entranceway | ( video )

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[ He wakes up and he's back in Wonderland, and all those foggy memories snap into place. They still stick together like pages of a book that's had soda spilled on it, so it's impossible to separate them chronologically after so long away. But the things he remembers are sharp and clear.

Except he notices that Wonderland is sorta fragmented into pieces. He thinks something catastrophic has happened and, now more than ever, he desperately wishes that his friends are somewhere, happy, that they've escaped what's happened here. They can't still be around after so long. Then again, who knows how long it's been with this place?

The last time he was here, he probably would've sat down and spent an hour freaking out somewhere behind a bush. This time he does the exact same thing, except he doesn't feel ashamed or embarrassed about it. Fuck it he is a global economic power he'll do what he wants.

After a while of rocking and shaking behind a tree, he gets up, dusts himself off, and decides to reintroduce himself.

Somehow he's found his phone again, with everything on it and the chipped in the corner. Just the way he'd left it. Maybe he should take this as a sign that he hasn't been away so long, at least in Wonderland time, but he doesn't. Too busy preparing his reintroduction.

Normal people would probably just turn their device on, say their hellos and see who is around and who is new. If you are expecting normal behavior from America I don't know what to tell you. Except "lower your expectations because this asshole is still a crazy motherfucker."

He'd found himself on a lone piece of forest, which is not the ideal location for his reentry. In the distance looms the lone, floating entrance hall. After a few seconds of debating the value of his life, he realizes he's immortal and abandons the last fuck he could possibly give before making a running start to leap to the next floating island. A manic grin and one thought propel him to his destiny:

Do it for the vine. ]

[ Finally everything is set up just the way he wants it. Camera placed just behind the closed doors of the entrance wall, it's propped up to frame the hall in such a way that it looks like just any normal day in Wonderland. The real trick is turning it on at just the right moment. He decides to turn it on from behind so the video doesn't capture his initial appearance. Slipping away as quietly as possible, the video just captures a few silent seconds of the doors.

Which then BURST OPEN IN AN EXPLOSION OF SHRAPNEL AND FIRE. USA USA USA.

The smoke clears and, surprise surprise, guess who's standing at the center with arms cross and cocky grin in place? No Crowley, that's for fucking sure, like he'd be capable of anything this epic. For those who knew him the changes are small and subtle, probably nothing to catch amidst the chaos. A taller stature, unhindered by painful wounds, a face that's still young but no longer burdened by self-consciousness and undercurrents of fear.

In the split-second he opens his mouth, just before he speaks you might be expecting something like YOUR HERO HAS RETURNED. But no. ]

WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY RAPTORS?

[ Good news: he's even more of a selfish shithead than before. Bad news: that was the good news.

God help you all.

and now a million years later do I add an obligatory nsfw warning?? don't read my threads if you value your time and integrity ]

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[Daryl actually has to fight to keep the smirk off of his face at America's preening. Yeah okay hot stuff, go get your damn beach ball and be done with it. It went that way.]

Got some weight on you. You gonna be pickin' the whole damn Mansion up now?

[...Please don't take that as a challenge. For the love of god.

CHANGING THE SUBJECT:] What's goin' on back there, anyway?

[Refresh his history memory, bro.]

It's all muscle, too!

[ He adds it quickly enough that it teeters from "proud exclamation" to "highly defensive about his weight issues." His ongoing war with lovehandles rages on but for now he's winning.

America doesn't consider it a challenge because he's confident he could pick up the magical, infinite building if he wanted to like some modern Atlas. But that doesn't sound like fun so he's not going to try unless pressured into it. ]

Oh, nothin' much. Revolutionizing the world with my technology, built my cties up with steel so high the scrape the clouds, got enough oil in my blood to light up the whole world, pretty much swimming in cash, surpassed England in industry, France gave me a statue of a pretty girl... you know, just usual world power stuff!

[ His ego is so big he could declare it a new state, mine it for narcissism, and sell it to Russia. ]

[KEEP FIGHTING THE GOOD FIGHT, AMERICA.

