About
(( Hello! This is a roleplay account for Feliciano Vargas or Italy from the anime/web comic Hetalia.
Some quick points~ I don't like making long bios. >w<
-He is just normal Italy~
-He is /not/ a virgin. For god's sake...
-He can top~
-This is a literate to advanced literate roleplay account. Please be aware of this.
-Feel free to post random starters~!
-All Italian will be from Google Translate. If you know the correct phrase, please tell me so kindly! ♥
-I don't like many OCs. I'm not fond of /any/ fems. And I hate most regular roleplayers too~ ♥ ♥ ♥
That's about it~! Lets have fun!! >w< ))
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A tanned smaller hand is placed in his and they are no sooner on there way- You know Italy, if you would regulate just how often you sleep instead of doing it all of the time you would not just drift off the moment you found a comfortable place and for the love of god you should never do such a thing in public as fall asleep and another thing--! -Without meaning to, Ludwig began lecturing the brunette on all of the things and ways he'd gone wrong today, not letting go of his hand for an instant. There were quite a few areas that needed drastic improvement after all. He lectured all the way through the surrounding area and back to the small, isolated building where the two of them did their regular routines and only then did Ludwig let go. Feliciano was infamous for wandering off and being impossible to find for hours at a time- Here. -a rusted tap was turned and water began to gush freely from the short hose that was connected to it. Barely a yard in length and leaking from a few places along the middle, it had served as their source of water during training for quite some time now. As it seemed the two would have to do casual training now, rather than formal drills, the German decides to dress down, balancing the hose in place for the other to drink while sliding his cap off. His hair underneath had taken the shape due to sweat bonding his hair together but the blond didn't mind that in the slightest. With one hand he manages to undo the buttons of his outer jack then his crisp black under shirt to leave himself in his pants and boots. The air wasn't quite brisk enough to cool him down though so as he transfers the hose from one hand to the other to remove his gloves he gives a gruff, distracted, 'One second.' to the Italian before taking away the water source in order to turn the hose on himself. He started with his face, preferring to let the water heat as it trickled down and he was far from disappointed. It was perfectly crisp and clear. The only visible response he gave from the chilling water hitting and covering his skin was a light covering of goosebumps followed by an audible sigh of relief. If only he'd worn shorts and flip flops as well- Aaah.. Mm.. After we cool down.. we will run. Do you understand, Italy?
-the far too cheerful 'caaaw's of birds above head grated his ears almost as much as the Italian's whining. He hated it. If any of his soldiers would ever dare whine that way, or any way at all, he would double their regimen.. that is if he felt like being lenient. But.. what could he do about Feliciano. It was as if laziness and flight of mind were as deeply engrained in the brunette's mind as his love of all things pasta. Was there no going back? The only tactic other than fear that seemed to work was food and even that was feeble at best.. What would be stronger motivation..? Stern eyes watch in relative disapproving silence as the smaller one clutched as tightly to the tree he had been snoozing under as he could. It made Ludwig want to take him by the scruff of his shirt and yank him away from it. As if a tree and all the excuses in the world could get him out of training!? And all he'd wanted to do today was go over drills! Not even an ounce of real work would have been required. But Feliciano couldn't even be bothered enough to remember to wear the right /clothes/ for that. A tank top and shorts with flip flops.. That wasn't even good for muscle work. It was as if the thoughts 'Make sure that you are as close to dead weight as possible' eternally flowed through that marinara making head. His sigh was heavy, broad shoulders drooping down slightly when the smaller one makes a feeble plea for water. This was ridiculous. The sun was beating down on him, making a few beads of sweat gather at his brow to trickle down. His entire body was hotter than normal not only from having to seek the Italian out but because while waiting for him, the blond had gone through a few repetitions for his arms to get them ready-- something that he'd planned on having Feliciano attempt to do as well-- but even after all this time the noodle brained and noodle armed weakling could only manage five at best...- Fine. I will find water. Come with me. -With a gloved hand he stoops and reaches forward, the leather of his boots scccrreeching audibly as his lower leg muscles tighten within them.