Hetalia Axis Powers – Italy getting pushed around Posted on February 3, 2009 by BP So in this week’s episode of Hetalia we learn that Italy (aka what was in the mysterious tomato box) at the time of World War 1 was pretty weak. He declared, looking obliviously happy with himself. 'But, if you like, you can call me Feliciano!' That was what the creator of Hetalia said Italy's human name would be. This guy was pretty dedicated. Feliciano it is.' She squeezed her shirt, causing water to seep out of the fabric. Like many manga and anime series, Hetalia: Axis Powers is subject to much fan speculation and various theories, which may turn into misconceptions when newcomers confuse fanon with canon. Mistranslations of profiles and strips may also contribute to confusion as well. This is a list of some of the different rumours, misconceptions, and fan-theories related to the series and its characters. Another fluffy Hetalia oneshot yay! This one was inspired by many sad GerIta's and listening to Angel With a Shotgun on repeat. If you asked any of the countries to describe Italy they would tell you how sweet and naive he is, how lovable and caring, how he's obsessed with pasta and how he's an excellent cook.
- Ribelle The Brave Italy Hetalia Movie
- Ribelle The Brave Italy Hetalia X
- Ribelle The Brave Italy Hetalia Death
A/N: Just a little thing I wrote for feels friday when I should have been working on DYSRM. Oops.
Veneziano shut the door behind him, trying to make as little sound as possible. The room was dark as the thick shades had been drawn over the window, blocking out the bright afternoon light. His eyes fell on the cold bowl of pasta that stood on the bedside table, untouched. A flicker of disapproving worry clouded his normally sunny features for a moment, but the Italian forced himself to smile as he walked over to the bed. 'You should eat, fratellone. You'll fall sick if you don't.'
The man in the bed was the exact spitting image of him, though his hair was a shade darker, and his pallor a shade paler. When he shifted and opened his eyes, he revealed another disparity. Dull olive green eyes stared unseeingly at Veneziano before Romano turned away. 'Stupido fratellino,' he muttered, his voice quivering with the effort of speaking. 'I'm already sick.' Veneziano's frowned, but he didn't saying anything about it.
'You'll get better,' He assured, trying to keep his voice from shaking too much. 'Are you comfortable? Do you want anything?' Veneziano was fussing about, adjusting the sheets and setting things straight, trying to give himself something to do. The feather-light touches and rustling began to annoy Romano, rousing him every time he was about to drift off into sleep. He was feeling dizzy, slightly disoriented, and the elder Italian wanted nothing but to escape into the oblivion of unconsciousness.
Finally he snapped, 'Just get in!' Veneziano froze where he was, staring incomprehensively at his brother. Sighing, Romano held up a corner of the blanket and gestured impatiently, 'It's almost time for your siesta, right? Get in and sleep.' Veneziano grinned and slid quickly onto the mattress, tugging the sheet up so that it reached his chin. 'Don't expect me to be this nice all the time, got that? It's just for today!'
'Ve, okay!' Veneziano yawned, 'Grazie, fratello.' It didn't take long for his eyes to flutter shut, and his breaths to deepen. Romano watched him sleep, fighting the urge to dose off. Even in the darkness, he could see the shadows under his eyes and the crease on his brows. The last few years had been hard on them both, with his struggling economy and the acqua alto over in Venice. Veneziano had done his best, covering up what he couldn't handle and supporting him with his smiles. Back then, Romano hadn't wanted to acknowledge him, but now he couldn't imagine being Italy without his brother.
Oh, Italy.
When he was gone, Veneziano would be fine. Even if he couldn't handle everything at once, there would be that potato loving bastard to help him. Most of them already called him Italy anyway, never just Veneziano. It was always Italy, Italy, Italy. What about him? It seemed that they only knew him as Romano. 'I'm Italy too!' He thought belligerently. As a sudden spasm rocked his body, all the indignance drained out of him. Not anymore, the ache in his chest reminded him, he wouldn't be Italy for much longer. His eyes drifted over to his brother yet again. Veneziano hadn't let it show, but the acqua alto was getting worse every year. He hid it so well that not even those Axis allies of his knew. But Romano could tell, he could feel the echoes of the liquid that pooled in his lungs, of waking up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath but finding none. There would always be that connection between them which Veneziano couldn't hide. He was brave, and also too selfless for his own good. At least their unification would do him some good- the younger Italian's suffering would be alleviated.
