#as someone who has ample access to good grocery stores as well as a full kitchen & the time ability and knowledge to cook

[alex51324]

It's actually stupider than that; you can't buy hot food. Prepared food that is meant to be cold (like salads or sandwiches) is fine, and so is food that you're supposed to take home and microwave.

But if the store has the same item sitting under a heat lamp, you can't buy it with food stamps.

So, rotisserie chickens--near-universally lauded as both an economical source of protein and a efficient way to get a "real" meal on the table after work--are unavailable to poor people on public assistance, unless the store puts some in the cold case (& labels them as cold, so they scan as SNAP eligible).

Some stores (coughWalMartcough) like to do this with chicken that has been sitting under the heat lamps for a while and doesn't look so good. This "EBT Chicken" isn't any cheaper than fresh, hot chicken that has not been repeatedly rejected by other customers, but you can buy it with food stamps.

And there's no ambiguity whatsoever about who this chicken is for; the new stickers they put on it literally say "EBT Chicken."

So what the store shown above is doing is emphatically not that: they are offering fresh, hot chicken in a way that gets around the SNAP rules.

(Note: SNAP and EBT aren't technically the same thing, but for some reason grocery stores tend to say EBT when they mean SNAP. SNAP is Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or food stamps; EBT is Electronic Benefits Transfer, which is when benefits automatically load onto a debit card every month. The same physical card can do both SNAP and cash assistance*, but the eligibility criteria for SNAP are usually broader, so a lot of people only have SNAP on their card. And, of course, if you do have both, when you're at the grocery store you'll probably run your card as SNAP first, and then use your cash benefits for whatever didn't go as SNAP.)

(*Not actually cash, since it's on the card, but unrestricted funds. Most public assistance programs try to do as little cash as possible; they'll do direct payments for housing, utilities, etc., so the person receiving the benefits never actually has control of the money.)

Solidarity

[1dfangirls35]

The Fallout Chapter 1

After nuclear war leaves the world in shambles, Charlotte Breslow finds herself simply trying to survive, until an unexpected stranger reminds her of what it means to live again.

Read on Wattpad

Chapter 1- 463

463 days. 463 days have passed since the world as I knew it  ended. It has been 463 days since I last saw my parents. 463 days since I last binged on Netflix. 463 days since I wandered through the grocery store, checked my email, or navigated through the lovely Los Angeles traffic. 

I pull out my notepad from inside my worn black backpack. Its once light blue edges now wearing down to a dusty tan color. The spine binding beginning to loosen, enough so it doesn't quite stay open. I flip to the inside cover and trace my fingers over the "To our dearest Charlotte, may your journey await" in my mother's swirly script. 

I flip to the page I've marked last, with the edge bent slightly inwards. 463, I write in bold print. Wednesday, July 15th, 2020. I stare at it for a moment, letting it sink in. Wrapping my head around those numbers, that date. It was the only thing that I had to grasp onto anymore after all. 

"And what day would it be today?" 463 days ago I would have jumped at the sound of my little brother Luke's voice behind me. Today, I don't even bother to turn around. 

"Today is Wednesday, July 15th," I respond.

"Well then happy hump day Charlie!" Luke pulls off some obnoxious dance move and I roll my eyes. Sometimes Luke's sense of humor was the only thing getting me through the day. 

"Happy hump day Luke," I respond back with a grin, although we both knew there was no such thing as hump day anymore. 

I shove the notebook back in its assigned pocket for safekeeping, and begin to gather my belongings. There wasn't much anymore. The blanket my grandma knitted for me before I left for college. The hairbrush that kept me from developing a rat's nest at the nape of my neck. The small pillow which had a hard lump I couldn't quite get rid of. My backpack, which carried things that I didn't dare use. The duffle bag where Luke and I kept all the necessities, soap, Pork and Beans, matches, and of course Oreo Cookies. Today the bag felt a little lighter, which meant that once again we were growing low on the very items keeping us alive. 

"Where to today?" Luke asks as he slides into the drivers seat of the maroon Honda Odyssey we lovingly referred to as Gertrude. I was always the navigator, because apparently my six months post graduation living in California had given me the knowledge to navigate its every where about. 

"Liam told me to check out Pomona. He said they found some good stock ups there last week."

"Where's he been anyway, we haven't seen Harry and him in ages." Ages was a bit of an exaggeration, it had only been 12 days by my records, but twelve days out on our own seemed like so much longer.