Daryl listens as he gets the Cliff Notes version of thirty years of US history. He's a little lost but ome bits- like the statue- jog his memory, blow the dust off of the parts of his brain where he'd stored bits and pieces of information he'd dismissed as mostly useless at the time. Hell, it's still mostly useless, especially here... But at least he's got some damn idea of what America's talking about.

The world power things makes the most sense- because that's how he'd remembered it, being from Georgia and all- and he cocks his head to the side with the slightest quirk of his lips.]

Doin' alright, then.

[...He won't bring up any of the wars he knows are in America's near future- he's an asshole but he ain't that much of an asshole.] No walkers?

[ There are darker parts too, some so horrific as to leave more scars on his body, others much harder to see because they've seeped into his blood like an infection, the sorts of sicknesses that are imperceptible even to himself.

He decides not to share either. It's much easier to hide the parts of himself he doesn't want people to see when it's no longer manifested on his body. Still not okay in the head but what else is new. ]

Notta one! Unless ya count Johnnie Walker. [ His grin widens. Some things never change. ] The dead still stay down. Even the trouble makers who said they'd never go down.

[ A conflicting set of emotions that makes his smile flicker, traversing quickly from melancholy to amused to smug. Lots of trouble makers, lots of deaths. ]

Anyway, even if there were, I'm in well enough shape to take 'em on! Got all sorts of new weaponry and infrastructure to take on just about anything!

[He snorts. Daryl's okay with that particular Walker.]

Yeah? ...Don't got planes yet, right?

[What year was that...? Christ.]

What?

[ The confusion on his face tells it all. It'll be another decade before the Wright Brothers to get things up in the air. But he has hot air balloons, do those count???

No. Not really. Not unless you're monitoring a horse race across the continent that's actually a secret government ploy to collect the scattered parts of Jesus Christ's corpse so that America will become an eternal utopia. But only Johnny Joestar would know about that. ]

...Takin' that as a no. [He'll get there eventually.] Don't matter, sounds like you're doin' real good back there anyway.

[Got his shit together better than it was, and that's all you can ask for sometimes.]

[ When the age of flight comes, America is going to dive into it faster than a penguin chasing a fish. Airplanes man. He's so into them. Or, he will be soon enough. Right now he decides not to press for answers when there are so many more important things to address. ]

Sure am! [ And, because Daryl's a friend, his chest deflates slightly as he injects a little honesty: ] More or less.

[ But that's life. He shrugs nonchalantly, like he doesn't think it's worth the time to elaborate. At least that's the impression he's trying to give; in actuality he just doesn't want to elaborate. The only reason he offered is because he doubts Daryl will pry. That makes it much easier to puff up like a peacock again. ]

Man, I could go on for ages with stories to tell, but first! You! Any use askin' what you've been up to, other than herding raptors and teenagers? Usually when I'm catching up with people, time has gone pretty congruently for both of us and they've aged accordingly. Not... just a week. Huh. Must've been a helluva boring week without me!

[Daryl catches that small gesture of... Well, he's not sure what it is. Self-consciousness? That seems closest, but it's still not quite right or nearly as pronounced as it might have been, had thirty years of apparent prosperity not gone by. He catches it, but he nods it off, because the bigger stuff's what's important and it looks like that's goin' okay.]

Woulda said it was real quiet without them pets of yours raisin' hell like they were... Aside from that not a whole lot's been goin' on... [He inclines his head in the direction of a floating piece of woods, one that houses a single, lonely tree.] Not 'til this shit started, anyway. Kid fessed up, this one's his.

[Not what he'd expected from his few conversations with the guy... But in all honesty it ain't like he really gave it all that much thought in the first place.]

Which kid?

[ This is what happens when you call the half of Wonderland under the age of twenty "kid", Daryl. America doesn't know Kid, but even if he did, he'd likely still ask the same dumb question.

It's an offhand question though; he doesn't actually care much who's behind this. ]

Don't seem so bad though. Inconvenient, but I still got both hands and nothing's tryin' to eat me!

