This is based on a roleplay between me and TTFF (TimeTheFinalFrontier). The title was her idea. I was America and she was everyone else (up until part A, which is mine alone). If you have a problem with any character, go to that respective person. The roleplay is part 1, the rest is part A. This chapter is part 1.
!~IMPORTANT NOTE~!
I'm just replacing all of the roleplay chapters with this one single chapter.
Also, I've gotten 2 (I think) anonymous reviewers who have been hate-spamming this with hate-flame-reviews. I deleted the most offensive and stupid ones (meaning the ones that say 'fuck you' or 'die' or are just random 'this is crap' and not a chapter review). GTFO I say to those people. This is part, part 1, is the roleplay part. It probably will be OOC and random, so shut up. I'm still continuing with the A part (after this chapter) even if those two people who wasted their time to review a story and chapters they didn't like based on a roleplay they didn't like don't care or want it. But I don't deny that this is a lot of OOC crapshit. It's supposed to be entertaining, not realistic.
Thank you for your time.
Since this is an update, I will put my standard AN closing:
R&R
ENJOY~!
"HEY ENGLAND!" America shouts.
England scowls. "Hello, America. There's no need to shout. I'm right next to you."
America laughs, slamming his hand onto England's back. "Let's get a break from that terrible food and go get some burgers with me!"
England crosses his arms and turns away from America, who smiles and wanders away. "I refuse to consume those greasy heart-attacks you like to call food." America reappears behind England with a hamburger in each hand. England spins to face him. "And my cooking is not terrible, you git face!"
"Too late," America laughs, waving a burger in England's face and taking a bite of his own. "My food is the best," he mumbles through a mouthful of burger.
England pouts, swatting at the burger. "I'm never staying with you again, America! You make me eat hamburgers and make fun of my cooking! I'm going back to England!"
America stills the burger. "Aw, don't be like that! Just try a burger, please," America whines.
"I am not going within ten meters of that greasy rubbish!"
America sighs. "Fine, no hamburgers..."
England raises an eyebrow hesitantly. "Well, tha-"
America cuts England off. "We'll have cheeseburgers instead!"
"America, you wanker!"
America laughs and produces a plate of ten cheeseburgers.
England huffs and turns around. "I'm leaving! I'm booking a flight out of your pitiful excuse of a country right now!"
America holds onto one of his shoulders as he begins to walk away. "No, wait, please," he begs and puts the plate down on the kitchen table. "Let's make a deal! Eat half of a burger and I'll have some of your... Your... Your stuff when I go to your place!"
"It's not 'stuff', America, it's beef stew! Beef! Stew! And I might consider it if you stop butchering my language!"
"Well, sorry," America drawls. "And how am a butchering your language?" America takes a cheeseburger and proceeds to stuff it into his mouth.
"I don't know what you're speaking, but it's not the Queen's English!" England sniffs.
America has finished three burgers in the time England's been speaking and smirks. "Well, I don't live under your Queen!"
England rolls his eyes. "America, at least close your mouth if you're going to insist on swallowing with chewing." He watches America eat for a moment before continuing. "And whose fault is that? You'd have grown up into a perfect gentleman if you'd not insisted on declaring your bloody independence!" He turns away, pouting.
"Mmm, m're mst mlmush," America says through a mouthful of food, chewing loudly. "And, hey, your rules are crazy! Wanted some space, you know? Is leaving illegal or something? No, don't think so!" America laughs.
England pouts harder. "America, you wanker. You and your bloody Revolution."
"Cuz we're independent!" As he talks, a bit of food flies out of his mouth. America takes another burger.
"America! Will you stop eating for a minute and listen to me!"
"And stop that pouting," America orders, poking England's face. "I have ears and a mouth, you know."
England swats America's hand away. "Don't touch me, you wanker!"
"If a hero can't multitask, what can he do," America continues, oblivious.
England pouts even harder, bottom lip quivering. "If you were such a hero, you'd never have left me!"
"What? What does being a hero have to do with it? I became a hero because I left! You were holdin' me back, man!"
England bursts into tears. "S-stupid A-America."
America's expression softens. "Aw, man, don't cry! You'll ruin the atmosphere... And your mood."
"How do you know about the atmosphere, you idiot?"
"Because..."
"You couldn't read the atmosphere if your life depended on it, you wanker!"
"Heroes can fly," America explains, striking a hero pose before returning to his normal stance. "All right, man, calm down. And remind me never to offer you anything that has the word burger in it."
"I don't want your greasy heart-attacks," England shouts, his eyes beginning to glow. He laughs evilly, regressing to pirate mode. "I'm the British bloody Empire and the British Empire doesn't eat your stupid American burgers!"
