#they were like 'which is why england. france. spain. germany. portugal and sometimes italy always qualify' and HMMMMM

[thomas-mvller]

I was out and about when the match started and so i tuned the radio into a sports show that was set to cover the match when the comms started to discuss how unfair were qualification stages previous to the world cup because they basically paired up one big team with several minor teams (for example: spain, liechtenstein, san marino and cyprus) thus the one big team is pretty much 99% guaranteed they'll qualify while the rest were merely vehicles for that to happen and then concluded by saying *maybe* such groups should be decided by performance coefficient and/or how high they are at fifa rankings and hmmmmmmmm....... thoughts are being thought 🤔

[kaimaciel]

Love is a fire that burns unseen

Historical based fanfic regarding the wildfires of 2017. 

I wrote this a few years ago. I've been wanting to write about my country in a Hetalia story for a while. I was living near one of the great fires that destroyed so many forests and homes. No one I loved was hurt, but there were entire families that were destroyed by these fires. The summer of 2017 felt like a neverending nightmare.

We felt desperate and alone. Thankfully, we managed to stop the fires with the help of our brave firefighters and the help from other countries like Spain, though the scars from the fires will take years to heal. 

If Portugal was a person, his whole back would have been burned, which is where the idea for this story came from. I hope you like it.

Characters: Portugal, Spain, Macau, Brazil, Angola, France, England. Cameos from North Italy, Germany and Romano. 

Love is a fire that burns unseen,

A wound that aches yet isn't felt,

An always discontent contentment,

A pain that rages without hurting,

A longing for nothing but to long,

A loneliness in the midst of people,

A never feeling pleased when pleased,

A passion that gains when lost in thought.

Luis Vaz de Camões, The Lusiads

2017

He could still hear them screaming. Every time he let his mind wander, Portugal could hear the screams of his people trapped by smoke and fire. Men and women screaming for their lives, watching helplessly as their homes and fields burned to ash. Children crying for their parents, mothers, and fathers screaming for their children.

Some had been trapped inside their cars, unable to escape the fire.

Wincing, he buried his nails on his palms to drive those thoughts away and once again tried to listen to the world meeting in front of him. America was trading words with Russia again. Like many times before, Ivan denied knowing anything that Alfred was talking about. This meeting was going to take a while and everyone already looked tired and depressed.

Portugal tried to listen to his fellow countries, but his burnt back was aching badly under his heavy black suit and his head felt heavy and sluggish.

Why was he in this meeting at all? He knew it was just a formal courtesy. Many of the countries present didn't even know who he was, and those who did know didn't think much of him.

He was a failure. The fact that he had once been an Empire was laughable considering how much he had failed as a country. He would never be like Spain, France or England. He should never have tried.

Speaking of which, Portugal's green eyes widened as he watched England rise from his seat and walk towards the podium.

It had been 631 years since the Treaty of Windsor when Portugal and England had forged their alliance. He could still remember that day vividly: young, belligerent England, with his blond hair and bright green eyes, promising to help him kick Spain's ass out of his territory. They both promised to watch each other’s back as allies and friends forever.

Portugal had been happy, finally having a friend on his side against Spain's many, many, many attempts to conquer him. And not just any friend. England! It made sense strategically, Spain and later France and always been a pain on both their necks, but now Portugal didn't have to fight them alone.

Watching England now, he tried to catch his friend's eyes. He heard the smoke from the fires had reached the English shores, painting their skies red. He had hoped England would call him, ask him if he was alright, but he got no word.

Portugal lowered his head, facing his bandaged hands in front of him. He understood though, England had his fair share of problems, especially now with Brexit and a very tense political climate. Arthur was under a lot of stress and he looked miserable.

If Portugal wanted to be honest with himself, he always knew their friendship was very one-sided. He had needed England more than England had needed him, and he knew he could never measure up to his friend's caliber. Sometimes, he had the feeling England felt embarrassed by the treaty, wishing he had made an alliance with a better, richer, stronger country instead.

No friendship ever lasted forever.

The cellphone in his pants' pocket buzzed, forcing Portugal to pick it up. He felt a lump inside his throat when he saw it was from one of his superiors.

Trying to appear calm, he silently rose from his seat and walked out of the white meeting room. England was having a very heated argument with France and Germany, so no one even noticed that he had left.

Finally, alone in a corridor, Portugal took a deep breath and finally took the call. As he expected, he was greeted by his superior's angry voice. They asked about the fires, how he could have allowed this to happen, how he was going to get the money to rebuild everything that had been destroyed.

"I'll get the money... somehow. I just need a little time," he answered, feeling his legs shaking. "And I will do better from now on. You have my word."

"Your word? Every year we go through this! Fires and more fires because you don't clean the forests properly!"

"There were... suspicions about arson..."

"I don't care if it was arson! That only proves that you can't even look after yourself!"

Portugal bit his lower lip. The superior was right. Every year there were fires and every year he promised he was going to prevent them. Do better.

He couldn't keep his promise. Now, his people were hurt, most of his forests were gone, and it was all his fault.

