I don't own Hetalia or Eurovision, Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia and I don't know who owns Eurovision, but that person isn't me. Hooray for another Eurovision fanfic! I hope you guys are enthusiastic for the third installment, especially since a canon Hetalia character won this year! And of course the songs are all on YouTube, both studio and live versions.
Important Note: I became aware several months ago that Romania was introduced as a canon character last August 2011. And as it turns out, I was completely off the mark of how Himaruya would portray Romania, lol! So, I'm retconning the Romanian siblings—except Moldova because he's canon at least—and from now on will use the singular Romania character. Unfortunately I'm too lazy to go back to 'Sing to Me' and 'It Echoes Back' to change the character, but I promise the changes will remain for future fanfics that I write. The same applies if any other OC I created for Hetalia is introduced in canon.
Also, I've had several requests from readers to stop using Japanese words and instead switch off to words for each character in their native tongues. I originally kept the Japanese words in to stay in tune with the Hetalia canon, but I'm going to try switching off the words to see how the flow of the story goes. The only ones I'll probably keep are some nicknames because of the context.
As usual, short paragraphs in bold throughout the story include some history on certain countries and their relationships with each other. I don't anticipate these will surface so much this time around given the amount of history I've already covered in the previous two fanfics. Pairings include: GerIta, Spamono, LietPol, Greece/Japan/Turkey (?), one-sided LietBel, SuFin, Prussia/Hungary/Austria, DenNor, Oji-san/Iceland, BulRom (eh?), and any other random ones I can't remember off the top of my head.
And again, I apologize in advance if I offend anyone over the songs.
Enjoy!
Vibrations to Infinity
Azerbaijan stunned the world in 2011 when they clinched their first Eurovision victory. Hosting the event in Baku in 2012, the contest would now undoubtedly become much more intense. Would Azerbaijan win again? Or would the trend of a first-time winner possibly continue?
Or…would a country that had previously won gain victory again?
It was time…for Eurovision 2012.
Germany looked at his reflection in the mirror of his greenroom, and saw the visible irritation. He scrubbed a hand over his face as he spoke into his cell phone. "I keep telling you, Bruder, that your assistance isn't necessary this year. I can handle the—"
"WEST!" Prussia whined on the other line loudly, causing Germany to hold the phone away from his ear. "How can you say that? How can you FINALLY choose a decent song and then cut me out? I'm the awesome Prussia! I need to spread my greatness!"
"It's Eurovision, Bruder," Germany almost snapped. "And I would hardly call you posing as a backup dancer last year helping me! Now, I can handle this song! Just watch the performance at our house, or something!"
"West, if I turn the television on, it'll add more money to my bill!"
"…Bill? That makes no sense, we have sat—" Germany stiffened, and snapped his teeth together. "Bruder…you're in BAKU, aren't you?"
"Ah—um—uh—oh, what a terrible connection!" Several sharp smacks filled the earpiece, indicating to Germany that Prussia was slamming the phone against the table, or some other surface. "I can't—what—it—I—"
"Bruder, cut the crap! I know you're in Baku! That's why you're worried about a bill for watching television—a HOTEL BILL!"
The line abruptly disconnected, and Germany snapped his phone shut. "Dummkopf."
Germany wasn't about to cut his older brother any slack. His "help" over the past two years consisted of him getting drunk and being a nuisance. A minor rumor of Lena possibly returning to Eurovision had Prussia running for the hills screaming. Of course, once the former nation found out Lena wasn't coming back he quickly resurfaced.
But Germany wasn't about to hand over the job to his brother. Especially since he liked the song this year.
Germany put his phone down on the table and turned. He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the small form huddled on the floor, and he let out a sharp breath. "Kugelmugel? What are you doing?"
"Painting," the micronation said plainly. He was painting the greenroom floor itself, and Germany did find himself impressed with the mosaic. It stretched out across from Kugelmugel by about two feet.
Even if it seemed stupid. "Do you intend to paint the entire floor?"
Kugelmugel shrugged. "If it feels artistic."
"Why are you painting the floor anyways? Did you run out of canvases, or…" Germany gestured with his hand awkwardly. "Something?"
Kugelmugel glanced at him briefly with dull, violet eyes before turning back to his work again. "The entire world is a canvas, Germany."
"And what happens when you paint the entire floor? Where are we supposed to walk in here?"
Kugelmugel didn't respond, continuing to focus on the painting. Germany sighed heavily, feeling a headache form. I'm really sick of dealing with idiots…
The headache only increased as he walked around the greenroom couch, and saw someone sprawled on it. A white button-down shirt covered their face. "And what's wrong with you, Austria?"
"I am hiding from the world," Austria said beneath the shirt, his voice incredibly strained. "For I have suffered a terrible embarrassment."
Germany shrugged stiffly. "Your song wasn't that bad—"
Austria quickly sat up, his eyes full of fury. "I sang a decrepit song, with a disastrous tune, about shaking my ass! How is that NOT bad?"
"Try singing about blue underwear," Germany said blandly. "Look, it's not the worse song you've ever selected. At least you don't have to sing it aga—"
"I didn't select the song!" Austria shouted. "If it had been MY choice, I would've selected a more refined song! Something cleanses the palate like a glass of wine! Not a vulgar song like 'Woki mit deim Popo' and having women dancing around stripper poles!"
"I thought it was a good song," Kugelmugel said from the floor. "It stood out from the other entries. That's why I voted for it."
"W-W-W-Was?" Austria screamed, jumping off the couch. "YOU? It's YOUR fault I had to sing that song, Kugelmugel?"
"You selected the song?" both Germany and Austria jumped as the greenroom door slammed open and Prussia ran inside. "It's because of you that the pansy aristocrat got humiliated?" he ran over to Kugelmugel and crushed the young boy in a tight hug. "I fucking LOVE YOU, kid!"
"…You're stepping on my painting," was all Kugelmugel said.
"Wow, you made it here fast," Germany said, not at all shocked that Prussia had followed him to Baku after all.
"West, I told you I wanted to sing tonight!" Prussia whined. He let Kugelmugel go and rounded on his younger brother. "Why can't you let me do this?"
"Because I like the song, and I don't trust you to stay sober long enough to sing!" Germany snapped, shaking his head. "Just go home, Bruder!"
Prussia scoffed, and folded his arms over his chest. "Go home NOW? The finals are about to start, West!"
"It—"
"Oh, I can't believe it!"
The arguing died briefly as Hungary hurried into the room. She was dressed in dark clothing, but she was wringing her hands in front of herself. "How could I draw second? Istenem! Not only is that nerve-wrecking, but I have no chance of winning by going in such a place!"
