world cup hetalia


How can I put it?

  • I love Hetalia
  • I love hetalians MEPs
  • I love international evetns in Hetalia style
  • I love multilanguage songs
  • I love see Latin American OCs together with canon charactes
  • Is the first time I see Brazilian Portuguese in a Hetalian MEP *tears of emotion*

Pixiv ID: 52115848
Member: にのぬこ

Permission was granted by the artist to upload this work, please do not remove credits or redistribute this work. :)

shhhh this is the women’s world cup which was held in canada

anonymous asked:

For Hetalia's 19th season they've probably run out of ideas and come full circle. They introduce "Hetalia: Allied Forces"

no ok here’s how it goes. come back to me in 20 yrs bc this is 100% how it’ll have gone

  • seasons 1 and 2 - hetalia: axis powers (makes sense. some of the protags were the axis, after all)
  • seasons 3 and 4 - hetalia: world series (didn’t know this was about baseball but ok)
  • season 5 - hetalia: the beautiful world (fitting, due to the animation bump)
  • season 6 - hetalia: the world twinkle (alright.. keeping up the ‘world’ theme. gratuitous english captures the spirit of the series too)
  • season 7 - hetalia: world stars (homage to the manga, plus the ‘world’ theme is ongoing)
  • season 8 - hetalia: world cup (unintentionally titled the same as fifa’s event. they just thought it sounded cool, and it has the word ‘world’ in it)
  • season 9 - hetalia: world shining (ripping off their previous names reminiscent of a glittery earth)
  • season 10 - hetalia: glittery earth (well)
  • season 11 - hetalia: round earth (callback to the days of marukaite chikyuu)
  • season 12 - hetalia: world earth (it makes sense, somehow)
  • season 13 - hetalia: what in the world (this yr they hire someone competent in english. however, they have a penchant for puns)
  • season 14 - hetalia: werld (the english-competent person is let go, and no one remembers how to spell ‘world’)
  • season 15 - hetalia: it’s a small world (disney, tho long-time owner of aph, only now gets to name it)
  • season 16 - hetalia: new world order (the illuminati take hetalia from disney)
  • season 17 - hetalia: adjective world (they’re out of ideas)
  • season 18 - hetalia: world noun (they’re REALLY out of ideas)
  • season 19 - hetalia: fuck world (it’s all that’s left)

Seriously, guys, I am going to be real with you right now: As a Brazilian and a person from a city that is hosting some matches AND that had get a whole new stadium built for this


Because if you do or if you not do, that’s not going to change anything in our country or in our social problems. This is for US to get something done. Not you. Not other countries. We. As a country. 

If you want to enjoy the event, do it, if you want to roleplay it DO IT, if you want to come please please please DO IT!!

And PLEASE do not believe everything about World Cup in Brazil that you see around. People are or making things up or exaggerating horrible,

Check before reblogging and spreading shit. 

Stop this campaign against hetalia fanarts about World Cup. As a Brazilian, I know how much the World Cup is terrible for us, and it has little to do with “corrupt government” and a lot to do with human traffic, with poor people loosing their homes, with prostitution, with gringos being abusive towards our population and about our priorities, such as education an healthy, not being respected. And that’s not Dilma’s fault, the one who should provide it all are mostly the governors and the mayors!

Hetalia fanarts have little to do with it; they’re just harmless cute drawings! They’re, in fact, the good thing about every global event for a lot of people. Not sharing them won’t help us at all, so stop coaching people to don’t reblog or like them, that don’t solve anything.

Let’s make our fight REAL, now! Let’s go to the streets and fight, let’s show the government our insatisfaction!


Hetalia World Cup: We're In It Together

“The quarterfinals!” Emma screamed, stretching out her arms. “I can’t believe that we made it this far.”

Lars nodded beside his sister, watching the officials move their names on the board up another bracket. Just one step closer to the final.

“I mean, can you believe it, Netherlands?” She started, turning her head away from the board. “We both haven’t lost a match. I seriously thought I was going to have a problem with America. He blocked all of my chances. Oh! Next time we do a match with the nations, lets invite him over.”

Lars turned away from the board and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Emma smiled her cat like smile. “He will be an excellent goalie. We need to get England on our team in or else he won’t do it, though. And-”

As much as he loves his sister, she talks to much for Lars to handle. He looked back up at the bulletin board, analyzing the quarter finalist and their matches.

