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hetalia2010-05-26 04:07 pm
livefree-eatu.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2010-05-26 04:07 pm
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[Fanfic] It's Like a Reality Show, But Really Not (2/?)
Title: It's Like a Reality Show, But Really Not
Author: livefree_eatu/Grace Raven
Characters/Parings: England, America, Russia, France, Canada, Denmark, Sweden, S. Korea, China, Germany, Romano, N.Italy, Spain, Prussia. Today's pairings are USUK. Enjoy it, cuz that's all the USUK you'll get out of me.
Summery: It wasn't the first time they'd been trapped together. No. They'd been snowed in, etc., but never trapped in one large house with no memory of the night before or where they were. Chaos could only ensue.
http://livefree-eatu.livejournal.com/616.html#cutid1
In Which Everyone Fails to do Anything Productive
(And the Authoress Uses the Dying Joke Too Much)
England was sure he'd die of heart attack by the end of the day. First the lamp incident and now the appearance of one of the tallest (and scariest) nations he had ever met. Just the mere presence sped his heart up. Oh well, at least he'd get to bring America down with him.
Then again, this wasn't a horror story, so there was no hoping for the death of any character…
"Damn commie bastard! Now I have to worry about you getting Mattie drunk with that shit you call Vodka so you have a better chance at pulverizing him in the rink and England trying to feed us all his damn scones!"
…unless the murderer went by the name the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland…
"Hello, Америка. I see you are doing well."
…or—if that smile was anything to go by—the former Soviet Union.
Either way, America was destined to die before England croaked of sudden heart attack, which would, no doubt, be caused by France. And the only way to save his life and the world's economy* was for him to belt up soon.
Which everyone knew wasn't going to happen anytime in the next thirty seconds.
England made mental plans to sing God Save the Queen at America's funeral. Just to spite him.
…
Because he deserved it.
Oh, just get back to the story.
"I'd be doing a lot better if you weren't here, du—" The northern nation was cut off by a sharp hit to the head. Strangely enough, not by a rusted and bent up pipe, but by a hockey stick. Yes, a hockey stick. Yes, Canada's prized hockey stick. Yes, the same one he used to beat America in the most recent Winter Olympics. Yes, Canada was using his favorite hockey stick to hit America up-side the head. Yes, the usually calm, quiet, passive-aggressive nation had become rather hostile.
England blamed France. Because everyone in the world knew that anything that went wrong with Canada was France's fault. It was all in the language.
"OW! What the hell, Mattie?"
"You brought this on yourself, Al."
"Did you have to hit so hard?"
"You have a dense head. I need to hit hard to get through."
"Not that hard!"
"Says who, mon frère?"
"Says my aching brain! Which is probably internally bleeding now, thank you very much."
Canada didn't dignify his brother's (rather dense) comment with a response, choosing to deliver another blow to his head before stomping off. America hit the floor, his mumbled curses and whines about his brother being a "tête de merde" being heard through the hardwood. Somehow, Canada heard his brother (twin telepathy? No one shall ever know), and yelled back from somewhere in the halls "Oh yeah? Well you're una perra!" This, in turn, forced America off the ground with lightening fast speed as he yelled back "Oh hell naw!" and ran after his northern twin.
Throughout all this, Russia had been giggling, but when America had stood up with a rather noticeable face print of the floor, the large nation went to the precipice of howling laughter. He finally burst when the two brothers caught up with each other and started fighting in two different languages, Canada using Spanish, America using French, and sometimes vice versa. Spain and France winced at some of the insults, while at others a quick smirk appeared on their faces.
But that was beside the point. What truly was relevant was that Russia was currently curled up in a ball, on the floor, laughing his big-boned ass off.
Crap.
"Russia's gone crazy! Run!" Prussia shouted, running as fast as he could out the door, only to collide face first with a wall, leaving a nice indent in the plaster. Denmark took Prussia's advice and ran as well, miraculously making it out the door without incident, only to repeat the albino's actions and collide with a hallway wall. Strangely enough, he began crying about his leg hurting instead of his face like Prussia was currently wailing over.
