hellzabeth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hellzabeth) wrote2010-02-25 07:38 pm
hellzabeth) wrote2010-02-25 07:38 pm
Entry tags:
Family Ties [Part 17]
Title: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): Ireland, Northern Ireland, Canada, America, England, Wales, Mexico, Spain.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Long conversations in Spanish, swearing.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
Aine tucked her brother in with such tenderness it almost made Matthew feel like he was intruding in his own house. The spare bedroom had been allocated entirely to Éibhear, though no doubt the Irish woman would spend more time in here than anywhere else, much less her own room. Canada stood in the doorway, waiting for his aunt, feeling like he was intruding on something private, despite it being his house. She planted a gentle kiss on his pale forehead, lingering for just a little longer before almost running Matthew over.
“Oh! Oh, sorry Mattie.” Her voice was steady and her shoulders squared. Canada shook his head.
“No no, it happens to me all the time, really.”
She gave him a soft smile, carrying on down the hall and the stairs, Canada following her into the study. America was already arguing with England.
“What’s wrong with striking now?!”
“Everything, you nitwit! Winter’s coming, sending our soldiers to strike now, especially in Russia, would be suicide! This is what Russia wants from us!”
“I could take him, cold or not!”
“France thought the same, and he and his soldiers froze!”
“Well even you beat France when he was doing his Empire thing so-”
“What exactly are you implying?!”
“Okay, both of you settle down.” Wales cut in from his position in an armchair before strangulation could occur. They glared at each other a moment longer, before turning away and folding their arms. Darren rolled his eyes.
“If you boys are done being five years old.” Ireland snipped, walking past them and sitting on one of the chairs. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do. On the one hand, England’s right, because it’d be really, really stupid to attack Russia now-” she spoke over America’s protestation. “-but! But America has his own point; we do need to do something, because sitting still and doing nothing at all will give the impression of weakness.”
“So what, an invasion?” America suggested.
“Of somewhere small, like North.” She paused, took a deep breath. “Just to show we mean business and will take an eye for an eye.”
“If anyone suggests the Middle East, I’m going to-”
“Hey, that’s a great idea Iggy!” chirped Alfred, and Arthur facepalmed. “Israel needs some help, being the only good guy when surrounded by baddies, we could show our support for him there! And then Sarah won’t tell me off again!”
“Not a bad plan, actually.” Wales considered, ignoring Arthur’s mutters of ‘the fucking desert’ and ‘sunburn again’. “Not too many troops though, we don’t want to seem too aggressive. This is a counter-attack, which will put Russia under pressure from his allies.”
“Just one country, bordering on Israel.” America hummed in thought, before his face lit up. “Hey, how about-”
“If you say Iraq or Iran, I’m going to hit you.”
“But Eeeeenglaaaaaand~!” the blonde whined. Arthur stood steadfast.
“No. You leave those girls alone already. We pulled our troops out when this whole mess started so we could regroup, we’re not sending them straight back.”
Canada sighed. How come everyone but him was immune to the pout? America huffed and sank into a chair, folding his arms like a moody child. England rolled his eyes and sat in a chair of his own, flinching slightly when he aggravated his wound. Wales gave a defeated sigh, sharing a long-suffering look with Canada. Ireland scoffed at the whole thing, just as Mexico walked in.
“I’m done parking the jets- woah. Who died?” she joked darkly, tossing her jet-black braid over her shoulder. “What’d I miss?”
“We’re invading the Middle East because it’s full of baddies.” America said, shooting a glare at England. Mexico quirked an eyebrow.
“Again? And you need to come up with a better name than that.” She shrugged out of her pilot jacket, hung it on the back of America’s chair, and made a half-hearted snatching motion at his face. America dodged it deftly, and she continued like nothing had happened. “For Russia’s team, I mean. Like you had in the other wars, the Axis and the Allies.”
“Can’t call them that now.” Wales said thoughtfully, considering the idea. “Unfair on Germany, Italy and Japan, who aren’t even in this.”
“Can’t call them the Reds either. Scotland’s got red hair, but only Russia’s a commie bastard.” America added, ignoring Canada’s mutter that Russia wasn’t communist any more.
“How about… the Defenders and the Assailants?” Aine wondered aloud. After a beat, everyone in the room but her gasped. “What? It’s not that good.”
“They chose a name for themselves.”
The voice from the doorway made Ireland spin round so fast her skirt cracked where it whipped the air. Her hands flew to her mouth, and she gasped out-
“Éibhear!”