Brazil and Columbia. Basically, another Spain verse Portugal, but in the New World type of sense. Brazil is the favorite amongst everyone, but he believe that the hype of playing on his own soil will inflate his ego too much that he will lose focus. Columbia, he’s not so sure, but to make it this far, he was a lot better than his father.

Germany and France. All of Europe is going to be watching this one. When it was just West Germany, they were already great. But with the addition of East Germany, his older brother Prussia, their skill have improved drastically. Prussia was always a tactical man of war, and since they can’t have fights, he figure that the football field was a good enough substitute.

And France. With his meltdown in ‘10, he’d expected him to lose. But actually, he’d been winning. He’s been calm and collective about every decision made, rather it was beneficial or a mistake. Yes, France has impressed the world by coming back with an entirely new attitude- he was even too focus to make a joke at England (though, he caught him smirking when he found out the Brit was eliminated).

Then it’s Costa Rica against him and Argentina against Belgium. He does not know much about Costa Rica, other than he’s just another one of Spain’s children. His endurance might be a problem, as he was able to tie with England and defeat both Veneziano and Romano. Still, he defeated Spain and he’d defeated two of his children. A third would be a new record.

Argentina, however, might be a problem.  Argentina was also Spain’s child, and he has been tactical since the beginning- nothing like his father. His star player actually interact and help his teammates to the point that they can be deadly. He might be a challenge, and the thought of facing him made him shutter in anticipation. But first, he had to get through his sister-

Lars frown and looked at the bulletin board again. This was not good.

“-Maybe we can invite some of the African nations. Though, I don’t think Rwanda would be happy to see me-”


“-Then maybe we can invite the South American countries as well. You still have a couple of countries in your kingdom over there, right?”

“Central America, but Belgium-”

“-Also, the Asian nations! We should do our own-”


“What, brother?!” The female nation puffed out her cheeks, upset that her brother interrupted her.

“We are on the same side.”

Emma looked at the bulletin board and frowned. Lars was right. Her match was against Argentina and his was against Costa Rica. If they win, they will face each other in the Semi-final.

“… We won’t fight each other in the finals.” She asked, though she already knew the answer.

“I did not pay attention.” Lars stated. “The only time we get to face each other is the semifinals. We won’t be fighting for the cup.”

Emma’s shoulders slumped. “Well… this suck. Maybe I shouldn’t have won the group stages.”

“You play to win. We just miscalculated.” Lars stated.

Emma twiddled her thumbs together, staring intensely at it. She then huffed in annoyance. “I can’t believe this.” She complained.

Lars chuckled. “Well, believe it.”

“Then one of use would have to get third.”

Lars scoffed and looked at his sister again, whom eyes were locked onto the bulletin board again.

“We have to at least make it to the semi finals together.” Emma continued. “I wanted to face you since this cup began, when we promised each other that we would make it to the finals. We can’t do that now, but we can at least do it. And if one of use pass, we have to get the cup and a rank.” She turned to her brother and smile. “Third and first?”

Lars stared at her for a while before he smirked, placing his hand on top of his sister’s head. “Third and first.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you at the semifinals. Do not go easy on me.”

“Ha! You wish.” Emma smiled. “Come on. We have to pack so we can move.” He grabbed her brother’s hand and dragged him along. As long as one of them make it wins, it really does not matter to here.

It does not help that while I was writing this, the Belgium and Argentina game was going on and Argentina scored. But I wanted to write this for some time, but didn’t have the time. Lol


Edited: This is what happens when you try to watch the game, type a story, and research at the same time. Tumblr User Cariata pointed out that Costa Rica was Group D with England and Italy, not Group C with Japan, Greece, and Ivory Coast. That was Columbia. So I changed the paragraph a little.

Edited 07/06/2014: Part II

Hetalia World Cup: We're In This Together, Part II

“Switch the Goalie.”

The team and the coach stared at Lars, whom kept his eyes on the field. It was silent before the coach decided to cough. “B-But-”

Lars finally tore his eyes away and looked at him. “Do not lie to me. You were thinking the same thing, too.” He nodded, turning his head back to the field. “Switch goalies.”

The coach nodded, then called for the substitution. Lars huffed, his throat cracking as the humidity dried him out and fatigue was catching up to him. Perhaps he underestimated Costa Rica. Sure, the Latin American country had endurance, but he also had power and patience that went hand in hand with his recklessness. He was nothing like Spain, as their battle were brutal, Costa Rica receiving most of the foals and cards.