"The Pine Forest of Leiria..." he whispered.

"Gone! It's all gone!"

Portugal's mouth dropped. "All... all of it?"

"About 80% is gone."

His hands began to shake. The Pine Forest, all those tall and green pine trees, planted by the shore to protect the crops from the sands, the trees he had used to build the Caravelas, so wherever he was sailing it always felt like home.

Now it was gone.

His superior kept barking on the phone, but Portugal could barely listen. His legs gave away and he slid down to the ground, his vision blurry as he panted. He was burning, just like the trees and the fields and his people...

"... ashamed to be called a European country... world's laughing stock...  a nobody..."

The cellphone slipped from Portugal's hands and lied face down on the expensive carpet, muffling the sound of his superior's voice. He pressed his sweaty forehead against the wall, his brown hair already wet, and thought of the Atlantic Ocean, it's cold waves against his aching skin, the wind blowing his long hair, the white sails of the Caravelas above him.

Love is a fire that burns unseen,

A wound that aches yet isn't felt,

An always discontent contentment,

A pain that rages without hurting

He woke up lying on his stomach on something soft, with a cool breeze on his face from an open window, white curtains blowing softly.

"Portugal? Are you awake?"

Slowly, he raised his green eyes and found a young Asian man with kind light-brown eyes staring back under a pair of glasses.

"Macau?"

His former colony smiled and pulled a chair. "How are you feeling?"

Portugal tried to stand up, but a strong hand pushed him down against the soft bed.

"Lie down! I don't want you to faint again," a firm woman's voice said on his left side, forcing the older country to turn his head to face her.

A young black woman was holding bandages and ointments on her hands, her brown eyes focused on Portugal's burnt back as she worked. A yellow ribbon kept her long hair from falling down her face.

"Hello, Angola," Portugal said with a weak smile.

Angola sighed but kept working on cleaning and bandaging his back.

"What were you thinking? Coming here when you're this hurt?" she asked him.

Portugal lowered his eyes. "I thought I should show up... But you're right, I shouldn't have come."

"Damn right, you shouldn't!" an angry voice cried out from outside the hotel room. It seemed its source was leaning against the door.

"Brazil?" Portugal asked.

Even though he couldn't see him, Portugal could almost see Brazil's green eyes roll. "No, it's Fafá de Belém. Of course it's me!"

Macau smiled as he leaned over his adopted older brother. "When we heard that you had collapsed, Angola and I came running. Brazil overheard us and insisted on coming too."

"I did not insist on coming! I just wanted to make sure the old man was dead!" Brazil cried out. "So I could throw a party!"

"He was praying the Rosary up until a few minutes ago," Angola said.

"I was praying for that thieving bastard to die!"

"I could hear him crying."

"I wasn't fucking crying, Angola! Shut up!"

Macau chuckled while Angola simply shrugged and continued bandaging Portugal's back, while Brazil sulked on the other side of the door. After a few minutes, Angola was done, and Portugal was able to raise his head to face his former colonies, his former adopted brothers, and sister.

"Thank you for coming, Angola. Macau," he moved his head in the doors direction and shouted. "You too, Brazil."

"I didn't come help you, babaca!" the South American country shouted back.

Rolling her eyes, Angola rose from her chair. "Well, you should be alright now. Get some rest."

"Thank you, Angola."

Macau also stood up and placed a heavy envelope on Portugal's hands. The older country's eyes widened when he realized it was money.

"Macau! I... thank you, but I can't accept this!" Portugal said, shaking his head and trying to give back the money, but Macau wouldn't take it.

"It's not much, but I want help you rebuild what the fires took."

"I can't take your money, Macau. You've done enough for me. I don't know how to repay you."

"Please, don't let your pride get in the way. I don't want you to repay me, I want to help. You're family," Macau said, placing his hand on Portugal's shoulder. "We'll always be family. Let me help you, dàgē."

Slowly, Portugal's hand closed around the envelope, his eyes brimming with tears. Even though he tried to control his emotions, tears were very difficult for him to stop.

"Obrigado."

"Stop sucking up to the old man, Macau!" Brazil yelled from the other side of the door.

"That's it!" Angola opened the door, causing a young, tanned man to fall to the room's floor. He quickly stood up, glaring at his adopted sister.

"What the fuck, Angola?!"

"That's what you get for being a jealous brat."

"Jealous?! I'm not jealous!" Brazil's eyes caught sight of Portugal's burnt and bandaged body on the hotel bed.

They so much looked alike. Out of his former colonies, Brazil was the one who resembled Portugal the most. They had the same green eyes and the same brown hair, though Brazil's was shorter and messier. He was wearing a yellow and green bandana around his head.

"Olá, Brasil," Portugal said, turning around so he could face him, though every movement was painful on his sensitive skin.

Brazil's cheeks turned bright red and he burst out of the room, followed closely by an angry Angola and a smiling, apologetic Macau who closed the door before once again urging Portugal to rest.

The older country did just that. Thanks to Angola's care, his back felt a lot better and he was finally able to lay back against the cushions and sleep for a few hours.