Northern Ireland did not look well. He was still as pale as when he was, well, dead, his eyes bloodshot and hair even more unruly than usual. He was in the pajamas that Ireland had wrestled him into before she put him to bed, and shivered periodically. “Can we turn up the heat in here? It’s really cold.” he smiled weakly, and his sister rushed over to his side, throwing her arms around him, then checked at his neck. “Sis, what’re you do-”
Thwak!
“Making sure your head doesn’t come off when I hit you.” She intoned, shaking out her hand. Her voice wobbled slightly. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Northern Ireland, to his credit, looked sheepish.
“S’not like I meant to…” he mumbled. “But… sorry.” Ireland seemed satisfied with that, and planted a light kiss on his cheek. Her eyes widened.
“You really are freezing!” she exclaimed, pushing him towards a chair and forcing him into it with little effort. “You keep your arse right there while I go find some blankets. Canada, help me out?” And the two hurried out.
“Aw, why can’t we be like that, hermano?” Mexico sighed, sitting on the arm of America’s chair. The blonde gave her a suspicious look.
“Because at every opportunity you get you try to poke my eyes out?”
“Do not.” A beat, before she suddenly lunged at him. "¡Regresame a Texas!"
“Never!” Alfred countered, falling out of his chair to escape his southern neighbour. Arthur sighed, massaging away a headache. It was always this. And now there was that ringing sound… actually, it sounded more like a ringtone-
“Get off me, fatty!” Mexico yelled, kicking at America as he sat on her back, pinning her to the floor. “I need to get to my phone!”
“Hey look guys, geographic correctness!” He laughed, then was muffled by a face full of white fur.
“Now we’re correct.” Grinned Canada, nearly suffocating America with his bear. He and Ireland had ghosted back into the room unnoticed, and he handed Mexico her phone, and she flicked it open with a huff.
“¿Hola?”
“México, he escuchado que estas de parte de América." Came a familiar voice. England growled something under his breath that might have been ‘bastard Spaniard”. Mexico rolled her eyes.
“¡Paaaaah~! Puedo hace lo que yo quiera, ¡Soy independiente!” she half-whined, pouting despite being out of her father’s view. There was a long-suffering sigh from the other end of the phone, only audible because everyone had shut up to listen in.
“María Ofelia Fernández Vargas,” Spain rattled off in a weary manner, and America stifled his giggle. “no me hagas ir hasta allá. ¡Ya es bastante difícil decidir donde pelear!”
“Entonces ven, no me importa. Nunca vienes a visitar de todos modos; incluso mamá me visita mas a menudo.” Mexico probably would have tossed her hair back, if she hadn’t still been pinned by America, who was making confused faces.
“Anyone else need subtitles for this conversation?”
“Shh! Te escuchará. Él odia ese nombre y envenenará la comida esta noche si no me porto bien.” England smirked at the panicked note in his old enemy’s voice. Mexico also grinned menacingly, taking a deep breath. The North America brothers’ faces were pictures of terror.
“Cover your ears!” Canada yelped, doing so. Aine covered Éibhear’s ears for him, used to loud noise. Wales almost didn’t make it in time, before-
"¡MAMÁ! ¡PAPÁ ESTA INTENTANDO IR A LA GUERRA DE NUEVO!" María roared, unbelievably loud. Spain spluttered on the other end, probably due to the new ear ache he had, before the words sunk in.
“Mira lo que haz hecho- uh, no es nada Lovi! Espera ¿Lo oíste? Uh Puedo explicarlo-” Dialtone.
“Pfff- ahahah!” America laughed, finally rolling off his sister. Canada smothered his own giggles.
“Is it a general pass time for you three to embarrass your parents, despite being across the ocean?” England asked, half amused at Spain’s plight, half… sympathetic. Because god knew how many times America had done that kind of thing to him.
“Yup. Apart from Canada, coz he’s a momma’s boy.”
Canada squawked indignantly. “I am not!”
This started another fight, with María joining in for the simply opportunity to snatch Alfred’s glasses. The older Nations ignored them.
“What’s the name they’ve given themselves, Éibhear?” Wales asked, moving his injured leg out of the way of the brawl. Northern Ireland tore his eyes away from the fight.
“They seem to like ‘New World Order’.”
“Totally cliché!” yelled America, before being tripped by Mexico.
“It’s rendered differently in French and Russian and whoever’s on who’s side now. Hey, I didn’t pick it, what more do you want from me? I was dead ten minutes ago, cut me some slack.”
