|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
GerIta: The Boo-Boo"Stop crying will you?" Germany sternly exclaimed, grabbing the first-aid kit. Italy sniffed.
"It hurts!" He cried.
Germany sighed. How could Italy be crying over something as little as a paper cut? It was absolutely ridiculous. But he didn't want Italy to cry. When Italy cried, everything seemed to get worse.
However, the Italian sobbed even harder about the boo-boo on his finger. Germany stopped midway in another rant. After all, Italy was sensitive, maybe he should be a bit nicer. He liked it when Italy was happy.
"Shh," Germany tried to calm the country down, taking his hand. "It's nothing."
Germany started to clean the cut, warning Italy that it might sting.
"Ow!" Italy whimpered. Germany tenderly kept Italy' hand in his' as he rubbed the alcohol on. A few fingers stroked Italy's knuckles. Germany moved leisurely, something that he hardly did. All was quiet, even Italy who was hardly quiet. He stared intently at Germany. Usually it would get on one's nerves,
GerIta: DiscoveredShe briefly closed her eyes, feeling the hot water run down her skin. She was the only one in the room, she had intentionally planned it. For at least six months now, Feliciana had been going under the name Feliciano, fighting alongside men, risking her life in battle. With the ends of her reddish- brownish hair lying at the ends of her earlobes, her short height, the lack of developed muscles, and a bound down chest, she could pass as a sixteen year old boy. Feliciana had tried to take careful measures to make sure her true identity would not be found out. For this reason all possible activities that would expose her as female were done when she was alone. So far she was safe, none of the others did not seem to suspect anything. Not even...
Feliciana reached for the soap, lost in thought. Ludwig Belischimit. Commander Ludwig Belicschimit who had kept a watchful eye on her since the first day. As a new member she had been taken under his wing for training. For hours and hours, she'd pu
Gertalia: SmileSPOLIER ALERT: CONTAINS SCENE FROM THE MOVIE PAINT IT WHITE
Germany was running at full speed. Seeing his comrades being turned into one of those things filled him with rage. Sending a few punches and kicks at the alien beings, he yelled, yelled at the top of his lungs.
'They'll pay,' he thought. 'They'll-'
Suddenly a mass of white covered his head. They were on him. Smoothering him with their whiteness, making it impossible for him to breath. He felt a burning sensation in his skin and let out a scream. It was too much, too much. He'll soon be one of them. With no senses, no feeling, being controlled by who knows what, and do horrible things to his own planet.
The whiteness was spreading across his skin, hardening like plaster of Paris, becoming like a shell. His arms, then his legs, then it started upwards...
Memories flashed before Germany's eyes: his early years as a young boy
GerItla: Slow DancingGermany entered the room, feeling nervous. He was looking foward to this lesson, but something about all that close contact scared him. Him, Italy, an embrace, slow music...what was he going to do?! Would he just go crazy from all this feeling? He aways tended to be shy when it came to crushes...
There he was, Italy. Sweet,smiling, Italy. Who never seemed to be nervous...
"Hello," Did that sound too creepy?
"You ready?" Germany nodded.
They were standing face to face. Italy had turned on some music--a crooning Elvis Presley song.
"Just ask me if I want to dance. Give a smile."
Germany's heart was pounding. Oh no what if he--
"Relax. If you don't, it sounds a bit creepy. Either way I say yes."
The two took their positions: Germany as the leader, Italy the follwer.
"Now like the waltz but move slow."
They started, small steps, small steps. Not big ones, clumsy ones. Relax, relax look at Italy...
"Think of it as a lullaby, rock back and fo
GerItla: Dancing LessonsGermany for once decided to be nice and get advice from other people. He approached Italy and asked him if he could have dancing lessons. This lack of skill was an embarrassment to him--the rest of the countries led by France mocked him at every party he went to.
Italy was surprised, very surprised, and gladly accepted the offer. He knew that sometimes Germany's knowledge surpassed his own, but it felt good to teach something to people other than Japan. Dreams of the both of them dancing filled his airy head.
