DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia: World Series or My Little Pony.
It's Like a Reality Show, But Really Not
Chapter 4
Prussia is Not Allowed to Finish His Sentences
Well, this wasn't awkward.
"Uh…hi, Sweden. Or do you prefer being called that name Denny calls you? Sethierjey, or somethin' like that, I dun care. I'm tired, so I'm gonna sleep now. G'night…No, mummy, I don't wanna wear the green tutu, it clashes with my eyes…"
While America was having very strange dreams that made Sweden consider calling a therapist for the other nation when he returned home, Sweden waited the recommended two seconds before slapping the younger on the head then pulling his cowlick for good measure.
The following reaction for said cowlick-pulling is not for those too young to read hard-core yaoi fics. We'll just say America had a wet dream then woke up and cursed with a very colourful language that would make England so proud that he'd start crying the manliest tears ever and-
Okay, getting off topic.
Anyway.
America awoke, red-faced and slightly exhausted, half-heartedly glaring at Sweden with hazed blue eyes. "Don't do that! And why the hell are you…oh," the younger nation trailed off when he noticed that he was not in his chosen room, and he was definitely not in his own bed.
"I dun kn'w wh' y're h're. I j'st w'ke 'p 'nd y'u w're sl'ping n'xt ta me. I'd pr'f'r it 'f it w're m'wife."
America blinked, seemingly processing what Sweden had said (which was "I don't know why you're here. I just woke up and you were sleeping next to me. I'd prefer it if it were my wife," for all you silly, slow Americans.) Sweden pondered if America really was as dense as his stereotypes deemed him to be. His English was perfectly fine.
After a good thirty seconds, America blinked again with recognition in his eyes. He seemed happy with himself before he quickly turned embarrassed. "Ah…so…do you come around here often?" he asked nervously. In truth, Sweden was nervous-slash-surprised as well. It wasn't everyday he awoke with someone else in his bed besides Finland when said nation wasn't out sniping or at a hard-metal concert.
(He didn't count Denmark. Denmark was a different story. Denmark was always a different story.)
There is need for explanation, isn't there?
Well, it had all started 1388 on a cold Swedish day when the enemies of King Albert of Mecklenburg elected Margaret-the regent of Denmark and Norway-to be the regent of the parts of Sweden they owned. Sweden had immediately met Denmark and Norway, the former immediately declaring to him that he would untie all three countries under some fancy "Kalmar Union" and then ride them all like a motherfuckin' cowboy. (…Denmark was a troubled child bent on corrupting every country he knew. It honestly gave Sweden nightmares that couldn't be cured by hugging Mrs. Snuggle Bunny.)
Oh, wait, that isn't the explanation needed, is it?
It had all started earlier that day (which was the same day all of the past chapters took place for all you silly forgetful people) after England had found France, Russia, Spain, and Prussia playing Strip Goldfish while he was running from a curious America. Ironically, America had been chasing him because he was curious about what Strip Goldfish was, but that is so last chapter. Anyway, after the players had gotten dressed, they had gone off to find the other nations and-
Sweden sighed as America curled up at his side, already falling asleep again. He would've ignored the sleeping nation and return to his epic flashback of non-epicness, but since the authoress is too lazy to write the whole story in past perfect tense and writing everything as she was a paragraph above is incredibly boring and no fun, like, at all, you shall just enjoy the scene break to earlier that day.
"Amerika, g't th' f'ck outta my b'd."
"Wha-huh? Oh, hi, Sweden! Or do you prefer being called that name Denny calls you? Sethierjey, or somethin' like that, I dun care. I'm tired, so I'm gonna sleep now. G'night…No, mummy, I don't wanna hug the one-eyed, one-horned, flying-purple-people eater…it'll ruin my complexion…"
Cue cowlick pulling and R-18 scene.
Grace Raven: 1388 was a time of chaos in Sweden, but the same year that Demark and Norway were united under a child king. Sweden did not join the union until 1389, when King Albert was defeated and Margaret became ruler of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. Margaret was of Danish royalty and had a son named Olav who was the child king of Denmark and Norway. Olav died in 1387, but Margaret did not claim the tile of queen, deciding to only be the regent of the two countries and later Sweden. This is how the famous Kalmar Union was first formed. I tried to find an earlier time in which Demark and Sweden interacted, but this is the earliest I could find D:
Past perfect tense is when a writer writes a flashback but he/she is already writing the whole story in past tense. It's rather hard to write because if you carry it on for a long time, you may accidently switch into past tense or present tense. At least, that's my problem.
Oh, and Sweden totally sleeps with a bunny plush named Mrs. Snuggle Bunny. It's adorable and was given to him by a secret country. *coughdenmarkcough*
"You really are such a lady. Truly."
"SILENCE KNAVE!"
Wrong fanfic. Sorry.
"Do you mind getting dressed?"
"Ah, but mon ami, the breeze feels so good between my-"
"For the love of eyebrows, do not finish that sentence."