England’s eyes widened. “That’s right, you were. What happened to your people?”
North frowned. “Hiding, mostly. There are soldiers on every street. Belfast is…” he shook his head. “So many, just gone. From the shores and the towns to Belfast, worst there. The old government buildings, the big businesses, the transport, just… gone.” He put a hand to his temple, frowning even harder. “Geez, now a headache.”
Wales was concerned by this, but pushed onward. “Any idea which way they’re moving? It’s still your land, you could feel them.”
The pained look in Éibhear’s eyes was not missed by Ireland, who crouched beside him, held his other hand and tried to examine his face where he was beginning to hunch over. “North, what’s hurting you?”
Wales leaned forward just enough to catch “it’s cold”, before Northern Ireland fainted dead away again.
“Damn it.” Cursed England, looking frustrated as Ireland fussed. “There’s still an information block.” The fainting spell was brief, and within seconds Northern Ireland was blinking awake again, looking confused.
“What’d I miss?” he mumbled. Ireland’s lips thinned.
“Nothing. Never mind.” She shook her head, standing to give her siblings a look. The North Americans had stopped fighting when Éibhear fainted. “It’s getting late, too late to discuss plans. We’ll do this in the morning.” Swinging her brother’s arm over her shoulders, she helped him out of the chair.
Notes (lots today!):
- Diaspora (Old Israel) = Sarah. And for future reference, Modern Israel = Jacob. Just to clear that up.
- The translation of the Spanish shouting match is as follows (Thanks again to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
millesettecento for doing the Spanish for me):
Spain: "Mexico, I've heard you're taking America's side."
Mexico: "Daaaad! I can do what I want. I'm independent!"
Spain: "María Ofelia Fernández Vargas" (This is Mexico's full name. It also implies that Lovino is her mum, due to the order of her last names. He's not pleased.) "Don't make me come over there. It's hard enough to pick a side as it is!"
Mexico: "Come over then, I don't care. It's not like you visit anyway; Mom visits more than you do."
Spain: "Shh! Not so loud! He hates that name and will poison dinner tonight if I don't behave!"
Mexico: *deeeep breath* "MOOOOOOM, DAD'S TRYING TO FIGHT IN A WAR AGAIN."
Spain: *panics* "Now look at what you- uh, it's nothing Lovi! Wait, what? I can explain-"
Part 18
Characters (in this chapter): Ireland, Northern Ireland, Canada, America, England, Wales, Mexico, Spain.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Long conversations in Spanish, swearing.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
Aine tucked her brother in with such tenderness it almost made Matthew feel like he was intruding in his own house. The spare bedroom had been allocated entirely to Éibhear, though no doubt the Irish woman would spend more time in here than anywhere else, much less her own room. Canada stood in the doorway, waiting for his aunt, feeling like he was intruding on something private, despite it being his house. She planted a gentle kiss on his pale forehead, lingering for just a little longer before almost running Matthew over.
“Oh! Oh, sorry Mattie.” Her voice was steady and her shoulders squared. Canada shook his head.
“No no, it happens to me all the time, really.”
She gave him a soft smile, carrying on down the hall and the stairs, Canada following her into the study. America was already arguing with England.
“What’s wrong with striking now?!”
“Everything, you nitwit! Winter’s coming, sending our soldiers to strike now, especially in Russia, would be suicide! This is what Russia wants from us!”
“I could take him, cold or not!”
“France thought the same, and he and his soldiers froze!”
“Well even you beat France when he was doing his Empire thing so-”
“What exactly are you implying?!”
“Okay, both of you settle down.” Wales cut in from his position in an armchair before strangulation could occur. They glared at each other a moment longer, before turning away and folding their arms. Darren rolled his eyes.
“If you boys are done being five years old.” Ireland snipped, walking past them and sitting on one of the chairs. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do. On the one hand, England’s right, because it’d be really, really stupid to attack Russia now-” she spoke over America’s protestation. “-but! But America has his own point; we do need to do something, because sitting still and doing nothing at all will give the impression of weakness.”
“So what, an invasion?” America suggested.
“Of somewhere small, like North.” She paused, took a deep breath. “Just to show we mean business and will take an eye for an eye.”
“If anyone suggests the Middle East, I’m going to-”
“Hey, that’s a great idea Iggy!” chirped Alfred, and Arthur facepalmed. “Israel needs some help, being the only good guy when surrounded by baddies, we could show our support for him there! And then Sarah won’t tell me off again!”