"There's no need to think like that," Austria said, temporarily forgetting his own embarrassment to hurry to her side. "Plenty of countries in the past have drawn first and have won! You have a good song, so as long as you give a good performance you should have a good place in the final ranking!" he laughed slightly. "I've seen you go off into battle and never be this nervous! This is no big deal!"
Hungary burst out laughing, and nodded her head. "Look at me, losing my head over a singing competition! This is totally out of character for me!"
"Well, considering you've never won, who's surprised?" Prussia laughed.
"What was THAT?" Hungary snapped, brandishing her frying pan.
"Um, can you guys please get off my painting?" Kugelmugel asked.
"Oh, Kugelmugel, where did you come from?" Hungary's anger abruptly faded as she turned to the tiny nation. "Oh, you look so cute today! Can I braid your hair? How about we play dress-up?"
"It's already braided and I don't wear dresses," Kugelmugel said blandly. Hungary took the opportunity to hug him and play with his aforementioned braids.
"Oh, that reminds me," Prussia said, off-handedly. "I managed to sneak into Italy's greenroom for a little while, but then Romano completely lost his shit and threw me out and locked the door behind me." He grinned suddenly at Germany. "Say, if you let me sing for you tonight, I'll help—"
"Danke, but I'll find my own way to visit Italy," Germany said irritably, shaking his head. "Just be quiet and stop distracting me!
Prussia grumbled to himself, but happily helped himself to the beer in the room.
"Won't you visit Italy?" Hungary asked, looking at Germany over Kugelmugel's head. "I'm sure he would love to see you."
"Of course he would, but Romano wouldn't." Germany rubbed at his temples. "Scheiße…does anyone have aspirin?"
"I have some hangover medicine," Austria offered, rummaging through his pockets.
"You're hung-over?" Hungary cried out incredulously. "B-But you look no different than usual!"
"Since Tuesday he's drunken twenty-three bottles of Augustiner Edelstoff," Kugelmugel revealed.
"Not THAT many!" Austria snapped, slapping the pills into Germany's hand. "Mein Gott, stop being annoying and making up stories!"
"West, hang onto that," Prussia said, gulping down his beer noisily. "I'm gonna need that later."
England grinded his teeth together as he tuned his guitar. "This is a conspiracy…"
It had to be. He had the perfect song with the perfect singer. Engelbert Humperdinck was a living legend, after all, and he was known throughout the world.
But he drew FIRST to go for the entire night? That was a little suspicious!
"Stupid countries intimidated by me," he fumed, testily tuning his guitar. "Intimidated by my five wins and so focused on voting for their neighbors that they don't know real music—"
"What the hell are you whining about?"
England nearly jumped out of his skin and spun around. "Don't bother me, you bloody slag!"
Ireland frowned deeply, and folded her arms over her chest. "I would say you're bothering everyone within earshot with your constant whining. What does it matter if you go first or not? You hardly have a chance in this competition."
"And like YOU do?" England hollered, standing up and clutching his guitar to his chest. "You brought back those annoying pests again and STOLE Northern Ireland from me AGAIN!"
"Jedward might be pests, but they're MY pests," Ireland hissed harshly. "And need I remind you that it's impossible for me to steal from you what YOU stole from ME to begin with?"
"Oh go bugger off! I don't need you hanging around me when I'm trying to focus on my performance! I'll report you and have you disqualified!"
Ireland burst out laughing. "Then that might be your only chance of beating me in Eurovision…or scoring higher than me, in any case!"
"You—"
"Oh, before I forget." Ireland gave her brother a sideways glance as she started to turn around. "Don't forget to say hello to our siblings."
"Sib…" England trailed off slowly as Ireland walked away. Before he could chase after her and demand that she explain herself though, he felt a buzz in his pocket. He quickly yanked out his cell phone and saw, much to his horror, that his text message box was full of messages. He'd been so distracted by his nerves that he hadn't even noticed! Swallowing thickly, he checked each one.
Hong Kong (mobile)
"Hey."
Australia (mobile)
"No calls this year to come help you? Whatever, Baku's an amazing city."
India (mobile)
"What are some good restaurants in Baku?"
Scotland (mobile)
"We have the BEST seats in the entire stadium! I don't know if you'll be able to see us from the stage, though, LOL!"
South Africa (mobile)
"Hey, how come your bank account has four extra digits than a standard bank account? I'm just curious, really."
New Zealand (mobile)
"Wow, Azerbaijan has such a warm climate! Is it because it's late spring, or global warming?"
Pakistan (mobile)
"Azerbaijan has said she sees me as a little brother. Isn't that nice of her? And she gave me wonderful accommodations during my stay in Baku. And yet the international community has said such vile things about her. Why is that?"
Hong Kong (mobile)
"…China dragged me here."
England gaped at his phone, almost dropping it. "Holy shit…"
It'd happened again. Those accursed, damned countries came to revel in his humiliation!
"What have I done to deserve all this?" England complained, pressing a hand to his face. "I don't deserve this level of derision!"
Sharp feedback abruptly burst from the loudspeakers, startling England. He looked up as a loud, booming voice exploded from those same loud loudspeakers.
"I—WONDER! JUST HOW LONG IT WILL BE!
ME WITHOUT YOU! …YOU WITHOUT ME!
WE HAD A FIGHT LAST NIGHT ABOUT SOME-THING OR OTH—ER!
BUT IT CAN'T BE TOO IMPORTANT IF WE LOVE ONE AN—OTHER!"
"That little BRAT!" England hollered, taking off running.
"HA!"
Turkey looked over his shoulder as Azerbaijan snapped her phone shut. "What is it, Azer?"
"He's going to broadcast the final in his house!" Azerbaijan said triumphantly. "After humiliating me so greatly, EBU was too lenient with him! He didn't broadcast either semi-final in his house like he was supposed to, but he'll broadcast the final! That's what he gets for messing with me!"
Georgia rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Azerbaijan…remember as the host that you—"
"I know, I know." Azerbaijan waved a dismissive hand. "But I was going to welcome him, Georgia! I could've cited our border issues as a reason to block him, but I didn't! He was the one who made a spectacle of everything! Even after I spent so much money to host this event and clean up Baku to welcome Europe! But he was never truly serious about participating anyways!"
"But it looks like Armenia is complying with EBU's de—" Turkey began.
"DON'T speak his name to me!" Azerbaijan said harshly. "After he accused me of murdering one of his soldiers, I don't even want to think his name, Sadiq!"
"Hey, don't get so riled up," Georgia said, coming to her side. "You'll waste a lot of energy that you'll need for your performance tonight."