He woke up when he felt someone sitting on his bed.

The window had been closed and the sun was down, leaving his room dark except for the lights coming from the TV screen. Portugal looked at the foot of his bed, where he could see the silhouette of someone with a wrinkled shirt and short dark hair eating a tomato salad.

Portugal knew that head like the back of his hand.

"Spain?"

Spain got up from the bed so fast that he almost dropped his salad. He faced Portugal, his eyes wide and his cheeks red.

"I... I thought you were asleep!"

Portugal blinked and pointed at the foot of the bed. "I was, but you sat down on my right foot."

Spain looked at the bed then at Portugal before putting down his salad. "Right. Huh... Sorry, about that."

"It's okay."

"Can I sit down?" Spain pointed at the empty space beside Portugal rather than at the perfectly good chair on his side.

"Huh... Sure."

Almost shyly, Spain sat down on the bed beside him, taking off his shoes so he could cross his legs on the bed.

For a while, neither country said anything. They stood silently, watching some action movie on the screen, though neither was paying attention.

Portugal stared at his neighbor. For centuries, Spain had been his worst enemy, the reason he kept a weapon under his pillow in case of a surprise attack.

Spain was powerful and he made no secret that he wanted to own the entire Iberian Peninsula. Portugal was that little rectangle of land that stood in the way of his goal. Even though he wasn't considered as much of a threat as France or England, Spain had been relentless in trying to invade him.

For almost eight centuries they had been enemies and rivals, and Spain had almost succeeded taking Portugal more than once. But Portugal didn't want to be another part of Spain, he would rather die or drown in the ocean before that happened.

The rest of the world thought they were very similar, however, they could only see what made them different.

Then, as the years went by and both their empires fell, something began to change between them. Portugal wanted to keep what little he had left while Spain was ravaged by one civil war after the other. Before they realized, the world had moved on while they stood the same. The time for war over land was done.

Even though they couldn't forget their troubled past, they could try to be something more than old enemies.

"Antonio?" Portugal asked, using Spain's human name. That seemed to surprise the other country.

"What?"

"I... I never got a chance to thank you... for the fires," Portugal said, trying to look Spain in the eye. "You sent your firefighters to help me and you didn't have to do it. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been able to stop them."

Spain's green eyes, so like Portugal's, widened. "Of course I was going to help you! I wasn't going to let you burn!"

It was Portugal's turn to look confused. "You weren't?"

Spain raised his hands in the air. "Of course not!"

"Oh..." feeling embarrassed, Portugal looked away, his fingers toying with the silver crucifix around his neck.

"You thought that, didn't you? You thought I was going to happily let you burn!"

"Antonio... I'm sorry..."

Before he could finish, Spain grabbed him by his wrists and wrestled him until he was on top of him.

"Espanha!" Portugal cried out, shocked by Spain's actions. Before he could kick his neighbor out, he felt a drop of water fall on his cheek.

No. Not water. Tears.

Proud, strong, boisterous Spain was crying on top of him.

"I feel... I feel like I'm falling apart," Spain told him, letting his tears fall freely. "I used to be so powerful and strong and now... now everything is going wrong. I lost everything and now even my own land is fighting each other."

As it became obvious that Spain wasn't attacking him, Portugal relaxed, his wrist going limp on Antonio's grip.

"Sometimes... Sometimes I feel so lonely, Afonso."

Portugal's mouth dropped. It had been so long since anyone had used his human name. He couldn't even remember the last time Spain had called him by that name.

Apparently, he wasn't very good at hiding his surprise because Spain immediately reacted to his expression.

"You didn't think I remembered your name, did you?" Spain asked with a sad smile.

Portugal could have lied, but he knew he couldn't fool him.

"I thought I was too insignificant for you to remember."

Spain seemed taken aback by his words. "Is that what you think about yourself? That you're insignificant?"

Portugal opened his mouth to speak but staring at Spain's earnest expression killed his words before they reached his mouth. Instead, he looked away.

"Afonso?"

"I'm not you, Antonio. I tried to be strong and proud, but I'm none of these things. I don't matter... people barely know I exist. If I disappeared, no one would notice."

Spain let go of his wrist and grabbed his chin, forcing him to face him.

"You matter to me," Antonio said.

“Spain… don’t—”

"If you died, I would notice.”

“You wouldn’t. You would forget. You have so many friends…”

“You're my brother!"

With that, Spain buried his face on Portugal's neck and wrapped his hands around his waist. Feeling Spain's body pressed against his own, left Portugal speechless, his body and mind still trying to understand what had just happened.

"Spain...?"

"Te veo, hermano. Yo siempre te vi."

Feeling a knot growing inside his throat and tears in his eyes, Portugal slowly wrapped his bandaged arms around Spain.

"Eu também te vejo, irmão. I see you."

They stood like that for a while, let all the past fights and resentments go as they hugged each other. They were not sure they were real brothers, no one knew for sure, but there was something between them that united them in ways no other country had.

They were made from the same land, water and rocks.  

