#sorte-de-vida

[mr-spain]

I think I see some greys in that beard of yours, toninho

I mean since we're so close geographically- You'd tell me, right?

[ask--aph-spain--archived]

✎? 8) if you want

|| I did try to make him look like Aidan Turner face wise (I got his eyebrows) but alas,,

I can’t draw to respect. And I’m not quite sure if his eyes look hazel

But anyway! I love  João and I’m sorry that he most likely looks nothing how you invision him :’) @sorte-de-vida

[boekvanontdekking]

Idk if you're still accepting but A6, if not no worries at all!! 8)

He can’t comprehend what he’s seeing

[amantebravo]

@sorte-de-vida​ | plotted starter

This was done on purpose! He’s sure of it now. When the package he’s sent gets returned to his home... Antonio is more than a little upset. He goes immediately, package in hand, to deliver it himself to the Portuguese man. Not only that but he’s also going to yell about how he never came to see the nice old ladies from church that made those sweaters for them! The Spaniard arrives swiftly, going up to the door and giving it a few stern knocks with the metal doorknocker. He doesn’t say a word for now, just stands there tapping his foot angrily. 

[koffiehuis-love]

§ bc who doesn't enjoy w little nedport

//These guys are so competitive and in all the wrong, delicious ways. They would challenge who is the better explorer, the better cook (Sorry Jan, it’s not you), the better kisser, the better lay but boy, if that would not be hilarious to sit and watch them try!

[oldominicn]

━ *: ･ﾟ∙ * ⁕ STARTER !

@sorte-de-vida​ ♡

As she heard a muffled hello in the background, Eliza’s head perked up from tending to her a garden. It didn’t take her long to recognize the visitor that walking up the dirt path, of course, it was a new face but nonetheless, she was grateful for his visit! Eliza couldn’t help but smile as she got up and ran down the small hill to meet the stranger. 

“ Hello, hello! It’s so nice to see you made it here safe, ” She started off before extending her hand, giving as much charm as she can. “ João, right? I know we talked over the phone and all, but, hey again! I’m Elizabeth Smith, ain’t it exciting to finally have a face to associate with that voice of mine? ” She chuckled softly, as she wanted to be the best hostess as she can be. It’s not every day, that big ol’ nations want to visit such a mundane state like Virginia. She couldn’t help but excited for João’s visit to the middle of nowhere! 

[quequerencia]

@sorte-de-vida​ from this

        Antonio squints his way, arms folded over his chest. It’s not very cold despite being February, but he’s still got on a long-sleeved tee and he looks not so amused by João’s bullshit. In fact, he raises an eyebrow and his lips set into a slight frown, which is unlike him but when dealing with a certain Portuguese man it’s a bit more common. “Don’t make me come out there and prove it, João, because I will.” And that is a fuckin’ promise.

        In fact, he’s already stepping over the fence and heading into the field to potentially wrestle him away from work. “¡Vamos!”

[fuegodelnortearchive]

@sorte-de-vida, a visit from an old...friend? 

It took very little convincing--or, rather, idea-generating--for Santiago to hop onto his motorcycle and zip along the coast from Vigo down to Lisbon. It was a four-and-a-half-hour drive, but with the sunset peaking over the trees and buildings every so often, it was enjoyable at least. Santiago didn’t often find himself caring about the other Iberians, but after discovering Antonio’s place destroyed in Madrid, he figured he should pop down to Lisbon and make sure that Jo wasn’t destroying himself. 

And, maybe, aid in some destruction of self. 

He stopped at a liquor store once he hit Lisbon, barely able to slip in before they closed, and left with some port wine and different, harder liquors. Mostly whiskey. The next stop was Jo’s place, his bike rumbling as he pulled up out front and parked. A quick jog up to the door later, he knocks. Hopefully, if he’s lucky, the Portuguese man is home.