Author Notes: I made a thing. PruCan video to Avril Lavigne's song "I Will Be" - Not allowed to do links through ffnet but if you just go to youtube and look up "PruCan I Will Be" it should be the first one. It's not under my Reda1417 name because I made it on my ipad and my imovie was not letting me upload it to the correct google account. (Stephanie Wise) is the name of the account it's under. Have at it!

About this chapter? Uhm. Well, I'm not going to be writing from Prussia's point of view for...quite a while actually. Huh. He's in the process of recovery and I want to leave it open and unknown as to what he's thinking right now. So you can only wonder, like Canada, if Prussia is really recovering or returning to his old self or not. Yeah! Anywho. I ramble too much in these things. Also: this chapter contains lots of added scenes. Lots and lots of added scenes. My sister better enjoy it.

~!~

One Season

Part 2: Friendship Is Magic

Chapter 14

~!~

When the episode finished, Canada found himself staring at the screen as the ending song and credits rolled. His mind was a blur of confusion and excitement. After he had sat down and decided to focus on the episode for Prussia's sake, he might have accidentally found himself caught up in the action. Action. In a pony show. And suspense. And...

"Ve, that can't be it!" Italy voiced his thoughts exactly. "Germany! We need to watch the next episode!"

While Prussia cackled, Canada felt his face blush, finding that he was agreeing with Italy. But it wasn't because it was necessarily an amazing show or anything. It just had a cliffhanger. There was no way to end the episode in the middle of the storyline like that. What was going to happen next? Were the ponies going to be successful in their endeavors? Were they going to work together? What -?

"With that cliffhanger," Germany said, lifting the remote. "We have to."

Which only made Prussia laugh more. "See! I told you it was worth it!"

Feeling the touch of the man next to him, Matthew turned to his gaze away from the screen. He met dancing red eyes and felt his face blush hotter. White teeth flashed in the albino's signature grin and a pale hand gripped at his leg. Clearly, Prussia was curious and waiting for his reaction. Italy and Germany had already admitted to wanting to know more. Everyone already knew Gilbert was obsessed. Maybe they were all waiting on his verdict.

"Uhm," he whispered, looking away. "I want to know what happens."

A quick glance back showed the wide grin spreading even more, if possible. "Awesome. Rainbow Dash is best pony, right?"

Canada shrugged; he wasn't entirely sure what Gilbert meant by "best pony." Was he talking about in the show? Like, which one was the best as far as the other characters were concerned? Was it some trick question fans asked the new watchers to laugh at them later? Or was it something else? No, wait, Rainbow Dash was the one on all of Gilbert's pony shirts. Did that mean the loud, outspoken, rainbow colored pony was his favorite? Oh -

"I like the pink one," Italy giggled. "She's funny."

Feliciano's response caused Gilbert to tear his gaze from Canada and focus on the Italian though he was still hovering beside Matthew. "You know she's fucking insane, right?"

Italy huffed. "I still like her."

To Canada's surprise, Germany sighed and gave his own opinion. "Applejack is the only one with any sense."

"Applejack? Really?" Prussia exclaimed, before turning his attention back to Canada with a huff. "Never mind. I guess that makes sense. You would like her best. Hey, Birdie~ You like Rainbow Dash, right?"

Feeling the eyes on him now, Canada kept his attention on the floor and on his hands in front of him. The drink. He still had the hangover drink. Using it as the perfect distraction, he took a long gulp of the smoothie-like beverage. But when he came for air, Prussia was still on the edge of his seat, waiting for Canada's choice.

"Uhm..." he whispered, glancing to the television screen. "I haven't really decided yet. I like them all right now."

"Keh," Prussia said, sitting back. "That's such a neutral answer. What? Don't want to upset me 'cause you don't like Rainbow Dash?"

"Oh, uhm," Canada said, feeling his face flush. "N-no, it's not that."