"Twelve days. It hasn't been ages, its been twelve days,." I partly snap. Luke always had a small level of distrust in Liam,Harry as well. He argues I don't know either of them well enough to be trusting our lives to them. I argue that in this time there isn't anyone else left to trust our lives to. "Remember I told you they were going to follow that lead on the safe zone Liam heard about."

"You mean the safe zone that Liam made up?" Luke says back with a roll of his eyes. 

"It very well might be out there Luke, what do you want to do wander around this wasteland for the rest of your life?" Luke grows mute at my comment, and I wonder if I've come at him a little too strong. Death had become quite a sensitive subject considering recent events. 

"Let's try Pomona today. We are going to meet back up with Liam and Harry on Friday," I say. If you had asked me 463 days ago who would be the leader of the group of four survivors in a nuclear fallout, I definitely wouldn't have volunteered my name. Hell, I wouldn't have even counted myself as a survivor. But a lot has changed in 463 days, that's for certain. 

********

The Spears Ridge neighborhood was marked by a large, multi-tone rock on the corner of the street. A large sign indicating a new neighborhood was usually a sign that it would be a good location. Neighborhoods with signs were like that, full of well-stocked cupboards and closets. Luke slowly turns Gertrude around the corner, driving slowly as I look ahead for any sign of others. 

The streets look deserted, and from what I could tell they hadn't been touched for a while. We pull up to a large brownstone at first. After one more survey of the area we decide this is a good place to start. Luke and I each grab a duffle and head towards the door. 

As we approach the front door, Luke checks the door frame for the key. I scour the mat and under the flower pots. 

"Got it," Luke exclaims, holding a small silver key in his hand. That's one thing I'd learned being out here: everyone had the same hiding places for their spare keys. Luke slides the key into the lock and I soon hear the satisfying click that means we have access. 

Walking in we can see its been left fairly untouched. There's a slight disorder that was no doubt a result of the warnings we heard 463 days ago. But there wasn't any disorder that suggested someone else had been here to raid through the closets. 

"Jackpot," Luke says aloud as he opens a pantry full of canned goods. I head upstairs and raid the bathroom, finding ample soap, shampoo and even some badly needed lotion. I find the closet of a young woman, and am so pleased by her clothing tastes that I snag a few outfits, pushing them into my bag. 

"To the next one?" I ask Luke as I walk back down the stairs. He gives me a head nod and we make our way towards the front door once again. We barely take a step out the door when we hear it. The noise that even 463 days hadn't erased the response of my hair standing on end. The sound of a gun shot. 

"Don't move," I reach out to grab Luke's shoulder holding him in place. We hear incomprehensible shouting, but no more gun shots. Seconds later we hear the sound of one car race down the drive, my heart stops for a moment as they rush past our vehicle, but luckily they don't seem to notice. Another vehicle rushes off behind them.  We wait a few minutes, trying to return our pulse to a normal rhythm. The road becomes silent once again.

"So I guess we better head back then," Luke says grabbing for the keys in his back pocket. 

"Why would we do that?" 

"Why wouldn't we? You heard those gun shots. Someone else was here," I can tell by the paleness of my brother's face that he had gotten a little spooked. I should have thought that through before going to a high profile neighborhood that Liam suggested. When Liam heard things, others did too. 

"Luke, listen to me," I grab my brother's shoulder in a reinforcing grasp. "Someone else was here, but they are gone now. You heard them race off didn't you? They left, two vehicles left. We will be fine," Luke takes a deep breath. "C'mon," I say standing to my feet and slinging my black duffle across my shoulder once again. 

The next house doesn't have much. The following looks like they hadn't even moved in. We walk up to the third house. When Luke tries the door its already open, not atypical. We walk in and observe the surroundings. Its a bit of a mess, but when we open the kitchen cabinets we find that nothing has yet been looted. There's enough food in there to last us months. 

"We might need another bag," Luke says with excitement. 

It's while we are filling the second bag to the brim that I hear it. A loud crash from the upper level. We instantly freeze. Luke looks at me with his "I told you so" eyes. I bring a finger to my lips and draw out the knife that I carry at the back of my belt nowadays. You could never be too careful anymore, especially after what happened when Liam and I went to Beverley Hills .

I begin to creep up the stairs, knife in hand. It's then that I hear another thud, the sound of a body hitting the floor. "Shit!" The voice echoes through the hallways, its deepness has a strange noise to it, almost resembling an accent. I put my back to wall as I reach the top of the staircase, and hold the knife to my chest. Then, taking a deep breath, I reveal myself to the person sharing the house with us.

Next Chapter

[wendyimmiller]

Plants and Pandemics, and, Gardeners Go for the Glory!