"…Sağ." She shook her head and smiled. "Tonight is going to be wonderful. I built the perfect stage for the countries, and everyone's so excited! This will surely be the best Eurovision ever!"
"It certainly feels good to get back in the finals again," Turkey said, straightening his collar. "But if you'll excuse me, I'm going to stop off somewhere."
"Oh, did Japan show up?"
"I think so; I sent him an invitation and I'm sure the brat—" he shuddered slightly. "Sent him one too. He's not the type to turn these sort of things down."
"I only wish I got into the finals," Georgia said softly, sighing heavily. "But my song was so terrible this year that I'm not surprised."
"I like it," Azerbaijan told him. "And if I'd been allowed to vote in your semi-final, I would've voted for you."
"Madloba."
A soft chirping sound filled the greenroom, and Turkey jumped slightly. "Ah!" he quickly fished around in his pockets to find his cell phone. "That's probably him!"
"Who?" Georgia asked.
Turkey quickly checked his phone for messages. But what he read made his heart sink.
Bocchan (mobile)
"Norway hasn't left my side and is actually screening people coming into the greenroom, so I won't be able to see you before I perform. Good luck tonight, in any case."
"So who sent you a message, Sadiq?" Azerbaijan asked.
"…Never mind." Turkey closed his phone. "Well, the finals are about to start, in any case. I left Northern Cyprus in the audience, so I might as well go and fetch him."
"Bəli," Azerbaijan said. "Let's all go together. We both still have awhile before either of us performs."
The three of them left the greenroom in silence. After a few moments though, Azerbaijan couldn't help but laugh to herself. "What's so funny?" Georgia asked.
"It's so satisfying that he's forced to watch the contest!" she laughed. "After what he's done this year—and how he humiliated me in 2009—I'm going to be glad to return the favor!"
"…Return the favor?"
"The postcard for my song will include footage of Karabakh!" Azerbaijan laughed even harder. "My only regret is that I won't see his face when they show this!"
"Ah," Turkey said, looking over his shoulder. "So that's what you mean by returning the favor."
"It's only what he deserves!"
"Who deserves?"
The three countries stiffened, and abruptly stopped as Russia seemed to materialize from the shadows. He was dressed in traditional clothing to suit his performance, and he was smiling, but it wasn't reassuring. "Privet, Azerbaijan. Turkey." He blatantly ignored Georgia, who was grinding his teeth. "I have had a most pleasant stay so far here in Baku. And it pleased me greatly to know I came in first during the first semi-final." He leaned a little closer to Azerbaijan. "And spasibo for giving me eight points."
"N-No problem," Azerbaijan said warily, taking a step away from him. "Is there something I can help you with, Russia?"
"Ne. I just couldn't help overhearing your conversation and I was quite curious about the subject of your gossip."
"It's none of your business!" Georgia said harshly, taking Azerbaijan by the arm. "We have the right to talk about anyone we want! And it wasn't about you, so BUTT OUT!"
"But since you, my good friend, were discussing Karabakh," Russia continued, not looking at Georgia. "I can assume you are talking about Armenia."
"Look, I'm hosting this contest and he has hurt me and humiliated me!" Azerbaijan said defensively. "This conflict between the two of us is nobody's business and yet I'm constantly the bad-guy! Even when he breaks the rules, it's somehow MY fault!"
"Can you really help Armenia withdrawing from the contest when your own boss threatens not only the people within his borders, but all of his people worldwide?" Russia still wore the smile on his face, but his tone had become cold…almost sinister. "It can be quite frustrating to see you bully him like that, Azerbaijan." He suddenly leaned in close so that his face was inches from hers. "But you know, I can be a bully too."
"Oi!" Turkey cut in sharply, shoving himself between the two of them. "She isn't threatening Armenia, so there's no reason for you to threaten her! We're just having a normal conversation, that's all! We're well within our rights to do that! But do go threatening my kardeş in MY presence and in her borders!"
"That's right," Azerbaijan said heatedly. "Besides, my boss didn't say those things! It's YOUR fault the world has completely misinterpreted what he said!"
Russia slowly leaned back until he was standing straight tall. His smile didn't waver once. "You misunderstand me. I'm not threatening Azerbaijan. I consider her to be one of my closest friends."
"Yeah, right," Georgia muttered.
"But remember that Armenia is also one of my closest friends as well." With that said, Russia turned and walked away.
Azerbaijan let out a slow, but harsh breath. "I just don't understand him sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Georgia echoed.
"Well, never mind all that!" Turkey said painfully. "Let's go find Northern Cyprus and get ready for the competition!"
"But that was definitely a threat," Georgia said, looking over his shoulder. "You ought to get him disqualified."
"And have more mud slung at me, even when it's not my fault?" Azerbaijan shook her head. "I'll just kick his ass onstage. It shouldn't be so hard when my song is so good."
"So, are you guys nervous?" San Marino asked cheerfully.
"What the hell kind of stupid question is that?" Italy Romano demanded hotly. He tugged hard at his collar. "Of course we're not nervous! We have the best song this year! Now, if this idiota remembers the lyrics then we'll definitely win this year!"
"Fratello, don't be so mean to me!" Italy Veneziano cried, wringing his hands. "I know what I'm doing! You made me practice and practice and practice and practice! You sing the first part and I sing after the first chorus! I know my part!"
"Buono," Romano said, nodding. "And you also remember that we switched the lyrics to English, correct?"
Italy's face fell. "…Eh?"
"CHE CAZZO?" Romano screamed, rounding on his brother. "We just practiced it YESTERDAY! How could you forget already?"
"I-I-I'm sorry!"
"Wow, you two have so much energy!" San Marino laughed, clapping his hands. "But don't waste too much of it before you go onstage!"
"Just remember to give US your twelve points!" Romano barked at him.
San Marino's face fell then, and he looked sad. "Ah…I don't know how you can speak sharply to me about that when you guys only gave me three points in my semi-final. You gave Albania your perfect score."
"You sang a shitty song about FACEBOOK!" Romano countered. "How can we give high marks to THAT?"
"I-It's politics," Italy tried to reason, rushing to San Marino's side. "Remember that we now have a tight naval agreement with Albania. We must show kindness to our ally."
"And Albania's song was better anyways," Romano muttered.
Tears filled San Marino's eyes, and he frowned. "Then…then you won't object when I give MY perfect score to Serbia, will you?"
"Oh, for fuck—"
"GAH!"
The three of them jumped, and looked at the couch behind San Marino. Seborga clutched one hand to his head as he threw his cards onto the seat. "You beat me again! How can you beat me again?"