They were standing face to face in the room. Italy had put on some musica fast waltz. He knew for a fact that someone like Germany did not want to start out bored.
"First thing's first, you bow, and I curtsy," Italy curtsied, trying to tug at the side of his pants. Germany bowed down towards his knees.
"No! No! Not that deep. A slight bow, Japan style. That's good! Now grab my left hand," Germany did so. "And put your right on my waist."
"Your what?" Germany hoped tha
Bathtime For Chibitalia "No! No! No!"
Austria glared at the young boy who looked like a girl, who showed the signs of a tantrum. The man's arms crossed and said again:
"Italy you have to take a bath. There's a party tonight, I expect you to be clean."
"But I am clean!"
"You're not!" Austria said sternly. " If you don't take a bath, you will be punished, do you understand?"
Italy fell to the floor, screaming,
"Don't you want to be pretty?" Austria shouted. "You want to go to the party smelling like a pig?!"
Hungary rushed onto the scene. She shot a quick glance at him, kneeling down next
GerItla: Swim"Hey! Hey Germany!"
He looked up from the novel he was reading. Italy was blocking his entire view of the ocean ahead. He had come to this beach to relax, read, and enjoy the scenery. The last thing he needed was a distraction from Italy.
"What?" He was annoyed.
"Wanna go swimming with me?"
The Italian moved in closer, right by Germany's side. He tried to ignore him and concentrate on the page of the book about the Sweddish hacker running away from a Sweddish gang.
"Please? It will be fun!"
"I told you no!"
"Aw come on, you know that I hate swimming alone!"
"Come on! Please?"
His eyes were wide, puppy like. Germany sighed. He didn't want to go with Italy, but there was something about those eyes that made him want to..
They walked down to the water. Italy was skipping along,humming a song, that same old song he always did. Draw the circle that's the earth, or something like that.
Italy started to run with a big yahoo. A few steps into the water and..
Fruk: Accident Part 13England shivered as Austria poured on the cold gel on his stomach. He rubbed it on, while talking at the same time.
"I know that this sort of technology won't be available for at least another three hundred years. I was lucky to get my hands on it. It shouldn't take much time for the images to develop."
France and America were there. America sitting on France's lap, squirming to look at the screen.
"Easy there, he said it'd take some time," France laughed.
"I don't blame him," England said. "I can't wait for this either!"
"Where's the baby? Where's the baby!"
"It should be about right...there."
Austria moved the tool around England's lower belly. An image started to slowly come up on the computer screen.
America and France rushed up by England's side. England tilted his head closer to the screen.
"There she is!"
"There he is!"
The fetus had its eyes closed, curled up in a ball. It had wrinkled skin. It was still small, but obviously growing.
After all, England was fi
Survival: Part 5 Three days and three nights had passed. Three days of constant care without end. Prussia had bags sagging under his eyes, using all his might to keep them open. For the first time in days, there was some sort of quiet; Prussia sat, exhausted, by his brother's bedside. The boy's breaths were shallow, that wheezed whenever he exhaled. The skin was a flushed color, even though he shuddered under the mountain of blankets. Prussia tensely wiped back the blond strands that were bangs. He wanted to keep himself together, but there were times where he just wanted to collapse to the ground and howl in sorrow. But he couldn't. He must stay strong. He must always stay strong.
There was a knock on the door. He jumped up, a surge of energy burst in his veins. It could be France. He might want to kill Holy Rome off if he found out he was still alive.
Prussia grabbed the gun that was hanging from the front door. He peeked out the keyhole.
The churning sensation of severe starvation in Italy's stomach was beginning to agitate him. How long is a nation expected to wait for a simple order of pasta?! The parmesan cheese shaker sat precariously stacked upon a set of red and white checkered napkins, mocking him. Italy could almost hear the little pasta-duster speaking to him, as if saying "I bet he's in there right now, eating your precious pasta he doesn't want you to have any he's going to eat it all himselfffff kolkolkol "
Italy shook that thought away. "Man, I must reeeeeally be hungry to be imagining a talking container of Russian parmesan, ve~"
As perplexing as it was for Germany to be so late in bringing out the dishes, Italy didn't allow this to be too much of a damper on his spirits. But, the amount of time it was taking him to boil some pasta was ungodly.