The latest in the on-going correspondence between Marianne Willburn and Scott Beuerlein.

April 29, 2020

Cincinnati, Ohio

Dear Marianne,

I apologize for taking so long to reply to your last letter, but it’s been a hell of a time. My mother’s health has been deteriorating for a long time and on April 11th she passed away. We’ve all got a date. That was hers. But Lord knows she pushed it back and back and back, God bless her. The last six months have been a cycle of fragile normal days spent at home suddenly punctuated by near death episodes in ICU followed by another miraculous recovery and finally back to another spell of fragile normalcy at home. The whole ordeal was a very hard, slow, grinding process. In the days after she died, I couldn’t believe what a relief it was just knowing she was no longer suffering, but now I just miss her.

And right in the middle of all that, in came this thing called the coronavirus, which, they tell me, kills old and fat people. Old and fat? Hell, that describes almost everybody I know. Including me! This is bad. Real bad. And now nothing is the same. Everything is different. We’ve been in lock down for almost two months. It seems so much longer. None of this feels real. It’s too big. It’s eerie. It felt like our little band of less than ten mourners had to almost sneak into the cemetery to bury my mom. No other services allowed. David Byrnes’ lyrics keep going through my head. “This ain’t no party. This ain’t no disco. This ain’t no fooling around.” And it does feel very much like “Life During Wartime.” I imagine that this pall, under which we all squirm, must feel about like it does for an army about to go into battle. Everybody looking at each other, asking themselves, “How bad will get? Who will get killed. Me?”

For the record, I’ll be pissed as hell if I die from this thing. I’m a late bloomer. I was misdirected a few times. I have also derailed myself with the occasional poor decision. The fact is, I feel like I’m only now getting my shit together. And my garden is looking the best it ever has. It seems to have promise for better years ahead, and I want to see it deliver.

But it’s been a bit eerie to be out there. Pandemic raging, mom dying, and it has been made all the more eerie because this has been the prettiest spring I can remember. It came in slow, cool, and sweet, and, until last week, steady. Consequently, it’s been a floral fashion show of unseemly bloom times as each plant took its turn strutting the runway. Sometimes alone. More often with partners. Star magnolias, cherries, viburnums, crabapples, redbuds, and also plenty of littler ones tucked underfoot and in the corners—winterhazels, forsythia, daffs, minor bulbs, and ephemerals.

My ‘Yellow Bird’ magnolia was just reaching its peak of perfection when our continental climate snapped to, looked around, and said, “Oh. Hey. Wait.” That’s when we got three nights of mid-twenties, and that ended that. Foliage, flowers, and buds became brown mush that dried to crispy bits that now look like bits of fried onion strings stuck in your boss’s beard during a business lunch. About a third of my Japanese maples lost all their leaves. Others were half blasted. A few skated with no damage. Go figure. But my collection of hostas (for which I have a love/hate thing going on) were equally random in how they handled three nights out drinking with old Jack Frost. And although you would think native plants would know better—and most did—my ostrich ferns got pummeled. But new fronds came quickly and now you wouldn’t even know. Keeping my fingers crossed my maples and ‘Yellow Bird’ eventually recover too.

But, no matter, the garden hardly looks like a no-man’s land. Iris, peonies, Brunnera, Epimedium are all looking great, and I am so thankful for that! This year, more than ever, the yard has become a beautiful safe haven from a world gone mad. If not an outright antidote, at least an ever available deep draught of tonic.

Knowing what my garden has meant to me has me feeling bad for all those with no access to a garden or nature right now. There are so many urban dwellers, and even out in the suburbs, let’s face it, the typical American yard hardly functions as a garden. So maybe in a time of confinement like this land-owning (think about what the term landowner has meant to people over the centuries!) folks will be motivated to give their land the respect it deserves. Seriously, for those with secure incomes, what the hell else is there to do with their time, money, and energy?

At the Cincinnati Zoo & Botanical Garden, our 110,000 tulip display was only seen live and in person by a skeletal staff, stray helicopter pilots, and flamingos as they took their daily walks. To make matters worse, this was—in my opinion—the Zoo’s best year of tulips ever. Full on glorious! In a normal year, a half million visitors would have reveled in the explosion of unworldly color. There would have been tours, parties, fundraisers, and live bluegrass concerts with ample supplies of great food and craft beer. That is what the last ten Aprils have impressed on me as to what April should be. Busy as hell and beyond beautiful. But what we got in 2020 was not that.

