as much as i love himaruya i’m gonna have to disagree with his heights for the taller nations. 182 cm isn’t actually all that tall cause some of my besties are that tall and i feel like the taller nations need to surpass that height. here’s my height headcanons:

sweden: 200 cm

russia: 201 cm

denmark: 197 cm

ned: 199 cm

germany: 195 cm


coloured that doodle from the other day ;u;


a pizza au? a domestic au?? who knows

who’s upset over episode 25 cutting out eremins? this girl

i’m not crying it’s just raining heavily on my face



"That’s okay," Marco says one day, his hand resting in the space between their bodies, his fingers spread open and reaching (always reaching) towards Jean. "I’m just happy to have known you." His teeth are white and straight in his smile. His cheeks dimple, freckles creasing with the motion.

Jean stares until he has to look away. There’s something raw that tastes like honesty in the air between them. Jean’s never been good at honesty; he doesn’t trust honesty, except he trusts Marco, and that’s nearly the same.

His remembers his ceiling from that day, its surface blank and smooth, the corners dusty. There hadn’t been anything interesting to focus his gaze on, but it was better than that rawness between them that made something ache deep inside Jean.

He remembers Marco’s hand, dark on Jean’s bed sheets, fingers spread open and reaching (always reaching) towards Jean.

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(So, I chose Vimy Ridge tunnel fighting.)

Truthfully, Arthur didn’t want him anywhere near the fighting. Oh, he wanted what Matthew could offer—the men who fought in droves, the farmland, the unwavering loyalty—but he didn’t want Matthew on European soil.

(He didn’t want any of his boys there. But they all came, eventually. They all died there at least once.)

Matthew listens. He obeys, because Arthur’s already hauled him off and shouted his ear off years past for getting involved in matters beyond his age. He’s still a kid, he supposes. So he stays home and tries to keep the tension between the French speakers and everyone else from bubbling over (but somehow it slips through his fingers and all he can do is hope they win the war because that’s something, at least).

But the choice is stolen from Arthur once they start massing at Vimy. There’s too many Canadians, just too many, so of course Canada can get there. In a blink, Matthew’s knee-deep in mud.

Of course he enlists. Of course he does.

First he’s a messenger, white armband ragged around his narrow arm. He ducks in and out of the trenches, hair scrubbed with dirt so its not so much a target for bullets.

Then he moves underground, because he hears that hell exists and its in those chalk tunnels.

(Beyond that, he thinks Arthur is nearby, thinks he might sniff him out. So he goes underground to save his ass and to save maybe one of his men.)

It’s not even hell down there. It’s just dark. German and English spoken in low tones, through the thin walls. Men laugh, joke, as though the walls won’t come down any minute. Matthew digs and digs, stops to listen, sometimes, and then digs anew.

The tunnels are so narrow, fissured from mine blasts meters away. The walls creak around them, and all the sound just bleeds into one.

And when the walls come down your only warning is the kick in noise, sometimes right by your head.

There’s still not enough space to get his rifle, so he ends up tearing up another soldier’s neck with a chunk of wood he barely manages to get a grip of. But the soldier’s still hitting him, manages to stab into his belly with a knife, shallowly, at least.

(And that wound will ache for years, Matthew finds out later.)

The soldier bleeds out on top of Matthew, his grey eyes the only bright thing in that narrow space.

(And in that space, Matthew finally cries. Mines explode somewhere, and Matthew cries.

And there’s just more blood to be spilt.)


It’s career day! And Alfred finally meets Matthew’s bully Amelia. Who happens to be the daughter of Ivan.Who use to pick on Alfred in high school because of his very own crush. Oh how history repeats it’s self….

Amelia is not Ivan’s biological daughter she’s his foster child. Amelia comes from a abusive home. (Which is were she learned fighting and bullying = love and affection.) Ivan often was the responder to her home when fights between her parents got out of hand. Ivan never knew that the couple had any children in till Amelia was brought in by child services to have her register into foster care.

While waiting for the paperwork. Amelia explore the station and found Ivan who she took an instant liking to because she was fascinated at how tall he was and Ivan was fascinated that she was not afraid of him. (being only one after Alfred to share that trait) Also feeling guilty that he never knew that she live in such a broken home. He adopts her as soon as the courts allow.






red beanie Thursday mmm