How to make a Hetalia OC for dummies - pt.1How to make a Hetalia OC for dummies PART 1How to make a Hetalia OC for dummies - pt.13 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
I have been a Hetalia fan for a looong time, and since then I came across a big amount of, to be honest, really bad OCs of people who seem to forget that real countries are involved in their beloved series ; and making an OC to it is like walking in a minefield - you have to be very, very careful, because otherwise it goes BOOM. You know what I mean, people can be easily offended by your OC, so careful is the keyword.
That's why I want to help you out a bit, even if I'm not perfect myself and we all make our mistakes sometimes. Let's just start now.
Have fun while reading this and making your gorgeous OC (:
As Hetalia has to do with personified countries, you also have to choose one. There are over 100 nations Himaruya hasn't even thought of turning them into a character yet, so there are lots of countries to choose from. Take a look at a world map, you will see lots of awesomesauce c
How to make a Hetalia OC for dummies - pt.2How to make a Hetalia OC for dummies - PART 2How to make a Hetalia OC for dummies - pt.23 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Another potential pitfall. Prepare, this is going to be elaborate.
I know there's a huge temptation to dye your OC's hair in all colours of the rainbow, but your OC is supposed to represent the majority of the country's population, and no-one is born with pink hair. It's the same with eye colours. Heterochromia may be fancy, but not for Hetalia OCs.
I'm slavic, and most slavic countries have a quite huge variety of hair- and eye colour combinations you can choose from - for example, my hair is dark brown and my eyes are green. But this doesn't apply to all of them, as I said most. South slavic and other Balkan folks predominantly have dark hair and eyes, as well as the rest of the southern guys. Well, these were just some examples after all, it's up to you now to do some research as to the looks of your country's people.
Another important thing, almost the most important one, is the skin c
My name is NothingMy name is Nothing,My name is Nothing3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And I know...
You're in love with her -
I'm just your friend.
I am nothing else.
I am Nothing to you;
I'm a ghost that listens
to your many woes;
I give you space to
take a deep breath in;
I am who you turn to
when you have no one;
I'm always there for you,
but never actually there.
My name is Nothing.
And I know it was absurd
for me to think that
I could be her,
that I could be...
LonelinessLoneliness4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wish it was raining
Because I hate every beautiful day
Everyone's playing outside
Enjoying the weather
I hate it
I hate beautiful days
I hate being in a good mood
Just to pretend that everything's okay
All those fake smiles
All those people pretending to be alright
People being happy
Because I know
That I can't
It's not that I think they're not worth it
But knowing deep inside
That I'll never be like this
That I can't be like this at all
Makes my heart feel like a stone
Lying in my chest
Protesting to beat
It makes me wonder
Are there others?
Just feeling like me?
Just like me?
Poraz nije nov ukusSa staklom u grluPoraz nije nov ukus3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I crvenom bojom u očima,
Posle iljaka pod leđima
I vlane pomrčine.
Leđa su okrenuta zidovima,
Dok hladna svetlost obasjava put.
Noge ostavljaju otiske.
Ponovo su duboki.
for holden caulfieldwhen i was sixteen years oldfor holden caulfield2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
holden's words were echoed to me, ironically
in a voice not his own. phoney, he'd call it,
but as my literature teacher would say 'reading aloud'
but too softly
too kindly for the room, nineteen of us
all with bored, hooded eyes -
and wouldn't he just hate us?
the boy awkwardly ruffling his hair and turning to
his reflection in shiny glass, smoothing more strands
and the girl whispering and the one next to
her pretending to listen, smacking gum
and me, tracing words with my pupils
doodling stars and clouds on scrap paper
'what do you think of holden?'
'he's weird', 'he's right, i guess?'
but i pity caulfield.
and if i could travel back in time and
scoop up all of holden's baby teeth and
tie them in a little necklace and wrap them around
his neck, i would, and if i could tell
holden caulfield that childhood and cigarettes
are the same: both end.
but it is up to you what you do afterwards
and if you choose to grind it in the ground, do so,
and if you choose t
Arise and Breathelittle siren girl, held up by fishhooksArise and Breathe2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and lines - you'll only be free when
they cut you loose.
still, they tell you: you will not fall
victim to swelling tides, you
will float. (you are a dead weight.)
you are something incomplete
like the forgotten house on the
end of the row, eating itself,
dimming day by day:
paint chips and chapped lips
have nothing left to say.
there are monsters nursing
deep beneath your flesh, with
threadbare spines and trembling
hands, they are afraid of their own
shadows. (you are only weak when
your eyes are open)
a new year waits upon your doorstep,
promising to take all that was ever [you]
the paper doll can finally sleep,
to see another day.