"Fine, dude, calm down," America says, stepping back. "And you say I'm the loud one," he mutters.
"I'll show you and your upstart colonies the wrath of the British Empire! You'll beg to join the Empire again! You all will!"
America starts shaking, eyes wide. England begins to glow green and starts muttering spells.
"Dude, run, England's going crazy," America shouts to no one in particular.
England shoots a bolt of magic at America, who shrinks into Chibi-America. England laughs darkly and kneels down. "Come here, little America."
America tries to hide behind the fallen burger pile but finds himself to be too large and instead faces England, chest puffed out. "Hey! What the hell! Damn it, what did you do? Oh, crap..."
"Bad America! Do I have to wash your mouth out with soap?" England picks up the burger plate and places it on the counter.
"Fuck, I can't reach my burgers!"
"Watch your language, boy!" Little America starts to sniffle loudly. England smiles down at him. "I'll give you a burger if you're a good boy and become part of my Empire once more." America looks up at him confusedly, crying softly. "Don't cry, America. Big brother England is here."
"T-there are b-burgers in the Empire?" America asks, sniffling.
"There are burgers in the Empire, yes," England assures his charge. America looks at him skeptically and England laughs evilly. "All the burgers you want!" America is silent and England scowls. "Say yes or face the wrath of the mightiest empire ever to have lived!"
America bursts into tears. "Why are you being so mean and scary?" He attempts to run away but bumps into the table and falls.
England smirks and begins to mutter spells once more, summoning the devil. Russia appears and he curses lowly. America screams.
"Become one with Russia, da?"
England smiles. "It's me or him, little America."
"N-n-no," America stutters, curling into a ball on the floor. "I-I-I..."
"Big brother England will give you scones and beef stew if you're join the British Empire."
"No! I want to be my own country! Help!" America whimpers.
"Big, scary, evil Russia will make you work and torture you."
"Noooooo!"
"America, you wanker, it's your bloody fault I lost my Empire," he sobs.
"Dude, what the hell was that," America asks in a loud voice, looking around frantically.
England cries harder at America's tone. "America, stop shouting at me!" England sniffs and looks around. "Do you happen to have any liquor, America?"
America's eyes widen as England stumbles into the kitchen. "No I don't," he shouts unconvincingly.
England shouts triumphantly as he pulls out a six-pack of beer. "Liar," he says as he drinks the first can and takes a second one from the pack.
America takes the rest of the pack from England's arms. "Tell me what the hell you just did back there!"
England starts to sway, smiling drunkenly. He begins to sing in an off-key voice. "Gooooodddddd saveeee the queeeee~eeennn."
"What idiot put a six-pack of beer in my fridge," America wonders to himself.
England notices America's momentary confusion and takes the opportunity to steal a third can of beer, finishing off the second.
"Hey," America shouts, slashing open the remaining three cans and pouring them down the sink.
"It was probably what's-his-name with the bear," England says in response to America's question. "You know, that invisible guy up North?"
"Yo! Bro, did you buy these beers?" America shouts to thin air.
"Hey, maybe he'll want to become part of my Empire again," England muses. "If only I could remember his name..."
America continues talking to the air. "You knew England was coming! England plus beers equal drunk, bro!"
"America, what's your brother's name?" England slurs.
"Uh, Canada," America says, laughing. England pulls out a cellphone and dials Canada's number. "You people have terrible memories. Hey, who are you calling?"
The phone rings once in the other room before stopping. "C-Canada?" England says into the phone.
Canada's voice can be heard from the other end of the phone. "Eh?"
America raises an eyebrow. "Hey, wait, how did you get his number?"
England smiles at Canada's voice. "Canada! Boy, how do you fancy becoming part of the British Empire again?" He pulls the phone away from his ear for a moment and realizing that it's America's, shrugs.
"D-did Alfie put you up to this?" Canada asks hesitantly.
"No, boy, your brother had nothing to do with this!"
"England, I'm already part of your Commonwealth. Your Queen is on all of my money. What more do you want?"
"Dude, why are you talking to each other on the phone?" America's eyes widen as he realizes England is using his phone. "Dude, give me my phone back!" America grabs the phone away from England.
"America, give it back! I was talking to what-is-his-name!"
"He's in the nex- Uh, never mind."
England pouts and walks into the living room. Canada is lying on the couch, drinking from a bottle of maple syrup. England smiles.
"Canada, my boy, how do you fancy becoming part of the British Empire!"
"Al, deal with him!"
