statetalia things i guess.

To the One She Owed Her Life

New York and Mass spend time together on thanksgiving solemnly, as the Bay Stater remembers the personification who she owed her life to.

pairing; NYxMA

warning; this is meant to be kinda angsty. Also after a bit the historical inaccuracies came up and trying to fix them was hard, so it certainly isn't perfect. Also, I like to believe that all the states have realized their racism in the past and at least try to be better, so sorry if it seems like I'm trying to lessen the horrors the natives went through. ALSO THIS KINDA SUCKS.

Adams (MA's) and Adirondack (NY's) are pets, a cat and a Yorkshire terrier respectively. Massachusetts has the highest amount of cat owners and the most popular dog in NY is the Yorkshire terrier. They're only mentioned a few times but still, just in case.

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 Within the lively thanksgiving bustle of Manhattan, the state of New York sat on the couch in the penthouse Livingroom, flicking through channels half asleep. He had in all honesty been waiting for this day to come. While he certainly enjoyed having most nations and states rely on him, constantly having to wake up early to deal with issues with the economy was, if one couldn't guess, draining. He finally had some time off, and he would saver it. He had nearly slept two and a half hours more than usual, as he didn't have to focus on working on what was due in the morning or getting up at 4:30 in the morning. He smiled to himself, nearly falling asleep.

 At least he would have, if a loud bout of Irish punk hadn't blared from his phone, disturbing not only him but also his Yorkshire terrier Adirondack and twin sister Long Island, who had been attempting to cook something for thanksgiving. She glared at the blaring device. "I almost spilt the oil...". Adirondack sat up from his bed, staring at his owner. New York groaned, and picked up the phone before heading to his bedroom. He then finally answered the contact.

"Okay Masshole, what is it. I was having a perfectly fine thanksgiving before you decided to call."

 Massachusetts huffed from the other side of the line.  "Wow, I'm so sorry to have ruined your day at - " She checked the time. "8:00 in the morning! Oh no how horrible!" Her voice was laced with sarcasm and amusement. However, regaining her original tone of voice, she continued. "But anyways, I was hoping that you could come to Plymouth? I just... today is never really as happy for me as it is the others, and I think you're the only one who would at least kinda understand."

 Normally, the Empire State would argue with her. After all, Plymouth was a long enough drive on a normal day, never mind thanksgiving. However, there was a softness in her usually harsh voice. He was unfamiliar with the tone, considering her attitude had barely changed over the years (at least towards him), however had heard it once or twice before. He simply couldn't say no.

 "Alright, it's not like I have much to do anyways. But if I'm late for my own thanksgiving, I'm forcing you over on Christmas morning." 

 After having finally reached Plymouth by ramming through rural Massachusetts by a combo of New York City driving and threatening blackmail and bribery (as well as showing his actual political prowess), New York exited the car door, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself. The drive through rural Massachusetts had been off-putting, as per usual. Most of the state was forest, However it wasn't like the beautiful feeling you get when driving through the peaceful scenery of Upstate. It was more like some sort of monster or clinically insane person would jump at you, it was that creepy. It may of had something to do with the trees, tall and unwavering, grey bark and the drooping dead leaves of the slim branches of the trees, a sign of the inevitable winter coming to the region. Add the usual sky of New England, and the brisk cold wind shaking the branches of the obscene and ghoulish trees, and it was the perfect setting for a horror movie. It also didn't help that the Masshole took great pleasure in her legends and horrors beyond his imagination, and chose to tell everyone, not just those who would like to hear it, about the legends of cultists sacrificing both men, women and animals, as well as her Wizard's Glen, a literal gate to hell, on Halloween. Sometimes he wished that Ireland hadn't brought the holiday over, just for that. But now, finally he was out of the woods and in Plymouth. He looked around for Massachusetts, and that side bang that was Cape Cod.