Itacest, PruCan or Franada, RoChu or RusAme, PruAus or AusHun or PruHun, or every rare pair in between, remember: first and foremost, we all love Hetalia.

Don’t hate on other people’s ships. Respect them, even if you don’t agree with them, just like you’d want others to do for you.

A house divided against itself cannot stand. So let’s not be divided anymore.

Reblog if you agree!

“where’s the straight pride parade?!”

go outside

there you go

you found it

the headmaster was definitely flirting with Loki... I wonder how Loki managed to win the favour in those 2 weeks

Two episodes in, Sherlock season 4 has been wreak to me. I have never cried during any other TV show, but this season had compelled me to cry twice. Not that it is bad thing, but both my roommates just freak out and run around.

Although its drawn very scribbly, this is my first original comic.  This comic does not have to do with any real life events.

日本語版　サトコとナダ

Special Thanks: mochifever

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sites everyone deserves to know about

7cupsoftea - free online therapy + you can help people too.

thriftbooks - cheap books, need i say more?

readanybook - also some free books

imalive - online chat for suicidal people / people in crisis.

freerice - donate to the hungry while keepin’ yo mind fresh.

zennioptical - glasses. i got my current frames + lenses for $60 total 

mathway - get answers to math problems.

10 minute mail - temporary email address to sign up for sites

How to get more followers and subscribers?

Dont be like me...like dont. You will never get any.

Russian fans going hysteric at the start of penalties is my motivation for the next semester

Hetalia Prussia:

Bloodied knuckles, grit teeth: willpower beaten into steel. The keen and uncompromising awareness that everything dies. Neat and organized lines: pages of ink, like praying in every stroke, like details will trip the devil so it never catches up. Prussian blue is a metaphor, livery an elaborate dance: immortality is an idea, power is an idea, flesh be damned.

It is late, late at night and he is suffering-- drowning in an ocean of tears never cried-- and he has never been more sure of his purpose for the fact. Everything human is the enemy; he smiles and laughs, and wields his confidence in the body he despises for weakness as a weapon.

Pounding drums, a pounding heart. The brutal cold of honesty, like plunging into ice water and holding under until numb. Every sweet rush of adrenaline, the stickiness of blood against blade like fingertips coated in honey. Logic and clean blueprints drawn as if the deepest instincts of survival aren't born from a deeper, helpless love.

Marching ever forward with weapons you have called blessed on a quest you have claimed to be righteous, knowing with every step that if the opposite were revealed to be true your stride would not falter.