One afternoon I stood in the entry plaza—completely alone—on a perfect spring day. 110,000 tulips surrounding me, all gloriously glowing seemingly with their own internal light for me and me alone. But it didn’t feel much like a gift, as sometimes does when one is fortunate enough to witness something special all by themselves. All around me was empty plaza that would normally have been people enjoying an outing, and it felt like I was the sole survivor at the end of a terrible movie. Bad enough, right? Well, it was made a little bit worse because in the quiet made by the absence of 10,000 stroller moms and their children, the peace was torn by howling sirens of ambulances, one after another, as they navigated their way through the surface streets towards the 4 or 5 big hospitals that the Zoo calls neighbors. Another reminder—as if I needed it—that a monster was lurking out there.

But, if given lemons, make lemonade, right? Call me a dork. Plenty of others do, but I cannot begin to describe the pride in my heart and the stupid smile that shows up on my face every time I get to tell someone I work at the Cincinnati Zoo & Botanical Garden. Across every department, amazing things happen every day. Nowhere on earth is positivity more intrinsic. It’s woven in so deeply and thoroughly that something amazing had to happen. Even in a pandemic. And, in fact, several things did. Among them, someone–I don’t know who–thought to cut tulips and take them to the front line medical workers at the hospitals.

As I watch the news these days, I am so moved and inspired by the daily efforts of proactive, positive people–those who, when things go south, manage to rise above the scoffing, second-guessing, finger wagging, and complaining so many others immediately go to. Instead, they willingly accept the present reality, buckle down, and with a bright attitude put in the hard work and sacrifice that will turn things around for the greater good.

All this is taking a long way around to the simple fact that I had a thought. Witnessing the family-sized gratitude expressed over a handful of cut tulips by over-worked, stressed out, hospital workers struggling to save lives against a nasty, little understood contagion at work, while at the same time finding solace in my home garden as my mother slipped ever closer to death, it occurred to me that this might be a time for gardeners to step up and make a real difference!

We all know somebody in the trenches—doctors, nurses, hospital support staff, truck drivers, sanitation workers, grocery store clerks. The list goes on. Why not mow their lawn, pull some weeds, and mulch their beds? Or divide a favorite perennial or two and give it the perfect spot in their garden. At the very least, take them fresh flowers cut from your garden. And if one of your other neighbors is struggling to make a garden, give them a hand. Bestow on them the lessons you’ve learned over many years. If you belong to a garden club, think a little larger. Maybe plant a little pollinator garden outside the windows of nursing homes where so many languish without even family being able to visit. This can be done while practicing safe social distancing. I bet the nursing home would give permission. I guarantee that summer will see many a grateful face peering out and enjoying all the color and the birds.

So what do you think? Dumb idea? I think at the very least it needs a pithy name. Gardeners for Glory! Hero Horticulturists. Plants Opposed to Pandemics? Sometimes I think I write okay, but, yeah, I know I suck at titles. Maybe you or somebody that’s good at them will think of something.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got. I’m tired. I surely hope you and your family are all safe and well. Oh, and here. A promise. If I survive this thing (about a 50-50 prospect), and if I still have a job when it’s all over, and if the airlines can find the keys to restart their airplanes, Michele and I will join you for one of your British garden tour adventures. I’ll even promise to behave! I won’t say things that will upset the locals, and I’ll just look the other way without comment when I see them shearing 30’ hedges of mountain laurels.  Deal?

Your friend,

Scott

    Plants and Pandemics, and, Gardeners Go for the Glory! originally appeared on GardenRant on April 30, 2020.

The post Plants and Pandemics, and, Gardeners Go for the Glory! appeared first on GardenRant.

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[kittymonks-fanfiction]

Genderswapped Nations Review - Chapter 6

Hello all, welcome back to Genderswapped Nations, the only fanfic where you’ll find a bunch of teenage girls beginning World War III and then sweeping such a world-ending, war-inspiring incident under the rug and turning it in to a simple trip to the hospital. Last time, as you may or not remember, we learned that Italy’s been attacked by Prussia and a ‘few other countries’, apparently only emerging alive because ‘a couple of other countries’ intervened. Romano has told Germany and the swaps that he is in very bad condition—bad enough that they weren’t able to visit him last chapter—but since this new chapter is a new day in the life of our resident Sue-riana, our chances will probably be better now. So then, let’s immerse ourselves in this mixed-up reality again and check on our good pal Italy to make sure he’s okay.