After 120 minutes, they were going  to penalty kicks. Both him and Costa Rica groaned at the notion. Those kicks were based more on luck than skills despite the fact that they contain a little bit of both. Which is why he decided to switched his goalie. He was better at predicting and deflecting.

He gulped, his throat cracking even more as Costa Rica made their first goal.

Then he made thier first goal.

Lars huffed and rubbed his forehead. “This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening.” He chanted, a groan coming from his throat soon after.


Lars raised his head, one ear catching the cries of his opponent while the other caught the cheers of his teammates with the words of the commenters. He missed. How do you miss penalty-

Wait? The Goalie blocked it. How could he forget something that he just put into play a few seconds ago. Even the couch is looking at him strange for not celebrating.

“It’s not over yet.” He collected himself. “If we miss one, we’ll be tied again.” Lars sighed and tried to focus on the match once more. He had to win. Both him and Emma said that they were going to meet each other in the semifinals. He had to win this.

He made the next shot.

Another goal for Costa Rica.

Another goal for him

And another for Costa Rica

And another goal for him

The score was 4-3 with him in the lead. Lars bit his slightly chapped lips and forced his hand by his side, feeling them wanting to move so he can pray.

“Miss the shot. Miss the shot. Miss the shot. Miss the shot-”


As much as he wanted to compose himself, Lars couldn’t help but to run out with the team to the goalie, screaming and cheering as the game is finally over. He won. Despite the odds against him, he would be able to move into the semifinals and added another one of Spain’s children to his collections of defeat. His team jumping up and down and hugging each other, Lars walked and stood in the middle of the field, leaned his head back, and took his first relaxed breath since the match began.

“-Tune into the ninth, when the Netherlands takes on Argentina-”


Lars could hear it in the background. The cheering. The yelling. The horns and other instruments that their people would play at the World Cup.

But nothing was louder than the silence in his head as he stared into the sky, eyes slightly widen and his heartbeat slightly quickened.


Lars did not go and celebrate with his team. As much as he wanted to, as much as he still felt the excitement and accomplishment of the Dutch people, as Lars, he couldn’t breath. The coach had to snap him out of his daze, reminding him over and over again that they had to plan later on how they were going to defeat Argentina.

Argentina. That was who he was going to face. Another one of Spain’s damn children and not his own sister.

He did not celebrate with his team. Instead, he headed back to the hotel, his feet dragging across the floor as he stepped out of the elevator once it stopped at his level.

Tomorrow, he had to wake up and see the team, watching them practice and plan how to defeat Argentina. Tomorrow, he would have to be reminded that his sister lost. Both of them were undefeated since the games began, winning both their groups and advancing to the quarterfinals with flying colors. Their plans to make it to the final had to be rewritten due to them not paying attention how the officials placed everything. But at the end, they were still excited. Third and first place. Third and the cup.

Wasn’t that the agreement?


The dutchman looked up.

Emma stared at him as she leaned up against his room door, her hair slightly messy with a little bit of dirt and grass still in it. She normally looked like that after the match. But Lars wasn’t met with the triumphal cat smile that he had gotten accustom to. Instead, it took her a while before she flash him a small cat like grin.

“Congratulation, brother.” She removed herself from the wall and hugged him, not caring that he remained limped in her arms and made no attempts to hug back.

“… Emma…”

“I have to say, you gave me quite a scare.” Emma removed herself from the hug and laughed. “You were so reckless out there. I barely understood your play at all. It was chaotic.”


“But then you decided to make that switch of the goalie. Oh, that was a great move! But if you would have just played properly, you wouldn’t have to rely on penalty kicks-”


“Honestly, Lars, imagine if you would have missed.” Emma chuckled. “Losing to one of Spain’s children like this? I would never hear the end of it once we return to Europe. Actually, I don’t think Spain is every going to let you live it down-”


“What, brother?” She pouted. “You know I hate being interrupted. And I hate it when you don’t use our human names when it is just us. We are family. We should not be so professional unless we have to.”

Lars glanced away, then nodded. “You are right. And with that, I have two things to say to you.”

“Can’t it wait.”


“All right, fine.” Emma smirked, crossing her arms. “You have three minutes.”

Lars nodded. He reached out and pulled his sister into a hug, his hands holding her head against his chest. He was sure she could hear the slowed, mellowed sound of his heartbeat, but he wanted her to hear that.

