Just a heads up, one of the things that makes this Truth and Dare book different from others is that they can only complete it in a humanly amount of time. For instance, England's baking dare didn't happen right away. He took time to make those scones. One more annoying comment, you guys can send blackmail to the countries, since your dares are getting more and more embarrassing. I'll make sure they read it away from the others. Thanks for the all the reviews! Cheers!
England tread down the hallway, grumbling with his shoulders low and his chin sinking to his chest. He hadn't meant to burn those scones like he had all those other times. England knew he was an amazing cook, it was just America and those stupid mass produced products. Some appliances were bound to go awry eventually. Despite any past mistakes in the last hour, all he wanted to do was sit down and finish his book. It was just revealed that the man on the mire was-
He opened the library door and saw The Hound of the Baskervilles had been moved to the coffee table next to the stiff couch. England moved swiftly over and remembered the book used to be resting against the leg of the chair before he left. Sabotage! And, as he concluded when he opened the book back up, a few extra place holders. Paper scraps twirled to the ground as if time was reversing itself back to autumn. Treating the slips with the same uneasiness he had around bombs, England scanned over the words printed and realized that his name showed up more than enough times. Using a few curse words unique to his nation, England speed-walked out of the library and back to that infernal kitchen.
It was as if they'd never left the World Conference room back in D.C. only a day ago. Dining room seats were fixed around the table in a half-hearted mess. Other chairs were dragged in from other places around the house. The situation cleanly stated was this; Grab your own chair or sit on your knees. Now, the problem was that they needed another table. America fixed this and pulled out a teensy-tiny one used for the micro nations whenever they came over. Although this was never spoken out loud, it was technically the "Kid's table" you see when loads of family members come over for dinner and the children have nowhere else to sit and the elder's talk wasn't meant for impressionable ears. Funny thing was, among others, Turkey was stuck at the dinky table. Other than that, the meeting was a go.
England had long since fished out the letters for other prying eyes, and the countries were doing just that. Those mentioned in the notes either grimaced or sat back thoughtfully. Germany took the reins of the meeting again with a swift glare and a cough.
"It seems as though this- or should I say these, mystery people have struck again. This time leaving behind a plethora of requests. Every one of you," He swept his stern eye around at the group. "Will have to complete whatever it says. No objections. Right, we will begin now. Has everybody read the notes?" No response. "Gut. Japan, start please." Japan seemed startled, but picked up a paper at random.
"This is from Marzue."
"Another mystery person?"
"Are they all one and the same?"
"Are they all from one of us?"
"An opposing force?"
"Guys, if this was an otherworldly force, that would be so cool. But clearly they aren't. We have yet to receive peace offerings from them. Don't aliens do that?"
"Please, let me continue." The chit-chat stopped. "They say that they have a few questions for everyone. America-san, 'How do you feel with the knowledge that nearly half of your states, mostly in the Midwest, are called "Fly-over" and states are forgotten and ignored by the rest of America and the world?'"
"Hey!" America sat up and slammed his hands down on the table, his mood changing drastically. "If you asked some guy in North Dakota if his state was relatively unimportant or usually not mentioned, I'd imagine he would get pretty pissed. Even with the tech we have these days, people in Virginia don't usually get the news over in California! Every single state is important! The U. S. of A. wouldn't be able to survive without every state coming together and forming an entire country! Some people just don't remember this fact. The entire motto of my originality would change if I was only made up of those first thirteen states. Just because you don't hear about what's up in another state doesn't mean it's not there or unimportant. There are people there who are doing good for the world, and they shouldn't just be ignored. Heck, in Europe, do the people who live in Spain learn about the things going on in Greece? Not unless anything bad happens!"
"America," England replied flatly. "You do know that we are our own separate countries? Of course Spain wouldn't hear about anything happening in Greece."
"Yeah, well, you guys are so small!" He whined. "Britain could fit into L.A. or Florida, like, fifty times."
"But we're much older and more experienced than you. Carry on, Japan."
Japan did. "This is for everyone. Who has made the best type of music? And what type of music? Jazz, Rock and Roll.' Marzue-tan refuses to accept rap or hip-hop as an answer."
England snorted in an ungentlemanly fashion. "Punk rock, Arctic Monkeys and the Beatles. Done" He sat back with an air of haughtiness.