Everything was set. All the loose ends had been tied up, and even though he was going to die, Italy would survive. With that thought in mind, Romano reached for his brother's hand and fell asleep.
Hours later, Italy woke up alone, one hand outstretched over an empty space, with his palm still tingling from a lingering warmth.
Ribelle The Brave Italy Hetalia Movie
Hetalia: The African colonies: Italy's war of Conquest
'ITALY, QUIT SLAKING ON YOUR TRANING! RUN FASTER NOW! DO YOU WANT TO BE PUNISHED AGAIN!?' Germany shouted at the top of his lungs. He was so irritated with Italy for slacking off for the fifth time in a row. All of the veins on his neck look like blue Rocky Mountains, in vain standards.
'But Germany it's hot and I'm tired… why can't I have a break!?' Italy whined out of pant.
'YOU HAVEN'T EVEN MADE IT HALFWAY THROUGH YOU FIRST LAP AND YOU EXPECT ME TO ALLOW YOU TO TAKE A BREAK?! I'M ADDING 10 MORE LAPS TO THE 20 YOU HAVE IF YOU KEEP THIS UP!' By this time his veins looked like the Blue Himalayas.
'I'm going… Germany why are you so mean?!' Italy hung his head in defeat. He was as about as eager to start again as a pasta eating tree sloth but just a little less green. Germany started walking next to Italy while he was jogging. His veins started to disappear as he calmed down.
'I'm not trying to be mean; I'm just trying to make you into good soldier. It's not like I enjoy banishing you.' Germany let out a big sigh as he looked at the pasta sloth that was barely keeping up with his walk. All of a sudden Germany felt that someone was behind him. He started to sweat a little because he knew who it was.
'Shut your potato sucking mouth you damn potato eater! My little twerp of a brother and I, can kick some real ass when we want something. Just look at Libya, we kicked Turkey's sorry ass to get her. And we had claimed her along time a go in that stupid conference of yours in 1884.' While Romano was saying all this, he was making all of his hand jesters that made him look like he was dancing that he was famous for. Germany gave a confused look as he gazed at the two pasta sloths in front of him.
'I'm sorry but you're trying to make me believe the Italian Oscar the Grouch and a Cry baby that can't even tie his own shoe laces without me, defeated the Ottoman Empire by themselves?' Germany did a face-palm at the thought of those ridiculous ideas.
'But Germany we really beat Turkey. It was before I got to know you, before WW1. Ve!' Italy's expressions were very animated in the way he was jumping up and waving his arms.
'Really?' Germany said incredulously.
'Yes; I Can remember it like it was yesterday Veeee!' Italy's dreamy tone had seemed to bring back many memories of the war his men had fought in.
Flash back to September 29, 1911 Before the Italo-Turkish War
'Big brother, what does are boss want with us again? Nom nom nom.' Italy was pizza clad and was stuffing is face with it as he followed his brother Romano down the beautifully decorated hallway in there boss's home.
'If you weren't stuffing your face and listen, you wouldn't have to ask me AGAIN! I'm not telling you again, so SHUT UP, STOP EATING AND YOU WILL FIND OUT WHEN WE GET THERE' Romano was already irritated with his little brother because he was just too damn happy all the time. They finally arrived at the office their boss. Romano knocked on the door.
'Enter!' their boss yelled from the inside of the room. The two brothers entered a room with book cases on every wall with all very old and expense books, a bar on one of the wall was filled with different liquor, a bear skin rug on the flour with eyes that made it look like it was still alive, the most magnificent shandalers that shimmered in a golden aura. A very large fire place with a roaring fire in it took up the wall space of the west wall, and in the center of the room was a very ornate walnut wood desk. Behind the desk was a old man with a bald head and a moustache, signing a paper. The old man looked up from his desk and gave the two brothers a smile.