After a while, Portugal chuckled.

"What?" Spain asked, his head still buried on his shoulder.

"I was just thinking of the time when you and France tried to invade me together. You know, with Napoleon?"

Remembering that Spain lifted his head and stared at Portugal blushing.

"Why are you bringing that up?"

"I never got a chance to ask and I'm curious. You and France were going to invade me, and each was going to get half of me, right?" Portugal asked with a mischievous smile on his face, while Spain's became as red as the tomatoes he loved so much.

"That doesn't matter now! France invaded me, remember?!"

"Yeah, but I want to know, Antonio. If you had succeeded, which half of me were you going to take?"

"Portugal!"

"Was it going to be the top half?" Portugal smile grew even wider as he pointed towards his lips, his neck, his chest, and abdomen.

At this point, Spain was so red that his skin irradiated heat.

"Or was it going to be the bottom half?" he asked, his hand reaching his thigh and then his...

"Stop!" Spain cried out, grabbing both his hands and pulling them on top of his head, while their lips were only inches apart.

"Brother..." Portugal whispered, feeling Spain ragged breathing against his face.

At that moment, they heard the hotel room opening followed by an angry cry.

"Bloody hell!"

The two Iberian countries looked up to see a red and furious England at the door, followed by France who, after seeing Spain lying on top of Portugal, holding his fists above his head while they were both blushing and panting, could only smile.

"Oh, mon Dieu! It seems we are interrupting, England. We should have knocked."

However, England didn't seem to have heard him. All the blond's attention seemed focused on the way Spain was holding Portugal's hands while hovering over Portugal's naked torso.

"Get off him, you Spanish wanker!" he yelled before throwing himself at Spain and kicking him out of the bed.

Portugal tried to pull his oldest ally from his brother but to no avail, while France sat by the bed and seemed to be enjoying the whole thing.

The fight lasted all night. By the time the sun came out, the hotel room was trashed, someone had thrown the tv out of the window, the minibar was empty, several bottles of alcohol were empty, and every country involved was naked.

Sitting on one corner unabashedly with his legs wide open and smoking a cigarette, France smiled at the scene before him.

"What a wonderful night, non? Just like old times!" France said, rubbing a bite mark on his left buttock.

"Shut up, you frog," England groaned, wrapping his arms around Portugal's neck while his foot pushed Spain away.

"Arthur, why are you wearing my crucifix?" Portugal asked, his head pounding from the hangover and who know what else. "Around your ankle?"

"So that God can help me keep the devil away," England answered, pulling his friend even closer while his foot kicked Spain's back.

"Ouch! Stop that, you damn pirate!" Spain moaned. Surprisingly, sitting on Spain's lap was none other than South Italy, angrily holding a bottle of red wine. "Romano? What are you doing here?"

Romano's cheeks turned bright red. "I don't know, you bastard. All I remember was seeing your bare ass through the open door!"

Portugal pressed his hands against his face. "Did anyone else get into my room because they saw one of us naked?"

From the sheets of the destroyed bed, a tall figure rose like Frankenstein's monster, causing everyone to jump and scream.

"I'm afraid I also entered the room," the sheet slid off from the man.

"GERMANY?!" everyone cried out.

The blond country winced at the loud noise. "Please, don't talk so loud! And do not tell superiors what transpired here!"

The sheets on Germany's side moved, revealing a smiling North Italy. "Don't worry, Germany. I won't tell anything!"

"ITALY!"

As the rest of the room erupted into chaos, France kept smiling benevolently. He handed Portugal a glass of wine and saluted him.

"Thanks, Afonso! This was the best meeting we've had in years!" the long-haired blond man said. "I'm sorry about what happened with the fires, but I'm sure you'll get through this. You always have and always will."

As he tried to not drop the glass while holding a drunk and angry England, Portugal couldn't help but smile in return.

"Thank you."

He decided to enjoy his last hours at the hotel with his friends until they had to check out. When he got home, he was ready to start over.

[gay-impressionist]

Primrose, lunar mist, bird of paradise, gardenia, lion's fairytale, marmalade skies, everlasting daisy, honey perfume, night owl, creams and sky, tulip, angel's face, lunaria, tiger lily, peony, tea rose, foxglove, cosmos, clover, lotus and petunia (sorry if this is a bit too much, I just really love learning more about the people I love)😘❤

Don't worry I don't mind 😊 and you're really sweet, I love you too 💕

primrose; what book does everyone right now need to read?

answered here

lunar mist; do you like wearing other people’s shirts/jackets?

yesss. i stole several from my sister and my mother ahah. i love stealing people's clothes in general even if i don't do it often. when i have a gf, i will definitely steal half of her wardrobe

bird of paradise; what was the best thing that happened to you this month?

answered here

gardenia; what’s a promise you’ve recently made to yourself?

to cut ties with a friend i have feelings for

lion’s fairytale; would you rather be the sky, the ocean or the forests?

the ocean so i'm not stuck in a one tiny place but can also be in contact with people. idk, it's just a vibe

marmalade skies; do you plan your outfits?

answered here

everlasting daisy; what’s the last dream you remember having?

as i forget nearly all of my dreams, the last one i remember having it's because it was quite... striking. aka it's still the sex dream with Julie Gonzalo lmao

honey perfume; favorite movie ever?

answered here

night owl; how many countries have you visited?

