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i was talking to one of my coworkers about my trip and she asked me where i was going and i said austria and she looked at me all confused and then she said “like…austria-hungary?” and i wasn’t quite sure how to break it to her

Hetalia World ☆ Stars - Chapter 483 Original

Translation: spaghettifelice // donamoeba Scanlation: lysandre // jammerlea

9/18. Voronezh province

8/18. Ponyova/Понёва. Women's clothing with plaid in South Russian costumes. Bryansk area

tried something different

Thinking about how the nations, before they ended up in the world we have today, of huge alliances and peace treaties and everything. How little they actually knew of each other beyond hearsay, word of mouth and stereotypes and how hostile a relationship many would have had before they were told: "You can't fight anymore, world peace!" And had to get to know each other beyond fighting, tactics, warfare etc.

And I wrote something for it:

“I’ve never once considered,”

Arthur speaks quietly, solemnly in the wake of a partnership so big, he cannot understand the size of it. Peace across a continent, constitutional truce, something firm, settling them into dormancy.

“-what beauty there was to find in your hands, whenever you weren’t wielding a weapon.”

It’s a quiet remark, something uttered at a cultural exchange conference in New York. Meant for himself and the country in front of him, brandishing embroidered flowers of a vest-piece worn rarely enough for the stitches to look almost as new; If not for the discoloration, the slight fading, that speaks of age.

Mathias meets his gaze strongly, calculating perhaps.

“I have to admit that I never stopped to consider you much either.”

It’s an honest confession, and Mathias doesn’t utter the words any louder than Arthur does.

“You weren’t more than someone to subdue, I didn’t even consider who you might be as a people.”

The nod Arthur bows is a stiff one.

“You were a threat to my life.”

Silence falls to allow the bustling voices of the rest of the union to mingle.

Baby steps for a united world. Communication between people, truce where truce has never been found before.

“What do you have to show for yourself?” Mathias asks.

“That is your own. That is not stolen.”

Arthur meets his eyes, aghast. “I beg your pardon?”

“We all know you’re a bit light fingered. Show me something you made, maybe from around the time I showed up. Who was the runt that always gave me so much trouble?”

Arthur clicks his tongue, but shows him to his own station. He does not have much from before the viking invasion. He had no means to preserve it or keep it on his person.

It was buried, destroyed, stolen or dropped, and it was so rare he had any means to craft more.

But there is one thing.

Something his people dug from the earth of early Saxony and picks it up to show it off.

A cloak clasp, welded of greened bronze.

The shape is wonky and ancient, but it holds firm. The emblem of a tree still roughly outlined, the leaves undistinguishable, but the shape unmistakeable.

Mathias does not move to touch it, he only watches with an air about him that Arthur still cannot quite decode.

He is hard to read. Harder yet to understand and predict.

“Is it a tree?”

Arthur nods. “It is an oak.”

“A specific one?”

Arthur pauses briefly in surprise, before clearing his throat.

“Yes. It’s an old oak tree north of Northumbria. I… It used to be a meeting point for the family in spring and autumn.”

He speaks with his throat tightening and he clear his throat against it once more. Mathias doesn’t look rushed or hurried, he looks on with interest. Eyes alert, face open and relaxed, untainted and Arthur has never looked at him so closely without the remnants of fear clawing at his chest.

His face looks foreign in a way. Uncanny, in its kindness that has never been shown towards him before.

“I think I recognize it, you wore your cloak backwards to hide it under the felt.”

“Yes.” Arthur agrees in surprise. “I- Yes, I did. How did you know that?”

Mathias looks at him with a face that speaks of exasperation.

“I had to watch you, of course I would’ve noticed. The fabric looked awkward, so I figured you wore it backwards.” He explains.

“I just assumed you were as weird as my nobles said you were and brushed it off. It wasn’t my job to tell you how to dress, I just had to make sure you didn’t run away or steal anything. Which, by the way-”

Mathias lifts a hand and gestures around vaguely, a smirk crawling onto his mouth much rounder than it had a few centuries ago.

“-I suppose you never dropped the habit of stealing.”

“Would you stop calling me a thief?”