As he tried to focus on the screen, tried to watch the show his lover was obsessed with, said lover started to laugh loudly next to him, successfully pulling all attention away from the pony show. "You remind me of Fluttershy."

At the pony's name, Matthew felt his face flush further. Fluttershy. The quiet one who was scared of her own shadow, but who was amazingly good with animals and incredibly kind. If there was a character he liked out of all of them, it was probably her. As much as Rainbow Dash had the fire and spirit that he admired, and reminded him of a certain Prussian, there was something special and cute about the super shy pony. He loved her voice, too.

While Prussia continued to laugh, Canada forced himself to watch the episode. It didn't take long for his eyes to become glued to the screen. More action. It was so unexpected to be worrying about the safety of these ponies. This was a cartoon for little girls. No one was going to die, but still, he wasn't too sure. By the end, he found that he was satisfied. It was a nice fantasy tale with real characters, but he wasn't dying to watch more. Not like the first episode.

Breathing a sigh of relief that he was over, he sat back and smiled at the eager red eyes. "It's good, Gil."

"Ja," he responded, grinning back. "It's awesome."

Seeing the Prussian rubbing at his head, he was about to comment that Gilbert should drink his hangover remedy. About to. Because a quick look to the man's pale hands showed the half empty glass gripped between them. Gil had been drinking the concoction. There would be no need to force him anymore. Apparently, the albino had been sipping on the remedy while the rest of them had been watching the show. It made him smile.

"What are you so happy about?" Gil asked, taking a gulp of the remedy without even trying to hide it. "You're staring at me and smiling. What's that mean?"

Canada felt his smile widen. "You're being good and drinking your brother's hangover remedy."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Being good. Like I'm praising a pet. Gil, I didn't mean it like that. Honestly – He blinked. Prussia actually looked pleased at the comment, basking in the glow of praise. Not scoffing or tensing or pulling away.

"Well," Gil said, "It's not half bad. Tastes better than that shitty wine."

"That wine was not shitty," Italy exclaimed, sitting up from Germany's lap and pointing a finger at Prussia. "You take that back! It was ages old and you guys wasted it."

"Keh," Prussia scoffed, sitting back against the couch and looking up at Italy without any fear in his eyes. "It tasted disgusting, so it was shitty. Just like any other wine."

Before Italy could snap off again, Germany hummed. "So. You did get drunk off the wine."

Watching Gilbert's face turn red, Matthew reached out to set a hand on his leg. He was trying to be comforting. Prussia did not like to admit to being drunk, but he had all but admitted as much now. Even if he grumbled a useless protest under his breath and drowned himself in the hangover smoothie remedy. Canada had already finished his glass, setting it off to the side of the couch, and he waited for Gil to finish his so he could take both glasses to the kitchen.

Maybe he could make some food...

At the very thought, his stomach growled and he felt his own face flush when the attention turned from Prussia to him. "Uhm. Sorry?"

"Ve?" Feliciano said, tilting his head, making the curl in his hair bounce. "Are you hungry?"

"Ja!" Prussia exclaimed before Canada could say anything. "I'm starving! You should make some of your pasta, Italy."

Weird. He was being super friendly and almost...flirty with Feliciano. Canada shook his head. He had to be imagining things. Besides, there was something more on his mind than Prussia's odd mannerisms. The very idea of someone else cooking food for him. It set off the old memories. He couldn't cope with it enough to eat something – no matter how hungry he really was right now.

"Non," Matthew mumbled, staring at his lap. "It's okay. You don't need to cook anything." He looked up, forced a smile for the bubbly Italian. "You and Germany already ate something, didn't you?"

"Si..." Italy answered, looking somewhat confused as he stood there, first finger in the air. "But I could make something just for you."

"Hey!" Prussia snapped. "What about me?"

"You don't get any," Feliciano said, huffing at the albino. "You drank all my wine."

Gilbert immediately turned on his whine. "Hey, it wasn't my idea."