Monaco laughed lightly as she gathered up the playing cards. "Well, I'm naturally good at gambling."
"Are you sure you're not losing on purpose, Seborga?" Romano asked snidely.
"No! She keeps beating me!"
"Sooo, it's a matter of you being terrible at card games?" San Marino asked.
"Shut up! You—you—" Seborga seemed to look for the best insult to San Marino. "You noncanon!"
San Marino made a face. "Again with that? How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not a cannon? Your insults are so weird!"
"Well, I do feel bad about beating you all the time," Monaco said. "But you keep challenging me."
Seborga groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. "And I keep losing. How else are we here right now?"
"Wait, you placed a bet on Eurovision?" Italy asked.
"We made a bet of where he would take me for our next date," Monaco said, shuffling the cards. She straightened her glasses with the back of her hand. "I haven't been to Eurovision since 2004, so I thought I might as well come and see the live show, even if I wasn't participating."
"If you were coming to Baku anyways, why not apply for the contest?" Romano asked. "I've heard ESC has been begging you for the last two years to come back."
"I came back after a twenty-four year absence and failed to qualify by horrible margins three years in a row." Her tone turned dark suddenly. "Not to mention I have no budget to go for the contest. What's the point, really?"
"If it upsets you, then we didn't need to come," Seborga said. "We could've gone with my suggestion—"
"As nice as your suggestion was, I would feel too guilty to waste your resources on such a trip."
"How is going to Las Vegas a waste of resources?"
"But it's cute to see you two getting along," San Marino said, his mood lifting. "Ah…my fratelli are so lucky to have such close relationships. Seborga has you, Feliciano has Germany, and Lovino has Spa—"
"Don't bring that idiota's name up!" Romano cut in.
"But why not unlock the greenroom door and let us have visitors?"
"I'M NOT LETTING THAT CREEPY ALBINO-KRAUT BASTARD BACK IN HERE! Him OR his brother!"
"But I want see Germany!" Italy whined. He began waving his hands like a child about to throw a temper tantrum. "Stop interfering with me, Fratello, and let me see him!"
"Are they always like this?" Monaco asked.
"Why do you think I'm independent of them?" Seborga asked gloomily.
There was a sudden sharp knock at the door, startling everyone. "Nobody's home!" Romano shouted.
"…Hallo," came a voice from the other side. "I-It's me, Kugelmugel. I'm here to see Seborga."
"K-Kugelmugel?" Seborga sputtered, looking at Monaco in confusion. "Why's he visiting me? I'm not as close of friend of his as Sealand or Ladonia."
"Whatever," Romano muttered. He unlocked the door and swung it open. "Come—WAHH!"
"ROMANO!" holding Kugelmugel like a meat-shield, Spain burst into the room. He shoved the micronation into Italy's arms and promptly tackled Romano. "Mi amor! It's been so long since I've seen you!"
"You fucking—I just saw you last night!" Romano pressed both hands into Spain's chin to prevent the older nation from descending his puckering mouth down to kiss him. "Just GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"
Germany very gingerly stepped into the room, looking embarrassed by the scene on the floor. "Guten Abend."
"GERMANY!" Italy pushed Kugelmugel aside and threw his arms around the taller nation. "You came to see me! I'm so happy!"
"I-I wanted to wish you good luck," Germany stammered, still a little flustered by Italy's physical affection. "And you seem energetic…"
Kugelmugel calmly brushed out his clothes. "It looks like Prussia's plan worked."
"So you aren't here to see me at all," Seborga said darkly, glaring at the micronation over the couch.
Kugelmugel shrugged.
San Marino observed the chaos with a faint smile on his face. "You all seem to get along so well…I'm quite envious."
"I-I just heard something," Latvia said, hurrying into the greenroom. "I heard an r-rumor that Russia threatened Azerbaijan!"
"Good for him," Poland said disinterestedly, flipping through the latest issue of Uroda.
"But if he threatens the host he'll be disqualified," Lithuania said. He brushed out his black clothes. He sighed shakily. "I drew fourth again this year. Mano Dievas, how on Earth did I managed to do that?"
"You'll totally be fine, Liet." Poland set aside his magazine and stood up. He brushed off Lithuania's shoulders and straightened his collar from behind. "You're singing a love song. Love songs, like, totally get a lot of points. Mostly."
Lithuania nodded stiffly. "It would be nice to win for once…"
"Winning is tough," Estonia said, buttoning up his vest. "It's expensive and nerve-wrecking. Especially when people feel you didn't deserve to win." He forced a smile as he straightened his glasses. "But it's fun to compete."
"I-It's really not fair," Latvia said mournfully, sitting down on the couch. "I thought I would do a song that's fresh and new, but I only got seventeen points during my semi-final! Does nobody like me anymore?"
"Ah—" Lithuania began.
"Latvia, you totally sang your song out of tune during your performance," Poland pointed out. "You really need to, like, control your nerves. Voting can be too unforgiving sometimes." His tone had a note of bitterness as he sat back down and reopened Uroda.
"Um…Felix?" Lithuania asked, looking over his shoulder. "Can I ask why you're not competing this year?"
"Jah, I heard a rumor that the ESC just about got down on their hands and knees begging you to return," Estonia pointed out. "They even offered you a discount on the application fee."
Poland shrugged; his eyes on the magazine. "I'm, like, totally too busy to compete this year. TVP already has its hands full with the Summer Olympics and, like, the UEFA this year. My boss totally couldn't fit in the time for a music contest."
"Aren't you hosting the UEFA with Miss Ukraine this year?" Latvia asked. "But Miss Ukraine is competing this year despite this."
"And—um—Felix," Lithuania said warily. "If you're too busy to be a competitor in Eurovision, then why are you here?"
"I'm totally too busy, Liet," Poland said plainly, though he slowly turned a page in the magazine.
Lithuania exchanged a look with Estonia. "Ah…I see."
"Privet!"
Both Lithuania and Latvia stiffened violently as Russia stuck his head into the greenroom. "Ah, there you are Lithuania! I was hop—"
"DRANIEM!" Poland hollered. He lunged from the couch at the door. "Get the hell out of here!"
"If he threatened Azerbaijan, he's certainly in a good mood," Estonia observed as Poland violently slammed the door shut in Russia's shut.
"Pierdol," Poland fumed, locking the door behind him. "He's totally too annoying to deal with! He's like you, Latvia!"
"What does THAT mean?" Latvia wailed.
"Poland!" Russia called cheerfully through the door. "You know it's not nice to show me such scorn!"