“Only when you stop being one.”

The cloak clasp is placed lightly back on the booth table where it was sat previously.

“How do you recognize it if you never saw it under the felt?”

Mathias breathes in and turns his eyes skyward in thought. He places one arm on his hip, the vest, embroidered with flowers at the hem, slung over his other.

“I saw it a few times during summer when you left the cloak for the season. I remember seeing it in a pile of your clothes when you were washed up and another time, you had stuck it to a sack you carried around for food scouring. But I think you might have dropped it.”

“Dropped it?”

“Yeah, the following winter you had a cobber pin and wore your cloak normally.”

Arthur looks down, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh. Right…”

“I’m glad you got it back.”

Mathias smiles. “I’ve lost lots of things that had meaning to them. It’s rare to have them dug up again, and even when they are, it’s not often they’re given back.”

And there it is.

The spark of something friendly, a kindling of humanity that neither had ever considered to look for in The Other.

The stranger with a face attached to him. Something unknown and threatening, now revealed to be something familiar. Threatening in his own right, Mathias carries more than a sword or an ax, he carries himself less like a battalion and more like a person.

He carries wit and humor and empathy just like Arthur does it. His person goes beyond his nation, his personality is seperate from the masses.

“I’m sorry about your fleet.” Arthur blurts.

Mathias laughs. Not in a mocking way, but in a humorous way.

“It’s alright! I buried that hatchet long ago.”

Arthur cracks a sheepish smile in return. Unsure of his footing.

“I kind of saw it as retaliation for… You know, the whole conquest I did of you and all. And I’m sorry about that.”

Sheepish or not, Arthur smiles a bit more softly at that. He didn’t think he’d ever get an apology for that, beings like them can’t really expect it with how much fighting there is.

You can’t apologize for something that will come around again sooner or later.

Maybe this time it might count though.

“It’s water under the bridge.”

“Glad we agree.”

He doesn’t forgive him, but he doesn’t need to. Neither of them do.

United Nations might work out afterall.

Mad scientists will be like "I know a place" and then strap you onto the autopsy table

the sexual tension between me and disappearing into the woods

(not me having to check how i spell my own name)

M - Monument (KEiiNO)

O - On My Own (Caleb Hyles)

R - Running up that hill (Kate Bush)

R - Runaway (Aurora)

E - Everdream (Nightwish)

I - Into you (Paramore)

D - Devil town v2 (Cavetown)

R - Runnin' (Adam Lambert)

¿I don't know how to tag lol?

URL song tag game

thank youuu @yesireadbooks

RULES: spell your url with song titles and then tag as many people as there are letters.

*dramatically removes the cloth from the board*

AHEM

F- family line by conan gray

I- idontwannabeyouanymore by billie eilish

R-run and hide by sabrina carpenter

E-exile by Taylor swift

-

B-boys will be bugs by cavetown

U-until i found you by stephen sanchez and em beihold

T-tennis court by lorde

-

A-almost is never enough by ariana grande

S- strawberry blond by mitski

H-habits by tove lo

E-easier than lying by halsey

S- seventeen by ryan mccartan and barrett wilbert weed (from heathers the musical) -

T-this december by ricky montgomery

O-o my heart by mother mother

O-overwhelmed by royal and the serpent

oh my god 15 letters that was long.

@holdmyteaplease @spicymochi @guessillcallitart @escapetheinevitable @cabbojage @maewrites13 @macabremoons @briannaswords @tea-and-mercury @ashwithapen @blackcrxwking @lycaens @iannicellis @anonymousfoz @fioreshere

(did i choose specifically people with relatively long urls? yes.)

I may not have a sword but my spatula is close enough

after a lot of self reflection and curiosity and growth i’ve uncovered that there is something wrong with me. like psychologically. and therapy isn’t enough. i need a sword

i regret communication 5 seconds later

this is not a question. it is self doubt

5 whole seconds of peace before it hits 😎😎😎

good blog

good opinion

Musings about heart, chalk, and family (everyone here is portrayed platonically)

Can someone pls teach me how to write anything but angst? Like whoops my characters are unhinged again :3

i agree, bread is pain

Hey Denmark what tf is up with your language’s pronunciation

Brød was one of the first words Duolingo taught me and I have not stopped struggling after over a month later. Danish, please spare my life

I always forget to post here since I’m always on Instagram

a little thing for an english assignment.

on burnout and the lingering feeling that i am running out of time before even reaching adulthood.