“First of all. Thank you. For congratulating me. And supporting me.” He stated. “I would not be here if it wasn’t for a lot of things, but most of all, if I did not have your constant support. Even against Spain, when everyone thought I was going to lose just like I did in the finals, you still cheered for me. I love you for that.”

“L-Lars?” Emma questioned, eyes widened. Although she have seen it before, it was still rare for her brother to speak this much and this passionately about whatever was on his mind.

“Secondly, you are right. We are family and we shouldn’t act so professional to each other.” He kissed the top of her head. “So with that, please stop the bullshit. Go ahead. It’s okay.”

It was silent until he felt her shake beneath him. Emma grabbed his shirt and tried to calm herself down, but couldn’t. Tears began to fall from her eyes- the more that fell, the louder her cries gotten, coming face to face with reality.

She lost. That was that. She was not one of the favorites, but she was a force to be reckoned with. While the humans skimmed over the topic, the nations knew for sure.

Then the plan. The plan that the two of them had. They wanted to face the finals together, but couldn’t, so they quickly adapted. Third and First. Third and the cup. That was all she talked about ever since they changed it, ever since before the quarter matches began.

And now she lost. Her emotions were amplified by the sadness and disappointment of her people. She wanted to keep it under control, and even patted herself on the back for making it this far, since at the end of the game, she wanted to burst into tears. She wanted to hold it in for her brother, as he could still win this.

But just like the game, she lost it.

A continuation from this. I ended up missing the Netherlands verse Costa Rica game, but I had my friends update me on the GroupMe (It doesn’t help that I was the only one rooting for the Netherlands either).

Hetalia World Cup: We're In This Together, Part III

“-And we are about the head to the second portion of extra time, folks.”

Lars rubbed his temples, taking a long and much needed, but strained breath.

They have been going at it for an hour and an half now. Technically, they have been going way past that. Once the second half is done, it would have been two hours straight. He just thank Mother Nature, who were surprisingly generous today, for giving him rain. Rain is something he was use to- humidity wasn’t.

But despite the stoic expression on his face, he couldn’t be any less calm. The German brothers just informed him that all of South America is against him after Brazil lost. The entire continent that they are standing on is rooting for Argentina, while Europe is split between him and the German brothers after Belgium and France left.

Speaking of which, whomever wins this game is going to face Germany in the finals. That match against Brazil yesterday shocked the entire world. Of course, Lars knew that the overhype of the Brazilians was going to bite Portugal’s son’s ass sooner or later, but that was brutal even for him. Both Germany and Prussia decided to attack with everything they had, their players and team creating history that will become impossible to replicate (though he heard Prussia was upset at his brother for giving Brazil a pity shot at the end. But that was none of his business).

Argentina, however, was more than pumped up after seeing the match. Legs shaking and eyes glued to the television, Lars thought for a second that he was scared just like the rest of the nations, who were glad that they did not have to face them.

Instead, he was smiling.

“I want them.” He heard Argentina chuckle, shocking his couch and teammates around him. “I want them, my dear Germany… We will meet in the finals. You and your brother will fall….”

Both Germany and Prussia shook their head once they heard, but Lars was able to catch a dark smirk morph from their lips. They had a history, Argentina and them. When Prussia was still in the Soviet Union, Germany and Argentina fought in the finals twice, in 1986 and 1990, the South American country taking home the cup the first match and Germany the second. And while they did not meet in the finals, when they met again in 2006 and 2010, Argentina was not prepare for Prussia’s strategies and strength incorporated in their new team.

However, he could care less about Argentina’s new motivation to get wreak by them. The moment he saw the nation on the field, he seethed with anger. It wasn’t suppose to be one of Spain’s children stepping out into the field, it was suppose to be his sister. It was suppose to be Emma standing next to him as their national anthems were played. It was suppose to be a friendly fight to the death between them, with bets between the two that could range from something simple to something incestuous (With how their boarders were, more would be surprise that they did not have a forbidden love from time to time).

But instead, it was him- Argentina. Brown, wavy hair pulled back into a pony tail and green eyes that reminded him of South Italy’s, a clear reminder of how powerful Spain’s influences has been to change them from their once light brown form.

He was so caught up in this rant that he did not notice the South American nation walking up to him. His face stayed emotionless, but his hands curled into tight fist. “The game is about to start in a minute-”

“Control yourself.”

“Excuse me?” Lars raised his eyebrow.

Argentina sighed. “You are too angry. Too much that you will soon start to influence your team the wrong way.” He stated.