Sweden gave no care and simply poked Russia with a stick—no, not a hockey stick this time—earning himself the title of the bravest man ever in every personification in the room's eyes.
(A few seconds later, though, Sweden high-tailed it out of there.)
South Korea was surprisingly unfazed (of course, he had North Korea for a brother) until China hugged him to his chest while shaking in fear, the former immediately passing out from blood loss.
France, Germany, Spain, and the Italy brothers cowered in a corner. France was having a hard time deciding which air-head to grope: Veneziano—who he would face the wrath of Germany for touching—or Spain, which would ensure the wrath of Romano and the damn Italian mafia. Decisions, decisions.
England himself was desperately trying—and failing—to become invisible like Canada while standing flush against the farthest wall from Russia. In his head he was thinking things such as "If we all die because Matthew and Alfred made Ivan laugh, I'm going to kill Alfred a hundred times over and tear out all his fucking organs then decapitate him and take his head to the English Channel and place it on a fucking—" and a bunch of other British things no one really cares about.
Finally, Ivan took a breather and lain himself across the floor. A bubble of a giggle emerged, rattling the other (still conscious) nations. "Ha ha…those two are so funny, da? I wish I had a brother, not a sister who cries all the time and a mentally insane sister…" At that moment, his happy mood turned sour and a dark aura, a familiar "Kol kol kol" filling the room.
The primal instincts that apparently even nations had surfaced in every personification—minus Russia—and they all sped out of the room, jumping over the huge nation as to not get trapped. Spain pulled a frightened Prussia (who the author mysteriously forgot about and blamed all the maple syrup Prussia'd been having with his pancakes) from his own place on the floor, dragging the ex-nation out of there.
However, Ivan had managed to capture himself one prisoner: France. Farewell France, you will not be missed.
~~~~~~~~~~
Matthew groaned irritably, impatiently listening as America insulted him several times over in multiple languages**, all of which he could understand. (He didn't include the random use of American sign-language. That was just plain unfair.) He was just about to turn around and give his brother a taste of his own medicine when said brother was suddenly hugging him, bending his knees slightly as to be shorter than his equal in height brother.
"A-Alfred? What's wrong?" he inquired, shaken by his sibling's sudden alarm. Sure, he was used to it when they watched horror movies together, but Alfred had never embraced him in such a manner when not watching a horror film.
"D-d-do you h-hear what I hear?"
"Other than that cheesy line…" He was about to say 'no' when he finally heard the echoes of Russia's howling laughter in the hall. "…Yes," he squeaked, holding his brother closer.
"…Oh God..."
"W-what is it?"
"What if we're the reason Ivan's laughing like that?"
Canada's breath hitched in his throat. "Damn, you're probably right," was all he was able to say before his voice died on him.
"If we really are the reason Ivan's laughing, Arthur's gonna kill me. A hundred times over. He gonna tear my fucking organs out then decapitate me and take my head to the English Channel and place it on a fucking—"
Matthew quickly covered Alfred's mouth with his hand. No need to think of that at that current moment of time.
Besides, if anyone was going to kill Alfred in such a manner, it would be him. He called first dibs two centuries ago***.
"I'm scared," America's muffled voice stated, said nation's hand grasping Canada's arms.
"M-Me too," Canada answered, curling slightly when Russia's laughter momentarily became louder. He didn't want to die yet! He still had things to do! Like cook the biggest pancake ever and build a house out of hockey sticks and actually be unkind to someone and make himself known and conquer America!
Oh, wait…the last two tied in with each other. Oops.
The brothers were just about to get to the heart-wrenching confessionals and apologies and blah blah blah when a skinny figure came crashing into the two, sending them to the floor.
"What the fu—Oh! Hey, Iggy!" America greeted, ignoring his brother who he was currently crushing. Sure, he and America were actually rather equal in strength****, but with the added weight of England, Matthew found it impossible to push them off.
