carlibra

[carlibra]

that one trope where the two enemies who used to be best friends reminisce and acknowledge and forgive each other for everything right before killing eachother can you imagine that with Denmark and Sweden. Like right before they fight they acknowledge their brother hood and apologize one last time before they tear each other apart. Finland, Norway, and Iceland find the two brothers dead on the ground. Sweden has a small remorseful smile while Denmark has a huge grin and is covered in tears.

This hurts so much

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Reblog if your best friend is pretty.

sometimes i try to scroll past this but then i feel guilty

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OKAY, OKAY BUT IMAGINE DENMARK AND NORWAY'S FIRST DANCE IS TO THE SONG LEGO HOUSE. AND THEY ARE JUST HAPPY CRYING BY THE END OF THE SONG

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Imagine Den is a gangster and troublemaker and gets thrown out of his apartment,so he sitting on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette when it starts raining. He blows out some air, letting himself be drained having no place to go-Suddendly he feels the rain stop and he looks up-Norway stood there wordlessly covering him with an umbrella " You don't have a place to go?", Norway asks,they had gone to school together, not that Denmark remembers (1)

(2) but Norway does- he had always seen the troublemaker kid with that big dorky smile on his face no matter if he had been beaten or something bad had happened to him. “ Nope I just got thrown out”, Denmark replies with that big smile on his face again, his face was smiling but his eyes showed his sadness “Come on let’s go, you can stay at my place for a while”, Norway states “ Ah really? I’m Mathias by the way ”

(3) So he doesn’t remember. “ I’m Lukas”, Norway introduced himself “ Lukas ? What a nice name ! You look familiar! Have we met before?” “…. No, not that I can remember”, Norway replies and then they go home, Norway lends Denmark some clothes so that he can change and with that their life as roomates began

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OMG 'INSIDE OUT' AU HAVE FUN FRIEND (if you haven't seen it yet please correct that heinous error immediately)

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Can you imagine Denmark and Norway going to band camp together in a high school au like just imagine all the crap they'd get into and the pranks that'd most likely backfire and result in Den covered in slime and Norway helping him clean off

smol cute nerds

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i also like to think alfred and matt are the type to have dumb comebacks like “this is a terrible idea alfred” “you’re a terrible idea matthew”

cue matthew with a really offended expression

but then there are the really unnecessary insults like “you’re 10 provinces and 3 territories too many” and “you look way more than 50 states, did you eat puerto rico”

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So………are you PruHun, AusHun, or PruAus?

Ultimate date question (via norwaysvevo)

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Something I really enjoy about roleplaying is the tiny things about your character others may not even notice. Especially on my instagram, because I use spacers, they tend to adjust with his moods. For the longest time, they’ve been getting closer and closer to black and white, and for a day or so they had no colour. But something changed that probably isn’t even suspected by most of my followers, and suddenly they’re brightening up again. I like to think that, one day, someone will be scrolling through my page and suddenly realise all those little things; his son’s birthday, when he was hospitalised, the exact moment he fell in love. I think it’s beautiful.

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tweet source / natalie reed’s tumblr

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ok but somebody should put a mirror in a frame in an art gallery so everyone sees them selves as art

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a kid at hogwarts who just wants to get a proper education but can’t focus because of all of the shit harry potter and his friends keep getting themselves into

Jenna B. Lacey, age eleven, knew exactly what she was going to do with her life.

She was going to go to Hogwarts, get top grades, and be the youngest female Minister of Magic by age 35.

It would have been a good plan, if she hadn’t been in the same year as Harry Potter.

*   *   *   

Year one started out great. She was sorted into Hufflepuff, did well in all her classes, and aced the exams.

A troll smashed its way through the study room she was in on Halloween, but that wasn’t going to deter her. 

*   *   *   

Year two was a disaster. People were getting petrified, and worse—the teachers had to herd them from place to place, which severely cut down on her library time. She had to study in the common room, which meant instead of a nice, quiet atmosphere, she got a soundtrack of nervous Hufflepuffs.

And on top of that, exams were cancelled. It was a disaster.

*   *   *   

Third year, she started to notice a trend.

First the troll, than the petrifications, and now dementor guards and escaped convicts. What did they all have in common? Potter.

After Black broke in and everyone had to spend the night in the Great Hall, interrupting Jenna’s last minute studying for a test the next day, she took to giving Potter angry looks in every class.

He did not notice.

*   *   *   

They announced the Triwizard tournament at dinner the first night of fourth year, and Jenna almost started crying.

Potter was going to take this one over. She just knew it.

And she was right.

Voldemort rose at the end of the year. She honestly didn’t know what she had expected.

*   *   *    

Fifth year brought Umbridge. She joined the DA because she was going to need a better background in defense, but that didn’t mean she was any happier about Potter.

She imagined it was him she was hexing instead of Zachariah Smith.

But, by the end of the year, focus on her studies was impossible. After Dumbledore left, it was complete anarchy.

Potter’s fault. Of course.