America rolled his eyes. "Glad to know you have your opinions. Personally, country music kicks butt. I can't choose an artist, but I like Johnny Cash. But, I guess I really miss the times when jazz was super popular."
It was no surprise Austria pitched in next. "Beethoven and anything classical, of course. And he did come from Austria."
"Wasn't it Germany?" Said nation begged to differ.
"We could just say he's from France." France cowered under a few glares. "Fine fine! I like Chanson Française, anyways."
"You know what? I really like those guys who played for me in Eurovision!" Italy said.
"I remember that. I should have won."
"We came really close, though."
"It's been a while since I could count my points with my fingers."
"Tch, should have been awarded more."
"No kidding. Some countries were so totally teaming!"
"What's a Eurovision?"
"Quiet, you fools!" Germany yelled. "We've come to discuss the problems of the present, not the problems of our past," Somehow this seemed all too familiar. He switched tactic. "Never mind, Japan, continue please."
"Hey, Germany! I just realized that band played pop! Can I have a different answer?"
"Just be quiet, Italy. Japan, please."
"Hai. Britain, 'How do you deal with all the different accents people in England have? Does you accent often change? And if so, why does it change? Does it change due to emotions, or levels of tiredness for example? After all, every twenty-five miles the accent changes noticeably."
England sat back and put a finger to his chin. "You know, in all the years that I've lived, no one has ever asked me that, and I probably thought about this at least once. Strange, really." He sighed loudly. "I had a different accent once. I think it was a while ago."
"Back when you stole from any ship not flying under a British flag!" Spain and France choked at once.
"No, no. Those were the pirates."
"And then you awarded them afterwards!"
"Shut up, Spain, you twat. I guess the difference between then and now is that people saw me differently. Recently, I believe I have more of a stereotypical cockney accent. Back then it was only noticeable enough to differentiate me from the other accents. Now, people who don't know about the world think of the British as though they carried around a top hat, cane, and monocle all day. And the cockney accent fits right in with the whole look. Not to say that some Britons don't talk like that. Although, I've probably slipped into a few different accents from time to time."
"You so do. The more you yell, the more British it sounds. When you're distracted, it's like you're using your tongue and the back of your throat more to talk."
"Oh really?"
"Yes really. Your accent just kinda flows into the other and you can't notice it until a minute later when you think that you couldn't have possibly sounded that Scottish before."
"Scottish?" England mistook the speaker to be America.
"Well, not Scottish. It's like a hybrid…" America finished lamely and hushed himself, shrugging at England. England turned his attention to Japan.
"Last truth," For better or for worse. "'France and Britain. While it is often commented upon the fact that Americans are often attracted to English accents, it is less commented upon the fact that English people are often attracted to French accents. Not supposed to be shippy, but what are your thoughts on that?'"
"Hold on, Japan," England asked, "What does 'shippy' mean."
"Er," The Asian country seemed confused. "It is a term fans use for pairing their favorite characters together." Now why would this person talk about pairings? A puzzle indeed.
"Pairing?"
"Characters?" France was more concerned that they were all being looked upon by these note writers as character. He couldn't care less who was "Paired" with him. "I think that is tres bien! It is true, you know, French accents are sexy. Apparently the English notice it specifically."
The only Englishman in the room was now burning a bright red. "It's not sexy! Haven't you heard all the times I yelled at you for skipping the "H's"?"
France shook his head. "Now, now, who's the person who greats everybody with an "ello" each morning? I've never heard any "H's" on that word. Besides, we all know you cover up feelings with yelling. You're only proving more and more what you really think."
"No, no that's not right! Your accent is just…! It's just… Alright, so it's somewhat a fact that French accents are," He struggled to keep a straight face and a clean tongue. "Alluring in some way. But! That does not mean that it is "Sexy"." England used his fingers for quotation marks incase France didn't get the message. The other nation was happy, though. That was the biggest confession he'll get out of him on this topic.
"Now we are on to dares." The room became still. Each country had the prospect of either doing something embarrassing, or forfeiting the blackmail to the public. Each one of them was stuck between a rock and a hard place. "Let's do the quickest ones first. Russia," Russia became alert. "Hug Belarus. 'Give her a biiiig hug.'" Russia looked a little sick.
"All right. Hey Belarus?" Belarus was already prepared. Awkwardly, Russia spread open his arms and enveloped her in an odd hug. Belarus propped her cheek on his shoulder.
