here to steal ur money


The most common souvenir I get when I travel are probably small keychains, but when I went to Portugal I didn’t know what I was doing, so I kind of regret not getting one of a Barcelos rooster. The very kind Sara sent me one to make up for the lack of cock in my collection. 

…and also make my keychain sufficiently NedPort. It was glorious.


i drew a cute little Elizaveta in a traditional-turned-royal dress


lies in a puddle of tears




Nyo!Tomato gang






But imagine Romano being a few years old and walking around with grandpa Rome before Veneziano is born and seeing the city of Pompei disappear under the lava (⊙‿⊙✿)




Romano refused to hold his Grandpa’s hand. He leaned against the side of the boat, eyes glued to the distant city. It was midnight at noon—it had gotten dark so fast. Romano looked up at his Grandpa, coughing.

“It hurts to breath,” he rasped.

Grandpa didn’t respond, still watching the city. Romano could faintly hear what his Grandfather could; screaming, hundreds of final breaths, so much screaming. It was like his lungs were on fire, and his skin was sticky like he was covered in candle wax.

“What is it?” Romano asked, standing on the tips of his toes to see the city once again. The mountain nearby was shuddering, giant rocks and bounders rolling down before coming down to an uneasy stop. “Why would…?” He coughed, his whole chest tight.

“There is no reason,” Grandpa Rome snapped.

Romano felt his cheeks burn. “What do you mean there’s no reason? That’s stupid, of cour—“

“No, Romano,” Grandpa interrupted, still not looking down. “Sometimes, bad things happen for no reason. One day, the Gods just decide to punish you. It doesn’t matter if you take care of your people or not.”

Romano shook his head, stepping back from the side of the boat. “You’re wrong.”

“You know how long I’ve lived?” Rome laughed, but it was angry. “I have seen so many people die for no good reason. This, Romano,” Rome pointed toward the distant Pompeii, “this has no reason. Death is pointless.”

Romano fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His skin was so hot. “We have to help!”

“We can’t.”

“What do you mean we can’t?!” Part of the mountain collapsed. A giant wall of dark clouds and fire descended upon the city. Romano screamed, curling in on himself.

Suddenly, Grandpa was holding him, rocking his back and forth. “It’s okay, Romano. I feel it, too. You’ll get used to it.”

Romano felt like his lungs were imploding. His skin felt like burned parchment—if Grandpa touched him too roughly, it would flake off. Romano clutched at his grandpa, sobbing. “I don’t want to. Please, save them. You can do anything! Save them…”

Grandpa sighed, his own breath rasping. “I don’t even know what this is, Romano. We could never save them. It’s almost over, can’t you feel? Once everyone is gone… You won’t hurt anymore.”

That was the first time Rome had ever failed Romano.


Hey there! Meet me and my Holland ;)

Axis Powers Hetalia
(FIFA’14 special)

  • Belgium - Renge Tasogare
  • Netherlands - ZeWine
  • Photo by Andriel Taro


sweden in #16 for consultingproblemsleuth; he made that paper people chain all by himself


gen/fluff, serbro
human names, end of ottoman era (roughly), obvious but glossed over sex, serb being corny, ro not being a little shit, blatantly written at 5am w/out coffee beforehand


“Nice moon, tonight.”

The words are so blasé, they’re barely worth acknowledging. Still, Mihai peers up and over the high walls surrounding the perimeter of the palace. Even hanging as low and as bright as it is in the dark sky, it’s nothing remarkable.

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