"But you still did it and -"

"Really, Italy," Canada said, interrupting this conversation, not wanting Prussia to come out and say Canada had been the one to make the albino get so drunk on the wine; sure, it had been France's idea but Prussia had refused until Matthew asked. "I'm not hungry. Don't trouble yourself."

A stomach growl betrayed him yet again, and this one was loud, too. "Birdie?"

At Gilbert's worried voice, Matthew turned away. No, don't ask me about it. Just. Let it go away on its own. I'll get food when I get home. I don't need anything right now. I'm a nation. I don't need food, not as badly. I can last longer than an average human. I shouldn't have ever eaten that food they gave us in the prison. If I can suffer being hungry now, I could have suffered it then, too. Dieu, why...

"Birdie," a hand on his leg, a glance up to show red eyes hazed over. Why were they hazy now? "You need to eat."

Feeling his teeth dig into his bottom lip, Canada met those eyes and shook his head. "I can't."

The red eyes were hazing over more. The brightness was leaving. No, why was it leaving? Why were his eyes growing dimmer? The red shine disappearing over Matthew's problem? Why? Gil, really, it's not a big deal. I'll just go make something myself later. We'll head back to Canada tomorrow and everything will work itself out. There's no reason to get so...sad...is that what it is? You're sad, right?

"You have to," a hand squeezing his leg. "For me?"

He shook his head again. Why couldn't Prussia just drop it? They were making a scene now! "I – I can't!"

Taking a breath, setting his mostly empty glass on the floor, Prussia slid from the couch to the floor himself. The usually prideful albino got on his knees and grabbed Canada's hands. He met his eyes, then bowed his head. "Please."

Canada felt his eyes widen substantially Why? "Gil..." he whispered.

"Tell me what to do," Gilbert whispered back, keeping his head lowered, staying on his knees. "Tell me what I need to do to make you happy."

Happy? What? I'm happy – I'm just dealing with – wait – you're not doing this because of me, you're doing it because I'm distressed and she -

Anger bubbled to the surface and exploded without explanation. "Don't do that!"

The begging thing was bad enough, but then seeing Prussia flinch back. Feeling him tense before he dropped his hands to the floor, that was... "You should hit me."

Red eyes weren't even looking up. There was no defiance, no loud proclamations of awesomeness, no soothing promises to fix everything. No, instead Prussia was kneeling on the floor and begging Canada to be happy. No, begging Canada to tell him how to make him happy. Things had been so perfectly fine before, just seconds before. What set him off? Why was he – why was he – hit him?

"What?" Canada exclaimed, reaching out to cup Gilbert's face, lifting the man's chin, looking at those red eyes, seeing absolutely no shine hiding behind them. They weren't clear or bright; they were dim and dark. "No, why would I hit you, Gil?"

Red eyes met his, even though he could feel the man shaking underneath his fingertips. Shaking? Prussia? Mon Dieu, I can't believe this is happening. What's wrong with you, Gil? Why can't you return to normal? Come back to me. Be yourself. Why are you acting like this? What did she do to you?

"Because," Prussia whispered. "That's what she would do whenever I couldn't make her happy. Well, obviously I can't make you happy now so you have to hit me."

His heart hurt at the very words and he was holding back tears as he shook his head and ran his fingers through the silvery white hair. "No, no, Gil, I will never, ever hit you, okay?"

A tear escaped and Prussia flinched back when he saw it, pulling away from the comforting hands of the one trying to help him. "Then what are you supposed to do to punish me?" Sad, dim red eyes looked up at him. "I can't make you happy, Birdie. I'm supposed to make you happy. I -"

"Stop it!" Matthew snapped. "Don't talk anymore!" When he saw the man flinch and lower his head at Canada's shouts, he put a hand over his mouth and felt a tears welling; his lover was dealing with something serious, some piece of him broken, beaten, obedient and submissive beyond what was healthy. "Mon Dieu...Gil..."