America takes a burger and creeps up behind England, motioning for Canada to be quiet. Smiling, he stuffs the burger into England's mouth. "Ha! The hero strikes again!"
"Arg! Alfred!" England shouts through his mouthful of burger before he manages to spit it out over Canada. "America, you wanker!"
Canada looks at America disapprovingly and starts cursing in French.
"Sorry, dude," America says sheepishly.
England screams as Canada curses particularly loudly, brushing burger bits from his hair. "The frog taught you that language, didn't he?"
America peeks over England's shoulder. "Canada, you might want to start thinking about running away."
"Stupid French frogs," England rants, pouting as he sees Canada slipping from the room. "Canada! Come back! You need to rejoin my Empire!" England attempts to run after Canada but America blocks his way.
"Dude. You're still drunk. Sit down."
"America," England whines.
"No," America insists.
"I might be drunk, but, but, what did old Winston say?"
America's brow furrows in concentration. "I like burgers?"
"You'll still be beautiful in the morning, that's what!"
"Aw," America coos. In his mind, he thinks to himself, but you never are.
"America, I'm tired..."
"Sit," America urges.
"No, America, let go of me! I need to rebuild my Empire!
"No! Go build it out of... Uh... What's that brick-like food you like again?"
England starts to glow again and regresses back to the 1700's. "Would you like some scones, America! I'm in the mood to bake scones!"
"Yes, I would like one."
"R-really?" England looks up painfully hopefully. "I thought you h-hated my cooking?"
"No, dude, you're drunk!" America sighs and shakes England's shoulders. "Snap out of it!"
"Oh, America, Come into the kitchen with me, I'll make you all the scones you want," England gushes, oblivious to America's last words. Fireworks go off in the distance and England bursts into tears. America is confused. "You and your stupid Revolution, ruining everything!"
"What the hell? All I did was offer you a burger and now you're drunk and going on and on about the Revolution! Dude, get over it!"
England falls into America.
"Nothing's going to change it," America continues, looking down at England when the smaller nation falls into him.
"America, you idiot, stop falling into me!"
"You're the one who fell," America insists, carrying England to the couch and laying him down none too gently.
"N-no, you were!" England says, pouting.
"No. You!" America says loudly, pushing England down when the smaller nation attempts to sit up and stepping away when he finishes.
"America! D-don't leave m-me!" England wails, crying harder.
"Dude, I'm still here. I won't leave you."
"A-America!"
"Right here." England looks up at America tearfully and the superpower stares back, shifting uncomfortably. "You OK?" America asks softly.
England shakes his head. "A-America," he stutters, blushing.
"You want a burg- I mean, do you need a hug?" America asks, leaning down to hug the smaller country as England nods.
England pushes America away after a moment and the superpower pats his back. England scowls, recovering slightly. "America, you idiot! The world is in this mess because of you!"
"Well, that was nice while it lasted," America mutters. "Nah, man, the hero helps the world! I made it better!"
"And everyone blames me because you didn't allow me to raise you the right way, as if it were my fault that you were an insolent little child!" England continues, scowling.
"What?" America asks, confused. "Dude, so not true!"
England notices Russia standing in the corner. "Say, Russia, would you say that America has made the world a better place or completely ruined it for the rest of us?"
"What? Russia, you're still here?"
"Kol, kol, kol," Russia mumbles.
"Ah, crap," America says, face-palming.
"America, you will become one with Russia, da, and then we can ruin the world together!"
"Why are you still in my house?" America whines.
"See, even Russia thinks you're a wanker, America," England laughs, checking his watch. His smile falls as he sees the time. "America, you fool, you need to drive me to the airport!"
"Oh... Uh..."
"My flight leaves in less than an hour!"
America shrugs and looks at Russia, wondering when he will leave. England gets mad and slaps America lightly.
"What, dude? It's your fault for gettin' drunk! Can you even standup to get to the car!"
"Well, it's your bloody fault for making me book a flight back to England! And of course I can stand," he says, attempting to rise and promptly falling into America. "America, you fool, stop falling into people!"
"Told ya you couldn't stand," America mumbles.
"Your gravity is rubbish because you drive on the wrong side of the bloody road, you git.
"No. We drive on the right side of the road."
"Also known as the wrong bloody side!"
"Hey, you were the one that fell. Not me."
"I did no such thing!" England laughs evilly. "Canada!" He calls into the next room.
"Oh crap," America mutters.
"Canada, your brother insulted your hockey team~! And he said that maple syrup was rubbish and that your bear isn't real!" England snickers as America attempts to pick him up , runs to the door, opens it, and drops England in the process. Canada appears, becoming visible as he gets madder.
America holds up his hands in surrender. "Bro, you know I would never say that!"