[ Is that insensitive? Does he care? ]

Kid, that's his name.

[And Daryl's eyes shoot to both of America's hands when he brings them up; he'd actually forgotten about that whole ridiculous goddamn fiasco. Thanks for reminding him.]

Could be worse... 'Side from bein' a pain in the ass it don't got shit on the other stuff that happens here. [He peers out into the nothingness around the chunk they're hanging out on.] ...Just waitin' for the flyin' monkeys.

[No, really. He's ready. He's got his crossbow.]

[ He's almost about to disregard the name, but then something clicks and he suddenly turns to Daryl with rapt attention. ]

His first name ain't Billy is it? William? Henry?

[ He isn't joking. Everything in his expression from the wide eyes and flicker of hope in them to the suddenly rigid stance indicate just how genuine the question is. America's stomach flips at the mere possibility that the answer will be "yes." And yet he steels himself for disappointment because there's no way that Wonderland would be that generous. He's already surrounded by the impossibility of seeing so many friends again after only, from their view, a short absence, not decades of entrapment and loss. That alone is a blessing. There's no way he would be fortunate to see a lost friend from home again.

But in the few seconds before his hopes are inevitably dashed, he still allows himself to wonder what if. ]

[Daryl looks... A little confused, but he shakes his head.]

It's Kid, if that's some kinda nickname I don't know what it's for. He's been here for a while.

[He narrows his eyes slightly. Far as he knows there's no one here named "Billy".]

Somebody you're lookin' for? Only Henry I know's Emma's kid-- That ain't the one?

[ Yeah, he knew he wouldn't be that lucky. A few seconds of thinking maybe he was that lucky had strung him up with tense shoulders and a stiff back, all of which snap like a frayed wire so that his stature quickly falls back into place. Relaxed and with only the barest hint of disappointment in his smile, America shakes his head with a shrug. ]

Nah. It's okay. I figured as much, that it wasn't... just thought it'd be worth asking.

[ And it's probably for the best, he thinks. Wonderland isn't some magical vessel ferrying people from the afterlife for tender reunions. It would be a cruel wish to disturb the eternal rest (or whatever the hell they're doing in the afterlife) of people he cared about just because he misses them. He wouldn't want to stop at just one either; there's too many to count, friends and loved ones spanning centuries. What would he even do with that many people all at once? That's like being the host of a party where you have to frantically prevent your exes from swapping stories with each other while making sure a fight doesn't break out or a chair isn't thrown out a window.

Accepting loss is a part of life, one that America is good at. Good enough to continue on anyway.

Besides, he's already fortunate to have his inter-dimensional friends at his side again. No use getting worked up over people who aren't around when there are so many who are. With another shake of his head to dislodge any lingering melancholy, he perks right back up. ]

Oh well! I got you, so I ain't gonna be lonely! [ He turns to study the nearby chunks of land. ] Wonder if these things are stationary or if we can float them around? 'Cause if there's flyin' monkeys, we could rope 'em and drive this hunk of rock like a team of oxen!

[ CREATIVE SOLUTIONS TO MINOR PROBLEMS. ]

[At the risk of sounding like one of those crazy republicans who somehow connect gay marriage with fucking baby seals (perhaps due to a suppressed desire on their part to fuck baby seals), THAT IS A SLIPPERY SLOPE. It's like potato chips, you can't just have one friend resurrected, you gotta go for the gold with the whole fucking tube.

And that's how heart attacks happen.]

Sorry.

[He actually is, too. One day he'll have some good news. ONE DAY.

Daryl all but rolls his eyes at that suggestion (though he's both pleased and amused to hear that kind of shit after being convinced he never would again), but turns to look at the pieces anyway.]

Assumin' they cooperate. ...Sounds too much like horses.

[NO, AMERICA'S THIRTY YEARS HAVE NOT CURED DARYL OF HIS LOATHING FOR HORSES.]

[ He shrugs again--acknowledging the sympathy, a gesture that he appreciates it but there's nothing to be done. No use dwelling.

