#mathias kohler

[noenoaholi]

SURPRISE!! Have some new dennor art in the year 2024

well... i felt so emotional while drawing this because dennor were the first ship i drew on my very first tablet 9 years ago

i enjoyed the process and i also realized i have missed mathias and lukas a lot ❤️

[kazmafiette]

“Eh? What? I couldn’t hear you over my AWESOMENESS!”

[hws-lceland]

I finally made one of these for my stupid sunshine boy because I haven't seen one for him yet ( template by @samrut )

You don't have to tag me but I'd love to see what you do if you use it :]

[hetalia-club]

IT'S DENMARK!!!

Denmark is here and he is reminding all of you before the live action Barbie movie he was the original Barbie girl. I'm absolutely in love with how he turned out he's so obnoxious <3.

Listen to his little Danish accent, he's such a sweetie pie!

[hetalia-themagicalmanac]

Can I see one of Mary with Denmark? 👉👈

uncle denmak denmark gets Got by silly Mary and is now stuck on the floor and attacked by a Hug Creature <:)

[hcaivoices]

Hello!

Would it be possible to hear Prussia or Denmark singing "Take me to church" by hozier?

I feel like they would ROCK the chorus, SO HARD

I already had the Prussia one on Discord, idk if I've already posted it here or not. But I whipped up the Denmark really fast for you!

MP3s on Discord Voices made by me Posting for entertainment only

[saltcove]

pairing: denmark/norway theme: fishermen & drowning sailors 

dawn scrapes the horizon, floods it with cold sun. lukas drags the net over the side of the rowboat, grunts and breaks his nails on the wooden edge. emil sits across from him, knotting rope and pressing fish down into the barrel. svaneke is colder than most port cities, births raw winter in his throat. 

“fokus, emil,” he snaps. lukas is swept with impatience. “the fish will not catch itself.”

“i am focused,” emil counters, muttering. lukas isn’t fond of his brother when he’s petulant and bored, disinterested. emil is on the cusp of sixteen, face sharper than most boys his age. lukas knows he would rather read than trawl, but there is no life for them but this. 

“more, then,” lukas stands, throws the net further. “i cannot be doing this on my own. this is not why i bring you.”

“why bring me at all?” emil knots with more fury. “you have it all figured out, storebror.”

lukas bites back a remark. it is always like this, but today is worse. today is worse because it is emil’s birthday. lukas sighs, drops down with a gust from his chest. “sorry. i know you’re tired.”

“i am,” emil looks up, icy. he directs his eyes elsewhere when lukas glares. “i suppose you are too.”

“i will survive this,” lukas sets a hand on emil’s knee, squeezes. “you will be more than a fisherman someday.” but not today, little brother.

emil makes to say something. it is caught in his throat, much like the thick knot his fingers loosen around. his eyes hinge over lukas’ shoulder at the shoreline, and lukas sighs. “we will get off the boat in an hour. be patient.”

emil’s mouth gapes. snaps closed. “brother.”

lukas wets his mouth, gets up again to tend the net. “what is it, emil?”

“i—” emil stops himself. 

lukas rolls his eyes. “has the seawitch stolen your voice?”

“brother,” emil’s paling face has lukas’ focus. dials him in. “look.”

lukas frowns, turns to glance over his own shoulder. he isn’t sure where he’s being directed, scans the shoreline with vacancy. they’re not too far from land, hardly at all. lukas’ eyes pull apart the dark sand and the short pier and then he sees it. 

a man.

a body, pressed into the sand, sea casting over it. 

his words lose power. “row, emil.”

emil scrambles for the oars, composure lost. lukas hisses and heaves and brings the net into the boat before helping him. cold water hits his abdomen, but lukas’ pulse is hot, furious; that is a deadman. he is dead. he must have been. 

he must have been—

without a word, lukas drops the net and flies over the edge of the rowboat in a dive. emil’s voice is replaced by water—arctic and stinging, lung-cramping. lukas swims under, pushes with his feet, pulled back by his own clothes. he swims like he can save something. he’s dead. 