Canada snarls and starts a three-hour rant about America's shortcomings. England laughs as America winces. "Calm down," America orders both Canada and England.
"Russia," England calls. "Russia, America said that you were a fat commie!"
"Shut up, England," America shouts as Russia appears in his vision, dark aura gathering around him. "I never said that! Shit!"
"And he made fun of your relationship with Lithuania!" England continues as America tries to drag him away. "And he said you sister Ukraine was an idiot!" He laughs as America tries to push him off porch. "And he told Belarus where you are!"
"Shut, up, dude," America screams as Russia pulls a pipe out of nowhere, giving up on trying to remove England and drops him on the floor once more. "Calm the hell down! He's drunk and he doesn't know what he's talking about! Why are you people believing him? Both of you were here the whole time and I didn't say those things."
"See? They hate you too much to take your word for it!" England says.
"Kol, kol, kol," Russia gleefully agrees.
"Hate you, England," America mutters.
England starts to cry again. "I h-hate you too!"
America succeeds in getting England fully out of the house and closes the door behind them.
"Stupid America!" England whines. America throws him on the grass and England screams. "Ow, America, you idiot!"
"How does that hurt? That grass is soft as shit. Fail." America rolls his eyes as he succeeds in dragging England to the car and opens the car door.
England shows America his scraped knees and reverts back to 11thCenturyEngland. "What is this metal horse doing here?"
"Get in the damned car," America sighs. "It's not my fault that you got hurt. You're the one who got drunk. Oh, not again," America huffs, finally taking note of England's sudden change.
"France!" England screams. "This is your fault! Again!" He looks at America confusedly. "Who are you?" He asks, drawing his sword.
"Shit," America mutters.
"You trespasser!"
"England, it's me, America," America shouts.
"You'll be executed!"
"Calm down! I'm America, remember?"
"I don't know any America's! Who are you, you wretch!"
America eyes the sword confusedly. "Get in the car man," he shouts.
"Franceeeeeee," England calls. America rolls his eyes, getting into the car to see if England follows. "Francey pants, get over here! I know you can hear me in that wretched frog-infested country of yours!" America stares at England disbelievingly. "The only thing between us is the English Channel, I know you can hear me! Franceeeeeeeee!"
America gets out of the car, walks up to England, and proceeds to slap him once. England brings a hand to his cheek tenderly, reverting back to his normal self. "Ow, America, you git! What was that for?" He asks, eyes swimming with tears.
"You're drunk. Get in the car."
"No! I refuse!"
"Your plane?"
"My plane? What plane?"
"The one back home?"
England blinks, confused. He smiles brightly and falls into America. "I want to say here with you forever, America~"
"Maybe I slapped you a little too hard," America muses quietly.
Recovering quickly, England stands and brushes away imaginary dust. "America, you git, what are we doing standing about? I have a plane to catch!" America shrugs, getting into the car. England follows reluctantly. "Say, America, this death trap of yours, when did you last get it cleaned?"
America starts driving and looks over at England briefly. "Last week?"
England runs his finger through an inch-thick layer of burger grease and wipes it on America's shirt. "This is not a week's worth of burgers! Even for you!"
"Or is it?" America laughs at the way England's face contorts at those words.
England pokes America's belly. "America, you fat pig! Stop eating so many bloody burgers!"
"Dude, don't touch the hero! If I can't touch you, you don't poke the hero." America gently moves England's hand away, trying not to cause another change of character.
"W-why not? Aren't I s-special enough?" England bursts into tears.
America, who has grown used to England's crying phases, pats the smaller nation on the head. England falls into America's shoulder, sobbing, and America sighs. "Calm down."
"A-Americaaaaa!"
"Dude, I'm driving! Don't lean on me!"
"I don't care! I'll do whatever I please! I'm the British bloody Empire!"
"This is my car. My place. My rules. My airport to get you back home!"
"Mine," England pouts. "Mine! You were my colony! You still are! My America!"
"Well this is my land," America protests weakly.
"No! It's mine! You're mine!"
America tries to shove England off of him but fails. The car swerves and America quickly presses auto drive.
"America, watch where you're going!" England fails and hits the play button on the radio accidentally. Bad Romance starts playing and England reverts back to a childish Albion-state but somehow remembers America.
America finally succeeds in pushing England off of him and grabs the wheel again, turning off auto drive and the horrible song.
"Don't push me, you meanie!" England pouts. "America, where am I?"
America spares a glance at England, expression soften as he take sin the childish look on England's features. "Shush," he whispers softly. "You're in a car."
"W-what's a car?"