England took a few deep breaths, green eyes wide as they studied America's face. Within a few moments, the European nation was hugging Alfred for dear life, shaking against the larger nation's body.
"W-wha? Arthur? What's wrong?" Matthew could practically hear the blush that had risen on Alfred's face. Matthew sighed. After a century of dancing the doesy-doe around their unresolved-sexual-tension, he would've been ecstatic for the two finally getting together. However, he wished they didn't resolve their attraction towards each other when he was squished underneath them.
(He started mentally preparing himself for any noises that began to come from above him.)
Meanwhile, America hesitantly placed his arms over England. It was beyond awkward to have to comfort your former father/big brother figure. The only thing that lessened the mood was that he, America, was somewhere around twice the size of Arthur. But still. "Um…Artie? Are you okay?" Damn, why did Arthur have to feel so nice in his arms?
"I-Iv…Russia," Arthur whispered into Alfred's shirt.
"What about Russia?"
"He…he was laughing at you and Matthew, and then he became upset over his sisters…and now he's pissed off!" Arthur whined, watery green eyes now staring into Alfred's blue.
Alfred's jaw dropped and at that very moment, a familiar "Kol Kol Kol" filled the hallway. Within seconds, America was standing with England thrown over his shoulder and the hood of Canada's red hoodie in his hand and he was off running into the imaginary sunset.
(Hello! I'm your really long Author's Note!
Америка - America - Russian
Mon frère - My brother - French
Tête de merde - Shit head (but for the lulz, lets pretend he called Canada poopy head :D) - French
Una perra - A bitch - Spanish
*This is an inner joke of my own. I know that most countries depend on the world market, and America is a big player. I'm also aware that there are other countries that the world depends on market-wise, hell, here in America, if China's economy goes down 2 points, ours falls with it. I'm sorry if this line sounded weird/stupid/close-minded.
**It's my personal head-canon that both America and Canada are very good at speaking multiple languages because of their high immigration rates. Not many of the other nations know of this, and the only other nations that can speak several languages are those who were big on expedition or colonization or also have high immigration rates. Those with big tourism rates know other languages, as well, but just not as well.
***I know no one else got this joke, but I'm referencing 1812. Canada wanted to literally kill America in such a fashion. His exact words were "I'm going to fucking kill Alfred a hundred times over. I'm going to tear out all of his fucking organs and decapitate him and take his head to the Atlantic fucking Ocean then place it on a fucking—" before England cut him off. Yes, America, England, and Canada have a secret love for saying fucking a lot.
****It's also another part of my head-canon that Canada and America are equal in strength, military (which I count as body strength) wise. Alfred just knows how to exert his muscles more so than Matthew because he works out more than Matthew, so if he was in the same position as Canada, he could push off the two people lying on top of him, but Canada couldn't because most of the working out he does is lumber-jack work and hockey.
Okay, end of notes. Now for the actual Author's Note. I'm not too proud of the beginning scene because it's really similar to the first chapter, but trust me, that won't happen again. This is in the Mystery Genre, so things are going to stop being so fail-tastic funny as they are now. They have no memories, remember? ;]
Please feel free to throw in a request for a character to appear next or a pairing you want to see. This story is paringless and has no thought up plot at the moment, so help if you will!
Please review! I only have 3 reviews on this chapter on Fanfiction! I'm saddened by it...;^;
Author: livefree_eatu/Grace Raven
Characters/Parings: England, America, Russia, France, Canada, Denmark, Sweden, S. Korea, China, Germany, Romano, N.Italy, Spain, Prussia. Today's pairings are USUK. Enjoy it, cuz that's all the USUK you'll get out of me.