"I love you big brother."
"Eheh. You don't really mean that, do you?"
Belarus tugged on his scarf and nearly choked the nation. "I know you want to get married, married, married, married…!"
"Okay, I am done now." He relinquished his hold, but Belarus didn't. He sat down with her still attached to him.
"Norway, you are dared to sing What does the Fox Say?"
Denmark, who was right beside him, laughed. "I want to see this so much!" Norway promptly tugged on his shirt collar and strangled him. Denmark rubbed at his neck.
"Fine." Conveniently, America was already searching up the Karaoke version. He was pumped for this dare.
"Ready, dude?" He started the video.
Suddenly, the sound of voices and electronical music started up.
"Dog goes woof, cat goes meow, bird go tweet and mouse goes squeak." Norway gazed around imploringly at the group. "Cow goes moo, frog goes croak, and the elephant goes toot. Ducks say quack, and fish go blub, and the seal goes ow ow ow. But there's one sound, that no one knows," He inhaled sharply. "What does the fox say?" He said the following without as much gusto as the original singers had previously. "Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!" As he continued with the song, Greece felt that it was necessary to dig around in a little bag he had handy and scoop out a cat headband. Not quite a fox, he reasoned, but still good enough. Silently he slid them onto the victim's head. "What's the fox say?" Norway made an unintelligible sound and repeated it. "Big blue eyes, pointy nose, chasing mice and digging holes." Everyone watched without even trying to stop their smiles. He neared the end of the song, and suddenly, Denmark stood ready. "I know you're hiding, what is your sound? Will we ever know? Will always be a mystery, what do you say? You're my guardian angel, hiding in the woods. What is your sound?"
Denmark, of course, cheered Norway on by adding the rap.
"I want to know!"
"Bebidibumbumbedum!"
The first thing Norway did was sock Denmark in the jaw. Secondly, he disposed of the cat ears, then sat down. "I'm not going to do that ever again."
All of the Nordics doubled over with peals of laughter as Norway sat in a sticky shame.
"Next," Japan had no need to speak loud. What happened to their fellow nation could happen to them. "France?" Japan blanched at the words. "You're supposed to run around screaming 'Help! I've lost my voice and I don't know where to find it!" He looked up, puzzled. "France?"
"Er, sure?" France laughed nervously a bit. "This is a bit odd."
"Yes, but get on with it because I want to see this." England leaned back in his chair to get the perfect view of the entire room.
France took a deep breath, and then another, each one hesitantly. "Help!" France yelled and a few cringed or flinched. "I've lost my voice and I don't know where to find it!"
"Now run!" France did, a bit oddly at first, but then broke into a full out dash as he charged from corner to corner.
"I've lost my voice! I don't know where to find it! Help! Help!" England caught the hem of his purple cape.
"You can stop now." Breathless, France returned to his seat.
The last two dares were read out and Japan requested that several other countries should time their devices to ring in ten minutes. Germany was to switch personalities with Italy, and vice versa. However, England and America were to do the same with their accents. Germany seemed unsure, but Italy was already starting.
"Soldiers! Count ofv! Vone, too, three! I make terrible sausages and I'm too harsh! My vomen are terrifying along vith my tourists!" He still sounded Italian. Italians were Italians, and Germans were the Germans, there was no merging two entirely separate cultures.
"Italy, the time hasn't . . ." Austria, Greece, Turkey, and Hungary tapped their devices.
"All ready! Go ahead!" Hungary nearly squealed.
"Bollo- oh I meant crap!" England seemed to be trying to form his words at the beginning of his mouth, and was trying to speak much faster, which was turning out to be a terrible mess.
"My dear sir, you're doing it wrong. Yes sir, you're doing it terribly rubbish."
England opened his mouth wider, attempting to crush his accent with pure volume and force. "You sound like a totally," There was a grimace at that bit. "Posh as heck stereotypical movie actor. You pronounce your 'A' like 'Ah'."
"Pardon moi,"
"We don't speak French."
"It was formal though." America puffed out his chest and relaxed his voice. "Hhhmmm. So, wot dao yaow think ouf thehs?"
"I choose not to comment."
Meanwhile, "Italy" tapped on "Germany's" shoulder. "Germany, Germany, Germany! Football? Do you wanna play football? Football~ Let's play football, football Germany, football!"
"Are you vanting me to gas you?" "Germany" smiled brightly despite what he said.
