A/N: Wassup? I don't own anything.

Meeting # 8: Join the League of Former Nations Today!

...Seriously. We're kinda desperate.

Hmmm...I wonder why Lance came today...America thought idly as the nations (himself included) tried to revive the unconscious Netherlands and England. France tried molesting, Belgium tried chocolate, Spain tried poking, and Italy started drawing on England's face, but was stopped by Germany. America sighed and left the room, and walked down the hallway, thinking hard. Where-? Oh! America thought to himself gleefully, finding the smelling salts in the Med Station. Found 'em! He trotted back to the meeting to find several panicked and yelling nations. Slipping past them, he let the smelling salts do their magic and both Netherlands and England groaned tiredly and began waking up. America beamed happily, put the strong salts in his pocket, thinking back on why New York decided to come. Maybe he heard about the revelation of his siblings and decided he wanted to see Netherlands. America mused and decided it was the most likely reason. America highly doubted that the Big Apple wanted to see England, since he really didn't like him all that much. He was pretty neutral towards the island after the Revolution, but then the whole punk thing in England happened and he became pretty pissed.

"What happened?" Netherlands groaned as he woke up and Belgium threw herself at him excitedly. "Broer (Brother)!" The Belgian squealed happily, "You're awake!" Netherlands blinked. "Uh, yeah." He shook his head as to clear it as England slowly sat up, "I had this really weird dream-"

"I can't wait to get to know my nephew better~!" Belgium continued to Netherlands' horror. "He seems really nice~! Oh, we can go on a picnic, and we'll invite Luxembourg of course..." Belgium continued planning a day with New York much to Netherlands confusion. America smiled at Belgium, glad that someone was enthusiastic about getting to know one of his states in a nonstalker like way.

"...and we'll see some of his tourist spots! Like the Statue of Liberty! Oh, he looked a lot like you Broer, such a sweetie pie~" Netherlands blinked. "That...wasn't a dream?" Belgium blinked and Luxembourg, who had snuck up behind her, face palmed. "No," Belgium said puzzled, "it wasn't a dream." Netherlands looked shell shocked. "...Oh." He squeaked and England looked pale. America ignored England (for now) and spoke to Netherlands. "Uh, hey Netherlands," He said cheerfully, the Low Country snapping his attention to the American, "If you want to get to know Lance better, I'm sure he'll be really happy," America told him cheerfully, "He really likes your culture and stuff. Mostly the whole 'everything is legal' thing," America admitted, noting that Netherlands seemed to straighten a bit with pride. "Huh." Netherlands muttered thoughtfully, then frowned, "Lance?" America shrugged. "I think it's supposed to be after Lancelot," He confessed sheepishly, to England's interest. "His name used to be Ryker, but when his colony name changed to New York, he changed his human name too." Netherlands scowled.

"Ryker's a better name," He grumbled, glaring at England, who glared back. "Well, I for one think Lance is a perfectly acceptable name." He huffed, standing up to face America, and his face turned a little hopeful, "Does, uh, Lance want to meet me at all?" America winced a little, to England's dismay. "Uh..."America swallowed uncomfortably, "Not really. I mean," he said hurriedly to spare the remaining uncrushed feelings, "he won't turn you away if you visit him...I think." he muttered the last part as an afterthought, sending a tangible arrow of rejection through England's chest, to Netherlands pride. "Kid has good taste," He smirked and stood up, lighting up a cigarette. America rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Haha...uh, I guess," He then turned to England...

...who was sitting in the corner with a raincloud of despair hovering over him. America flinched. That doesn't look good. Someone slid up next to America and whistled. "Damn," a southern accent drawled, "he's lookin' fit to be tied." America turned to see Texas standing next to him. America smiled. "Hey Tex!" He said cheerfully, subconsciously touching his glasses. Texas noticed and rolled his eyes. "You're not tellin' people that those glasses are me, are ya?" America laughed nervously, "Uh...no?" Texas faced palmed.

England peeked over his shoulder from his corner of despair. A man only a few years younger than America stood next to mentioned nation. His earth brown hair was topped by a white felt cowboy hat. His blue eyes were a lapis color, and looked as free as the sky. He had a lanky build, a loose white T shirt with "LONE STAR FRIENDSHIP" in big black letters on the chest hung off his frame. However, while lean, he was obviously very fit and muscular. Dust smeared blue jeans were tucked into brown cowboy boots that were smeared with reddish clay. Coiled rope caked with more dust hung from a hidden belt loop. In fact, he was covered in dust. It was in his hair, on his clothes, and it was on his white hat. However, there were blackish smudges on his fingers and his shirt as well. America laughed and clapped the young man on the shoulder. Unlike the other states who were in their pre/mid teens, this one looked to be in his very late teens or young twenties. He turned to the nations and tipped his hat politely.

