crabcrab69

"Ah, [N-name]..." Ludwig's voice called out to you softly. You were napping on the Beilschmidt's living room sofa, only in a spaghetti strap and Nike shorts. "Are you alright, Schatz?" "Bah, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" You replied, rolling your eyes. You sighed, and puffed out a breath of heated air. Obviously you were running a fever, your cheeks incredibly heated, flushed with a pink tint; your hair was out of its usual ponytail and askew, while you were just too tired to move at all. Your arms were sore, your legs were sore and most of all whenever you tried to stand up a wave of the chills would cause you to fall back on the sofa again, we

You lay back on your bed, feeling the effects of your country's depression taking their toll on you. Your economy was in shambles, your government was corrupt, your people were suffering, and it was all piling up to make you horribly ill. But you were a part of the Axis now, and you were doing everything you could to stay strong for them. The depression you could deal with. You could brush it off and smile away the pain, to make your allies not worry about you. Now that you could barely move, you were worried. What if Germany, the unofficial leader of your little group, now saw you as useless and threw you out in the cold? You were determine

"[Name], wake up! You remember what you promised me!" A stern voice broke through your dreaming, causing you to groan and throw your blanket further over your head and snuggling up inside the newfound warmth. Ah, it's that time of the winter where a thick layer of snow falls and you don't want to do anything except read in bed or be lazy. But some stubborn guy refuses to let you kick back and relax. "[Name]...!" The voice persisted, a little edge to his voice. You mumbled, "GoawayI'mhavingareallynicetime..." and then curled up even further. "Schatz, you leave me no choice." The voice was at a monotone now, and suddenly the warmth was stolen

 "_____! _____!" I turned my head to see my boyfriend, Gilbert Beilschmidt. He was running toward me with his arms flailing in the air. "What is it, Gil?" I asked. "Gilbird's gone missing!" he said, panicked. "Oh, no! Do you want me to help you look for him?" If it were anyone else's pet, I wouldn't have bothered. But it was Gilbird, and he was just so cute that I had to find him-- and he was my boyfriend's bird, after all. Gil nodded. "Ja, thanks." So we looked. And looked. And looked. We looked all through Gil's and Ludwig's house and property, but there was no sign of the little bird. After about an hour of searching, Francis a