Chapter 6: Respite and Rigs

If ‘respite’ means that the narration will calm down and start to go into detail about the things we’re seeing and the ways our characters are feeling for once without jumping to random threatening phone calls and villainous nonsense in order to make it seem like something’s going on when nothing’s happening, then I’ll gladly take it.

Not only that, but if the title is any indication, then it looks like we can expect some Sealand in this new chapter. Oh boy, yes, do just the opposite of what I asked you to do last chapter. Involve Sealand and ruin him somehow. Please, I like to be tortured.

Felicity was going to stay at Germany's house with Louella until Italy was okay again. The hospital had given the gender swaps permission to visit Italy, while Romano and Felicity were always allowed.

I don’t understand this, really. Felicity could just stay at Italy’s since Romano would be there—I mean, he has the patience to deal with his brother, so he should have the patience to deal with his swap—and the swaps specifically shouldn’t have limited access to see him. If anything, the hospital should be more wary of Germany since he sort of enabled his brother to carry through with this attack in the first place. If Germany had cracked the whip right after this whole kidnapping incident and talked to his brother about his motivations and intentions, this attack may not have happened in the first place. Then you can have some dramatic tension where Germany realizes that he shares some of the blame and refuses to visit the hospital because of his guilt, but then Felicity shows up and convinces him that Italy doesn’t blame him for anything and asks him to come by.

...Wow, I just came up with a fanfic plot better than all 20 of these chapters combined in the matter of a minute or two. I should take note of this little plot of mine, I might make something out of it one day.

"Come on, England, I want to bring something that tastes good," Ariana complained.

"What do you mean, Ariana? My scones taste wonderful!" England said. He forced the container of scones into Ariana's arms, because she was about to go visit Italy.

Well come on, he’s already in the hospital. Even if you poison him, a nurse’ll be right there. It’s not like you’d be putting him in that much danger.

She exited the door,

I just really like this line for some reason. Sorry for cutting out a line so short, I just...really like the descriptiveness here.

and once she was far from England's house, she dumped the scones into a trash can and instead bought a small cake.

As funny as this is, I can’t help but think it would have meant a lot more to Italy if you brought homemade food instead of something purchased from a grocery store bakery. Even if the food looks and tastes terrible, it’s the thought that counts.

She entered the hospital.

Is this going to become a trend? Because I like it.

Ariana checked the note card in her pocket with Italy's room number on it, and she searched around only slightly before she found Italy's room. When she entered, she noticed Felicity and Romano were right by Italy's side, and Louella and Germany were sitting in a couch in the room, looking at the floor, perhaps because they didn't want to be too worried. Ariana was glad to hear Italy talking to his brother and gender swap like nothing had happened.

I have to wonder what time of day it is right now. Are these really the only other guests he has right now? Italy? Considering that these guys have probably been in the room since the hospital first let them in, it makes me sort of sad to think of how few people showed up.

Everyone didn't notice Ariana until she put the cake, which read 'Get Well Soon', on a table there. Felicity, Italy, and Romano turned around to look at Ariana, while Germany and Louella both glanced at her before looking away.

She didn’t just set the cake down, she slammed it against the table to command everyone’s attention. That’s the only reason why such a simple action as that rather than the footsteps and the new presence in the room tipped them off to a new visitor.

Italy said, "Hey, look, Germany, its Britain's gender swap!", but even still Germany didn't meet his gaze.

Mysteriously, even though this entire fic is based off of the English dub where England is only called Britain, this is the only chapter besides the second one (which is just an offhanded mention) where England is called Britain in the entire fic and it only occurs three times. Hm.

Ariana thought she saw Romano scowl just a bit when his younger brother called for Germany.

"Do you think you could serve some slices of that cake?" Felicity asked Ariana. She nodded, and pulled out a plastic butter knife.

Okay, sue me for asking, but...why was Ariana randomly carrying around a plastic butter knife for just such an occasion as this?

She proceeded to cut six pieces from the cake and served them to everyone in the room, with one left over for her.

After Ariana ate her cake, she went over to Felicity and asked, "So, is he going to be okay?"

Yes, let us eat cake before we ask about the person who almost just died the other day! Your entire purpose for coming to this hospital was to check up on Italy, Ariana! Did you forget about that and decide it was cake time instead?

"Yeah, he's going to be fine," Felicity said. "When Romano said he was 'really hurt', he was being kind of overdramatic. All that really happened is that he broke his leg and has a small bruise on his forehead."

"I wasn't being overdramatic! You don't think breaking a leg is terrible?" Romano shouted.

"No, it doesn't hurt that bad anymore," Italy answered.

