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unf-hans: imbringingyou: Hans sings “Love is an Open Door” to Hans (x) (◠‿◠✿) My god now just imagine if hans was hakuba shinichi
[text] Hey Hakuba-kun! Since your from London, do you like the Beatles?
[text] Er, well, yes… I do like the Beatles but that has more to do with their musical talent than being from England.
[text] Ya should cut off yere penis, it’s dangerous. In fact lemme do it fer ya.
[text] If you send any more messages like this, I’m going to block your number.
((You don’t let us down. Actually I don’t care about getting a reply to a RP thath much. What is really important to me, is all the amazing people I’ve met here. Though we only know each other through the internet, I really love you all))
You, my friend, are a gentleman and a scholar and I will just keep hugging you forever, okay? Okay. <3
conans life of blemished morals started early. remember episode 32. conan is so jealous of rans possible date that he stalks her to the restaurant and inconveniences her by making her go buy a thing for him so that he could see this hypothetical dude
then in the end scene he points out the guy he thinks ran was going on a date with and with an extremely malicious voice brings up what he said earlier (the guy was a total womanizer but still)
go watch that part again just listen to the scathing hatred in conans voice i have never seen him so vile this is the lowest point
conan is such a shit
It’s one of the reasons why I adore him as a character. LOL. he’s a teenage boy with very little life experience… I love it. What a jerk. Ah. <3
Ok, I lied XD;
I also did this short comic for a friend in school.
She wrote a short story about Hakuba Saguru/Kuroba Kaito (from Magic Kaito). I skipped a few things and drew the rest.I apologize for the slightly incorrect English at the end. I took the words directly from her story and didn’t want to change a single thing ;v;
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the-suit-man: Click here for more suits and men’s fashion: http://the-suit-man.tumblr.com/
Women like me do not fall gracefully,
we stumble over our spines, trip over
our vowels, and collapse into your arms.Our hearts are open books,
Russian novels containing fifty pages
on the way your voice drifts across
the telephone wires each night.
Our hearts are first drafts,
unedited verses about each and every
person we have ever loved: the stranger
on the subway, the girl who gave us a balloon,
the boy who stole our virginity
but not our heart.Women like me will love you from a distance
of a thousand syllables while laying in your bed,
we will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible,
and when we leave you will finally understand
why storms are named after people.
((I RECOGNIZE THIS))
YOU WOULD