breaking for air, his boots hit the seafloor and lukas treads with clumsy, rushed indignance. closer, the body is lulling in the shallow water. bigger than his, stronger. lukas grabs the man by his lapel and drags, forces them both out onto the beach. 

dropping to his knees, he crosses palms over the man’s chest. pushes, pushes. his hair has come loose from its clip, dripping down onto a pale cheek. the man is drained of colour, his nose too white and his mouth parched with salt. lukas pushes down on his chest, frustration coiling his expression. he’s desperate. faen. 

pinching the man’s nose closed, he brings their cold, open mouths together and breathes. full breaths that hurt his freezing lungs. again. again. 

he’s met with salt water against the chin and a furious fit of coughing.  

lukas’ relief drops him back onto the sand. the adrenaline has singed his nerves to the point of numbness. lukas closes his eyes, prays. 

the man makes no move to get up, groans and turns on his side against the sand. he’s facing lukas, eyes pinched, starting to open. he’s a sailor—maybe. something more, by his rings and his wool. lukas stares, terrified, until the man finally opens his eyes. 

he is staring right at lukas. lukas is staring back. 

“where,” he croaks. it’s danish. 

“here,” lukas answers dumbly. “i—svaneke.”

the man hisses and tries to sit up, falling back on his elbows. “sød guder.”

“stay still, dane,” lukas urges. emil has somehow made it to the coast as well, and lukas hisses at him to seek help. the boy scrambles off. 

“you saved me,” the man rasps, failing once more to sit up, words broken over with fits of coughing. he lays back and stares at the sky. “your name, siren?”

“lukas,” he supplies. “i am a man.”

“you are no man,” it’s scoffed, like he cannot believe it. “you are divine to have found me.”

lukas swallows. he is a fisherman. “i am not.”

the man turns his head, cheek pressed into the wet sand. “you are more than man—to have countered the sea.”

[denmarkdenmarkdenmarkdenmark]

OK, Tumblr users, I'll do it.

Give me deranged and crazy asks and I draw low quality mathias kohle as yes.

[bisabao]

I have a speech tomorrow and I need to review research protocol documents, but it’s his birthday so this takes precedence.

[corgifruityart]

3 more nordic gnägg refs!! ive had a blast drawing em!

[hetadoujinarchive]

“There Is No End”

Main Characters: Sweden, Denmark

Minor Characters: Norway, Iceland, Finland

Pages: 27

Translated by: animoobs

Vibes: dark, sad, painful, serious

CW: violence

Summary: Denmark and Sweden must oppose each other due to their roles as countries

Other languages: Russian/по-русски, Hungarian/Magyar Nyelv

[glittery-ishfish]

For context:

"In a 2010 blog post of Himaruya's, the names Himaruya had suggested to him that he liked for Denmark were Andersen, Christensen, Arnesen, Simon Densen, Abel, Mikkel, Magnus, and Bertram, with "Densen" being the surname he liked.[43]" -Hetalia Archives

Mathias Kohler was never one of the name ideas.

[kazmafiette]

Yes, another "Canada? Who?" joke. I present to you, the SCANDI-WHO-VIANS???

[miniaturetalecrown]

Hetalia Character Profiles - Ireland

Character’s Name: Ireland. Shannon Orla Doyle (1175-1949), Shannon Orla Doyle-Kohler (1949-present), Shaz (by Mhairi and Mathias), Mum (by Liam).

Age: Human - Baby, toddler, and child (400s-1175), teenager (1175-1542), Appears 18 by 1542, is 27 in the modern day.

Height: 5”5 (165cm).

Physical Description: Average height, Shannon is the shortest of her siblings, with Mhairi (Scotland) only being slightly taller and Dylan (Wales) and Arthur (England) being a couple of inches taller. Shannon has a slim hourglass build.

Eye Colour: Emerald green.