YOU'RE 5'3"? I COULD FIT YOU IN MY FUCKING POCKET?

NO YOU FUCKING CAN'T

I know this fic is kinda old, but in your story with Canada and England visiting the exhibition you mentioned that England sees him as his ward, not his son, so is that because Canada used to be France's kid or something else going on?

You're talking about Industry and Grandeur, right? Sure, I’ll give you my thoughts.

Not sure when it happened, but there’s a trend within the Western fandom to portray England and Canada as having a father/son connection, and most of the fic writers I follow (and admire) do take that approach, so I realise I’m the odd one out. The entire “Lord Father” portrayal of England is wonderfully creative, interesting, and one I enjoy reading, I just prefer not to write it myself. 

Personally I like to rely on canon when I write, though I don’t adhere to Hetalia’s comedic tone, but when it comes to the nature of established relationships, if I’m not writing a ship, then it’s simpler to stick to what’s already there. I even have trouble with AUs, and usually don’t go very far with them, certainly nothing beyond the concept stage. It makes my life a bit easier by keeping things as they are and I worry sometimes about making too many changes within my headcanons that might put someone off of my work, but that’s probably the anxiety talking.

I’ve also... struggled to see England as a fatherly figure, I suppose. It’s all to do with headcanons surrounding how these dirt creatures mentally age, how they view each other, how they see themselves, and leaves me wondering if England wasn’t just a “teenager” when he first found America, so in that circumstance, would he really see himself as a parent? 

If I found a baby, would I suddenly decide to become it’s mother? 

Sure, the nations know that they share a connection among their citizens, tied together governments, similar demographics, language, religion, etc. But also, especially for the European powers, in their past, a baby wasn’t really a good omen, right? One kingdom collapses and a new one takes its place. New identities, changed languages, a different ruling class, new laws. So... having a proper son or daughter, one that’ll inherit their lands, wealth, and people when they pass, is like a death sentence to them.

In human society, children carry on their parents’ legacy, but that’s not the case with England and Canada. If he (the nation of England) were to dissolve tomorrow, America, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and all the rest would NOT inherit anything. No land, no life insurance, there’d be no reading of his will, he wouldn’t have one. The crown wouldn’t be handed down, it’d vanish, and then some other being(s) that represent the formerly English people would spawn spontaneously out of Stonehenge or some random village in the countryside, and they’d have their own names. They’d be the ones to succeed England, by taking his former lands, laws, and people. By taking them directly.

With that awareness, any kingdom wanting their own child wouldn’t be in their right mind, they’d be inviting their own destruction. I think if they came across another of their kind, as England acquired Canada and America, they’d much prefer to call them “wards”. Or siblings, at most. Because that’d give a sense of kinship while still importantly preserving their continued existence, keeping the colonies at arm’s length, and signalling: “We are close, and I care about you dearly, but you will not bring about my doom.”

(And sometimes I think that England had such a terrible childhood that he wouldn’t dare trust himself as a parent, wouldn’t risk the label for fear of complete failure. It’d be just another shortcoming that his brothers would mock him for. Too dangerous and too uncertain.)

Anyway, this ended up being much longer than intended, but I hope that answers your question. In my fic, England isn’t calling Canada his “ward” because of any background animosity towards France, but rather because it’s the label he’s most comfortable with. It’s safe and amicable.

Now, as I’ve said before, MY HEADCANON ISN’T LAW and I truly do love father/son depictions of England and Canada, so if you see them that way, just keep doing you, because diverse interpretations are the lifeblood of every fandom. I’ll continue existing as a bit of a black sheep with my ward/guardian portrayal, but if there’s something you want to add, my askbox is open and I’d be happy to hear it.

Thanks 💜

I realised the average person has slightly less than two eyes and slightly more than one boob. 0-o