Summery: It wasn't the first time they'd been trapped together. No. They'd been snowed in, etc., but never trapped in one large house with no memory of the night before or where they were. Chaos could only ensue.
http://livefree-eatu.livejournal.com/616.html#cutid1
In Which Everyone Fails to do Anything Productive
(And the Authoress Uses the Dying Joke Too Much)
England was sure he'd die of heart attack by the end of the day. First the lamp incident and now the appearance of one of the tallest (and scariest) nations he had ever met. Just the mere presence sped his heart up. Oh well, at least he'd get to bring America down with him.
Then again, this wasn't a horror story, so there was no hoping for the death of any character…
"Damn commie bastard! Now I have to worry about you getting Mattie drunk with that shit you call Vodka so you have a better chance at pulverizing him in the rink and England trying to feed us all his damn scones!"
…unless the murderer went by the name the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland…
"Hello, Америка. I see you are doing well."
…or—if that smile was anything to go by—the former Soviet Union.
Either way, America was destined to die before England croaked of sudden heart attack, which would, no doubt, be caused by France. And the only way to save his life and the world's economy* was for him to belt up soon.
Which everyone knew wasn't going to happen anytime in the next thirty seconds.
England made mental plans to sing God Save the Queen at America's funeral. Just to spite him.
…
Because he deserved it.
Oh, just get back to the story.
"I'd be doing a lot better if you weren't here, du—" The northern nation was cut off by a sharp hit to the head. Strangely enough, not by a rusted and bent up pipe, but by a hockey stick. Yes, a hockey stick. Yes, Canada's prized hockey stick. Yes, the same one he used to beat America in the most recent Winter Olympics. Yes, Canada was using his favorite hockey stick to hit America up-side the head. Yes, the usually calm, quiet, passive-aggressive nation had become rather hostile.
England blamed France. Because everyone in the world knew that anything that went wrong with Canada was France's fault. It was all in the language.
"OW! What the hell, Mattie?"
"You brought this on yourself, Al."
"Did you have to hit so hard?"
"You have a dense head. I need to hit hard to get through."
"Not that hard!"
"Says who, mon frère?"
"Says my aching brain! Which is probably internally bleeding now, thank you very much."
Canada didn't dignify his brother's (rather dense) comment with a response, choosing to deliver another blow to his head before stomping off. America hit the floor, his mumbled curses and whines about his brother being a "tête de merde" being heard through the hardwood. Somehow, Canada heard his brother (twin telepathy? No one shall ever know), and yelled back from somewhere in the halls "Oh yeah? Well you're una perra!" This, in turn, forced America off the ground with lightening fast speed as he yelled back "Oh hell naw!" and ran after his northern twin.
Throughout all this, Russia had been giggling, but when America had stood up with a rather noticeable face print of the floor, the large nation went to the precipice of howling laughter. He finally burst when the two brothers caught up with each other and started fighting in two different languages, Canada using Spanish, America using French, and sometimes vice versa. Spain and France winced at some of the insults, while at others a quick smirk appeared on their faces.
But that was beside the point. What truly was relevant was that Russia was currently curled up in a ball, on the floor, laughing his big-boned ass off.
Crap.
"Russia's gone crazy! Run!" Prussia shouted, running as fast as he could out the door, only to collide face first with a wall, leaving a nice indent in the plaster. Denmark took Prussia's advice and ran as well, miraculously making it out the door without incident, only to repeat the albino's actions and collide with a hallway wall. Strangely enough, he began crying about his leg hurting instead of his face like Prussia was currently wailing over.
Sweden gave no care and simply poked Russia with a stick—no, not a hockey stick this time—earning himself the title of the bravest man ever in every personification in the room's eyes.
(A few seconds later, though, Sweden high-tailed it out of there.)
South Korea was surprisingly unfazed (of course, he had North Korea for a brother) until China hugged him to his chest while shaking in fear, the former immediately passing out from blood loss.
France, Germany, Spain, and the Italy brothers cowered in a corner. France was having a hard time deciding which air-head to grope: Veneziano—who he would face the wrath of Germany for touching—or Spain, which would ensure the wrath of Romano and the damn Italian mafia. Decisions, decisions.