How was he supposed to fix this? He tried to think of what Prussia had done for him in the past, what Prussia seemed to react to the most when it came to comfort. Nothing too obvious. Just being close when no one else was watching. Well, Germany and Italy were here, being absurdly quiet, probably in shock or letting Canada handle it for now. Dieu, what was he supposed to do?

Chewing on his lip gave him an idea. Lips. Kissing. Prussia loved his kisses. Maybe that would help. Maybe it would snap him back into reality. So he put a hand behind Gilbert's head, getting the man to look up. He leaned forward. He was a hair's breadth from crashing their lips together. A mere half second. Before he could even brush across the albino's beautiful lips, Prussia screamed and pulled back, throwing his arms up to knock Canada's grip off. The scream wasn't long, or really that loud, but it was a cry of utter horror and it chilled Matthew to the bone.

He watched as his lover pulled away from him. Crawled back away from him. Slid back until he was against the television set where he couldn't go back anymore. Canada stared at him. The normally brave, meet-everything-head-on brash Prussian was curling up on himself, hiding his face in his legs, hands in his hair. Shaking. Visually trembling.

"Gil..."

A whine. A whimper. Nothing else. No other response. It was like the man was experiencing a panic attack.

Oh dieu, he is...what have I done? What set him off?

Matthew's stomach growl was the only thing to break the silence. He didn't care, though. He had a hand over his mouth and another on his stomach as if he could shut it up. His lover – his Prussian – his micronation – was panicking away from him. Panicking because of something he had done. It hurt. Seeing Gilbert huddling and clinging to his own clothes for comfort, digging in his hair as he either relived memories or was trying to cope with the fact that his brother and Italy had watched such a revealing, embarrassing scene.

"Matthew," Germany's voice; Canada turned his head, not sure if he could stand looking at Prussia in his current state any longer; Ludwig's smile was warm if tight. "Give me some time with him. Feli," the German nation turned to the stunned Italian, who spun around immediately. "Why don't you take Matthew into the kitchen and get him some food."

Food...right...maybe I can...make something here...but what about Gilbert?

"Si..." Feliciano whispered, then repeated louder. "Si, Ludwig, but uh...is Gilbert...?"

"Feli," Germany said.

It was apparently all the Italian nation needed. The two shared a look. Canada tried to understand it, but to no avail. He simply watched as the German and the Italian embraced, and then Feliciano was at his side, holding out a hand.

"But, I," Canada tried to protest, glancing back at the silver haired, huddling mass. "Gilbert -"

"Ve~ Matthew, let Ludwig handle things for now," Feliciano said, grabbing Matthew's hand and tugging, managing to convince Canada to get to his feet. Once he was standing next to the Italian nation, there was a whisper in his ear. "Ludwig dealt with Gilbert after the wall came down. He'll know how to help him here. Trust him. Ve~"

One last look at Prussia. A long look at Germany. Something like this had happened before. France and Spain had said Russia hadn't broken Prussia, that Elizaveta had done something even Ivan couldn't do. But Italy was speaking like it had happened before. Like Gilbert had returned from the Russian's control just as broken. Feeling his eyes welling with tears, Matthew turned away and followed Feliciano into the kitchen.

Maybe Ludwig was the best one to deal with this new psychologically damaged Prussia after all.

Oh dieu...psychologically damaged...Gil, I want to fix you. I want you to feel better. I hope your brother knows how to help.

~!~

Italy led Canada into the kitchen, chewing on his bottom lip as he tugged the other nation away from the living room. He had an important job now. He had to distract Canada. Keep Matthew from worrying about Prussia. When he glanced behind him and saw the blue-violet eyes glancing back, shoulders slumped, he groaned. This was going to be hard.

"Ve, Matthew, do you like pasta?" He said, noting how his personal vocal tick was in full blast at the moment from all the stress. "I can make something real quick for you and-"

He cut off the last of his sentence. He'd been about to mention Prussia, too, but then thought better of it. Right now he had to distract Canada from Prussia. There was something weird about having to do it, like he was playing counselor or friend for a troubled marriage, talking to one while Germany spoke to the other. Except this wasn't a friend with a troubled marriage, or was it?

