For Germany, I'll DIEEEET! [1/?]
anonymous
May 31 2009, 11:29:19 UTC
this prompt called out for a fill, because I was tipping this to my friend and my imagination went on a trip to hell. So this is the result. First part of... well, not many, though. Hope OP likes!
--- Start of Fail fill! ---
Italy was eating another plate of pasta, with Germany staring at him in both vague disgust and astonishment at the size of the plates the Italian managed to eat without a problem.
How could he stuff his face like this and not burst or explode was above Germany’s understanding, and it made him wary, too.
“Italy, don’t you think you’re eating a bit too much lately?” he risked out, clearing his throat in obvious hesitation.
The only reply he had was a shrill chuckle and Italy shaking his head as he took another huge bite of his pennette all’arrabbiata. “Germany is so~ silly!”
Germany tried to chase the creepy feeling that took place in his stomach and devoted himself to his delicious wursts.
Obviously the creepy feeling didn’t vanish.
---
A running Italy, followed by usual tackling and glomping was a familiar thing for Germany. He did expect Italy to run at him the second he saw him in a room, smiling brightly, clearly happy to see him. He did expect Italy to tackle him as well, as he’d been doing so for the last few years, since after the war.
Germany also expected the hugs and the declarations of love and affect and “let’s hu~g, Germany!” yells, too.
As such, expecting it from Italy, and being warned from a distance about it, Germany had all the time to brace himself for the tackle and thus manage to not topple on the ground, hugging Italy back and nodding at his affectionate behaviour.
What he didn’t expect was for Italy’s weight to actually make him fall on the ground despite his body tensing up.
And the fall did hurt, considering a heavy Italy was on top of him, blinking in surprise. This was the first time this had ever happened, and the Italian was just as baffled as Germany under him was. Italy quickly recovered, and snuggled in Germany’s arms.
“Buongiorno Germany!” he chirped.
Ludwig allowed his breath to come back before checking Italy above him, aware of the stares of the other nations in the room (they were waiting for the UN meeting to start, after all), feeling a flush burn his cheek and an ignominious feeling creep back into his stomach.
“Italy… have you been gaining some… weight lately?”
There was a pregnant silence in the whole conference room, as various reactions took place -Japan gasped quietly in a corner, blushing and looking away. England and America, who had been having a discussion some feet away, turned to him in surprise. China blinked and took a step back. And France… France gave a mocking gasp, then shook his head in shame, sighing exasperatedly.
“Mon Dieu, Allemagne…” he muttered.
Italy blinked. Then stared down at Germany, who had apparently had his air knocked off. Then at himself. The vaguely round stomach poking from under his clothes.
Then blinked again…
And Ludwig found himself watching a slow-motion of Feliciano’s face scrunching up, flushing cheeks, eyes becoming wider and wider and watery, then closing again and-
“Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Italy started sobbing pitifully, clutching at Germany’s shoulders and propping himself up to a sitting position (on Germany’s chest). “I’m faaaaaaaaaaat! And now Germany won’t want me anymore! And he hateeees meeee! Bwaaaaa!”
Some part of Ludwig’s mind prayed god Romano was still with Spain… somewhere far from there. Very far.
“Ah… Italy… I…” he tried to find words of comfort for the other nation, fully aware of the reproaching glares of France and China and the shock of some others. “I don’t hate you… I could never… I was just…”
“Germany!” Italy grabbed Ludwig’s shoulders in a tight grip and looked at him straight in the eyes, his brown one dark and serious and pained. “For Germany, I will DIEEEEEEEEET!” Ludwig sputtered, not knowing how to react to this… at least until Italy continued. “So that Germany will want to go back making love to a thin person! Ve~”
Ludwig fought hard the sudden need to go dig a grave, as Italy’s words were echoed by snickers and gasps of surprise by the other Nations in the room.
Why do I get the impression that it's not that Italy's fat, it's that he's pregnant?
"“Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Italy started sobbing pitifully, clutching at Germany’s shoulders and propping himself up to a sitting position (on Germany’s chest). “I’m faaaaaaaaaaat! And now Germany won’t want me anymore! And he hateeees meeee! Bwaaaaa!”
Some part of Ludwig’s mind prayed god Romano was still with Spain… somewhere far from there. Very far.