"Italy" looked about done with his minutes. "Pasta, pasta! Constant cooking and tomatoes! I can't even open my eyes! Ah, um, oh no! White flag! White flag!" Despite Germany's efforts, he could not pronounce any 'W's'.
"Ahrn't aye sao British?" America laughed.
"Are you trying to butcher my accent? Kill it? Dispose of it violently?" England just about lost his grip on the accent. "Frick, crap, frick, Ahhhaaahaa, so American! Lord my pride. May it rest in peace." He strained to keep his pitch high. "Freedom, stripes, eagles, what the hell am I supposed to say?"
America shrugged, starting to pick up on England's idea at tackling the accent. "Pay attention taow me mohre. Tea, tea bags, top hats. Wot wot, sirrah. All that posh rubbish nonsense. Yes, yes. Tea leaves, tea in general, tea crates, Boston, wot wot. Uhhuuh, Sherlock Holmes. Twenty-one Baker Street? Twenty-two Baker Street? Wibb-olly Wobb-olly timey wimey. Ahooo frick me taxes."
"You think of taxes whenever you think of me?"
"Err, chow, or whatever. Bella, buona fortuna?"
"Yup! I mean, that's quite right!"
"I'm a biiig, scary German!" Italy tugged at the corner of his mouth and fake threw a bomb.
"Times… up." Greece stated.
"No it's not! I still have a second!" Turkey yelped, knees scrunched to his chest because of the dinky seat and table he was at. "Now it's done!"
"We'll go with my time, then. Well, I'm done." Austria clicked his old phone shut.
"Mine must have been a little late!" Hungary smiled. "I still have a minute to go!"
"Well, I'm done. America, don't ever try being British ever again." Germany, however, just sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"I like being Italian, but I feel so robust being German! Like I can break rocks!"
"That's enough of the last dare. We have more papers to answer to, you know." Switzerland was already holding one. I believe this is addressed to me, from Emily. Yet another code name, perhaps?" Switzerland peered at Lichtenstein right next to him. Not many countries were female. He hated to suspect one of his own, but in this situation you could never know. Emily sounded an awful lot like Lily, Lichtenstein's nickname. Although, it was blatantly obvious it wasn't sent by her after he read the truth out loud. "'Has your peace prize been revoked, considering you threaten to beat people up with it? And how would you react if you got signed up with anger management?"
Someone in the crowd snorted. "I agree with Emily."
"Keep quiet when it is not your turn!" Switzerland closed his eyes, inhaling. "For one, a peace prize cannot be revoked. A human earns the peace prize, it's just that most Swiss win. If you were to revoke my prize, then you'll have to revoke all twenty-six of them. And no, I do not need to be put on anger management. I'm not even going to consider reacting to it. It's just that some countries venture too far onto my property. I gave them fair warnings." France and Italy shrunk down into their seats. "Who's next?"
"Someone pick a paper up." Out of the corner of everyone's eye, they barely noticed Canada reaching for a slip of paper. Spain dove in, grabbing one first.
"bruh! Hola, bruh, whoever you are!" Spain shouted the dare loudly. "I dare the Bad Touch Trio and Canada to do the Jingle Bell Rock dance from Mean Girls!" What's mean girls?"
"Why were you yelling so loud, idiot?" Romano puffed his cheeks.
"See? It's all in capital letters. It was meant to be yelled, so I yelled it. So what is this dance?"
"Pulling up a video… Now!" America slammed his extraordinarily large tablet down on the table. "Mean Girls is just a show at my place. Anyways, watch the video!" America clicked the screen. Four girls dressed in trampy Santa Clause skirts pranced on the stage, doing very feminine dance moves to go with the song. The video was turned off immediately. No one knew who closed it.
The Bad Touch Trio snorted.
"I don't mind learning something so… flirtatious?" France said.
"Hell yes, I'm so doing this!" Prussia practically roared, grabbing the other two by the neck. "We're practicing now!"
"Ulp, I'm fine with whatever you want to do! Just please don't choke me to death." Spain begged and got out of his seat on his own. France wormed out of Prussia's elbows. Suddenly, weight was placed on Canada's shoulders.
"We can't forget you!" France dragged Canada away, who, for once, wanted to be left alone. Prussia and Spain could be heard dancing off, and Canada's scraping shoes echoed to a stop.