"I'd rather not," Matthew murmured, though he walked up next to the counters beside Italy, as if even he was trying to not to think of the huddled mass of an albino ex-nation – or was it micronation now? "I'm really not that hungry."

Putting hands to hips, Italy stood his ground on this silly lie. "You are too. I can hear your stomach yelling at you. If you'd rather make it yourself, that's fine. I can walk you through it, and hey~ you can learn a pasta recipe, ve~"

Blue-violet eyes blinked at him. "But, uh, I don't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble at all," Feli insisted. "It'll be fun. I haven't had the chance to share my recipes in a while. And you'll be making it yourself, so, really, there's no trouble, ve~"

Matthew seemed to consider it, chewing at his cheek, but then he smiled and nodded. "All right. I guess we can try."

While Feliciano went about the task of gathering ingredients for a quick twenty minute pasta dish, he sent occasional glances to the Canadian in the kitchen, who was watching him intently, and he was reminded of the reason he was playing distraction team again in the first place. Prussia. And the straining relationship between the two. He thought about it even as he chatted to Matthew about what to use for this certain pasta dish he had in mind.

This whole situation had happened because of Prussia in the first place. They mustn't forget that. Prussia was the one to leave Canada and follow Hungary in the first place. Everything could have been avoided if he hadn't done that. If their relationship really was going to get better, they had to accept that the current state of Prussia was in actuality his own damn fault.

So, maybe, he should treat it like a troubled marriage. Even if the two people in question weren't officially married. Nations very rarely got married, after all; the only ones he knew for sure were Sweden and Finland and of course Austria and Hungary in the past. But still, even without marriage, they were couples and they normally took their relationships seriously, especially nowadays.

So. How to fix the problem of Prussia and Canada?

Italy hummed to himself as he worked, bringing Matthew over to get him involved in the cooking, teaching the Canadian little secrets but making sure the man saw everything he did or did it himself. Maybe he should treat them like a new couple, because after everything they were almost starting over again. They'd only been together for a few months anyway; it wasn't like they had the history that he and Ludwig shared. There was very little history to hold them together, so the best solution would be to make some new history.

Feliciano nodded and smiled, telling jokes to Canada to keep his attention on the task at hand instead of the underlying problem. He was pleased when Matthew laughed, blue-violet eyes lighting up as he worked on the pasta dish.

Once, Italy had been placed on a distraction team to save Canada and Prussia from the one-world-government extremists. Well, he had other ways to play distraction, too. And hopefully it would help.

Still, while Canada was focused on the pasta dish, Italy slid a hand into his pocket, fingering the rosary that rested there for special situations. He always kept it on him, and a prayer to Mary should help. At the very least it made Feliciano more confident.

~!~

Ludwig Beilschmidt could now clearly remember the tumultuous days after the fall of the Berlin Wall. Every detail of that particular day, night, and the days after returned to him in vivid memory. His brother embracing him after climbing over the rubble, but only after Ludwig made the first move when before Gilbert had always jumped forward first. His brother crying when before he had never shed tears, declaring them childish and weak and laughing at how easy young Germany let himself fall into sadness when there was so much to be proud of instead. His brother hiding behind the couch or curled up in a corner at a too-close-for-comfort touch or a harsh spoken word that seemed to pull him away from the present when before Gilbert had laughed and mocked the very idea of psychological disorders caused from the perils of war or the results of relationships gone wrong.

Those days had been brutal and tense. Ludwig had walked around his own house feeling like he was stepping on egg shells, not wanting to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing, not wanting to create any situation where Gilbert's reactions would happen before his mind could hold them back. Prussia had always been the one to show his optimism in the face of defeat, standing tall and proud, taking the blame for atrocities not his own as well as those crimes he had committed himself in the past. Prussia had always been the one to walk around shouting to the rooftops about how awesome he was, the person and nation to admire for being true to himself and loving his own image.