"Go away or I'll totally call Belarus!" Poland shouted back at him. "I got her cell phone number from Ukraine and I TOTALLY have it on speed-dial!"
"Wait, you have Belarus's phone number?" Lithuania immediately perked up. "Why didn't you tell me? And more so, why not give it to me?"
Poland glared at him. "Because if she breaks you damn nose again, Liet, I might totally break something of hers!"
"Feliks, don't threaten Belarus!"
"…And here we go again," Estonia said, his expression strained.
Sealand sighed sadly and rubbed at one ear. "Why does that bugger have to yell so loud?"
"It's you we're talking about so why not?" Ladonia asked snidely.
"Oh, crawl back into your laptop you git!"
"Come on, that's enough," Finland sighed, shaking his head. He smiled at his fellow Nordics in the greenroom. "Well, tonight looks to be exciting, huh?"
"…Sure," Sweden said offhandedly, playing with Hanatamago and Åland.
"But Finland, this is why I told you to do your song differently!" Denmark said, looking at Finland through the mirror. "But now look! You were nine points shy of qualifying and you're the only one of us who didn't qualify! I told you that HE—" he jabbed his finger at Sweden. "Would ruin your chances!"
"…Why would I ruin his chances?" Sweden asked coldly.
"Maybe if you gave your twelve points to him instead of Russia then he'd be in the finals?" Norway asked. He kept his eyes on the closed greenroom door.
"Hey, don't rag on just me, Norge! Ice didn't give him a perfect score, either!"
"Því miður," Iceland said bluntly. His eyes were on his cell phone, but he looked up to glare at his brother. "Norway, you don't need to keep watch. Oji-san already promised not to come here."
"Maybe Norway doesn't want Turkey to spirit you away again like in the 17th century," Greenland said snidely.
"I'm an independent country, you know."
"But you're still my lillebror," Norway cut in. Iceland rolled his eyes.
"Sometimes I wonder how your boss might take to all of this, Iceland," Faroe said playfully.
"It's just about time for the show to start," Finland said, looking at the other countries. "Perhaps we should move to the audience?"
"Sure!" Sealand said cheerfully, hopping off the couch. "Now that Seborga's so fixated on Monaco, I have a shot at Wy!"
Ladonia snorted obnoxiously, but didn't say anything more.
"Lycka till, Papa!" Åland said, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss Sweden on the cheek.
"Tack," Sweden said, handing Hanatamago over to her.
"Good luck, all of you," Finland said, forcing a smile at the other Nordics. "We'll be sure to cheer for you!"
Greenland scoffed. "I don't know what's the point in having the contest when its obv—"
"Just, go, go!" Denmark fussed, pushing the island nation out the door after Finland. He grinned at Faroe. "Make sure to vote for me, okay?"
"But I'm counted as your territory," Faroe pointed out. "I can't vote for you."
Denmark's smile twitched, but he covered it up with a laugh. "Just don't vote for Sweden!"
"Are you really not bothered that you didn't qualify, Papa-Finland?" Sealand asked him.
Finland shrugged, though his smile turned a little sad. "It was very disappointing, but these things happen. If one of the Nordics wins this year, my defeat won't be so bad."
"Hmm." Sealand thought about it for a moment. "But why won't they let me compete? They all get so uptight when I sing! And I was singing a Monkees song!"
"You're not a real country, that's why," Ladonia said.
"Yes, I am! I'm right here, aren't I?"
Greenland shook his head and glanced at Faroe. "This year's winner is so damn obvious that watching this contest isn't going to be much fun."
"Let's just see how things go," Faroe said, smiling. "Nobody expected Azerbaijan to win last year, and they did. We'll just have to see how the votes go."
"Kan jag rösta på Papa?" Åland asked Finland.
"Naturligtvis kan du kan," Finland responded, lifting her up onto his shoulder.
Ladonia shrugged. "I don't know who I'm voting for."
"Saaaaaaay, Norge," Denmark cooed, sliding up beside the smaller country. "Since we're both in the final this year, why don't we—"
Norway grabbed Denmark by his collar and squeezed hard. "Don't make me repeat myself," he said coldly. "I'm never making a bet with you again. Not after what happened last year."
"Awww, but you weren't complaining when I was rubbing my hands on your—UGH!" he broke off as Norway began fully strangling him.
"Can't you guys keep it down?" Iceland complained, not looking up from his phone as he text-messaged someone. "I'm seventh tonight and the rest of you get more time to prepare."
Sweden slowly slid off his glasses and started cleaning them in silence.
The arena rumbling with the sound of conversation and excitement. It was bound to be an interesting show.
"WOW!" America nearly spat out his coke as he read the night's program. "England's going first? Sucks for him!"
"Bah, he'll be fine!" Australia said dismissively. "He's got a song by bloody Engelbert Humperdinck to help him!"
"…Oi, Spain," Portugal asked.
Spain smiled at him. "¿Sí?"
"What happened to your bottom lip?"
Indeed, Spain had a slight tear in his bottom lip that looked like it'd been bleeding a little while ago. But Spain only laughed. "Oh, I was a little overeager with Romano—"
"OVEREAGER?" Romano snapped. "You fucking tackled me, and started making out with me in front of ALL my brothers, bastardo!"
"Oooh!" France lunged over the seat to throw his arms around Romano. "It sounds quite sexy!"
"How the fuck is RAPE sexy, cazzo idiota?"
"B-But Fratello," Italy interjected. "I don't know how it's rape when you were kissing him ba—"
"SHUT UP!"
"…Maybe you went too far with the finocchio comment while they were kissing?" Monaco asked.
Seborga shrugged. "I don't care who my brothers make out with, but I don't want to see it!"
America laughed at the screaming around him and turned to the country sitting beside him. "So, you showed up again Japan? I thought you weren't coming back to these!"
"…I thought so too," Japan said sourly. "But both Greece-san and Turkey-san got into the final, and they both sent me invitations." He held up the invitations in question. "I-It would've been too rude to miss the show…"
A couple rows back, Hong Kong overhead their conversation. "China, we weren't sent any invitations. How did we get in, anyways?"
China laughed and threw an arm around the other country. "Don't forget I have connections, aru! We—ah!" he waved his other arm into the air, but unfortunately lost hold of his panda plush toy. "Méiyǒu! My panda!" China lunged over the seats to try and position himself to catch the plush toy.
The panda plush flew high into the air and came down quickly…right on Canada's head. "Ow."
"Canada?" America sputtered, noticing his brother down the same row. "When the hell did YOU get here?"