The Flaws of PerfectionI live in a glass worldThe Flaws of Perfection3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every individual as translucent as the next
Cold, without compassion,
Greed and arrogance reflected on their faces
Mirror images of each others' "perfection"
The contradiction to the honey coated words they speak
But the truth is reflected nonetheless
A truth they ignore to uphold their flawed idea of "perfection"
I live in a glass world
The image of "perfection" is mirrored everywhere
Reflected on every surface
Only skin deep, this "perfection"
Transparent, this "perfection"
The means used to acquire this state trivial compared to the end result
Merely a status, a condition, yet
They live and they die for acceptance
I live in a glass world
It's heartbeat erratic, threatening to destroy what they have turned it into
This world, so fragile, it can shatter from the smallest push
And they let themselves be swallowed whole by their ignorance
To attain the false, god-like state of "perfection"
But, from where did it sprout, this idea of "perfection"?
Who has proclaim
we linger in places we're not supposed toI'd like to get underneath your skin the way you got under mine andwe linger in places we're not supposed to3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
leave a whisper inside of your head that gets louder the longer you're
quiet. I wish I could leave a puddle, nestled in the valleys of your
chest cavity, that you feel when you breathe, and you choke on a little
bit each time you add to it yourself.
I want to be the alcohol on your lips, so I could slip down your throat
and nestle on the edge of your collarbone.
I'd listen to the irregular hum of your heartbeat and maybe knit
patterns from your veins. I've watched you drink the burning liquid,
and I've seen your face wince
at the sting as its forced down into your body.
it leaves your veins tangled and its a pattern I don't know how to unwind.
sometimes when I'm home alone I try to get you out,
I get into the shower and wash you off of me. your sweat and
semen and saliva slowly crawling down my legs to circle away between my feet.
but even when I scrub my skin until it's red I can still feel you
when I get into bed alo
i only asked for the end of the world"i found shadows in the sun again,"i only asked for the end of the world3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i looked at her
with a gleam of sarcasm in my eyes,
as she looked down with wind in her hair.
the night looked lovely on her.
the purple of post-nebula progression
it made her eyes look electric blue
though they were a soft green.
"i said, i found shadows on the sun again."
she'd never look up unless
she couldn't breathe and needed
to pull a sigh out of her butterfly winged lungs.
and that bothered me;
- she'd refuse to breathe
only because the air seemed
she'd give up so easily sometimes.
i run out of pretty things to say
but she looks at me expectantly,
hoping i'll find my muse
within the corner of he
she had a habit of making stars cryprobably could've settled forshe had a habit of making stars cry2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
less than mine, but there's
a tongue-tied night sky
crying to the moon and
its narrating defenses
against my remarks, comments
never too dark to notice the spark, dead
shooting stars have been
trying to prove. to me, it takes
more than will to move
the north to the south, no field will
help you, no power will allow you,
no words will let you.
should've stuck to rhyming for
catharsis and, let the night cry to
a fraudulent sun and
found comfort in anonymity to
hang on some more; should've quit
being a witness before i
fell to the floor. should've opened
before popping those pills and let
drag reluctance until it
swam into ripples too perfect for
the moon, and stayed to hold the
stars when they fell
into our lagoon.
probably could've lied about
discovery and the Nile, probably would've
granted every wish worth the while. could've
said the day was too dark for the
night, could've stopped the moon from
settling to surviv
To the person who holds my best friend's heart...I know that is is kind of weirdTo the person who holds my best friend's heart...1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
But I felt that I should write this down.
I need to tell you what I feel
And tell you what he means to me.
He's my best friend and he's a good man.
Please, give him the love and respect he deserves.
He may seem goofy but he's very sweet.
I know this because he was always there for me when I was sad.
Now, I know that you're not bad
Cause he would never choose someone who's mean.
But I still want to tell you just in case you forget in the future;
Please don't break his heart.
He's been through so much
And he doesn't deserve something like that.
He is the kind of person who smiles even when he's hurt by others
And would take any pain for the people he loves.