'Good you're here please take a seat .' Their boss pointed to the seats in front of his desk. The two of them sat down in the very comfortable chairs .
'So I hope you two know why I have called you here, right?' the old man looked at the two of them.
'Yes you want us to declare war on Turkey and I CAN'T wait to kick his sorry little ass for the stuff he did to me when I was little! Not to mention all the new land we would get!' Romano was on the edge of his seat, shaking with the anticipation of this neatly planned war. Italy's eyes opened and they opened very wide for the first time in his life.
'Wait we are fighting Turkey! Why?!' Italy stood up from shock, knocking over the expensive chair in the process.
'Settle down Italy it's not that big of a deal besides the land and Ms. Libya belongs to us any way. Don't you remember we calmed her down a long time ago? Any way it's going to be easy to invade Libya: the people hate the Turks and love Italians. There is, also, only about 4,000 Turkish troops in Libya, It's going to be a military walk through basically.' Their Boss looked at North Italy with all seriousness, speaking with a calming tone.
'Ok but I'm still a little scared though it is Turkey after all.' Italy recomposed himself and took his seat again.
'I forgot to mention, I heard that Miss. Libya was a very beautiful woman.' The boss leaned back in his seat with a sly smile, knowing he had just won this argument. Italy's mood changed instantly and jumped up from his seat.
'Ve~ what are we waiting for lets go kick some Turkish ass!' Italy curled his fingers into a fist of excitement, looking forward to the future.
'Good I'm glad you're on board. Now all we have to do is to send this declaration of war and contact Mr. Turkey,' The boss turned to Romano, 'Romano would you please contact Mr. Turkey for us? You can use my phone.' The boss pushed the phone over to Romano. He let out a big grin like he has been waiting for this for a long time as he picked up the phone.
'Hello operator, patch me into Istanbul,' Romano smirked as the operator's voice was replaced by the dial tone.
Meanwhile in Turkeys place.
Turkey was sleeping on his couch in his den, dreaming about the good old days. Back when his empire was at its golden age. Then he started to dream about Greece, he was smiling at Turkey, then pulled out a gun and fired. Turkey woke up in a cold sweat and was breathing heavily. He looked at telephone on the table next to him, it was ringing. He reached out to the phone will thinking about the weird dream he just had.
'Hello, this is Turkey.' He was still lying on the couch as he picked his nose.
'Prepare to get your ass handed to you as we take Libya from you. I bet your shaking in your puffy pants right now HAHAAHAHAHAHA!' Romano was so loud on the phone; Turkey had to take the phone away from his ear; otherwise his ear drum would have ruptured.
'Oh so it's you, Romano. So you and your brother want Libya. You know we don't have to fight about this. I'm willing to give you partial control of Libya. Let's say she stays at your house on the weekday and I get her on the weekends.'
'NO WE WANT TOTAL CONTROL OF LIBYA AND WE ARN'T GOING TO SHARE HER LIKE WE ARE A DEVORCED COUPLE! WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A WAR!' Romano was so loud that time Turkey's ear started to bleed even with the phone away from it. His face started to turn bright red with anger
'OK YOUWANT A WAR YOU GOT ONE JUST REMEMBER YOU DON'T HAVE SPAIN TO SAVE YOU WHEN IM STOMPING YOUR FACE IN! ' Turkey was grinding his teeth after he was done talking.
'I'm not going to need anyone's help with the wimpy force you got in Libya. See you on the battle field ass wipe! 'Romano hung up the phone before Turkey had time to think of something to say back. At that time Turkey's face looked like the face of a man who just had his car repossessed because of a mix up in the payment. Turkey threw his fez to the ground and started to stomp on it. In the middle of his temper tantrum he realized he didn't have very many troops in Libya and he could not go through Egypt because of Great Britain. He would just have to deal with the Arab tribes in the region to have a chance of winning the war.
A few days letter off the cost of Tripoli October 5, 1911
The smoke in the air was thick, black and with the sound of the thunderous guns on the battleship Regina Elena. A man could barely think in the turn of the century metal behemoth between the roar of the guns and the slow groan of the steam powered engine. In the distance burning, smoldering, mangled metal and blackened earth craters that once were Turkish gun placements could be seen. Blood and disembody limbs lay mixed in with mortar and bricks that was the ruminants of a building that housed Turkish soldiers. The smells of iron from the blood resembled the smell of a wet and rusted ship slowly decaying over time until there is nothing left.