Lars chuckled at him. “I doubt my emotions will affect my people. They rarely do.”

“But rare is still a possibility.” Argentina narrowed his eyes. “I wanted to fight you. I wanted to meet and play against the man who defeated my siblings and crushed my father. I wanted a match to the death, but you are slowly slipping away from it.”

Lars snorted, narrowing his eyes. “So, you thought that you could have avenge your fallen Latin country. I’m sorry, but I do not like your father, and I have no problem beating up his children.”

Argentina blinked, then started to laugh. “Wait a minute? You thought… You assumed that I was trying to avenge them?!”

Lars felt his eyebrow rise again. “You are not?”

“Hell no! The only one who is avenging anyone here is you with your sister.” Argentina laughed. “Do you not know what today is for me?”

“Don’t care.”

“It’s my independence day.” Argentina continued. “My birthday. Anything nice that I have about my father is out the window as my people are feeling extremely patriotic. And my siblings? I don’t know where they got the notion that I was avenging them, but I am not. They all knew what was going to happen when they qualified- when they tried out for qualified. It’s all or nothing.”

Both nations turned towards the field once they heard the whistle being blown. Argentina smirked. “Well, I guess we have to go now.”

“You have an odd sense of motivation, just like your idiot father.”

“That is not my only motivation.” Argentina winked and walked to his side of the field. “You should know. It worked against you and my father.”

Lars held back a snarled and turned his attention back to the game as it started. What did he know? He was at least twice his age. He knows more about the world than he would ever dream off.

Then again, so did Emma, and Argentina defeated her-

“No.” He growled lowly. “I will win this. His mind games will not bother me.” The goal is to get to the finals, just like they plan. Then win against Germany to get the cup.

It would just be a lot better if she was here instead of back home.

As expected, the second half brought nothing to either side. Both nations had studied each other’s attack and defense, their people’s strength and weaknesses and exploited them. Lars was just thankful Argentina was down a striker, or else the swarm on his key player, Messi, would not have worked as properly as it did now. They changed and adapted their sets and plays so much that they were at a stalemate, and Lars realized this too late.

It was onto penalty kicks again.

Lars sighed, rubbing his temples again. “Switch Goalie.”


“Switch the goalie!” Lars growled.

The coach narrowed his eyes and frowned. “We can’t.”

“What do you mean, we can’t?”

“Argentina used the last substitution.”

Lars stared hard at him, which made the couch stumble a bit. It was not everyday that the personification of your nation stare you down.

Finally, Lars turned away, screaming a string of Dutch curse words. Argentina knew about the kicks ahead of time. He made the final switch long time ago, not caring that if anything happen to either’s men, there was a possibility that they would be down a man, especially with how rough they were playing.

He took a risk and it paid off.

If anything, he was smarter and more patient than Spain.

“-And Holland miss the first goal!”

Lars perked his head up. When did they start? It did not matter now, because he caught the looks of his players. Annoyed. Frustrated. Fatigued. And Argentina’s goalie was only getting pump with the rest of his team.

It wasn’t until his goalie stepped up that Lars caught on. His mind was somewhere else, and he could feel the anger and misplace determination.

‘Too much that you will start to influence your team the wrong way.’

Lars felt his body become pale, freezing in contrast to the Brazilian heat. Not matter how relax he was now, he could still feel it. It could still feel the anger and fatigue of his team, of his coach, of his people back at home.

And he did this.

“Argentina made the goal!”

Argentina was up by one.

But it was okay. He was only up by one and it was only the beginning.

He made the next goal.

Argentina made the next goal.

He felt the frustration of his goalie, still upset about being switch in the last match. But he also felt him beginning to vent out his frustration, his fear and insecurities, which only spread out to the rest of the team and fueled Argentina’s goalie.

And it was his fault.

Lars released a sad sigh. “… I’m sorry.”

“-And Holland misses the third goal!”

It was over. He watched as Argentine players ran out the field to hug the substitution player and goalie. Argentina himself ran out into the field, jumping and screaming in excitement, his patriotism practically sweating out of his body.

Lars dropped onto his knees. He lost. He was so close to the finals and he made himself lose. He let his emotions get the best of him, which rarely happens. Usually, Emma would catch on before it happens and stop him, as she knows how much he hates showing people his true self.

But she wasn’t here. She was back at home, because she lost to Argentina.

And so will he.