*   *   *   

Sixth year she started volunteering in the hospital wing. She needed a backup plan in case Potter fucked it up.

All seemed quiet, until they brought Malfoy in. It was apparently Potter’s fault, which surprised everyone except Jenna.

Later, she was peacefully studying in a little nook on the third floor when some Death Eaters and some other adults started dueling right under her nose.

This was the worst fucking school, honestly.

*   *   *   

They were calling it “The Final Battle.”

Jenna ran through the hall, dodging in and out of the children evacuating, until she saw him. 

“POTTER.”

He turned, startled. “Um—Jenna, right? We’re sort of busy—”

She grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him up until he was eye level with her. “If I’m not Minister of Magic by age 35, it is going to be entirely your fault and I’m going to hurt you.”

She dropped him and stormed away, leaving him to whatever he was doing. She had to fight this goddamn war so she could go back to her fucking studying.

*   *   *   

She became Minister of Magic at age 36.

Fucking Potter.

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REBLOG IF YOU CONSIDER GENDERFLUID A REAL GENDER IDENTITY

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reblogging this again just to say: if you havent seen this yet you really need to

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I Hate Children

Maybe I should clarify:

I hate the culture of children.

It’s not really children, per se.  Granted, I’m not fond of them being around, I don’t want one in my house or very often in my immediate presence, and I especially don’t like it if I have to watch one that can’t even talk coherently let alone understand what I’m saying, but all this is because I have no patience and no strong maternal instincts to speak of.

If I’m out in public somewhere and a child looks at me, I will smile at it.  If I see a video or gif of a child doing something adorable, I might coo and share it.  I don’t actively go out of my way to upset children or even discuss them with most people.

But I hate with all my being the culture that surrounds the concept of children.

There’s an overwhelming societal expectation of a beuterused person that they must not only have children (usually multiple), but that they must desperately want children, often to the exclusion of all else.  It’s tied very much into the notion that everyone is supposed to get married and promptly produce offspring and put themselves neatly into heteronormative traditional gender roles so as to be a good adult and a “productive member of society.”  Indeed, the mere presents of breasts and a presumed uterus is indicative that a person’s worth is whether or not they reproduce.

And it’s this idea that infests every conversation about health or future or family.  It’s this concept that makes those of us who do not want children (especially biologically) have to constantly brace ourselves for potential arguments when we talk about any of these things.

It’s the reason I had to switch doctors when my first one kept insisting that “the ideal” was for me to “remain a virgin until marriage and then marry a virgin before having children.”  It’s the reason people with vaginas require checkups for “reproductive health” to make sure everything is “functioning correctly for reproduction” instead of just to make sure things don’t hurt/aren’t infected/need attention.  It’s the reason we see language used like “baby-making” for het sex with no stated reproductive intent, why the term “biological clock” is still exclusively used in regards to reproduction, and why there is an over-emphasis on pregnancy and reproduction language in sex (“baby goo,” “baby batter,” “gonna make a baby in you,” etc.).  It’s why there’s still so much debate over who gets a say in pregnancy, why pregnancy is still terrifyingly often referred to as a punishment or as a means to control the beuterused.  It’s the reason why family, friends, and even strangers feel completely within their rights to ask you about your reproductive plans, to make you justify all of your life choices to them at a moment’s notice, to question your thoughts and beliefs as if they know you better than you do yourself.

It’s the reason why the questions are so intensive when someone asks for lasting birth control.  It’s the reasons why we are told over and over the rate of regret, the success stories of people who changed their minds, the horror stories of those who didn’t.  It’s the reason why, when you state that you have a “phobia of pregnancy” in the hope that it will make people stop asking you without making you explain yourself or justify your feelings for the umpteenth time, the only advice you get is, “Well, that needs to be fixed before anything else.”

It’s the reason why “because I don’t want children” isn’t enough.  It’s the reason why adoption is never seen as an option because “you’ll want some of your own someday.”  It’s the reason why people put such value on “extending the family line” and “continuing the family name.”

It’s the reason I have to say I hate children for people to stop questioning me.  It’s the reason I have to monitor my conversations with certain people because they’ll say, “Ah, see, you DO like kids!!”  It’s the reason parts of my dysphoria kicks in hard when I see the sort of things mentioned above.  Because, unless something happens to remove or damage a uterus, it is not only expected, but demanded of you to know why you’re refusing “the most precious gift on Earth,” “your womanly duty,” “the greatest love you’ll ever know,” and so forth.

It’s the reason why “I hate children” is rolled off my tongue more and more until finally people just stop talking.

But I don’t hate children.

I hate the culture of children.

I hate the misogyny that surrounds pregnancy.

Most of all, I hate the people who perpetuate this culture, who deny someone else the right to say they don’t want to be part of it, who threaten to make them part of it.

But, you know, it’s so much easier to just say I hate children.

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tbh denmark’s the kinda guy that wouldn’t wear any pants on around the house and then go outside to get the mail or something, smile and wave to the neighbors, not understanding why they look horrified 

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I dare you to reblog with your bra size.