England himself was desperately trying—and failing—to become invisible like Canada while standing flush against the farthest wall from Russia. In his head he was thinking things such as "If we all die because Matthew and Alfred made Ivan laugh, I'm going to kill Alfred a hundred times over and tear out all his fucking organs then decapitate him and take his head to the English Channel and place it on a fucking—" and a bunch of other British things no one really cares about.
Finally, Ivan took a breather and lain himself across the floor. A bubble of a giggle emerged, rattling the other (still conscious) nations. "Ha ha…those two are so funny, da? I wish I had a brother, not a sister who cries all the time and a mentally insane sister…" At that moment, his happy mood turned sour and a dark aura, a familiar "Kol kol kol" filling the room.
The primal instincts that apparently even nations had surfaced in every personification—minus Russia—and they all sped out of the room, jumping over the huge nation as to not get trapped. Spain pulled a frightened Prussia (who the author mysteriously forgot about and blamed all the maple syrup Prussia'd been having with his pancakes) from his own place on the floor, dragging the ex-nation out of there.
However, Ivan had managed to capture himself one prisoner: France. Farewell France, you will not be missed.
~~~~~~~~~~
Matthew groaned irritably, impatiently listening as America insulted him several times over in multiple languages**, all of which he could understand. (He didn't include the random use of American sign-language. That was just plain unfair.) He was just about to turn around and give his brother a taste of his own medicine when said brother was suddenly hugging him, bending his knees slightly as to be shorter than his equal in height brother.
"A-Alfred? What's wrong?" he inquired, shaken by his sibling's sudden alarm. Sure, he was used to it when they watched horror movies together, but Alfred had never embraced him in such a manner when not watching a horror film.
"D-d-do you h-hear what I hear?"
"Other than that cheesy line…" He was about to say 'no' when he finally heard the echoes of Russia's howling laughter in the hall. "…Yes," he squeaked, holding his brother closer.
"…Oh God..."
"W-what is it?"
"What if we're the reason Ivan's laughing like that?"
Canada's breath hitched in his throat. "Damn, you're probably right," was all he was able to say before his voice died on him.
"If we really are the reason Ivan's laughing, Arthur's gonna kill me. A hundred times over. He gonna tear my fucking organs out then decapitate me and take my head to the English Channel and place it on a fucking—"
Matthew quickly covered Alfred's mouth with his hand. No need to think of that at that current moment of time.
Besides, if anyone was going to kill Alfred in such a manner, it would be him. He called first dibs two centuries ago***.
"I'm scared," America's muffled voice stated, said nation's hand grasping Canada's arms.
"M-Me too," Canada answered, curling slightly when Russia's laughter momentarily became louder. He didn't want to die yet! He still had things to do! Like cook the biggest pancake ever and build a house out of hockey sticks and actually be unkind to someone and make himself known and conquer America!
Oh, wait…the last two tied in with each other. Oops.
The brothers were just about to get to the heart-wrenching confessionals and apologies and blah blah blah when a skinny figure came crashing into the two, sending them to the floor.
"What the fu—Oh! Hey, Iggy!" America greeted, ignoring his brother who he was currently crushing. Sure, he and America were actually rather equal in strength****, but with the added weight of England, Matthew found it impossible to push them off.
England took a few deep breaths, green eyes wide as they studied America's face. Within a few moments, the European nation was hugging Alfred for dear life, shaking against the larger nation's body.
"W-wha? Arthur? What's wrong?" Matthew could practically hear the blush that had risen on Alfred's face. Matthew sighed. After a century of dancing the doesy-doe around their unresolved-sexual-tension, he would've been ecstatic for the two finally getting together. However, he wished they didn't resolve their attraction towards each other when he was squished underneath them.
(He started mentally preparing himself for any noises that began to come from above him.)