To see him like this, curled up and flinching back at memories or nightmares that weren't actually present...

It was no wonder Canada had been on the edge of freaking out himself. Germany had been completely clueless the first time he'd encountered this side of his brother. He'd had no idea what to do, how to help him, though he tried. He kept him isolated, hoping it would cure itself with time, and with time it seemed to work.

Prussia had come back to him, grinning and laughing at things on the television, creating a mess in the house when Germany was away simply because he'd wanted to rough house with the dogs. His crazy antics had grown and he'd left the house on his own, prancing around glowing on his own self-absorbed image of awesomeness, even without a nation to call his own. He had seemed comfortable with his strange existence, pestering the other nations, joining France and Spain for nights out, annoying Germany and Italy when they'd wanted moments of peace.

Yeah, things had gone back to a semblance of normal. For a time. To be honest, Ludwig was still not sure how to handle the depth of his brother's psychological trauma. He did not know what had happened to Gilbert beyond the wall, what horrors Ivan had inflicted upon him to cause such panic. If he had known the causes, it might have been easier to grasp a good enough solution. Getting Gilbert to talk about his problems, though, was impossible. The proud Prussian would never admit or accept his moments of weakness, brushing them off as imagination of his brother or jokes or any excuse that would keep him from exploring the depths of his own soul.

Germany had only seen such moments, such panic attacks, when his brother had been home, even hidden away by himself. Sometimes Gilbert would shut himself in the basement and refuse to leave, though Italy had suggested that Prussia was addicted to the internet, Ludwig had always worried it could be something more. When his brother had finally found someone to love and return his love, Ludwig had breathed a sigh of relief, glad for one that he would not have to put up with the strange antics of the albino ex-nation, and also hopeful for his brother's well being if he could be under the care of someone as pleasant as Canada.

Now things had taken a different turn, a turn for the worse, and Ludwig was once again here to attempt to pick up the pieces of his broken brother. His first instinct was to stay away and leave Prussia to himself, to let him hide away and work through the problems himself. In the past, that's what he had done, after all, but since those days when Prussia's issues were at their height, he had done some research on how to handle someone experiencing a panic attack. If that was indeed what Gilbert was experiencing...maybe he could do a better job this time.

So, Ludwig slowly got out of his chair and went to kneel down beside his brother, reaching out to set a hand on the man's shaking shoulder. "It's okay, bruder. No one here is going to hurt you. No one here is upset with you."

To his relief, Prussia appeared to relax a bit, though his face remained hidden, buried in his arms and knees. There was no sound of sobbing, and for that he was grateful. But the fact that Gilbert had acted up here in front of Canada of all people probably had him stressed for another reason on top of whatever else was causing him problems.

Germany decided he would simply continue to rub his brother's shoulder, gently and soothing, reminding himself of times when Prussia had calmed him in similar ways. Every nation had its moments. Prussia's was just...entirely unexpected and exceptionally erratic.

"It's okay," he repeated. "I sent Italy and Canada to the kitchen. He's going to get some food. Feli will probably make enough for you, too, because you need to eat as well. I'm the only one here right now."

That helped him to relax a lot, proving Germany's suspicions true, or at least somewhat true. "West?"

"Hm?" Ludwig tried to keep the smile out of his voice. "Feeling better?"

Finally, red eyes peeked out from his arms, a head of white hair lifting up to rest against the television stand. "Ja. Danke."

A smile, forced and fake, but all the same enough to show Prussia was trying to be normal again. It hurt him a little to know that even Gilbert saw his situation as abnormal, as something to be ashamed of, something to hide and cover up. He wanted to tell his brother that it really was okay, that it could happen to the best and least expected of people. That almost everyone had something to deal with on one level or another.