I know, I've witnessed it.
I know he may seem kind of childish sometimes
But don't let it get to you.
It's just his way of expressing himself.
He's very caring and I'm sure he'll do anything to make you happy.
He doesn't look like it but he's very kind and thoughtful.
He'll put your needs before h
paper tiger shirt - my dear, dear liarthere is dustpaper tiger shirt - my dear, dear liar3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at the corner of your mouth;
have you been out of practice,
my dear, dear liar?
did precious time
watch you fall again?
or are you tucking
your heartbeat in with your neckline?
i can see it throb
within the fibres
of your paper tiger shirt.
there is debris
at the edge of your eyes;
have you been breaking
yourself between your own teeth?
i thought we agreed
that stitching your lips with
fallacies and death breath
was the best way to get along,
just so we could watch
you break free and blossom -
because letting you go is never easy.
have you been practicing
breaking your chrysalis?
have you been tearing
each thread apart?
have you been lying
to your very own heart?
tell me, my dear, dear liar,
have you been lying enough?
The Art of Detachmentdehumanized:The Art of Detachment3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am a stirring in the breath
of an unswept sky, an itch
in the throat, a tear in
the lining of the sleeve you
keep fingering- like reminiscence
will repair loose strands
(I woke up this morning
in a new carcass, trapped,
by fleshed out flaws and
dismal dreams and the
hush hush thrum ,steady,
[pulsations are riddled with
intent] of my veins)
I am the dents in the floorboard
where boxes of I-can-never-forgets
lay, I am the aching cold of walls
untouched, I am the callouses
of your fingers forgetting
how to work.
(my voice will melt the icecaps,
it will draw all salt from
the ocean and carve a careful
coffin of carnal desires)
I am a cry cut short
in the home of the deaf-
I am skin, I am loose
sinew and sincerities mistakenly
stitched to the bones of a crow
and when the night clears I am
nothing but doll eyelashes and
spider legs, [at the end of the day
the two are indistinguishable]
I am nothing
despotismshe is a bird sitting, teetering ondespotism2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a power line because
one way or another, she figures
the best way to end
is a big bang.
He is a fish swimming, traversing along,
Against the crashing tide because
He figures he can defy the law one or way or another,
And the best way to begin
Is to finish the end
Before he's stuck in her talons.
though she is made of feathers
and bones and she is still weightless enough
to take to the currents of air,
she is powerless
against the waves his actions
make, and she is so easily swept away that
she thinks her body might as well
be made of stones.
He could tell she was astounded by his ocean,
By the place he calls home to.
He welcomed her to the lowest depths of it,
She couldn't resist the deepest blue of the marine,
Nor the glitter of his fishscale,
And the place he called heaven,
Eventually became this bird's hell.
her eyes were always the
size of jupiter when he was around
because she was fascinated with
the way he moved so gracefully from
Ashes to Asheswhen they peel back her skin theyAshes to Ashes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
find a feeble layer of stringent
exigency saved up for the people who
would lend her a light on her path
to gossamer fabrications, she's
lost herself in fairytales like
the crumbs that don't lead home
and the girl who needs to sleep off
a few decades before things can
fall into place-
she dug her own grave but
it turned out to be a rabbit hole,
she's sea sick- she lulls
a little disarming when the waves reflect
your mirrored malignance and the
only way out is
(her siren song sounds like
a martyr's last motive)
she sighs and promises herself to a man
who doesn't give a damn
she dances alone, her splintered bones echo
'the story's over'
How are you? - POEMHow are you? - POEM3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You would come to me and ask me how I was doing
"How are you doing?"
Thus is the everyday question asked by a person to another
But instead of the everyday answer of,
"And how are you?"
I'd go on to say that it's a lovely morning today
The sun was beating on my window this morning
The chirping of birds waking me before the alarm
That it's not too warm, yet not too cold
That today's weather is lovely
And you'd agree and I'd point out that you got a new haircut
That it really suited you,
Better than what it had looked like before
You'd give your thanks with a nod of the head
And even though I had done nothing to my own hairstyle
You'd still say that it's looks better than ever
And I'd give my thanks with a bob of the head
And I'd tell you that it was starting to smell like winter
You couldn't tell though could you?