France pouted, much like the prepubescent teenager he was inside, if the fact that he giggled like a tiny mini-skirt wearing school girl at the mere mention of genitals (…maybe that's where America and Canada got it*) was any indication. But then his eyes gleamed in a very perverse way and he approached England. Oh God, why did France always insist on losing his shirt last while playing Strip Goldfish? For the love of scones, why? He didn't want to see…that bouncing up and down when France walked.
"Ah, mon lapin, why don't you play it with us, hmm? You could use a little breeze between your-"
"Get your fucking hands off my junk, frog."
"Challenge accepted~!"
"Say what now?"
Just then, a blur of white, blue, and black appeared in the doorway. South Korea panted, a victorious grin on his face, which was quickly wiped away and replaced with a horrified frown (horrified eyes now included!) when he saw the game being played in the room. "Nae nun! Cheonyeo nae nun!" he shouted in his silly Korean gibberish as he covered his eyes with his long sleeves and passed out on the ground.
Asians seem to have a liking to passing out. Interesting.
Prussia cackled even though he was once again forgotten by the author, along with Spain and Russia, but who cares about them? "Man, he just couldn't handle the awesome me, could he?"
"I think he couldn't handle your surprisingly small dick," Russia answered with his patented creepy smile. Prussia gaped at him before standing up and curling up in a corner with German emo music (which totally pwns the Spanish emo music played last chapter) that only he and Spain could hear, if it was any indication that Spain was now singing the exact same music playing in Prussia's head. The creeper. "You just don't know how awesome having a small dick is. It totally attracts the ladies!"
"Oh~, you mean like Hungary?"
And then Prussia did the most awesome display of manliness and broke down crying, his very raepable ass hanging in the air. ("…Who wants to dry hump him first?"**)
And it was at that moment that America finally found England.
"Hey, Iggy! Are you sure you won't tell me what-" America's eyes widened, as did his mouth, and what brain cells he had stopped working.
"Alfie, I would like to show you Strip Goldfish. That-" England pointed his thumb to Prussia, who was as naked as the day he was born or however the fuck nations come to be "-is an example of losing. That-" he pointed to Spain, who was now dancing the Macarena "-is an example of wining. Any questions?"
"My eyes! My virgin eyes!" America repeated South Korea's actions and covered his eyes with his sleeves and passed out, falling face-first on the floor.
Americans seem to enjoy planting their face on the floor. Very interesting.
"You can see why I didn't want to tell you now, can't you, Alfie?" England looked over to France. "Blimey, put on some clothes, would you? I've seen enough of Paris for a century, thank you."
"Ah, but Angleterre, we haven't finished the game yet."
"You have now. You have a loser."
"Ah, but now we have a new player~."
England's next action was a very painful one for France. We'll just say that getting kicked in your No-No Box while not wearing underwear (or pants for you silly British people) is not a pleasant feeling. "Put on some clothes now and I'll spare your dear Eiffel Tower from being squished."
And that was how England forced every player to put on their clothes and how South Korea and America woke up with the virginity of their eyes taken.
Grace Raven: South Korea and America yelled out the exact same thing, only in different languages.
*Yes, some maor head canon. America is, obviously, a perverted teenager who giggles at mentions of sex. Canada, though, has…let's say…gotten around much more so than America, so he usually rolls his eyes or blushes at any talk of sex. However, he still has his moments.
**France said this line :3
Oh, and all this "silly, -nationality here-" thing is just a joke. Just thought I'd clear that up before I potentially get flamed.
Also, if anyone got my reference to Barney from How I Met Your Mother, you win at life :3
"Shit…I'm so damn hungry. So not awesome, man," Prussia groaned, clutching his stomach and leaning his head against the back of Canada's shoulder, said nation mimicking his actions and holding his growling stomach.
"Ugh…you can say that again," the North American country replied, rolling his head to the side only to find his face meeting Prussia's stark white hair. He would've moved away, but he was starving and he could pretend that the white hair was snow that he was sitting in while eating a crêpe or some other silly French food.
"Shit…I'm so damn-"
"I didn't mean seriously. Geez, man, get a reality check, gosh."
"We're already in some sad excuse for a reality show. The last thing we need is more reality," Romano supplied before tucking his head in the crook of Spain's neck.
"…What?" Canada and Prussia asked at the same time.
"Fuck off and feed me," Romano answered.
"I could do both if you-"
"Shut the hell up or I will steal Spain's axe and cut off your manhood."
"Aw~ That's not nice, Romanito~! Even if he deserves it!" Spain exclaimed, his exuberant smile swallowing the sun and moon (meanwhile, the streets were being rampaged by people running amuck because it was the end of the world and My Little Pony) when Romano willing allowed his arm to fall on his lap and whispered an exhausted 'shut up, bastard, and find me some tomatoes'.