Especially not when there's a completely plausible engineering challenge of using flying monkeys to drive the floating earth. He can't suppress the sudden bark of laughter at Daryl's lingering hatred for horses. ]

You're still sore about horses? That is one intense and peculiar grudge to hold onto, man!

[Daryl makes a face. Yeah, yeah, he knows it's a little ridiculous. STILL.]

Sombitch never said it was sorry.

[Really, how rude can you get? A simple "sorry I threw you off of a cliff, Mr. Dixon" would have sufficed, but nope, that little bastard just ran right on home and acted like nothing even happened.

Shit ain't cute, is what we're saying here.]

[ He just shakes his head. Ridiculous. So ridiculous that he has to give Daryl a friendly thump on the shoulder. ]

Maybe it was an asshole horse. Was it a Morgan? Never met one that wasn't a dick.

[ "Justin Morgan Had A Horse" neglected to mention what a terribly stubborn, surly breed he created. Justin Morgan is the architect of a lineage of shithead horses. Thanks for that, fucker. ]

Is there any kind of critter ya do like? And I'm not talkin' to eat!

I got no idea what that is. That some kinda breed?

[Do horses have breeds? Hell if he knows.]

And yeah. I like dogs. Cats're alright too when they ain't droppin' dead birds on my feet.

[He's lying- the accompanying nudge and trill at the presentation of such a generous "gift" are insanely endearing, even when it's coming from a filthy, flea-bitten stray he'd left food for until the old man'd caught on.

...Ain't no denyin' that dogs're better for hunting, though.]

Yeah, it's a breed. One of the earliest American breeds. Strong, small, and hardy, but they got a temperament even more surly than yours.

[ Which is fine if you're a laid-back redneck, not so much if you're a means of transportation. The question is not can a Morgan pull a logging cart, it's will they?

But America will just have to accept that Daryl is neither a horse nor a dinosaur person. Dogs and cats though, he can totally get behind those too. His eyes even light up. ]

Ya look like you'd be a dog person! Love 'em both, cats and dogs. Only problem is the lifespans. I'm away so much, my kittens would be cats by the time I'm back! And ya can't take a cat to war. Dogs are a little easier, but still.

[ WHY MUST EVERYTHING DIE. But then he remembers something, cocking his head. ]

Unless it's like Japan's dog or Canada's bear. They don't age either. Dunno how that works. Kuma can even talk.

[ What the actual fuck are the mechanics of America's world and how do they work. He doesn't know. I don't know. Apparently, according to Finland's dog, the countries' longevity rubs off on her and Japan's dog.

Hetalia what the fuck that does answer anything it only raises more questions. ]

[Daryl makes a face. SCREW YOU HORSE HE WAS SURLY FIRST. Or something.]

Huh. Sounds real pleasant.

[What the hell. Japan and Canada get immortal pets...? That's some bullshit, Hetalia.]

...You don't got nothin' back home? No eagle?

[What? That's their animal, ain't it?

~~Raptors are close enough, maybe. They're... In the same family..?~~]

I have a whale! His name is Moby! And an eagle that delivers messages for me!

[ Because that's fuckin' normal. ]

[Daryl raises a brow.]

A whale?

Yep! Back in the 1850s, my boss told me to go over to Japan's place with some requests [ read: demands ] and that was the first time I met the guy, but my whole reason for goin' there was for the whales!

[ Somehow in America's mind, "open up negotiations for whaling" translated to "MAKE FRIENDS WITH WHALES." ]

And this one little beluga was super friendly and we bonded quick, so I brought him home and now he lives in my back yard in Virginia!

[OH. Well that just clears things right up.......]

...Beluga. Ain't those the ones with the lumps on their heads?

[...You would, America. You would.]

How'd you-- [Fit it in your backyard? Transport it from Japan to Virginia...? All of these mysteries we'll never know the answers to, because Daryl cuts himself off there. There is no how with America. There just is.] Never mind. The eagle got a name too?

[Like FREEDOM!!!! Exclamation points included.]

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