Ribelle The Brave Italy Hetalia X
The site of gory of war stunned the weak stomached Northern Italy. He felt his throat start to give as well as the choking sensation in his throat as his lunch was coming back. He stumbled to the side of the road next to a wall, fell to the ground and vomited. After he regained his senses he looked to the left and noticed a gold pocket watch and a teddy bear. Suddenly he relayed that both Items had bloody hands one of a man and one of a small girl still grasping on to them underneath a pile ruble. He started to breath heavily and he brought his hands up to shield his eyes from the horror that he stood before. His eyes opened wide as he was about to scream out of pure dread that he might helped with the down fall of this family. As he was about to wail out of agony someone placed their hand on his shoulder.
'Don't worry these people have been dead way before we got on the beach. You have seen enough blood today; go back to the camp. You need rest. 'Romano looked at his little brother solemnly.
'You did well today. Go to the camp make yourself some pasta; can you do that for me?' The still shaken Italy bobbed his head to say ok because he couldn't get the words out. As the Northern Italy staggered back to camp, Romano looked at the pocket watch for a moment. He turns to his brother and started walking after him. But turned back after a few steps and grabbed the watch that still worked. He placed the watch in his pants pocket, as he looked at the empty bloody hand and smirked.
'Sorry buddy, but I don't think you're going to be checking the time anytime soon… Captain.' He chuckled softly to himself at the site of the dead Turkish officer.
A Couple months later at Tripoli October 14, 1912
Deer boss man,
The Invasion of the cost of Libya was successful. The first three cites, Tobruk, Derna and Al Khums were easily conquered, but the same was not true for Benghazi. October 23, when poor placemen of the troops near Tripoli under the command of my little brother, led them to be almost completely surrounded by more mobile Arab cavalry, with some Turkish regular units. But in the end of the battle we still managed to win.
December 4, 1911 outside of Tobruk, we succeeded in dropping the first bombs from an airplane on a Turkish camp. We also dropped several bombs from our airships. But unfortunately the dropping of these bombs did little in the outcome of any battles. But still it was very cool. March 3, 1912, near Dernah, 1,500 Libyan volunteers attacked are troops who were digging trenches. Even though we were outnumbered, we held the line with are superior fire power and tactics.
I believe with all these excellent victories that any day now Turkey will surrender; what with the ever growing threat of the Balkan war getting out of hand. Just a few days ago Bulgaria, Serbia, Montenegro and Greece declared war on Turkey. The big wussy is probably worrying is brains out right now. Our war might be over before this letter gets to you.
Sincerely , Romano
Lausanne, Switzerland October 18, 1912
'So you two are ready to play nice?' Switzerland looked at the countries sitting around a table. All of them nodded at Switzerland.
'Good now Turkey, you read this aloud and sign it.' He passed the treaty over to Turkey, who picked up the paper and stood up.
Ribelle The Brave Italy Hetalia Death
'I Turkey, the Ottoman Empire, do surrender total control Miss. Libya and all of her land to the Kingdom of Italy. Also all Turkish troops will leave Libya as soon as passable.' He sat back down and started to sign the treaty. The look of shame and anguish was clear upon the Turk's face.
'Ve~ I, the Kingdom of Italy, do accept your surrender and will stop all aggressive actions towards any Turkish force.' He sat back down to sign it and hand it to his brother who also signed it. Everybody stood up and shook everybody's hands.
' Good now that that is settled, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!' Switzerland looked very irritated as he pointed at the door. All the countries left the room as they tried not to look at each other.
Back to the present
'Ve~ so commander what do you think of my story? Do you think I'm a good soldier now? ' Italy question Germany with happiness.
' It was a good story and I'm going to remember it too. But it still doesn't change the fact that you haven't finished your training. So start running now!' Germany pushed the sloth back in gear.
'Yes sir….' Italy's hair curl uncurled in disappointment as he went forward in his slow pace .