16! in no particular order : England, Germany, Italy, Spain, Switzerland, The Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Portugal, Austria, Norway, Danemark, Croatia, Greece, the United States, Canada

creams and sky; what’s the craziest/bravest thing you’ve done?

Dancing with friends on a bar's table (which had a pole in its center), shirtless (bra on) 😂 On at least three different occasions I'd say haha

tulip; name 5 facts about yourself.

i already answered this but i guess i can find more facts

1. I learnt German for 5 years.

2. The band/artist I saw live the most is Milky Chance. I saw them 3 times, always with the same friend

3. I'm a virgin (not by choice but more by lack of the right occasion)

4. I'm such the mom friend that when we went to Lisbon last summer with some friends, they called me Mutter (mother in German) the whole week. And they still do it sometimes. I unironically love it

5. I have absolutely no exact idea of when I first realized I wasn't straight and who I came out to first.

angel’s face; what was your favorite bedtime story as a child?

answered here

lunaria; what’s your favorite fictional universe?

answered here

tiger lily; do you have any hobbies?

music, watching tv shows, reading, eating, quantifying stuff about my life on my bullet journal, tumblr

peony; share a small random book passage that means something to you.

"Aggressive et hystérique

Ça fait des siècles que j'entends ça

Indignée et déterminée voilà ce que je suis"

from the play "À nos places" by Agnès Marietta aka @laderdesders1

tea rose; what’s something you always wanted to do but were too scared?

telling my parents i'm depressed and used to be suicidal

foxglove; who is your favorite cartoon character?

i don't know about favorite but i recently discovered the cartoon Harley Quinn and I love Poison Ivy in it

cosmos; do you ever think about the galaxy?

answered here

clover; how would your friends describe you?

Well, you once described me (there was a context but still) as "kind, informed and sassy" and I loved it so much i put it in my bio lmao. Otherwise idk. But one time, one of my best friends said that he was never worried about introducing new people to our group if I was there because I was the person who best made outsiders feel welcome.

lotus; best memory as a child?

wow, way too many. but what first came to my mind rn (for some reason) was when we went to Rome with my parents when I was 12 during the winter holidays. it was snowing like crazy in France but I have this distinct memory of getting my coat off on a balcony at the top of a museum. And standing above Rome, feeling the sun on my skin, I felt so happy.

petunia; who’s story is your biggest inspiration in life? why?

answered here

[hibernianbok]

Happy B-day Hetalia :D

Here’s a headcanon for every official character :D

African characters:

Cameroon: He enjoys going to schools around his country, he always tries to play a couple of matches against the kids. He lets them win to build their confidence in themselves.

Egypt: Someone when he’s sad he writes letters to his mother in hieroglyphics, he then puts it in the Nile hoping she’ll find it, one day.

Seychelles: Whenever she visits France's place she does her hair in a french plait. No reason, She just likes to plait her hair when she visits.

Asian characters:

China: Whenever he gets time off, he loves to ride a bike on the xi’an wall, he loves taking in the city. Sometimes he likes to think about how it has changed.

Cyprus: Whenever he is around Greece and Turkey he considers himself the “mature” one. With all their arguing who wouldn’t?

Hong Kong: Due to his fear of the dark, whenever he’s at a friend/family’s house he’ll refuse to let them leave the room he’s sleeping in till he’s asleep, he’ll hold their hand the whole night if that means they’ll stay.

India: His favorite pastime is drawing is hennas on people's arm, if nobody is around he’ll draw one on himself. Every single one he does is a work of art!

Japan: On trips to meeting or even on holiday he brings an emergency blanket to burrito in, he has been found on more than one occasion huddled up in his hotel room rather than outside enjoying himself.

S.korea: he knows how to K-pop dance, every time one of his many K-pop artist releases a new song with dance moves he’ll practice it till he perfects it.

Macau: Around new people he acts like a gentleman, he always offers the best of his hospitality, around his family he’s a lot more casual and tends to make jokes.

Russia: He is amazing at ballet, only his sisters and his teacher knows this though, he is way too embarrassed to tell anyone else.

Taiwan: She has lucky cats hidden around her house, when she is tired or bored she likes to flick the kitty’s arm. Sometimes she giggles at their movements.

Thailand: Bad hair days are horrible for him, the majority of his day will be dedicated to making his hair fluffy again.

Turkey: Sometimes he likes to go to the mills in his country and help the ladies there make carpets, he loves the detail that goes into them.

Vietnam: Her loves to a coracle around Ha Long Bay, especially at night. She loves to sit in the middle of the bay and stare at the stars.

European countries:

Austria: He can recite entire script of the sound of music. It's his favorite musical because it's from his place and actually happened!