"A car is a thing that drives places. We're in a car," America says softly.
"W-what's drive? I don't wanna drive, it sounds scary." America doesn't answer for a moment and England panics. "A-America? I'm s-scared. We're in a metal box! And we're going really f-fast!"
"No, it's not a box. It's a car. And, yes, cars go fast."
"Is it a type of horsie?"
America slows the car. "Yes, but it runs on gas. And it's not alive."
"W-what's g-gas?"
"It's stuff that makes cars go."
"America, you're talking funny."
"Gas is for cars like food is for people," America continues, choosing to ignore England's previous statement.
"So, like grass? For the horsie?"
"No. Like gas and oil."
"But the horsie will be hungry!" England sobs.
"Shush," America whispers as England starts to cry.
"I don't want the horsie to be hungry!"
"Go to sleep. The horse won't be hungry."
"Y-yes it will! It n-needs g-grass!"
"This isn't a horse," America sighs, losing patience.
England starts to cry harder. "I want a horsie!"
"It's a car," America shouts.
"I want a horsie, America," England insists, equally loud.
"Go to sleep a dream about horses," America says, silently willing England to shut up.
"But I want a horsie!"
America sighs and slams his head against the driving wheel repeatedly.
After a long half an hour of England begging for a horsie, they arrive at the airport. England is still in Albion-mode.
"America, where are we?"
"At an airport."
"Why are they shiny birds all over the place? It's so noisy here!"
"There are planes."
"What's an airport? What are planes?"
"They're like cars, but bigger and they fly."
"America, I'm scared! Don't make me leave! I don't wanna go on the flying horsies."
"No, I'm goin' with you," America sighs, wishing he didn't have to. But he is now worried about England doing something stupid on the plane or maybe even missing his plane.
"R-really? It'll be all right if you're with me, America," England says happily, clinging to America's arm.
"You're too drunk to fly alone," America mumbles. America wonders if England really is still drunk, if he felt like this all the time, or if England was simply an unstable person on the inside.
England reverts back to his normal self. "What did you say, you wanker?" America looks down at England, who had made his way into his lap. "I'm not drunk," England insists.
"Yes you are," America says, lifting England off of his lap and depositing him on the passenger seat. "We're here, by the way."
"Well, I might be drunk, but you're... You're America! And Americans are stupid and fat!" England laughs evilly. "And! And! Russia is at your house and Canada is mad at you. So, ha!"
America shrugs, and hiding his fear that Russia might not decide to leave when he got back, began leaving the car and locking the doors.
England sits back in his seat, remembering the last few moments. "America, you wanker! You are not coming with me! I can't deal with you for another eight hours!" He shouts, hoping America will hear him outside the car.
America laughs, watching England's mouth moving but not hearing a sound over the noises of the airport.
England sees America laugh and pouts. He smiles evilly as an idea strikes him and takes out America's cell-phone, starting to call every country in the world that hates America.
America watches England fumbling with a phone and wonders if he should let him out of the car. He debates this for a moment before realizing the damage England could do with a cell-phone and grabs the door, almost tearing it off the hinges in his haste to open it. "No," America shouts, grabbing his phone and checking the call log to see that England has already called China, France, Germany, Poland, and Estonia.
England laughs evilly and pulls out his own cell-phone, quickly dialing the rest of Europe. America groans and calls everyone in his contacts list, shouting, "Disregard that, England was drunk," before hanging up abruptly.
England laughs. "They hate you too much to listen," England says, proceeding to continue a rant to Luxemburg about how horrible America is.
"America pulls England out of the car, smashing his phone on the pavement below. England runs away quickly, laughing madly behind him.
"Hey, England," America calls, turning around just in time to see the older nation streaking across the airfield, hopping into the cockpit of a British Airways plane, and taking off across the lawn.
America stands and stares at the last spot he was England at, mouth opened wide.
"Well, that could've gone worse," America muses, getting into the driver's seat and pulling out his cellphone. Going through the contacts, he silently wonders who wasn't in Europe and smiles brightly when he comes across Japan's name.
Dialing quickly, America shouts into the phone, "Hey, Japan, mind if I crash at your place for a few years? England just sent half of Eurasia on my tail and Canada really didn't need another reason to hate me. Hahaha!" Hearing Japan make a sound on the other end that doesn't sound angry, America doesn't wait for an answer before striking a hero pose and shouting, "'Kay, great. Imma catch the next flight to your house. See ya soon!"
At that moment, he remembers the fallen plate of burgers at home. He tries to remember what happened to it and doesn't recall anyone picking it up.
"Aw, crap my burgers!"
Back at America's house, things are getting strange.