"Maybe I'll just go see if I can help, ve~?" Saying this, Italy rose from his place at Germany's long wooden dining tabl
GerIta: HeartbeatGermany got into bed and was just about to fall asleep when a familiar warmth filled up the bed next to him. He flipped onto his other side and, not surprisingly, found Italy laying next him. He watched as Italy performed his nightly ritual of starting on his right side, then changing to the left, then laying on his stomach, then his back, then finally deciding that the best place to sleep was snuggled up next to Germany with his head buried in Germany's chest. Germany naturally rested his arm across Italy's back and started to fall back asleep, until Italy spoke up.
"Hm?" he grunted slightly annoyed.
"Why does your heart sound just like you?"
" What on earth does that mean Italy?" He asked slightly curious now.
"It's strong and loud and steady, just like you! Why does it sound like that?"
Trying to think of a good answer so he could get back to sleep he said, "Well, it's my heart right? Why wouldn't it sound l
GerIta - Storm"V-ve! Germany~!!!" Italy flinched as another flash of lightning illuminated the room through his curtained window. Another second passed and the deep roll of thunder was heard around the house. Italy whimpered and called out again. Usually by this time he would have sprung out of bed and rushed to Germany's room. Except Germany had asked Italy not to disturb him because he was working and he was too frightened to move.
Again the clouds roared and grumbled angrily.
Italy squeezed his eyes tightly shut and retreated back under the covers, clamping his hands over his ears. He continued to whimper as the rain beat down on the windows, wind picking up to whistle in through tiny cracks and shake the panes. Tears streamed down the small Italian's face. No-one was here to help him.
Germany looked up from his work, sighing. At last he had finished the last of his paperwork. He had to admit, for once his brother's idea of listening to music had actually helped him work a little. He didn't
Three, Two, One -- GerItaThree days.
That was the amount of time that it took Italy to realize what had been bothering his friend.
Three days. Three days after that Buon San Valentino.
The first day had been spent in panic, of course. Germany being nice was okay and alland he was being really nice! Playing soccer with him, bringing him flowers, giving him hugs, inviting him out to dinner and everything it was really nice, and Italy was happy to be spending time with him!
but it wasn't like Germany at all!
At first Italy thought that maybe Germany had just eaten something funny but as the days went on and the behavior continued, he couldn't help but become wary. There must have been something wrong with Germany for him to act like this, right? A cold the flu? It wasn't like him at all!
Wariness only turned to distress when the German arrived at the restaurant they had arranged to meet.
It didn't start out well. Even when the German walked into the restaurant, he had already start
Lovino's Letter - GerItaDear
Kraut, Macho Potato, Mr. Potato Head,Ludwig,
So, you and my stupid, little brother just celebrated your anniversary. What's it been now, almost a century or so? In human years that must be two years? Congratu-fuckin'-lations. Look, I'm not gonna pretend that I'm all happy frickin' rainbows and shit about this, alright? My brother is just as stupid as he seems, so it took me a while to believe that something might actually work out for him. Something like this anyway.
It kinda sucked for me in the beginning, you know. In fact, it still sucks for me. Its always, "Doitsu this. Ludwig that. Did you know that Ludi can fuckin' tie shoelaces?" Ugh, the way he talks about you makes me want to vomit sometimes. But he's really, really happy, you know? Its been a while since I've seen him this happy. Well, he's Feliciano, he's always fucking happy. But I'm his big brother, so I can always tell when he's really happy, or wh
GerIta:I Will Never Love Again Today Germany's past had been haunting him, and he didn't know why. On top of that he had a horrible day with his boss, and now it was pouring on him as he ran up to his houses front door. Germany sighed as he opened the door and stepped onto the welcome mat.