Romano growled a little after he realized what Felicity had said about being overdramatic was true,

But Germany acted like it was this big deal and he almost died last chapter even though he said that Italy was fine. So now we have Romano saying that he’s ‘really hurt’ and Germany taking away from this description that he’s ‘fine’ but simultaneously acting like Italy almost died, and now both reactions are asinine since all he has is a broken leg and a random bruise on his forehead. He’s a country, he could get over that in a few days at most. I know it’s the principle of the attack that matters, but it’s still ridiculous that such a big deal was made over a broken leg and a bruise. America achieved the same injuries after lunging at a cup of ice cream in the anime—I think Italy will survive.

and Ariana glanced over to Germany and Louella, who still had their full cake slices on their plates.

"Why aren't you eating?" Ariana asked.

"We're not hungry," Louella said.

"And besides, who would eat cake when someone gets hurt? It's like you're celebrating it or something." Germany added.

You know, Germany actually has a good point. Bringing food to the hospital usually isn’t the tradition. Usually when someone in a family is in the hospital, well-wishers send food to the household. The patient usually has plenty of hospital food and, at least from my experience, it’s not half bad.

"I guess you're right," Ariana said. "But it was either a cake or England's scones."

"Oh, well then you definitely made the right decision." A voice sounded from the door, and Ariana (And everyone else in the room) turned around.

That’s the perfect metaphor for this entire fic; Ariana does something, then everyone else does exactly what Ariana did in unison.

At the door were Francisca and France, Francisca holding a platter. The one who had spoken was France.

I’m glad you made that distinction, narration, because it easily could have been either of these enormous stereotypes.

Romano sweated a little. "Well, Veneziano, it's been nice, but I have to go now. Bye!" He said quickly, before running for the door at the sight of France.

"But big brother, I-" Italy began, before noticing Romano was already out the door and stopping his sentence.

He’s...running in the direction of France to avoid him? Man, this is like Iscah and Allison in the closet all over again!

"Hey, I want some cake, too!" Francisca said, with a cat smile on her face.

"Don't leave me out!" France said with the same face. Ariana looked to Louella and Germany, who handed their cakes to her. She then proceeded to throw the cakes at the French people's faces. Their expressions didn't change as the cakes slowly slid down their faces and hit the floor.

That’s probably the worst usage of an appositive in place of a pronoun I’ve ever seen in my life. French people. You know that Francisca isn’t really even French, right? Also, those two had ample time to figure out that Ariana was going to throw the cakes and preemptively get out of the way. They were basically asking for it.

"How rude," Francisca said to Ariana.

"Well, she doesn't have to have any of our food," France said to his gender swap.

"Hey, I didn't throw any cakes or anything, so I get your food, right?" Felicity asked.

"What did you bring?" Italy asked excitedly, hoping for pasta just as much as his gender swap was.

Yay, double the Italy, double the really sad idiocy that makes these two adorable sweethearts into generic idiot characters.

Francisca tilted the platter so everyone could see the food. It was a rather French looking (Whatever that might look like) pizza with snails on it.

Was that...the author acknowledging that the adjective she used was really crappy? I can’t believe it. She’s proactively reviewing this fanfic for me!! It’s like we can tell the future. Like right now, I can tell that I’m going to absolutely die when we reach the next chapter and I have to point out all of the things that won’t make sense there.

And ah yes, the most classic of all French delicacies; escargot, pot au feu, omlet du fromage...pizza with snails on it? That’s just putting a French food on a totally unrelated Italian dish! Hell, if you really wanted to flatter him, you could have made macaroni and cheese. That’s fondue added to pasta, practically!! And who wouldn’t appreciate some good ol’ fashioned mac and cheese? It’s comfort food!

"I wouldn't want your food, anyway! Who puts snails on a pizza?" Ariana asked, disgusted.

Okay, okay...Let’s get the obligatory Inside Out reference out the way. Congratulations, France, you’ve ruined pizza!!

"If Britain had the recipe for normal pizza, snails would be there anyway," France insulted.

That’s actually a really funny insult, even if it doesn’t make much sense. Snails aren’t exactly the most common household pests....

As Ariana growled, Italy turned to Germany and asked, "Hey, remember when you, Japan, and I ate those snails during World War II? It was really fun, wasn't it, Germany?"

"It was a war, Italy, it wasn't fun," Germany said simply, not shifting his glance from his boots.

I don’t know, the shenanigans and sand castles made it seem pretty fun. You really can’t make comments like that when the entire concept of Hetalia is ‘history made fun’.