“Not a bad plan, actually.” Wales considered, ignoring Arthur’s mutters of ‘the fucking desert’ and ‘sunburn again’. “Not too many troops though, we don’t want to seem too aggressive. This is a counter-attack, which will put Russia under pressure from his allies.”
“Just one country, bordering on Israel.” America hummed in thought, before his face lit up. “Hey, how about-”
“If you say Iraq or Iran, I’m going to hit you.”
“But Eeeeenglaaaaaand~!” the blonde whined. Arthur stood steadfast.
“No. You leave those girls alone already. We pulled our troops out when this whole mess started so we could regroup, we’re not sending them straight back.”
Canada sighed. How come everyone but him was immune to the pout? America huffed and sank into a chair, folding his arms like a moody child. England rolled his eyes and sat in a chair of his own, flinching slightly when he aggravated his wound. Wales gave a defeated sigh, sharing a long-suffering look with Canada. Ireland scoffed at the whole thing, just as Mexico walked in.
“I’m done parking the jets- woah. Who died?” she joked darkly, tossing her jet-black braid over her shoulder. “What’d I miss?”
“We’re invading the Middle East because it’s full of baddies.” America said, shooting a glare at England. Mexico quirked an eyebrow.
“Again? And you need to come up with a better name than that.” She shrugged out of her pilot jacket, hung it on the back of America’s chair, and made a half-hearted snatching motion at his face. America dodged it deftly, and she continued like nothing had happened. “For Russia’s team, I mean. Like you had in the other wars, the Axis and the Allies.”
“Can’t call them that now.” Wales said thoughtfully, considering the idea. “Unfair on Germany, Italy and Japan, who aren’t even in this.”
“Can’t call them the Reds either. Scotland’s got red hair, but only Russia’s a commie bastard.” America added, ignoring Canada’s mutter that Russia wasn’t communist any more.
“How about… the Defenders and the Assailants?” Aine wondered aloud. After a beat, everyone in the room but her gasped. “What? It’s not that good.”
“They chose a name for themselves.”
The voice from the doorway made Ireland spin round so fast her skirt cracked where it whipped the air. Her hands flew to her mouth, and she gasped out-
“Éibhear!”
Northern Ireland did not look well. He was still as pale as when he was, well, dead, his eyes bloodshot and hair even more unruly than usual. He was in the pajamas that Ireland had wrestled him into before she put him to bed, and shivered periodically. “Can we turn up the heat in here? It’s really cold.” he smiled weakly, and his sister rushed over to his side, throwing her arms around him, then checked at his neck. “Sis, what’re you do-”
Thwak!
“Making sure your head doesn’t come off when I hit you.” She intoned, shaking out her hand. Her voice wobbled slightly. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Northern Ireland, to his credit, looked sheepish.
“S’not like I meant to…” he mumbled. “But… sorry.” Ireland seemed satisfied with that, and planted a light kiss on his cheek. Her eyes widened.
“You really are freezing!” she exclaimed, pushing him towards a chair and forcing him into it with little effort. “You keep your arse right there while I go find some blankets. Canada, help me out?” And the two hurried out.
“Aw, why can’t we be like that, hermano?” Mexico sighed, sitting on the arm of America’s chair. The blonde gave her a suspicious look.
“Because at every opportunity you get you try to poke my eyes out?”
“Do not.” A beat, before she suddenly lunged at him. "¡Regresame a Texas!"
“Never!” Alfred countered, falling out of his chair to escape his southern neighbour. Arthur sighed, massaging away a headache. It was always this. And now there was that ringing sound… actually, it sounded more like a ringtone-
“Get off me, fatty!” Mexico yelled, kicking at America as he sat on her back, pinning her to the floor. “I need to get to my phone!”
“Hey look guys, geographic correctness!” He laughed, then was muffled by a face full of white fur.
“Now we’re correct.” Grinned Canada, nearly suffocating America with his bear. He and Ireland had ghosted back into the room unnoticed, and he handed Mexico her phone, and she flicked it open with a huff.
“¿Hola?”
“México, he escuchado que estas de parte de América." Came a familiar voice. England growled something under his breath that might have been ‘bastard Spaniard”. Mexico rolled her eyes.
“¡Paaaaah~! Puedo hace lo que yo quiera, ¡Soy independiente!” she half-whined, pouting despite being out of her father’s view. There was a long-suffering sigh from the other end of the phone, only audible because everyone had shut up to listen in.