"Howdy, ya'll," He said in a thick southern accent, "Name's Zach, but ya'll can call me Tex'." The nations all simultaneously tilted their head in confusion.

"Texas." America clarified and there were many "Ooohhh"'s of realization. Texas suddenly stiffened and ducked behind America, trembling. America blinked down at him. "Uh, Zach-?"

"Don't let 'er take me!" He squeaked fearfully, peeking over America's shoulder. "I don't wanna be part of her again!" America sighed, understanding what he was talking about (unlike the majority of the world).

"You're not going to become part of her again. We won that war."

"So? Do ya know how pissed she was 'bout lettin' me go?"

"Um..." America looked a little embarrassed. "Heh...sorry about that Mexico." He said meekly, causing the female nation to blush awkwardly. There was a canyon of silence as the two nations and state remembered the Mexican-American War and their battle for Texas. Texas trembled, glaring suspiciously at Mexico, who raised her hands in peace offering. He cautiously stepped from behind America, lifting his T shirt to pat a small handgun resting in it's holster at his hip reassuringly, silently telling Mexico that he was armed and ready to shoot if needed. America coughed. "So..." he said clumsily, "Whatcha doing here?" Texas blinked and shrugged. "Just passin' through," he said casually, "Was at one of our meetin's." America nodded. "Ah." The nations blinked confused. Germany blinked suddenly. "Hold on," he said abruptly, gaining the two Americans and the rest of the world's attention, "I thought America's glasses represented Texas." Texas slammed a hand to his face.

"Dagnabbit!," He mumbled irritably, "Ya told them your glasses was me?" America coughed. Texas sighed. "It'sa family joke," he explained long suffering, "Dad's vision started goin' south 'round the time I was annexed into the U.S., so he called 'em 'Texas' as a joke." The nations blinked. "Wait, you actually need glasses?" England asked confused.


"...Seriously?" South Korea asked, genuinely surprised. Nations rarely needed glasses. Most who wore them used them as representations or as fashion statements (coughAustriacough). America sighed. Honestly, he was a little humiliated that he needed glasses, so he used the 'Texas representation' to hide the fact he actually needed them. Apparently he looked pretty sharp, since the girls that would always come onto him when he went out (seriously, they never seemed to end!) would tell him so, but still. He was a nation, the world's only (at the moment) superpower ! He shouldn't need glasses!

"...They're reading glasses." America mumbled, face pink. The nations regarded him curiously. America hurriedly turned back to Texas. "So, how was the meeting?" Texas shrugged. "Good. We're going out Saturday." America beamed, to the confusion of the globe. "Awesome!" America chirped. "I'm glad you guys made that club! It's a good bonding tool!" Texas rolled his eyes and turned and walked to the door. "Yeah, yeah. I'm goin' now," He drawled, raising a hand in farewell. America waved back energetically. "Later Zach. Family dinner Friday! Be there!"

"Sounds good." Texas suddenly paused and turned to Prussia, fishing a dirt dusted white card out of his pocket. "Call us if yer interested." was all he said as he handed the bewildered ex-country the card out of his pocket and marched off. Prussia stared after him confused as he walked out of the room before turning back to the card. He raised an eyebrow as he stared at the black print interestedly.

Ruby red eyes absorbed the card's contents fascinated.

League of Former Nations

President: Texas

Vice President: Hawaii

Currently recruiting members, if interested call (512) 566-3197

Prussia grinned wickedly, much to Austria's fear.

He needed to find a phone.

A/N: Texas was it's own Republic for a while (as was Hawaii). During that time, it wanted to be annexed into the U.S., but we were like, "...eh." When we finally did, it really pissed Mexico (who used to own Texas) off and triggered the Mexican-American War. We kicked their asses, since we were better supplied and all that. It was actually pretty mean since they were so unprepared and stuff. The U.S. got a lot of grief about it, even from U.S. citizens. Not that I blame them. As an American (U.S.) citizen, I can bluntly, and with a strange pride, say that we are currently the world's douche.

In Hetalia cannon, America's glasses represent Texas (his hair cowlick thing represents Nantucket. I always draw America with Nantucket, but my friend always asks me "Is that Canada?" HE'S NOT CANADA DAMMIT! ...That's oddly reversed, but still!)

I deeply apologize if I utterly destroyed/butchered the southern accent. I really do.

Ryker is a Dutch name (for boys). New York's human name was formally Ryker when he was New Netherlands, but he decided to "go with the annoying British flow" and changed it to Lance when England took over.