Italy frowned. "Hey, Germany, what's wrong? I'm not hurt that bad, see?" He got out of the hospital bed, revealing a cast on his right leg. He stood there without trouble, and lifted some of his hair to reveal a small bruise on his forehead.

Louella half opened her mouth in surprise, Germany looked up smiled slightly, and Felicity cheered, "Yay!"

If he’s really that okay, then why isn’t he home right now? Why is he bedridden at the hospital when all he needed was a cast and a Band-Aid?

Italy smiled. "See, Germany, I'm fine! And I'm going to be home tomorrow, so no worries!" He sat back down on his bed.

Tomorrow is still way later than you’d usually expect with injuries like this. Unless he broke his femur or he needs surgery for what seems like a straightforward injury, I don’t know why he’d be staying in the hospital for an extended period of time.

"Who else visited today?" Ariana asked Felicity.

"Allison came over with Tony a few minutes before you came, and she brought some fast food. But we didn't want any, so she just went home with it.

“Hey dudes, you want this food?”

“No thank you, I don’t want a heart attack.”

“Well fuck you then, we’re going home! Eat dicks, Pizza Pastas!”

Yeah, that seems like the sort of thing you’d expect from Allison.

Japan and Kierra came with Germany and Louella, and after a while, Japan and Kierra left.

Wow, some axis buddies they are.

Oh yeah, and Austria came over, too. He brought a miniature piano. He started to play it, but then a nurse kicked him out for waking up the other patients. And then he yelled a lot of bad words on his way out the door." Felicity replied.

Austria swore a lot? Are we thinking of the same country? Also, why would he bring a miniature piano instead of, I don’t know, a Casio keyboard? Why would he bring either of those things in the first place when everyone else has been bringing food, never mind in the early morning or late in the night?

By the way, this is the only time we get to hear of Austria directly throughout the fic. He indirectly becomes important later, but this is the only direct thing we ever hear of him doing. So...enjoy it while you can. He’s gotten to escape far sooner than we have.

Godspeed, good sir. May your vital regions remain unoccupied.

"Hey, anyone know if Romano coming back anytime soon?" Italy asked. Everyone shook their heads.

"Who wants our pizza?" Francisca asked.

"No thanks, I'm full," Italy said.

"Me too," Felicity agreed.

"Same here," Germany said.

"Yup," Louella said.

"I wouldn't eat that pizza if it were the last food on Earth!" Ariana laughed.

"Ariana," Felicity said.

"What?" Ariana asked.

"Too far," Felicity answered.

What a stunning conversation! I wish I could have such astounding conversations in real life!

Also, that last joke is stolen from the awkward first season of DBZ Abridged and doesn’t really make sense since Ariana barely insulted France. If anything, his sick burn about England’s pizzas was more ‘too far’ worthy than that. Or was this one more offensive because the world is on the brink of a third world war that might cause snail pizza to be the last food on Earth…?

France and Francisca looked rather annoyed. France said, "Chances are, England's food would be the last food on Earth, not mine."

Ariana growled. "Hey! His food is…" Ariana had an uneasy smile as she lied, "… Great."

Says the person who literally threw his food in the trash earlier and bought a Walmart cake instead.

Francisca broke out laughing. "Yeah, and so is the dirt in our backyard!" she joked. Then France started to laugh as well.

"Hey, you shut up!" Ariana demanded, pointing at Francisca.

"Ooh, feisty!" France commented.

AAH, CREEPY.

"And you!" Ariana said, pointing to France. "Do everyone a favor and stop being such a pervert!"

Francisca lifted the pizza and Ariana noticed her eyes dart around her eyebrows, aiming to throw the pizza.

See? If Ariana was able to tell that Francisca was about to throw food, then why couldn’t France or Francisca tell when Ariana was about to do it? It doesn’t make any sense.

Also, just thought I should add…a food fight in the middle of a hospital room isn’t very gentlewomanly, you two. Learn your manners.

She was able to avoid the shot, though, but only because Francisca was a terrible shot.

Of course she was, compared to the great and mighty Sue-riana.

Ariana shouted, "I'm done here!" As she marched to the door, she added in a lighter tone, "Hope you get better soon, Italy." Then she left the room.

How mature, just stomp angrily out of the room without giving a second glance to the injured person you came here to visit just because your rival tried and failed to throw food at you. What a wonderful protagonist we have.

"I… think we'd better go, too. Bye, Italy," France said, as he led Francisca out the door.

About seven minutes after the three left, Germany got up with Louella said, "Well, Italy, we have to go. I hope you get better soon."