Shiza this day sucked. Germany thought as he dragged himself down the hallway. He eventually collapsed onto the couch in his extremely clean and spacious living room. He slapped his hand over his eyes, and sighed. All day he could think of nothing but his childhood, back when he raged through Europe as the (kinda) Great Holy Roman Empire. But these were all bittersweet memories. They always reminded him of Italy, the first Italy the one he had lost so many years ago.
The day I left it was a bright and sunny day. I was ready to leave with my army to go and convert as many countries as I could, nothing could stop me.
GerIta Mpreg Prologue"~Ve! Who's the cutest little bambino I've ever met!" Italy cooed, tickling the little blond baby in his lap. Said baby giggled, his red eyes sparkling with delight. Prussia had brought his son Herbert to Germany's house, and Italy went absolutely gaga over him.
"Mein awesome son is adorable isn't he? He's almost more awesome than me!" Prussia said proudly, glancing at Germany. Germany was smiling at the look on Italy's face. Prussia walked over to his brother and let out a chuckle. "So, West, when are you and Italy going to have kids? I mean no child will ever be more awesome than Herbert, but I'd like an awesome nichte or neffe to be an awesome Onkel to." Prussia said, just out of earshot of Italy. Germany blushed.
"East, I don't think now is the time to talk about this." Germany said. They glanced at Italy as Herbert let out a high pitched giggle, that sounded much like his father's. "Besides," Germany continued, "I'm more careful than you, so we shouldn't end up with any unplanned
Christmas - GerIta"So that concludes the world conference! Are there any final words?" Alfred asked.
Francis stood up. "We should do this again, non? It's not often we can get together."
Based on how the meeting had turned out, that didn't seem like such a good idea to anyone...well, except
"How about at Christmas?" suggested Tino, who had been silent the entire meeting.
No one ever wanted to refuse the shortest Nordic country. Nobody spoke for a long time. Berwald decided to break the silence by saying "It's a good idea." This was followed by mumbles of agreement from everyone else.
"We should do it at mine and Matthew's place!" Alfred suggested. "It's the biggest, apart from Ivan's, but it's not as cold!"
Whoever wanted to disagree with the American at that point was crazy. And so, it was decided that there would be a party for all the nations on the 25th of December of t
We are Lost: GerItaDear Diary,
I still don't quite understand Italy Venenziano. He is a strange man, with strange ideals.. I really wish I knew how the world looked through his eyes, but, I guess that might always be an impossibility.
"Italy! Hurry it up!"
"S- si Germany..."
The Italian was huffing, it was obvious he wasn't one for hiking, but the German man didn't care, they were making good time this way, they'd probably be back before Japan finished dinner. They were on this hike to do more training, the only reason Japan had stayed back was the cooking of certain foods, with the fear of the house potentially setting fire. Germany figured training might be a bit more challenging in different terrain, and, it would help build better stamina.
Something sparkling suddenly caught Italy's eyes, he stepped out of the trail to pursue it, and Ludwig didn't notice. It was a marble... no.. a trail of marbles? One consistent
GerIta: Skirt" Veeee Germany look at my skirt!"
Germany turned around to see Italy wearing a white, button down shirt, and a plaid, knee lengh, skirt with high heel black boots.
Oh Mien Gott
"What ze hell are you wearing!!!!???" He shouted.
"Poland lent me some clothes, so I thought I might try them on," Italy excitedly waved his arms about. "Is it cool Germany? What do you think?"
The blonde nation felt himself blush. Yes, the Italian did look incredibly ridiculous in women's attire but at the same time, it wasn't. There was something about that skirt, that made those boyish hips seem smooth, that made those thin legs looked shaped to perfection, that was...quite attractive. The skirt seemed to fit Italy's feminine qualities. Germany stared at his friend,he felt his cheeks turn warm. Italy was so...was so...
"You look really cute."
Italy let out a squeal and glomped Germany, who still blushing, very surprised, held Italy just as tightly.
" Graize" Italy rested his head on Ger
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
if you need help making it through the dayremember:
Keep in Touch!