“María Ofelia Fernández Vargas,” Spain rattled off in a weary manner, and America stifled his giggle. “no me hagas ir hasta allá. ¡Ya es bastante difícil decidir donde pelear!”
“Entonces ven, no me importa. Nunca vienes a visitar de todos modos; incluso mamá me visita mas a menudo.” Mexico probably would have tossed her hair back, if she hadn’t still been pinned by America, who was making confused faces.
“Anyone else need subtitles for this conversation?”
“Shh! Te escuchará. Él odia ese nombre y envenenará la comida esta noche si no me porto bien.” England smirked at the panicked note in his old enemy’s voice. Mexico also grinned menacingly, taking a deep breath. The North America brothers’ faces were pictures of terror.
“Cover your ears!” Canada yelped, doing so. Aine covered Éibhear’s ears for him, used to loud noise. Wales almost didn’t make it in time, before-
"¡MAMÁ! ¡PAPÁ ESTA INTENTANDO IR A LA GUERRA DE NUEVO!" María roared, unbelievably loud. Spain spluttered on the other end, probably due to the new ear ache he had, before the words sunk in.
“Mira lo que haz hecho- uh, no es nada Lovi! Espera ¿Lo oíste? Uh Puedo explicarlo-” Dialtone.
“Pfff- ahahah!” America laughed, finally rolling off his sister. Canada smothered his own giggles.
“Is it a general pass time for you three to embarrass your parents, despite being across the ocean?” England asked, half amused at Spain’s plight, half… sympathetic. Because god knew how many times America had done that kind of thing to him.
“Yup. Apart from Canada, coz he’s a momma’s boy.”
Canada squawked indignantly. “I am not!”
This started another fight, with María joining in for the simply opportunity to snatch Alfred’s glasses. The older Nations ignored them.
“What’s the name they’ve given themselves, Éibhear?” Wales asked, moving his injured leg out of the way of the brawl. Northern Ireland tore his eyes away from the fight.
“They seem to like ‘New World Order’.”
“Totally cliché!” yelled America, before being tripped by Mexico.
“It’s rendered differently in French and Russian and whoever’s on who’s side now. Hey, I didn’t pick it, what more do you want from me? I was dead ten minutes ago, cut me some slack.”
England’s eyes widened. “That’s right, you were. What happened to your people?”
North frowned. “Hiding, mostly. There are soldiers on every street. Belfast is…” he shook his head. “So many, just gone. From the shores and the towns to Belfast, worst there. The old government buildings, the big businesses, the transport, just… gone.” He put a hand to his temple, frowning even harder. “Geez, now a headache.”
Wales was concerned by this, but pushed onward. “Any idea which way they’re moving? It’s still your land, you could feel them.”
The pained look in Éibhear’s eyes was not missed by Ireland, who crouched beside him, held his other hand and tried to examine his face where he was beginning to hunch over. “North, what’s hurting you?”
Wales leaned forward just enough to catch “it’s cold”, before Northern Ireland fainted dead away again.
“Damn it.” Cursed England, looking frustrated as Ireland fussed. “There’s still an information block.” The fainting spell was brief, and within seconds Northern Ireland was blinking awake again, looking confused.
“What’d I miss?” he mumbled. Ireland’s lips thinned.
“Nothing. Never mind.” She shook her head, standing to give her siblings a look. The North Americans had stopped fighting when Éibhear fainted. “It’s getting late, too late to discuss plans. We’ll do this in the morning.” Swinging her brother’s arm over her shoulders, she helped him out of the chair.
Notes (lots today!):
- Diaspora (Old Israel) = Sarah. And for future reference, Modern Israel = Jacob. Just to clear that up.
- The translation of the Spanish shouting match is as follows (Thanks again to
millesettecento for doing the Spanish for me):Spain: "Mexico, I've heard you're taking America's side."
Mexico: "Daaaad! I can do what I want. I'm independent!"
Spain: "María Ofelia Fernández Vargas" (This is Mexico's full name. It also implies that Lovino is her mum, due to the order of her last names. He's not pleased.) "Don't make me come over there. It's hard enough to pick a side as it is!"
Mexico: "Come over then, I don't care. It's not like you visit anyway; Mom visits more than you do."
Spain: "Shh! Not so loud! He hates that name and will poison dinner tonight if I don't behave!"
Mexico: *deeeep breath* "MOOOOOOM, DAD'S TRYING TO FIGHT IN A WAR AGAIN."
Spain: *panics* "Now look at what you- uh, it's nothing Lovi! Wait, what? I can explain-"
Part 18