Belarus: When she is around someone she truly hates she’ll stare at them and think of every possible way to kill them till they walk/run away. She always smirks afterwards.

Belgium: She has a habit of cooking when she’s not hungry, she’ll just start making waffles at 3am for no reason. Most of the food she makes is given to her brothers because free food = more money.

Bulgaria: He has an entire cabinet full of his cosplay outfits, he is very careful when washing and drying all of his outfits and rarely ever lets people try them on, for obvious reasons.

Czech: Her tolerance to alcohol is very high. It takes quite a few beers before she can be considered drunk.

Denmark: More than once he has decided to break into Sweden's house and made a sofa fort, he defends it like it’s his own castle.

England: His favorite tea is Earl Grey. He is open to trying other types though, his second favorite tea is PG tips.

Estonia: He will spend an entire day blogging stuff, sometimes Latvia or Finland will have to come over to make sure he is actually eating and sleeping.

Finland: He’s a lot stronger than many people give him credit for, I mean just think about his country's sniping history and how he was excited to fight against Lithuania and Poland!

France: On the short breaks (weekends) he likes to travel around his place to taste wine. He can name every vineyard and seller in alphabetical order.

Germany: He takes on more work than he can handle. The reason behind this is so at the end of the week he feels like he has accomplished something.

Greece: Sometimes when he is bored he’ll make mini statues of Greek gods and goddess.  He’ll just get a bit of clay and mold it into a god.

Hungary: Her favorite pastime is to bathe in her hot springs. Not these new fancy ones, the original ones that were built during the old days.

Iceland: He has an account for nearly everyone social media site, most of which he’s too scared to actually post something because he fears of being judged.

Italy: I bet you he owns a book based on the different types of pasta, he doesn’t even need it he can name every single style of pasta.

Latvia: The reason he is often hanging out with the micro-nations is because it makes him feel more grown up, he likes being the oldest in a group!

Liechtenstein: She has more than one ribbon. The one her brother gave to her is very special to her, so much so that she bought herself more ribbons so that she doesn’t ruin the one Switzerland got her.

Lithuania: He has defended Latvia more than once, a lot of times when russia was about to punish Latvia, lith took it for him.

Luxembourg: Sometimes when he is feeling mischievous he’ll which the side his hair falls on, this makes ned’s eyes twitch and Belgium mentally scream trying to figure out what’s off.

Moldova: More often than not he’ll watch horror movies way over his age (Well not his actual age but his personified age), he is often scolded by his big brother Romania because of this.

Monaco: She’s made make up tutorials before, they are all very detailed and anyone can pull it off! She has never uploaded any though, the key to her beauty must remain secret~ (even though she’s prettier without it)

Netherlands: He lets his bunny sleep in his bed. As neat as he is having his little fluffy friend to cuddle up with helps him sleep.

Norway: He knows the names and address of every coffee shop at his place, he can also name the place where the coffee was grown. It’s his wine.

Poland: He is very religious, every Sunday he goes to church. As flamboyant as he may be he’ll thank god for all he has.

Portugal: He barely ever combs his hair, not because he doesn’t want to but because he is always doing stuff. When he does get the chance to comb his hair he’ll take a good hour combing it.

Prussia: whenever he is home alone he busts out the old shirt on trousers off moves. If Germany gets home early he’ll be greeted with his awesome brother in his tighty whities.

Romania: Sometimes when he wants to troll people he’ll dye his water blood red, people call him a vampire anyways, why not freak them out a bit more?

Slovakia: He is rather lazy when it comes to personal hygiene, he’d rather just get some dry shampoo and a couple of wet wipes then take an hour in the shower.

South Italy: He often trips over his own feet, so he’ll be walking down the street minding his own business and casually fall over. He plays it off very well though!

Spain: Sometimes when he’s bored he’ll put on his dancing clothes, he doesn’t need a partner, a broom will do quite nicely~

Sweden: Is one of the best dancers ever. Think about it, most of the music that comes from his place are addictive and have dance moves that everyone knows! (Caramelldansen)

Switzerland: Has a manual on how to win monopoly every time, it doesn’t matter if the others see it, so long as he wins he doesn’t care.

Ukraine: She really enjoys being around the micro-nations, especially if they enjoy her company too. She likes to mother the little ones, she’s very motherly.

Mirco-nations:

Hutt river: The main reason he is so fancy is because of Australia, he wants to be noticed by him so he sparkles~

Kunglemungle: He loves to be left alone to practice his art, even if it’s just for a few minutes it can mean the world to him.

Molossia: The only person that truly sees his soft side is america, he is the only person that he trust not to tell anyone

Niko Niko: Although he’s human now he still acts like a micro-nation. He was born as one and he will forever be one to everyone else.

Sealand: He is scared of fires, whenever fire is mentioned he feels tears falling from his eyes. (Sealand had a pretty bad fire a while back)

Seborga: Sometimes he likes to see how many people he can flirt with in one day, he makes it a little game for himself.

TRNC: He barley ever hangs out with the other micro-nations, he’d rather just hang out with turkey and his big brother.