Meanwhile, America hesitantly placed his arms over England. It was beyond awkward to have to comfort your former father/big brother figure. The only thing that lessened the mood was that he, America, was somewhere around twice the size of Arthur. But still. "Um…Artie? Are you okay?" Damn, why did Arthur have to feel so nice in his arms?
"I-Iv…Russia," Arthur whispered into Alfred's shirt.
"What about Russia?"
"He…he was laughing at you and Matthew, and then he became upset over his sisters…and now he's pissed off!" Arthur whined, watery green eyes now staring into Alfred's blue.
Alfred's jaw dropped and at that very moment, a familiar "Kol Kol Kol" filled the hallway. Within seconds, America was standing with England thrown over his shoulder and the hood of Canada's red hoodie in his hand and he was off running into the imaginary sunset.
(Hello! I'm your really long Author's Note!
Америка - America - Russian
Mon frère - My brother - French
Tête de merde - Shit head (but for the lulz, lets pretend he called Canada poopy head :D) - French
Una perra - A bitch - Spanish
*This is an inner joke of my own. I know that most countries depend on the world market, and America is a big player. I'm also aware that there are other countries that the world depends on market-wise, hell, here in America, if China's economy goes down 2 points, ours falls with it. I'm sorry if this line sounded weird/stupid/close-minded.
**It's my personal head-canon that both America and Canada are very good at speaking multiple languages because of their high immigration rates. Not many of the other nations know of this, and the only other nations that can speak several languages are those who were big on expedition or colonization or also have high immigration rates. Those with big tourism rates know other languages, as well, but just not as well.
***I know no one else got this joke, but I'm referencing 1812. Canada wanted to literally kill America in such a fashion. His exact words were "I'm going to fucking kill Alfred a hundred times over. I'm going to tear out all of his fucking organs and decapitate him and take his head to the Atlantic fucking Ocean then place it on a fucking—" before England cut him off. Yes, America, England, and Canada have a secret love for saying fucking a lot.
****It's also another part of my head-canon that Canada and America are equal in strength, military (which I count as body strength) wise. Alfred just knows how to exert his muscles more so than Matthew because he works out more than Matthew, so if he was in the same position as Canada, he could push off the two people lying on top of him, but Canada couldn't because most of the working out he does is lumber-jack work and hockey.
Okay, end of notes. Now for the actual Author's Note. I'm not too proud of the beginning scene because it's really similar to the first chapter, but trust me, that won't happen again. This is in the Mystery Genre, so things are going to stop being so fail-tastic funny as they are now. They have no memories, remember? ;]
Please feel free to throw in a request for a character to appear next or a pairing you want to see. This story is paringless and has no thought up plot at the moment, so help if you will!
Please review! I only have 3 reviews on this chapter on Fanfiction! I'm saddened by it...;^;
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I love how Arthur's thoughts are... well... changing at the beginning, and those author's notes inside the story (like forgetting Prussia and stuff xDD)
Seriously! I first was like "omg... what is THIS? Chaos!" but then... I read on and... I was like "omg! this IS chaos! But it'S kinda addicting!" x'D
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Can't ever get enough
crack-tastic storieschaos xDno subject
hell, yes! My cousin can write stuff like that, too, it's awesome, but I can't... I'm too German, I guess, I need some... order xD'
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Well, we're just gonna have to fix that, won't we? (pulls out random...something or other, i can't think. Food on the way)
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*lol* the funny thing about this is, I'm pretty chaotic... and kinda messy? I only keep order in my head... xD
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...SOMETHING IS WRONG, THEN. It should be the other way arrrrrounddddd
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"South Korea was surprisingly unfazed (of course, he had North Korea for a brother) until China hugged him to his chest while shaking in fear, the former immediately passing out from blood loss."
I laughed.
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I don't know if it's because this is filled with so much crack or because I am overly exhaused, but I couldn't stop laughing. I've been so busy and needed a good laugh and reading this was all it took. This is made of so much random win and I... oh, this is so embarrassing... I think I love you. -blush blush- ♥
I can not wait for the next chapter!
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