Hair Colour/Style: Long strawberry blonde curls that reach down to her waist. Shannon has thick hair like Mhairi. Shannon usually has her hair tied up in braids or buns.

Other Physical Traits: Freckles all over her face and body. Shannon also has her ears pierced and a Celtic tattoo on her back.

Personal Appearance/Style: Shannon wears a lot of greens, blues, browns, reds, and white. Shannon’s wardrobe is full of dresses, long skirts, comfy jumpers, and blue jeans.

Verbal Style: Shannon speaks with a broad Irish accent. Shannon also speaks Irish as well as English.

Education: Shannon is well-educated and helped Mhairi teach Alfred (America), Matthew (Canada), Jake (Australia), and Rachel (New Zealand). Later, Shannon taught Liam (Northern Ireland). Shannon has a degree in nursing that she earned in the 1920s.

Occupation: Diplomat. Shannon also works as a nurse in her spare time.

Past Occupations: Military nurse and as a midwife for Mhairi.

Skills, Abilities or Talents: Shannon is a talented dancer and enjoys traditional Irish dance. Shannon is also a talented musician and can play the fiddle and the harp as well as sing. Shannon enjoys baking and often bakes cakes and cupcakes.

Positive Personality Treats: Friendly, motherly, compassionate, and outdoorsy.

Negative Personality Traits: Stubborn and can be hot-headed.

Sense of Humour: Sarcastic and dark.

Physical/Mental Illnesses or Afflictions: Shannon has traumas that stem from Arthur invading Shannon, as well as the religious wars in Ireland that would lead to the Troubles. In 1921, after gaining Independence from the UK, Shannon found herself separated from her only child, Liam, which devastated Shannon.

Hobbies/Interests: Dancing, painting, playing the harp, playing the fiddle, and singing.

Favourite Foods: Stew, fish, and shephards pie.

Most Important Personal Items: Her emerald engagement, her photo albums, and her collections of Irish literature.

Person/Friend Close to Character: Shannon’s younger sister and best friend, Mhairi. Shannon and Mhairi are the closest siblings of the British Isles and often spend time together, usually hiking. Mhairi tries to visit Shannon at least once a month, and Shannon will also try to visit Mhairi. The sisters share a lot of history together, and they can both speak Irish and Scottish Gaelic, as the languages are similar. The two were Suffragettes in the 1900s and 1910s, along with Rachel, and all three often went to protests around the UK.

Background: Shannon was born around the 400s AD to Hibernia and Britannia. Shannon is the eldest of four siblings. Shannon is closest to her younger sister Mhairi, but is close to her younger brother, Dylan. Shannon doesn't have the best relationship with Arthur after the way that he’s treated Shannon since the 1100s. After becoming a republic in 1949, Shannon married her long-term boyfriend, Mathias (Denmark), with Mhairi and Lukas (Norway) as the two witnesses. In 1919, Shannon gave birth to Liam, with Mhairi as her midwife.

[hetalia-club]

I LOVE THIS LOUD BITCH WITH ALL MY HEART!!! You cannot tell me he did not put absolutely everything he had into this song!!

you know those TikTok memes where it's like "No Ai cover is that good..." Well here's my version but it's Denmark singing this song

[hetalia-themagicalmanac]

I dare America Denmark and Prussia to dress as ninjas and TP that b*tch’s house in the middle of the night and then go back to our lovely Angel Mary and tell her that ninjas striked at Petunias house and they also got a picture of the ninjas

real image of America, Denmark, and Prussia in front of Petunia's McMansion—I mean, House, that they shared to Mary. The real heroes in which the Toilet Paper Ninjas wear underwear on their head (Prussia wears pink, for Pink is Mary's favorite color) in the name of toilet paper justice!

How did Mary react though? *cue the ffxiv victory theme*

Let's say Mary is very elated to see the resident Rich Girl School Bully has been turned into a Joke. What Mary doesn't know though, is that the Toilet Paper Ninjas were some of the Nation Dads, probably in the guise of their Captain Underpantssonas.