A/N: Hello, newcomer here! I'm looking to get better, so feel free to leave constructive criticisms and I'll be able to take it. Don't worry about a five page rant on why my writing's perfect; I'mma big kid now. I got my big kid pants on.

Now if you criticize my beautiful choice in word font, however, then there's issues... Joking, joking. And don't worry, I didn't forget the most important part of an A/N (at least for those of you who didn't skip this):

I hope you enjoy reading this!

Warnings: This is a story about the events leading up to the American entry into WWI, and thus, American views, not the European PoV. Sorry, the APUSH test got to me and since I genuinely like history, I need to blow off some steam so the entire subject didn't get tainted by the test. And since I know American history the best, this was born. Also, there will be a curse word here and there.

I mean no disrespect to the loss of lives that happened as a direct result, and I apologize if I cause offense.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the clothes on my back and three books. Not Hetalia.

Yeah. There was a war in Europe.

Man was he good. Despite the fact that he was alone, America preened at his perceptiveness. Heck, he would've done it in front of those warmongering Europeans. Freedom has no limits and the day he'd start listening to what they were saying would be the day he turned Communist. You might be able to prosecute we the people for expressing such emotion in monarchical Europe, but in the Land of the Free, sweet Home of the Brave? He prosecutes people for limiting such freedom!

Grinning, he breathed in the sweet smell of liquid willpower (coffee), and kept his eyes on the newspaper sitting on the table. Today was definitely going to be a good day. Not only was it a sunny day in the good old US of A, it wasn't the stifling humidity that sometimes occurred in mid-spring that made it feel as if he were wading through water. The breezy air was blowing in through an open window and it carried the smell of... well, admittedly of factory smoke, but there was still that fresh grass from the park down the street. And the best part was that it kept his apartment cool for free. In fact, the temperature was perfect.

Setting the coffee down, he absentmindedly began stabbing his breakfast eggs and bacon, scanning the newspaper on his table. With one hand propping his head up, he flipped to the sports column to see how long his talent of fortune-telling would last with a jaunty smile. It was the middle of the baseball season and he missed a game or two on the radio thanks to work, and while the score on a piece of paper is obviously far less exciting than hearing it on the radio, at least he would know what happened. Maybe the team he guessed would win had won. Who knows, maybe he even had super-predicting-powers? Scientific predicting powers, not spirit-fingers-over-bowls-of-water-conjuring-fairies, of course.

Maybe that was called 'gut instinct' but superpowers sounded way cooler.

But... the team lost. "Aw come on!" America muttered through a mouthful of glorious greasy bacon, jaunty smile faltering before springing back almost instantly. "America loses... but America wins!" he cheered.

Yep, today going to be a good day. Whistling a cheerful tune, he cleared the table, grabbed a light and casual springtime jacket and walked out the door.

This was probably punishment for forgetting to read the funnies.

His hand was cramping up even though he only wrote like twenty words and the stupid and perfect sunny day outside was taunting him. America groaned as the words started floating around the page from the eye strain, and he pushed himself away from the table, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. His president, Woodrow Wilson, was pretty amazing, especially how he wanted to spread democracy. But he still had to write a neutrality proclamation to tell the world that he didn't want to be involved in their affairs, as usual. And lo and behold, the world's largest case of writer's block descended upon him and he didn't want to disappoint the rest of the editors by writing absolute crap. Seriously, he couldn't let down his citizens.

So inside he goes, writing something that everyone should already know. Actually, if he thought about it, none of this was Wilson's fault. It was Europe's fault, like everything else. If they just kept their hands to themselves and not went to war to murder each other, America would be running around in a park by now. And there would be more people to enjoy democracy with eventually because the Europeans weren't busy murdering each other.

God, the room felt stuffy. America went to open the window letting in the dazzling light from heaven taunting him from his dark purgatory of an office. The wind rustled in and felt like a cool touch on his face. He stood by the window for a beat longer than he needed, threw a wistful look at the green, green lawn, and swept back to his seat, the legs protesting loudly against the wooden floor. The one sentence on his paper looked pathetic and lost in the expanse of white and said: This country, the United States of America, refuses to join the war in Europe, in the interest of preserving peace for the world.

It was half crock, and it's kind of hard to justify neutrality in the interest of preserving peace when the war already broke out. But he and the editors were going to remove any charged language and make it politically correct and the rest of the world was going to argue against it anyway—if they even cared; it's not like he had a large standing military thank God—because he showed some 'bias towards his own country' or some equally crock reason. War is all about ganging up on the other side, and though verbal support is great, they all would rather prefer a couple million guns and your whole military instead. Especially the military, like, the entire thing.

And maybe, just maybe, he wrote that because he did kind of wanted more peace and democracy in this world, for all nations. Maybe. Of course, he would whisper that to himself in a small voice into his stuffed teddy bear Teddy Roosevelt gave him before he went to bed, if he even did something ridiculous like that at all. And he didn't.

But he was not denying have a teddy bear. Teddy bears weren't ridiculous, they were as manly and awe-inspiring as TR himself.

Wilson was right. War was stupid, and since the European nations were really intent on having a war, who was America to prevent the freedom for them to do what they want? It's not like it was his fault that some archduke of Austria's was killed and the rest of Europe decided to join in. They were dancing in the streets in joy for this war. Peace was clearly not an option for these people so someone had to take the higher road. But there wasn't any harm in dreaming of something better.

The thing is, America wasn't really an idealist. He thinks of an idea and makes it a reality, pulling himself up by his bootstraps if necessary, and what's wrong with a good attitude? So he'll stay out of the war, for himself and for the world and turn his 'idealism' into some good old American realism.

Hopefully, they'll see America living it up in literal peace and think that maybe murder wasn't the best idea they've ever had.