This sentence with Germany and Louella doesn’t make any sense, both because you can’t tell who’s speaking and because ‘seven minutes after the three left’ is an oddly specific time to leave when they’ve been there all day.

"Yeah, bye, Germany!" Italy said as Germany and Louella left the room.

"Well, looks like we're alone now," Felicity said to Italy.

"No, you aren't."

A voice came from the corner of the room, where there was an uncomfortable metal chair. In the seat, Mattie randomly appeared.

"Oh, hey Mattie! I didn't notice you there!" Felicity said.

"Yeah, I know…" Mattie said.

Of course. And I’m going to add two points for that, both because Mattie was there alone without anyone noticing and because she was forced to sit in an uncomfortable metal chair the entire time. But this goes to show you, Mattie is the only real friend you can rely on here. Everyone but her and Felicity is a jerk.

--MATTIE ABUSE +2

Meanwhile, Ariana was already at England's house.

She got to Great Britain from Italy within seven minutes of leaving? Did she teleport like some sort of interdimensional specter ?

England had already started to make food, so Ariana didn't get to do much while he was cooking. So she went over to the shore close to Sealand's rig. Sealand soon noticed his friend, and threw a safety raft into the water with an oar. He then leaped from the ship and landed in the boat, and began to paddle like crazy, leaving a foamy trail of water behind him. Once he reached the shore Ariana was at, he got off the raft and said, "'Ello, Ariana, what's up?"

This is the first and probably the last time we’ll see dialect written out like this, but this will not the first time that Sealand is absurdly talented in breaking the laws of physics. Seriously, Sealand’s rig is three nautical miles off of the coast of Suffolk. He shouldn’t be able to paddle over to the mainland that quickly, micronation or not. It’s just...silly. Even past me agrees with us in the coming author’s note. Don’t believe me? Just watch.

Ariana explained what had happened to Italy, and then said the only reason she was out here was because England was cooking.

"That British jerk's food is terrible!" Sealand shouted.

Great to know that you were paying attention, Sealand.

"You aren't getting the point, are you?" Ariana asked. "What I said wasn't all about England's cooking."

"Yeah, of course I know what you're talking about, Italy, right?" Sealand verified.

"Yes," Ariana said, a bit of annoyance in her voice.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Sealand asked.

Wow, Sealand’s the worst friend ever!!

Before Ariana could answer, she heard England shout from his house, "Ariana, your food is done!"

I know it gets lampshaded right after this, but it still doesn’t make sense. Is he just...shouting from London to Suffolk? Can’t everyone in the UK hear him then? How many Arianas do you think are going to show up to Buckingham Palace or wherever expecting food and then leave hungry because the food is a bunch of rocks and a bug sizzling in a saucepan?

"How does he shout so loud?" Sealand asked.

"Hell if I know," Ariana said, before getting up and shouting back to Britain, "Coming!"

That’s absurd too, and that’s not lampshaded! Did she expect him to hear her?

"Bye, Ariana!" Sealand said, as he got up and got into his small raft.

"Bye, Sealand!" Ariana said as she ran for England's place.

What a useless conversation they just had. You made Sealand waste his rowing energy for no reason, Ariana!!

Don't question Sealand's epic paddling. 

Oh great, my worst nemesis from five years past...the word ‘epic’ when used in a context other than one referring to a long poetic composition focused on a hero. I almost forgot how cringey the early 2010s were for that sort of stuff. BROFIST, BROS!!

Or England's being able to shout loud enough for Ariana to hear from far away. Okay? Okay. :D

I can, I will, and in fact, I already have. Take that, past me! You feel that hesitation in your heart to even include that information? That’s me, somehow retroactively influencing your decisions and planting that seed of doubt that maybe the reader’s suspension of disbelief will fail them in this instance because of those two things that don’t make sense! Feel my futuristic wrath and writhe in unbridled despair!! And then please be a doll and stop writing this abhorrent fic, please, I’m begging you. My therapist said that it’s bad for me to keep smiting my past self like this. It’s giving me past traumas that I lacked beforehand.

Anyway, that was chapter 6 of Genderswapped Nations. Awful as usual, right? Not egregiously so like some of our past chapters have been, but let me tell you, this upcoming chapter is one of the worst in the entire fic. Not only does it break multiple laws of physics and challenge all forms of logic, but it also includes a new, never-before-seen tragic backstory for everyone’s favorite character, Sue-riana. Aaand it has one of the worst chapter titles of them all, so you have that to look forward to as well. See you then!  

(CANADA/MATTIE ABUSE COUNTER= 12)