“Ah… Italy… I…” he tried to find words of comfort for the other nation, fully aware of the reproaching glares of France and China and the shock of some others. “I don’t hate you… I could never… I was just…”"
--- Start of Fail fill! ---
Italy was eating another plate of pasta, with Germany staring at him in both vague disgust and astonishment at the size of the plates the Italian managed to eat without a problem.
How could he stuff his face like this and not burst or explode was above Germany’s understanding, and it made him wary, too.
“Italy, don’t you think you’re eating a bit too much lately?” he risked out, clearing his throat in obvious hesitation.
The only reply he had was a shrill chuckle and Italy shaking his head as he took another huge bite of his pennette all’arrabbiata. “Germany is so~ silly!”
Germany tried to chase the creepy feeling that took place in his stomach and devoted himself to his delicious wursts.
Obviously the creepy feeling didn’t vanish.
---
A running Italy, followed by usual tackling and glomping was a familiar thing for Germany. He did expect Italy to run at him the second he saw him in a room, smiling brightly, clearly happy to see him. He did expect Italy to tackle him as well, as he’d been doing so for the last few years, since after the war.
Germany also expected the hugs and the declarations of love and affect and “let’s hu~g, Germany!” yells, too.
As such, expecting it from Italy, and being warned from a distance about it, Germany had all the time to brace himself for the tackle and thus manage to not topple on the ground, hugging Italy back and nodding at his affectionate behaviour.
What he didn’t expect was for Italy’s weight to actually make him fall on the ground despite his body tensing up.
And the fall did hurt, considering a heavy Italy was on top of him, blinking in surprise. This was the first time this had ever happened, and the Italian was just as baffled as Germany under him was. Italy quickly recovered, and snuggled in Germany’s arms.
“Buongiorno Germany!” he chirped.
Ludwig allowed his breath to come back before checking Italy above him, aware of the stares of the other nations in the room (they were waiting for the UN meeting to start, after all), feeling a flush burn his cheek and an ignominious feeling creep back into his stomach.
“Italy… have you been gaining some… weight lately?”
There was a pregnant silence in the whole conference room, as various reactions took place -Japan gasped quietly in a corner, blushing and looking away. England and America, who had been having a discussion some feet away, turned to him in surprise. China blinked and took a step back. And France… France gave a mocking gasp, then shook his head in shame, sighing exasperatedly.
“Mon Dieu, Allemagne…” he muttered.
Italy blinked. Then stared down at Germany, who had apparently had his air knocked off. Then at himself. The vaguely round stomach poking from under his clothes.
Then blinked again…
And Ludwig found himself watching a slow-motion of Feliciano’s face scrunching up, flushing cheeks, eyes becoming wider and wider and watery, then closing again and-
“Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Italy started sobbing pitifully, clutching at Germany’s shoulders and propping himself up to a sitting position (on Germany’s chest). “I’m faaaaaaaaaaat! And now Germany won’t want me anymore! And he hateeees meeee! Bwaaaaa!”
Some part of Ludwig’s mind prayed god Romano was still with Spain… somewhere far from there. Very far.
“Ah… Italy… I…” he tried to find words of comfort for the other nation, fully aware of the reproaching glares of France and China and the shock of some others. “I don’t hate you… I could never… I was just…”
“Germany!” Italy grabbed Ludwig’s shoulders in a tight grip and looked at him straight in the eyes, his brown one dark and serious and pained. “For Germany, I will DIEEEEEEEEET!” Ludwig sputtered, not knowing how to react to this… at least until Italy continued. “So that Germany will want to go back making love to a thin person! Ve~”
Ludwig fought hard the sudden need to go dig a grave, as Italy’s words were echoed by snickers and gasps of surprise by the other Nations in the room.
---
off for the rest...
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"“Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Italy started sobbing pitifully, clutching at Germany’s shoulders and propping himself up to a sitting position (on Germany’s chest). “I’m faaaaaaaaaaat! And now Germany won’t want me anymore! And he hateeees meeee! Bwaaaaa!”
Some part of Ludwig’s mind prayed god Romano was still with Spain… somewhere far from there. Very far.
“Ah… Italy… I…” he tried to find words of comfort for the other nation, fully aware of the reproaching glares of France and China and the shock of some others. “I don’t hate you… I could never… I was just…”"
THIS WILL FOREVER STAY WITH ME!!! LOL!! XD!!!
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Captcha says: roadside outspoken
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