Wy: When she is around the other female nations she asks if they can do her hair, she likes how Ms.Belgium does her hair the most!

North America:

America: He still cuddles with a stuffed animals when he’s asleep. He really likes to cuddle things at night and if nobody is nearby his bear is his lifesaver.

Canada: He really likes hiking during his time off, he’ll often go on holidays to mountainy areas so he can go on a nice, long, hike.

Cuba: He enjoys taking naps on the beach, if he could he’d lay there all day watching the waves roll in and out whilst having a cheeky smoke.

Oceania:

Australia: Sometimes when he’s feeling upset he’ll hangout in the bush with all the animals, he feels like he can connect more with the animals than actual people.

New Zealand: He is very aggressive when playing sports, he may seem like a sweetheart when talking but as soon as he puts his uniform on it’s game O N

HOLY MOLY THAT TOOK FOREVER I FEEL ACCOMPLISHED! 

[rumtar88sbobetlinkalternati-blog]

How to Sell togel sgp to a Skeptic

Sportsbook odds list Spain and Brazil as definitely to win with England not far behind. Argentina and Italy are also in the combo with single-digit odds. Spain and Brazil are 4-1, England is 5-1, Argentina is 8-1 and Italy is 9-1. Four other teams have odds of less than 20-1. These kinds of are Germany at 10-1, netherlands at 11-1, France at 12-1 and Ivory Coast at 19-1. The one team from that group getting some action is the Ivory Coast. Their odds have decreased since they opened months ago. Ivory Coast has superstar scorer Didier Drogba and might be a huge factor. Didier lead the Premier League in goals this season for champion Chelsea.

Even worse is the odds always work against the poker-player. I wish I could let you know the odds worked with your favor, but that's not what's the deal. All those pretty casinos in Vegas and advanced gambling sites around the internet were not built by offering out free money.

The gambler is always looking for the way to gamble more easily and for this legally. The net provides your puppy with except. The gambling is accessible definitely logging on, and the quantity of online gambling sites are set up away from the US territory, they are usually quite allowable.

Why are straight bets not employed? Basically, some teams are better than other and when a team with a 12 - 0 record were to play a team with a single - 11 record, 99% of the wagers would eventually be on the favorite. This would break the lending company of the home poker sites online if the favorite were to win. This is definitely an unsustainable enterprize model which demands the concept of odds and lines.

Always have fun with the odds. Even when you sign into the best gambling sites, make sure to consider the percentages. Use math if you are able to. After all numbers rarely lie and mathematical strategies are generally successful. Need to more the case with casino and sportsbook online games of risk which are designed on the basis of probabilities and proportions.

I or don't when the waitress provides me with free alcoholic drinks. I feel rich, powerful and central. I also feel like I'm bandar agen taruhan judi bola sbobet online getting drunk at no direct cost. Oh wait, I am. Sometimes I these excitement, the flashing lights of the strip. As far as I'm concerned, this is entertainment at it's better. I pay a few hundred bucks to watch a sports game with my previous girlfriend. I don't mind paying a few hundred bucks for the same level of entertainment from Vegas. Adore the $5 lobster dinners and other events how the casinos be dressed in to help you get in their doors. For that well heeled gambler that wants to throw money around, annoying that beats Vegas.

But just about all countries are permitted to make payments online to gambling sites right now. As certain rules and regulations make these pores and skin transactions banned. Some countries where online poker players can use PayPal for poker are Austria, Belgium, Denmark, Finland, France, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Sweden as well as the UK. Most PayPal Poker sites will mean you can know which countries they accept for deposits with PayPal. So please when your country is listed as a person who can first deposit.

Finding a great sportsbook can be at times like purchasing needle within a haystack. Yet with some on-line research on the interenet you will be in the before you know it.

[guillembalague-blog]

WhCristiano's reinvention: his stats are worse than ever at Real, but he is for sure one of the greatest ever