China accused, "Why on earth would any of them want to do something so silly?"
"I know that Prussia has got it into his head that if he can do better than what the dares ask him to do, he'll "Out dare" and "Out awesome" the rest of us."
"That's stupid."
"Well," America read another dare. "'I also dare Korea to sleep with a running fan in the room. Ninilia.' Won't he die from lack of oxygen? Don't fans suck oxygen?"
"No, you're swayed too easily by rumors, America." England lightly scolded. "It's just-"
"Hsst!" America poked him and pointed to his lips, then to Korea.
"Oh my gosh. Do I have to do this? Isn't this suicide? I don't want to die! Da-ze! China! You can't possibly let them, or me, go through with this!"
America cleared his throat. "I believe I have a fan in the basement. Would you like me to help you find one?"
Korea pouted and his curl drooped. "No, I'm fine. Don't call me if I'm needed." He padded off in the wrong direction, but at least out of the room.
"In the last five minutes we have lost five countries." Iceland reasoned, a bit of a dark hint to his voice. "Who's next?"
"Hopefully no one." Germany had the last request in his hand before it could be grabbed. "It's from that BlackNoblesse again." He squinted his eyes. "China, you have to kiss Russia on the lips." It was said so subtly that only China, Russia, and Belarus got the dare.
"If you kiss him, big brother, I'll never forgive you!" Ice dripped from her tone. Russia shivered. If this dare became any worse (Although, how could it?), no blackmail will stop him. So what if they saw him in that? It wasn't as though he wanted to put his photo on a stake on the middle of the tables for all to see, however.
"No! I refuse!" China blew his last nerve. "I haven't been given a separate dare yet, and this is what happens? You can't expect me to go through with this!"
"For my sake, China, you will have to." Russia wasn't smiling.
"Is your blackmail that bad?"
"Da, but at least this is forced. It is not like it is being caught on camera."
China stood up and nearly broke the leg of the chair in anger. "I will not! I do not care about stupid blackmail! I care about my pride!" Russia was having none of it, who walked forward and gently placed a kiss on China's lips, promptly walking away and deciding that none of this ever, ever happened. Belarus finally jumped Russia and violently clung to his neck.
"Howdareyouhowdareyouhowdareyouhowdareyou!" It took Sweden to pry her off his back.
"'m sorry, Belarus." Finland gave a nervous cheer.
"You only did what you had to,"
China tugged at his maroon collar. "Aiyah, why is the room so quiet? People, start talking!" Half attempted chitchat rippled through the crowd.
"What happened to all the talking disappearing through the entire meeting?" Italy whined. "It's a bit scary. We're usually arguing all the time!"
"You have a point, Italy-san."
"Ya, you're right. That is why I'm deciding to never have a meeting like this again."
"Huh?" The nations were taken by surprise.
"It's just that it would be more efficient if we did the dares on our own, instead of having to stand up and do them in front of others. Unless the dare or truth explicitly states we should be in front of others, we'll only put ourselves in ridicule." He coughed and decided not to risk a glance at Russia and China. "Also, its nine p.m. already. We have new sleeping arrangements now, don't we?"
"I'll go find Korea!" America made for a dash but was halted by England.
"I hate to bring this up, I really do, but you have your own arrangements to bother with. Like whether or not you'll be sleeping in Russia's room or yours. Germany, can we leave now?"
"Yes. Meeting adjourned." Finland stretched and stood up, guiding Sealand, who'd been a pain for the entire Nordic group to keep quiet during the conference, to his room so everyone else could retire for the night.
"I'll make myself a cup of tea. Goodnight, everyone."
"Oui, I'll follow you. Except, I might grab myself some wine…"
"Then you'll be up all night!"
"I never said I wanted to sleep."
"Don't mess with me! You and your "Beauty rest"!" The two left with the sound of their argy-bargy drifting behind.
"It's kind of nice to leave and not have that idiot Spaniard on your tail all the time. Pick up the pace, fratello, let's leave."
"Aww, but I wanted to stay up with everyone else!" Italy frowned, waving goodbye to anyone left. Japan bowed, Hungary hurried off, and Lithuania was the last to straggle on off, along with Poland, who was avidly discussing opinions or whatever came to his brain. That left no one as the two shut off the lights, dimming the room along with its scattered chairs and extra tables, prepared for whatever shenanigans happened in the morning.