"We arrived at the same time, remember?" Canada said quietly, plucking the panda off his head. China abruptly took it back. "But then you saw Japan and then ditched me right in the main lobby, and—"
"That reminds me!" America interrupted, turning to China suddenly. "Can you tell Apple to stop giving you all the jobs? It's really pissing my people off!"
China shrugged. "I can't help it if I filled thousands of vacant job positions in ten days, aru."
"Yes, you can! DON'T ACCEPT THEM, simple as that!"
"Then tell Apple, your corporation, to stop offering them to me."
"I can't regulate corporations and tell who they can't give jobs to! That's communism!" America shuddered violently.
"Um—America," Canada tried to get his brother's attention back. "Y-You did ditch me a huge stadium, and—"
"Canada."
Canada was startled by someone addressing him directly, and he turned in his seat. "Ye—"
A giant bouquet of colorful tulips was thrust into his arms, right over Mr. Kumajirou. "I know your festival's already over, but we had some leftovers. I hope you don't mind."
"Ah…" Canada disentangled Mr. Kumajirou from the bouquet and smiled brightly at the person standing beside him. "Thank you, Netherlands."
Netherlands shrugged neutrally. "It's the least I can do." He turned to walk back up the row towards his siblings.
Canada laughed as he took a whiff of the tulips. "Aren't they beautiful, Mr. Kumasanji?"
Mr. Kumajirou plucked a purple tulip out of the bouquet and started eating it. "Who are you?"
"I'm Canada. I…" Canada trailed off as he noticed that everyone in his row was staring at him. "Uh, what is it?"
"So your dating Netherlands now?" America asked. "What happened with Prussia?"
"AMERICA!" Canada cried out in his quiet voice, standing straight up out of his seat. "I-I-It's not like that!"
France laughed heartily and lounged back into his seat. "Little Mattie is two-timing…I taught him so well!"
"No, we're just friends!" Canada insisted. "Netherlands, please tell them!"
"I send him flowers every year for his Tulip Festival," Netherlands said matter-of-factly, taking a seat beside Luxembourg. "It's my way of saying 'danken' to him, after all."
"Wait, you have a tulip festival?" America asked Canada.
"It's the largest tulip festival in the world," Belgium said. She shook her head in disbelief. "You're his brother and neighbor and you don't know this?"
"Since when should I care about flower festivals? I don't even know where the Lilac Festival happens in my borders!"
"…Your oldest one's in Rochester, New York," Canada said quietly.
"The Canadian Tulip Festival started in 1953 and is the largest tulip festival in the world. The tradition is linked to a gesture of goodwill of the Netherlands giving Canada 10,000 tulips-the national flower of the Netherlands-after World War 2. It was because Canada was the Netherlands's beacon of hope during the war. Not only did Canada give refuge to the Dutch Royal Family after the Nazis occupied the Netherlands, but it was the Canadian Air Force that ultimately liberated the Netherlands. Each year the Netherlands send tulips to Canada as a symbol of thanks, and both countries continue to have close ties."
"Augh, can't the fucking contest start?" Romano screamed with frustration. "I can't stand all of you stupid people!"
"Aw, Romano doth protest too much!" France laughed.
"Sim, sim," Portugal added.
Spain smiled. "If you'd like, Romano, we can—"
"NO!"
"I'm calling Germany!" Italy declared, pulling out his cell phone.
A few rows ahead, Ladonia looked over his shoulder. "Why are they all yelling?"
"It's something they do every year," Greenland said.
"Well, I wish they would censor themselves for once," Finland sighed, shaking his head.
It was a little while later when the lights dimmed across the arena, indicating the show was about to start.
"We gotta find seats!" Poland hissed, dragging Latvia behind him.
"I-I just don't want to see Russia," Latvia whimpered.
"Welcome to the fifty-seventh annual Eurovision Song Contest!" the announcement came on.
"Oh, mein Gott." Austria suddenly turned green. "They have the montage, don't they?"
"Waaaaaaaas?" an extremely drunk Prussia lifted his head with great difficulty. "Are you crying, you little fairy?"
"Ja, I'm definitely not allowing you onstage," Germany said harshly, hanging up his cell phone.
"Awww, why not go out and sit with Italy?" Hungary cooed. "Why stay cooped up back here?"
"I'm fine," Germany insisted, though his cheeks turned a little red.
"Before we start the show, let's take a moment to highlight the performances of the countries that fell short of qualifying this year!"
"I hate these constant reminders that I haven't qualified in four years!" Latvia cried.
"Try not qualifying for the past SEVEN years!" Netherlands said harshly.
"Someone sounds bitter," Belgium said sarcastically.
"Sœur—" Luxembourg sighed, shaking her head.
Poland shrugged to himself. "I totally avoided that hassle by not even applying."
Finland's song started the montage, and he was smiling serenely. "Ett liv utan färger, det är inte du. Nå'n man ser då man blundar, som en ängel framför—"
"Oh, that's cool!" America said. "He's singing in Finnish!"
"Uh, actually he's singing in Swedish," Monaco correctly softly.
America thought about this and shrugged. "What's the difference?"
"Varför har du inte berättigad, Mamma?" Åland asked sadly, hugging Hanatamago to her chest.
"Jag vet inte," Finland sighed, ruffling her curly hair.
"But there's always next year, Papa-Finland," Sealand said happily. "And we can cheer for Papa-Sweden!"
Bulgaria's power-ballad was next, and he belted out the lyrics as loud as he could. "But dehaftu mange! voglio bene a te! Men seni sevirem! Ya habibi! Je t'aime! Teb obicham! Samo teb obicham!"
Backstage in his greenroom, Bulgaria was uncharacteristically seething on the couch. "How could they choose Norway's song over mine? I sang 'I love you' in EIGHT LANGUAGES! What else could they want?"
"Awww!" Romania suddenly fell beside him on the couch and playfully pinched his cheek. "I certainly liked the song!"
"Blagodarya," Bulgaria said heatedly. "But we were in separate semi-finals anyways, so you couldn't have voted for me."
Switzerland, looking infuriated, was next in the montage. "Unbreakable! Unbreakable! You can give me more! Swim against the stream! Following your wildest dream—your wildest dream!"
"I really liked the song, Bruder," Liechtenstein offered her brother.
Switzerland frowned deeply. "That horrendous song last year got through, but not this?"
Georgia's enthusiastic performance was next. "I'm a joker—I'm a rocker! I'm a smoker—I'm a poker! Got to feel—got to feel baby! Never! Never! Never! Never! Never! BABY!"
"Ghmert'i!" Georgia cried out in dismay, rubbing both hands through his blonde hair. "What was I thinking, singing that song?"