Comparisons, as Miguel Cervantes correctly asserted, may well be odious but they are 'Nirvana' to football's statistics and information gatherers currently working overtime as Cristiano Ronaldo hones in on the all time league scoring record. Has he reached 400 goals in the colours of Real Madrid, or is it as many say 399? Can we count his free kick strike in Real Madrid's 2-1 victory over Real Sociedad or was it deflected in off Pepe? On such minutiae, friendships founder, families fall out. More importantly, does it matter? As if the experts didn't have enough data to work on with the constant comparisons that sally back and forth between Cristiano and his main rival for football lovers' affection, Leo Messi, now the names of former greats, Gerd Muller and Jimmy Greaves once again enter the spotlight they adorned with such distinction in the dim and distant past. And the problem is of course with facts, figures, stats and records is that very often they depend on the criteria you work with and - depending on who you believe - Cristiano is already the greatest scorer in League football history and not as the stat men would have it, one behind Das Bomber (Gerd Muller) and two short of Jimmy Greaves. The five leagues that qualify as 'top' apparently - and might I add at this point, says who?? - are in Spain, England, Italy, Germany and France and NOT in Portugal where Cristiano scored three goals for Sporting before his move to Manchester United, goals that would already have seen him lauded as the number one scorer in league history. This is one stat that will certainly provoke puzzled disbelief from a league that has, in Porto and Benfica, historically two of soccer's great sides and a country that, lest we forget, currently holds the European Championship. But I digress. What is most important is that in goal scoring terms at least, Cristiano and Messi and Greaves and Muller are/were the best - the very very best - and to make comparisons between one and the other bearing in mind they played in different times, in different conditions, on different surfaces with different equipment and a different approach to the rule book is ultimately to demean their greatness. A while back I incurred the wrath of Ronaldo fans across the world when I said he had declined physically. The reason I said it was simple - he had. A chronic knee injury - and I use the word in it's literal meaning which describes an illness or medical condition characterized by long duration or frequent recurrence - meant that he no longer had the blistering pace that would regularly destroy defences. And he knew it. I never said he would stop scoring and in fact it was the nature of the injury that compelled him to re-invent himself purely as a striker and bring him in from the flanks. He lost his speed, his electric bursts of pace and replaced them with even more of what he already had in abundance namely, a voracious hunger, an unceasing desire to be the best and a competitiveness and dedication to adapting to his new role. As he says himself, "With dedication and hard work things happen naturally", to which I might add that if it was that easy then we'd all do it. In the process he realised that to become the greatest striker in the world - and there is no greater at the moment - he has even strived to change his body shape to make him even more lethal in and around the penalty area. He is now around three kilos lighter, has less muscle development on his top half but has increased his muscle power and strength in his legs in his transformation purely as a striker. He has also for the first time realised that as the sands of time begin to run, then sometimes less is more and so consequently is far more prepared to be rotated and/or occasionaly substituted by Zinadine Zidane who he clearly trusts implicitly. At a time when many players of his age - Ronaldo is 32, and a battered and bruised 32 at that - are looking towards retirement, media work, cameo appearances and perhaps a bit of coaching, he will be hoping to plot the downfall of probably the likes of Giorgio Chiellini and Leonard Bonucci as Real and Juventus makes their almost inevitable journeys to Wales for the Champions League final next month. Real Madrid's third final in four years and one that should they win will make them the first side since the tournament changed into the Champions League format to win the trophy in successive years. Meanwhile, Ronaldo, who has scored 50 goals or more every season at Real, has got the worst stats of this time at Real (35 goals 'only') but he has scored more goals than ever from the quarter finals of the Champions League. Another proof of his re-invention. The hunger and motivation that forced the change comes from a desire and a motivation to be the very best and a psychological toughness that is difficult to fathom but probably has its roots in the tough lonely road both he and Messi trod on their way to the very top. It there are to be comparisons made about the relative greatness of the four players then it is in this psychological department that we should pay most attention. As mere boys both Messi and Cristiano climbed aboard boat, trains and planes in search of their fortune while the likelihood is that players like Greaves and Muller used to go home to their Mums for tea after training with their local clubs. Much against his better judgment Greaves did take the plunge and travelled aboard although, in truth, he never wanted to go and did his level best to get out of the deal. He hated every minute of his stay with AC Milan in Italy. Muller to be fair had more success on the road in the twilight of his career though at a much lower level scoring a goal every two games more or less over three seasons with Fort Lauderdale in the USA Both Greaves and Muller succumbed for whatever reason to the demon drink post-playing and both are now in poor health. Greaves suffered a severe stroke in 2015 and is now looked after at home by those who love him now as they have always done, for better or worse, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. In 2015 Bayern Munich chairman Karl Heniz Rummenigge confirmed that Muller had been diagnosed with Alzeimer's disease adding by way of tribute that: “Gerd Müller is one of the all-time greats of world football. Without his goals, Bayern Munich and German football would not be what it is today." “He was a fantastic team-mate and is a friend. Gerd will always enjoy a place in the Bayern family. And when the cheering, the success and the adulation stopped, the drink and depression kicked in. Thankfully both despite poor health, gained redemption. We live in a different world today. Players have more therapists, counsellors, advisors, assistants, coaches, trainers and general Svengali's than you could shake a stick at. But even accounting for that, the impression that the likes of Crisitiano and Messi spend their life cushioned and protected from the outside world is illusory. The fact is they are probably mentally, and certainly financially, better prepared to deal with the pressures that will come with facing the end of the road than perhaps Gerd and Jimmy were but only time will tell us how they will cope with retirement when it comes along. But ignoring comparisons, tinder dry statistics, and boring facts that never really tell it like it is or was, I'm reminded by what I once heard the brilliant radio and television presenter and football nut, Danny Baker say which, for me, kind of sums it all up. "The thing about great players is that what makes them great is that when you watch them play, they make you gasp," he said. And when we are pulling mere numbers, sterile figures, impersonal stats out of the air to justify our arguments this is what we should remember above everything else. When Cristiano and Messi play, as when Greaves and Muller played we all gasped as they showed us, week in week out, just why we love - and occasionally hate - this magnificently flawed game so much.