GHOSTS

May we see any of the nyo nordics please🫶

You get them all because you were so patient with me anon <3

Considering how used Liechtenstein is to Switzerland, she probably isn't afraid of people's faces. With that said, imagine Sweden and Liechtenstein being cute cousins. It's canon they both sew too, so they would have that in common! What do you think? I really like the thought of Liechtenstein and Sweden being great friends and cousins. ♥

First off, I LOVE THIS!!! This never even crossed my mind but this is so great thank you for gracing me with this! I love the idea of both of them doing wholesome quiet activities together and doing crafts and yes I like this very much XD I said in an ask before that I love characters that are related but are so vastly different in appearance that no one can fathom how they are actually related. much love for this!!! <3  Also Liechtenstein is so smol just IMAGINE

little ivan as onfim. was he onfim? we may never know…..

Happy birthday, you old fart

Stormy Eyes

The 7-year-old looking boy with boundless energy, stood atop the hill, looking down at the small church where a somber funeral was taking place. In his small hand, Alfred clutched a single flower, a blue daisy. The daisy, a simple tribute to his best friend, Davie. Alfred had returned from London with excitement, eager to share his discoveries and stories, only to discover the devastating news of Davie's passing. His young heart ached, and the weight of grief hung heavily upon him.

Throughout his short life, Alfred had always been a whirlwind of activity, his mind racing from one thought to another, his body in constant motion. His father, Arthur, had observed these tendencies with a watchful eye, understanding that his son's boundless enthusiasm often came with moments of restlessness and broken vases.

As Arthur approached his young son, he saw the boy's restless fidgeting, his hands twisting the flower stem, and his gaze darting in all directions. He knew with how much enthusiasm and excitement Alfred carried and took care of the flower on his long journey to Boston. So, having Alfred bend and break the stem was a certain cause for concern. He recognized his boys fidgeting and what it stood for. An understanding that had developed over years of being Alfred's father and mentor.

"Alfred," Arthur said sternly, yet without a hint of annoyance. His voice carrying the weight of centuries of history and responsibility. Arthur looked down from the hill to the quaint church where a crowd of silhouettes gathered, and with an almost inaudible "Ah." understood the weight of the situation. He looked down at his son, his eyes softened with concern. "I'm sorry lad."

Alfred's response was not in words but in frantic fidgeting. His young mind was trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, rendering him staring down at the destroyed flower stem he seemed to cherish only a few hours before.

Seeing his son's distress, Arthur's concern deepened. He slowly kneeled down, reached out and gently held Alfred's face in his hands, physically anchoring the restless child and forcing their eyes to meet.

"Alfred," Arthur said firmly once again, his voice breaking through the chaos in Alfred's mind. "Focus, my son. You must."

Alfred's tear-filled eyes finally met his father's, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Arthur could see his son's eyes trying to suppress more tears from welling up. The effort was unsuccessful, because as soon as Alfred took a breath, all the supressed tears fell all at once. Through all that his boy didn't make a single sound.

Arthur's words continued, his voice carrying the weight of wistom obtained by blood and violence. "My boy, your life will be a lonely but fulfilling one. You will meet many people, nations, enemies and friends along the way. Each one will leave a mark on your heart, just as your friend here did." Arthur didn't dare look away at the funeral for the friend he just mentioned in fear of loosing Alfred to his own mind once again.

Arthur's voice almost quivered as he spoke of Alfred's lost friend. "Remember them, Alfred. Remember them all, and carry their memories with you. Your existence, my dear boy, is both a solitary journey and a shared one. You are not alone in this world of nations."

He paused, his grip on Alfred's face unwavering. "Your restless spirit is a part of who you are, Alfred, and it's a gift. Use it to carry the torch for those who have gone before us and for those who will come after. You have the strength within you to focus when it truly matters. Because, my son, when you do, miracles will happen."

He released his son and instead of going back to fidget with the plant, Alfred stood still and kept looking at his father.

As the funeral procession continued below, father and son remained standing on that grassy hill. Arthur's words seemed to echo back and forth in the young boys mind, his ocean eyes finally resembling calm waters. In that moment Arthur was reminded of stormy nights at sea and the calm morning that followed.

He was always good at sailing through the storm.

*adding all my fantasy*

juust felt the urge to draw old school hungary

for everyone who loves linguistic jokes

脑子都快被榨干了 画完这套图感觉能瘫一个月

Average Icelandic-Faroese online experience:

🇮🇸 islandnr1 Follow

Iceland is the best country in the world 🥰

🇫🇴 faroeislandslover Follow

The Faroe Islands are way better

🇮🇸 islandnr1 Follow

Kys

🇫🇴 faroeislandslover Follow

Kys

🇮🇸 islandnr1 Follow

Kys

🇫🇴 faroeislandslover Follow

Kys

🇮🇸 islandnr1 Follow

Kys

🇫🇴 faroeislandslover Follow

Kys

🇮🇸 islandnr1 Follow

Fuck you you live on some tiny rock in the middle of nowhere

🇫🇴 faroeislandslover Follow

So do you and also your mother is a whore

🇮🇸 islandnr1 Follow

What's it like not having independece

🇬🇱 greenlandexists Follow

Does anyone care about us

🇩🇰 thecolonizer1000 Follow

No

14 people arguing about fish in the notes