Israel's trippy song was next. "Zman-man ten li rak siman-man, ten li et hazman! Lama lochetz alay – tishan—you've got to give me more time!"
"WHAT?" America hollered, jumping out of his seat. "You shut up Israel AGAIN? What's wrong with you guys?"
"Look, we keep telling you that WE don't vote for the songs!" Belgium insisted.
Netherlands scoffed. "Where's his anger when I don't qualify?"
Speaking of Netherlands, his song was next in the montage which he sang visibly painfully. "It's you…and me! And everybody out there! And I…can sing! That everybody knows about—"
"Why are you wearing a Native American headdress?" America wondered aloud, looking over his shoulder at Netherlands.
Netherlands shrugged. "Does it matter at this point?"
"Would you'd rather have a cute little—" Belgium began.
"SHHHH!"
Dressed in a beautiful dress, Belgium's love ballad was next. "But what would you do when my house was empty? My life in a bag and away from you. You took love for granted—would you really miss me? Any other guy would do!"
"I'm sorry, Belgium," Romano said quickly. "I yelled at our judge for not giving you any points, but—"
"It's fine," Belgium said, though she looked a little sad. "I was hoping with a talented artist like Iris I would make it. Ah, well…"
Latvia was next, belting out his voice with a surprisingly strong voice. "Beautiful song! Is on the radio! Is in the TV shows! And so on and on—beautiful song! That everybody knows! And everybody loves!"
"See, you're singing off-key!" Poland pointed out.
"…I just want to qualify again," Latvia whimpered.
San Marino danced around the stage as he sang. "Do you wanna be more than just a friend? Do you wanna play cyber-sex again? If you wanna come to my house—then click me with your mouse!"
"I really tried," San Marino said, though he still sounded cheerful. "I'm still baffled why nobody likes it."
"You sang a song about FACEBOOK!" Romano reminded him.
"Since when do YOU have cyber-sex?" Seborga asked suddenly.
San Marino flushed. "Uh—I—I—"
Belarus was leaning into her microphone stand as she sang. "Whatever's standing in my way! We'll make it through the day! 'Cause we are the winners! We are the heroes! We're breaking down the walls! we're gathering them all!"
"Big Brother…" Belarus stalked around the backstage area, purple eyes gleaming and scaring everyone around her. "Where are you, Big Brother?"
Portugal was next, looking quite intense in his performance. "Se fosses luz, amor, ai loz do dia! Sorriso ispirador de fantasia!"
"I gave you the most amount of points," France said. "Even if it was just eight points."
"I'm grateful," Portugal said, shrugging. "I thought it was a good song, but Europe felt differently."
"Triste," Spain said.
"It's fine. Oh." Portugal looked up. "It's your ex."
"Eh?" Spain quickly turned around.
Indeed, the last song in the montage was a completely crimson-faced Austria dancing and singing awkwardly with women gyrating against stripper-poles. "Geht scho Woki mit deim Popo! Woki mit deim—OOH! OOH! Woki mit deim Popo! Yeah! Yeah, So gfoit ma des—"
Most of the countries burst out into hysterical laughter to see the refined and dignified Austria in such a manner. America was laughing so hard that he fell out of his seat. Japan had a subtle, embarrassed laughter laced with guilt for making fun of another's misfortunes. Even Canada laughed very quietly, while Mr. Kumajirou kept stealing his tulips to eat.
Only Italy didn't laugh, looking confused by the performance. "Ne…I never would've guessed Mr. Austria would act like that!"
Backstage, Austria hid his face in his arms. "Please turn it off! I can't take it anymore!"
Prussia was screaming with laughter, punching Kugelmugel's mosaic on the floor with a closed fist. Germany couldn't help but laugh. And Hungary tried to comfort Austria, but she couldn't stop laughing either.
Only Kugelmugel didn't laugh in the room. He simply shrugged. "I still consider it artistic."
"Stupid Europe," England continued to fume, though he was shaking violently as he waited to be called onstage. He clutched his guitar to his chest. "Stupid Ireland and my other stupid siblings! Stupid EBU and ESC! Stupid—"
"England?"
This unexpected voice caused England to pause, and he slowly turned. He stammered at the smaller, dark-haired country who approached him. "M…Malta?"
Malta grinned toothily at him. "I caught you before you went onstage. Good."
"MALTA!" England wailed, throwing himself at the other country. "It's a conspiracy, I tell you! Nobody wants me to win!"
"I think you're over-exaggerating," Malta laughed, pushing his longtime friend away slightly. "Nobody's conspiring against you. I would almost call it a conspiracy that I've done so badly the past several years, but I think you're just nervous. Calm down and relax and you'll enjoy your performance."
"How can I ENJOY my performance when all of my siblings are here to make fun of me?" England fumed. "They're going to heckle the bloody hell out of me!"
"But I'm not going to make fun of you," Malta reassured him. "And I'm not going to heckle you. Try and focus on that, England."
England sighed heavily, and shook his head furiously to clear it. After a little while his confidence returned and he managed a loud laugh. "Right! I'll give it my all and try and enjoy myself!"
"Tajba," Malta said, nodding. "That's the way to do it."
"But why can't my siblings be like YOU, Malta? Why do they have to antagonize me so?"
"They probably have their own reasons," Malta said honestly. "As for me, I don't really have much reason to antagonize you."
"An island nation of 452,000 people, Malta seems very unassuming but is rich in history and rich in resources and tourism. Though England absorbed him into the British Empire in 1800, he was actually happy with the occupation, as England's invasion ended up saving him from a harsh rule under France. During World War 2 Malta was targeted by the Axis because his location in the Mediterranean was a vital trade point. Malta never surrendered, and didn't stop fighting until the Axis armies were driven off. In awe of his bravery, England awarded the island as a whole the George Cross, which is the highest civil decoration of the United Kingdom. Malta bears this cross on his flag, and to this day Malta has excellent relations with England. They even almost got married in the 1960s."
"England, we're ready," a stagehand told him.
England nodded, and squared his shoulders. "I'm going to do it! I'll aim to win, but I'll also aim to have fun! I would be honoring Engelbert Humperdinck this way!" he hurried towards the stage.
"Here he comes," Wales said blandly as England hurried over to the stool onstage.
"BOOOOO!" Scotland yelled.
"England's first for the night?" Hong Kong said aloud. "That sucks."
"Good for him," China said remorselessly.
England tested the strings of the guitar, his heart slamming against the wall of his chest. He looked out over the audience, and reminded himself that this was no big deal. He had gone first in other Eurovisions, one of which he'd won. He just had to do his best and ignore certain buggers throughout the arena.