You can smell rain coming,
But not the winter air
But I would tell you t
autopsy report for somebody I (once) knew"No signs of fighting."autopsy report for somebody I (once) knew3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
- He went out like a fading fire
Embers in the night
No sparks left in the deepening dark
No signs of struggle
He fell down like a waterfall
Rained down on the ground
no bruises forming in his
no cracked ribs no nothing
(he should have fought)
He left swiftly like a river
Rapids in spring time
Gone before I trode those waters
Goosebumps on my skin
Skin still wet and eyes like glass,
With grace he fell asleep
And went down the hills, into the sea
Gently into eternity
All the bonfires died down
Air was cold and mist crawled over fields
In watchtowers stood sleepless guards
These muted screams I took with me
as we left:
I held you across my chest, I wore you like a crown
no signs of struggle, he left without resistance
too tired to put up a fight
he loved us
but death loved him more
And that hurt me the most.
muteit’s two in the morning somewheremute2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where it’s quiet except for breathing
that’s loud enough to hear from here.
convince yourself you’re alive;
you’re the only one that can.
here is a game we played as children:
we pretended language was something only
to be seen on paper,
we make-believed the worst injury
we could get was those made by
trees and rocks while our bones weakened
under the attacks we tried to endure
of words like, “fat” (before
we even knew how much we weighed)
or “stupid” (before
we even realized that it
doesn’t matter what 9 times 8 is
as long as no one figures out you don’t know.)
sticks and stones may break our bones
don’t tell me words don’t do any damage.
don’t tell me you don’t think of yourself as a weapon
every time you open your mouth,
don’t tell me what exactly you think of me,
don’t tell me anything, i think you’ve said enough.
let’s just be silent,
misdirectedI’mmisdirected2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
trapped back in time like
a sinner on something sweet;
don’t ask me to move on
kaleidoscope eyes never knew left
from right. I’m different, I’m different;
bleeding white and crying black and
flying out in a storm with paper wings)
I fell in love with a broken idol--
bruised throat and splintered fingers,
the most beautiful shade of purple
to ever fade out. He never knew
maybe I’m dumb.
maybe I forgot the way the world spins backwards
and that happy endings only come from fairytales
rewritten so that children can fall asleep.
in all my years I never quite learned
how to disappear completely,
this sickly escapism justified by the
promise of all my missing pieces:
a runaway’s prayer on shooting stars,
oh, please just take me
Yours, my loveYou are the light that still shines on meYours, my love2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
FOr you I will pine eternally
YoU were the one who did set me free
YouR love will always my comfort be
RoseS smell sweetest, my fragrant plea
SouL unto soul and heart unto heart
FoOlish is one who would tear this apart
EVery love has hardhips right from the start
Eternity's for those who choose ne'er to part
AsynchronousI am the patchwork pastel on drivewaysAsynchronous3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in early June, hopscotch walkways
outlined in chalk and crimson,
worlds gently [shakily] defined
by dust and sprouting minds-
you are the April showers
and those segways to summer wildflowers
catching me in your palms of quicksilver
traipsing me through raunchy streets like
a rope you made by braiding rainbows-
dyeing tar the pretty pink of my knees.
I cling to gritty decorations
in dripped limbs all over town,
where rain paints the curb
different shades of my lost pieces,
a drainage ditch claims the color of my eyes.
I am the sullied, battered reef
lit up in barnacles like holiday lights
or a string of dead fireflies.
Drowning in apologies
for my skin that cuts your hand,
begging the atmosphere
to wear me away.
You are the jealous tide-
a thief with jewels that don't quite shimmer.
Failures pinned with tacks on passerby,
grasping at my toes in efforts that
mimic a trapeze artist
new to release and the saf
soulswe've lost the touch to reality. we fall in love with strangers, picturing their stories and minds as we please. we start dancing in the streets as at the times we felt no one was watching. we attach to things so easily; to that pen we use everyday to put down our thoughts into words, to that bracelet we got on that trip where we felt everlasting, to that person we met just yesterday and who we can't get our mind off. we're dying and coming alive again with the characters in the books we read, we hold them to our breasts and say "this is me black on white". our mood changes within a second when the first line of this specific song comes on. we lie in the high grass watching the clouds, but they are not clouds. this is a lion and that over there is a kissing couple. we put a life and a mind in every little thing we see; these sparks rising towards the sky long to be part of the stars, this branch got mad at our ignorance and wanted to hit us in the knee, our cat is hurt by our absence fsouls3 years ago in Emotional More Like This