A part of him also wanted to berate his brother for his foolishness that caused this whole mess in the first place. He held that back for sure, but he did want to smack him upside the head again for creating such a distance between him and the Canadian that could help him. Canada was angry and assertive now, unsure of how to handle the sudden lack of loyalty when everyone had assured him Gilbert would be incredibly loyal. Angry, assertive, and who knew how he would handle the turmoil Gilbert suffered now. Perhaps that's why Prussia had gotten so upset over his reaction; not only could he not "make Matthew happy" but he probably felt he'd be interrogated for an explanation.

And Gilbert did not want nor need someone interrogating him right now.

Ludwig sighed as the red eyes stared back at him, seeing the smile and knowing Prussia was trying to ask something without actually asking. "You want me to leave, don't you?" A nod. "All right. I'll leave, but you need to pro-" he cut the word off; promise would be the wrong thing to say right now. Clearing his throat he tried again. "Why don't you wash yourself up and we'll have some food ready for you when you get back?"

"Ja," Prussia breathed, running a hand across his face. "Sounds good."

There was so much he wanted to ask. So much he wanted to question. Why, why, why did you do this to yourself? Why did you go to Hungary and open up new wounds? Why leave the one person you could trust?

But he couldn't berate his brother, not right now, and he had to talk to Canada alone so Matthew would understand, at least a little bit, of why he couldn't interrogate Prussia either. Maybe Italy in all his romantic wisdom would have an idea to help them. For now, Germany did the best he could.

He helped his brother to his feet and gently pushed him toward the bathroom, pretending nothing weird had happened after all.

~!~

A/N: Whooo okay serious shit, brah.

-Recall: there is a sickness going around the nations, or so it was hinted at. Hah. Now you know. Hungary has shown what this sickness does, and Prussia has suffered for it. Big time. Why did I make Prussia out to be a victim when he chose to go off with Hungary and leave Canada behind? Because I knew what was coming. Sorry.

-Canada and the aversion to food: I may not have been the one roleplaying Canada, but I understand where he's coming from here. Okay, no, I haven't had anyone poison my food before, but I have experienced finding a live bug in my salad in my favorite fucking restaurant. I couldn't go back to that restaurant or eat salad (especially not in a restaurant) for a long, long time. Like seriously long time. Canada is, I think, experiencing a similar aversion. Having problems trusting any food that he doesn't see prepared himself. I think it's perfectly psychologically correct, but eh...when you only have your own experiences to go off of, it's a maybe?

-Speaking of psychological issues: Prussia is probably experiencing some kind of PTSD at this point (I think? Maybe more than that?). Anything that could possibly remind him of his super-submissive role under Hungary (or Russia) sets him off and he's desperately doing what he can to keep Canada happy, for reasons he somewhat explains. Only trick here is, we're not in his head, so there's no way to know what sets him off and what doesn't.

-Yay psychology. Totally willing to get advice for whether or not I'm portraying things correctly or what could actually be wrong with them. I'm doing the best I can with the knowledge I have. Honest.

-I've started keeping little %-complete tracks on my profile for each upcoming chapter, so it will be easier to track where I am. I judge off different word counts for different stories and it's more of an estimate, but you can at least use it to have some idea of whether I'm making progress or not. I got the idea from one of my favorite fantasy authors Brandon Sanderson.

-This A/N is rather long and rambling but I do like to comment on what I've written, hoping it will spark some response in reviews? Should I try review replies again?

~I do appreciate and love all reviews/alerts/favorites/etc~ I read reviews more than once sometimes just to get me in the mood to write more; they really do make great motivators and I love hearing your thoughts! Any ideas on what could happen next or if PruCan are ever going to be back to "normal" or if something else is going to come of this current on-and-off relationship setting? Also, any brewing thoughts on the one-world-government and what's going on? Ideas for why Hungary really went off the deep end there? (Of course they explained the micronation thing and urge to claim Prussia as her own micronation because of past history, but she is still a little crazy for how she's usually portrayed, right?)

~Reda