Closing his eyes, he cradled the guitar in his lap and began playing. The melancholy melody washed over the arena, and captured everyone's attention. He swallowed so that his voice steadied and he leaned into the microphone. "So graceful and pure…A smile bathed in light. No matter the distance…a miracle of sight. Though I should have known…I could not turn away. When face with your beauty—no reason to stay.
"When you kiss him in the moonlight…with heavy words I say."
England opened his eyes and looked out over the darkened arena. "If you love someone! Follow your heart. Cause love comes once—if you're lucky enough. Though I'll miss you forever! The hurt will run deep. Only love…can set you free."
America was gaping slightly. He snapped his jaw shut and looked at Japan. "…Whoa."
"Sugoi desu," Japan breathed.
"I'm impressed, aru," China said. "He chose well this year."
"But his song's by a music legend after all," Hong Kong said.
"I like it," Canada mumbled softly.
"If you love someone! Follow your heart," England sang out, still strumming the guitar. "Because love come once—if you're lucky enough."
"I'm almost on!" Hungary gushed as she hurried to the side curtain. "I can't stop being nervous!"
Still embarrassed by his performance, Austria watched England's closely. "See, this is music! Not that garbage I sang on Tuesday!"
"But I liked it," Hungary encouraged. She smiled wickedly. "I especially like it when you shook your own popo."
Austria turned beet-red, and looked away.
England finished his song with little fanfare, but a lot of flourish. The audience cheered as he bowed and blew kisses, completely caught up in it all. It wasn't nearly as bad as he expected, and he left the stage with a lot of confidence.
All across the arena, cell phones began to buzz in countries' pockets. Everyone reached into their pockets to check the scores that they had given England.
"Let me see," Poland said, ripping the phone out of Latvia's hand. "Ah, you gave England two points!"
"Zero," Romano read.
"One point," Belgium read.
"Zero," Netherlands read.
"Me too," Spain said.
All around them, no other country scored England. America gaped at them. "A-Are you serious? That song kicked serious ASS and none of you voted for it?"
"America sounds so serious!" China laughed. "Did England's song reach out to you, aru?"
"Of COURSE NOT!"
"Skużani," Malta said, looking sad as England ran over to him. "I gave you that self-confidence speech, but then I didn't score you at all."
"That's fine," England said, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm bound to get a lot of points from other countries!"
"…I didn't score him," Austria said in disbelief.
"Me either," Hungary said. She quickly tucked her phone away. "Don't let him know."
"BERWALD!"
Sweden looked up stoically as his boss raced into the greenroom. "Ja?"
His boss looked at Norway, Denmark, and Iceland in kind for a few moments before focusing on Sweden once more. "You've been in here this whole time? I've been looking for you! Come on, I need to show you something!"
"…All right." Sweden calmly got up and followed his boss around the greenroom. Once they were in the hallway though, his boss spun around so fast that Sweden walked into the man. Both of them regained their balance quickly though. "So, what is it?"
"I didn't want to say this in front of the other countries," his boss hissed. "But I've got a secret weapon to aid in your performance tonight!"
Sweden shrugged stiffly. "I think…I'll be all right."
"Ingen! You mustn't aim to be "all right"! You must aim to WIN! Here." His boss dragged him into an empty greenroom, where the Swedish crew awaited.
Denmark leapt from the couch and ran after them. "I have to see this!"
"Good luck," Norway said blandly.
The door closed sharply behind them, but Sweden kept his eyes on his boss. "…What is the secret weapon?" he asked calmly.
"THIS!" his boss yanked something out of his pocket and placed it on the low table in front of Sweden.
Sweden looked at the object for a long moment and then glared at his boss. "I refuse."
Yay! My third year of writing Eurovision fanfiction! Let's hope this continues! But again, I make this opener too long and can only fit in one performance! I certainly don't envy Himaruya for having to juggle so many characters!
Here's a couple of notes:
- Augustiner Edelstoff is a very refined German beer. It's clear and sparkly, only 5.6% alcohol content, and like most Augustiner brands it's known for being easy on the stomach.
- Sealand is singing Me Without You by the Monkees. The Monkees was one of my favorite shows when I was a kid. This is my crappy tribute to Davy Jones, who tragically died this past February. RIP Davy! ;_;
- Despite the conflicts between Azerbaijan and Armenia, Armenia applied for the 2012 contest. However, they withdrew from the contest passed the deadline in March. The reasons given were the death of an Armenian soldiers by what was originally thought to be an Azerbaijani sniper—but later turned out to be friendly fire—and over twenty Armenian singers pledging to boycott the contest. The biggest reason though was due to a speech Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev gave on February 28th, which included this controversial statement: "Our main enemies are Armenians of the world and the hypocritical and corrupt politicians under their control." However, the Azerbaijani government insists that Aliyev never made this statement and that this was simply a faulty translation of his speech to English made by a "Russian translator". No video or audio footage has surfaced to refute or confirm either claims, but the alleged faulty translation is still available at Aliyev's own website.
Because of the last-minute withdrawal, Armenia faced heavy sanctions from EBU, including a stiff fine and an order to broadcast the entirety of the contest or they would be banned from the 2013 contest. Armenia didn't broadcast either semi-final, but they did broadcast the final.
- Uroda is a ladies magazine from Poland.
- Bulgaria got 45 points in the second semi-final, tying with Norway in the last-place position. However, because of ESC rules Norway advanced because they had more scores with higher numbers than Bulgaria. Needless to say this has made the Bulgarians less than pleased.
Here's some translations for the song lyrics, as can be found at Eurovision's website:
Finland
"Ett liv utan färger, det är inte du. Nå'n man ser då man blundar, som en ängel framför—"
("A life without colours, that's not you. Someone you see when you close your eyes, like an angel before you—")
Bulgaria
"But dehaftu mange! voglio bene a te! Men seni sevirem! Ya habibi! Je t'aime! Teb obicham! Samo teb obicham!"
(This is 'I love you' repeated over and over again in different languages.)
Israel
"Zman-man ten li rak siman-man, ten li et hazman! Lama lochetz alay – tishan—"
("Time - from Give me just a sign of, give me the time! Why press me – Sleep—")
Portugal
"Se fosses luz, amor, ai loz do dia! Sorriso ispirador de fantasia!"
("If you were light, my love, you would be the light of day! An inspiring smile of fantasy!")
Austria
"Geht scho Woki mit deim Popo! Woki mit deim—OOH! OOH! Woki mit deim Popo! Yeah! Yeah, So gfoit ma des—"
("Let's go, shake your booty! Shake your ooh – ooh! Let's go, shake your booty! Yeah, yeah – that's how I like it!")