“I tried to warn you.” Lars looked up, surprise to see Argentina standing in front of him. He noticed how much willpower it took for the South American nation to stand in front of him, knowing good and well that his people was still celebrating, and that he wants to celebrate as well. “As a nation, I am over joyed. But as my own person, I probably would have enjoyed this a bit more if I had more of your focus. But you kept spacing out.” He held his hand out. “Maybe, when it’s just you and me, we can actually have a proper match. No avenging or anything.”

“… How?” Lars took the hand and pulled himself out. “If avenging wasn’t your motivation, how did you get so far?! It’s not just skills alone- it is never just skills.”

Argentina tilted his head and looked up in the sky as he slightly pouted his lips. A typical Spain move, Lars noted.

“Everyone else wanted to avenge our father. Mexico, Costa Rica, Uruguay. And then they wanted to avenge our fallen siblings. Really, I could not care less about avenging them. If they believe I did, let them. I only have one thing on my mind.”

Suddenly, Argentina smirked, his eyes slightly narrowed. Lars recognized that look. It was that same look he had when they watched the German brother play.

“You should know, Netherlands,” the South American country started, his grip on his hand tighten as his smirk became a dark smile, “There is a difference between avenging someone and revenge on someone.”

Lars’ eyes widen and if his hand wasn’t locked with Argentina, he would have taken a step back. He knew. He knew all too well. The moment Spain walked out into the field during the group states, he felt the anger rise within his body- a different kind of anger compare to how he was will Argentina. Before he even though about Belgium and him making it to the finals. He just wanted to destroy Spain, and destroyed he did.

“So that’s how you-”

“And now, I finally have it.” Argentina chuckled lowly. “Four times. And out of those four, he won three. But not this time- not the fifth. This is revenge, especially for 2010. And then the cup will be mine again.”

Lars was able to remove his hand from the South American country, staring at him with widen eyes. He then regained his stoic expression and cough. That look. He was surprise that he did not recognized it before.

He was clearly Spain’s child.

Lars walked into his hotel room and flopped on the bed. It was late. He was tired. The lost took a lot on his people, which inevitably took a lot out of him.

He stretched out and rolled on his side. glaring at his clock before trying to block out the party on the street. It’s surprising that the broken nation could still have some excitement after what happen the other night.

Before deep sleep took hold of his body, his cellphone rang. Groaning, Lars dug into his pocket (which reminded him that he was still fully clothed, but did not care) and answered the call. “Netherlands speaking.”

“I told you not to be so formal with me.”

Lars eyes snapped open and he sat up. “Emma?”

“Who else?” Emma laughed on the other side of the phone. “I thought about calling you earlier to wish you a good luck, but I thought that would have ruined your focus since you were so distraught when you took me and my team to the airport.”

Lars sighed, rubbing his fingers through his hair. “Emma… I’m sorry… I couldn’t make it to the finals this time.” While he was able to accept that truth to himself, saying it to him sister was another thing. She was clearly rooting for him, expecting him to bring home to trophy and allow her to bast in its glory and power. “I have failed you.”

“… Lars, you didn’t.” Emma responded.

“Emma, enough of the bullshit-”

“I’m not bullshitting, brother!” Emma yelled. “You didn’t fail me. You didn’t disappoint me. You have gotten further than I got and had Argentina running with his tail in between his legs for a couple of seconds. That’s more than what I got.” She calmed down, then laughed. “But that’s not what I am calling to talk to you about.”

“What did you call to talk to me about? It must be early over there.”

“I know. Still have not adjusted back to my time zone.” She laughed, and Lars could hear the catlike grin appear on her face. “I’m coming back.”


“Oh, don’t tell me you have forgotten already?” Emma laughed again. “The third place and final games. All of the nations are invited to watch to watch them. Remember, I came last cup to watch you and Spain.”

“Oh… right…” Lars laid back down. “I have forgotten.”

Silence filled the air and the dutchman was worried that he might have accidentally lost connect. “Emma?”

“Don’t beat yourself over this.” Emma said softly. “I know it hurts to lose. But you still have a change to make a statement. Third and first, remember.”

Lars smiled softly. “Third and First. When are you coming?”


“I will pick you up.”

“Don’t you have to go with your te-”

“I will pick you up.”

Emma sighed, but meant nothing of it. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

Lars smiled. “I love you too, Emmy.” He clicked off.

Third and First.

At least he can still try for third. For her.

We’re In This Together, Part I
We’re In This Together, Part II

I found out about Germany and Argentina’s football/soccer history, so I thought I would be fitting.