Prussia frowned at his really unawesome (that's a word now. Whatever Prussia declares to be true is true, got it?) friends. He looked over to Canada, who had zoned out of the conversation and was now nibbling at the ends of his white hair. "Hey, while I like the head massage, I would prefer it if it was my-"
"Finish that sentence and I swear I will call over Chuck Norris and have him roundhouse kick you in the face," America interrupted, glaring at the ex-nation from his place at a random table that was so very conveniently placed with South Korea, both nations mourning the virginity of their eyes. After an unhealthy dose of not blinking, the young country buried his head in his arms and then was promptly forgotten for the rest of the chapter because he's been in enough scenes for one story.
Prussia stuck out his tongue, hugging Canada protectively in a way to try and annoy America (damn it he came back). It didn't work, so the ex-nation settled for holding the starving blond.
England's eyes searched the room, scanning over Prussia and Canada (oh god, were they snuggling?), Spain and Romano (was Spain somehow managing to dance the tango without standing? Wow…didn't know Romano could bend that way), Russia and China (playing patty cake...aw…wait…what?), a slightly annoyed Germany and an enthusiastic Veneziano, a tied-up France, Denmark and Sweden (the latter of whom was using his smexy Swedish powers to quiet the Dane), and a moping South Korea and…who was that? England suddenly could not remember. Strange.
Several of the personifications were moaning-sadly not in a sexual way, which depressed England's inner voyeur-for food. And that was when England had a fabulous idea.
"I could cook something for everyone."
Everyone's reactions could only be described as this: pure, unadulterated horror.
"All right, all right, you wankers! I won't cook anything!" There was a collective sigh of relief that made England's eye twitch. "Besides, it's not like we have a bloody kitchen anyway."
"Ve~?" Veneziano-North Italy for you silly, forgetful Canadians-said, garnering everyone's attention. "But there is a kitchen, Inghilterra. That's how I made my PASTAAAA~" the Italian country said-shouting the last word until Romano pimp slapped him-, pulling out his silver pot of pasta seemingly from mid-air (much like that mysterious table).
"W-where is the kitchen, then?" Germany inquired, trying and failing to hide his excitement at the mere chance of eating food. His brother, however, was a different story, as he immediately stood up with Canada still in his arms, shouting "HALLELUJAH! FOOOOOOOOOD!" until he fell backward because Canada was too heavy for him ("Goddammit, Mattie, loose some weight." "Are you implying I'm fat?" "May-" Cue bitch slap.)
"Ve~ this way! Tally ho!" Veneziano exclaimed, scurrying off in the direction of the kitchen.
"That's my line, you twat," England whispered, begrudgingly following the group that had wasted no time to trail after Veneziano. (This group did not include France, who was busy untying himself.)
When they managed to reach the kitchen, they were all met with pearly white tiles, mahogany cabinet doors and table, and brass handles. Everything literally sparkled.
All of the nations screamed 'FOOOOOOOOOOOD' (except Prussia, who was kicked in the jaw the second he opened his mouth) and scrambled to search the refrigerator and cabinets, finding everything stocked full with provisions. Ignoring that this fact was utterly creepy, everyone (minus France, who was still tied-up, courtesy of England) began to fight over the stove and oven and pots and pans and other kitchen utensils to make their own food. Because the author is feeling lazy, we'll just say that their methods of fighting were very…interesting. As in, Romano acting like Veneziano and vuvuzelas suddenly not being played in the last World Cup game interesting.
After the fiasco, everyone sighed in relief-they're stomachs were finally full and they were all lying against the cold tiles in pure bliss. Yes, even France, who had entered the kitchen some time throughout their ultimate kitchen battle while re-enacting the Napoleon Years and utterly failing at it (of course, where was the surprise in that?).
"Damn…I could fall asleep right here," some random mofo said, snapping all the personifications from their overly-nourished state of being.
Oh yeah.
What were they going to do for sleeping?
And that was why they found themselves searching the corridors of the mysterious house for bedrooms.
It was Denmark and Spain who found the rooms first.
"My word, how did you find them, whatever-your-last-name-is?" Spain asked, suddenly wearing a monocle.
"Elementary, my dear Fernandez Carriedo," Denmark replied, suddenly holding a pipe.
Russia found the display simply hilarious.
Everyone else found Russia's laughter simply scary.
Sweden was indifferent and simply walked into one of the rooms, laid down on a bed, claiming it as his own. Because he's an awesome gay like that.
And that was how everyone found themselves a bed and why Sweden woke up in the middle of the night to America sleeping in his bed.
"Once ag'n: g't th' f'ck outta my b'd."
"Speak English."
That was a night America would forever remember as the night his cowlick was horribly abused.
Meanwhile, Spain was awakening for a midnight tomato run, but when his vision cleared, his eyes were greeted by the sight of an aggravated Germany.
"For some reason, I feel as though I should somewhat detest you."
"P-por que?"
"I have no idea. Something about fußball."
"…Interesting…"
Grace Raven: OMG YES I FOUND IT! THANK YOU, LIVEJOURNAL ;A;
