[Fanfic] The Great Debate
Mar. 5th, 2010 12:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: The Great Debate
Characters: The WDF (Ireland, England, America, Mexico, Wales and Canada)
Rating: 12
Warnings: Swearing, arguments over English Language.
Summary: Remember in part 20 of Family Ties where Ireland mentioned that her changing out of her jumper/sweater started off another fight over English? I got bored.
Aine shrugged out of her jumper, slightly pink cheeked. “Did you have to turn up the heat in here so much, Matty?” she huffed. The Canadian flushed.
“María was getting cold…” he mumbled.
“Toss your sweater over here, I’ll put it in the closet.” America called, on his way out of the room with a few other coats. England paused in where he was looking over the world maps.
“It’s called a jumper, Alfred.” He intoned. The other blonde frowned.
“Nuh-uh, a jumper’s something you wear over a dress.” He indicated by his shoulders.
Giant British eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “No, that’s a shrug.”
“You speak English all weird, Iggy.”
“I invented the bloody language you twat!” Arthur raged. The two glared at each other, and Darren massaged his temple as he felt the old argument start up.
“Herb.” The Englishman glared.
“’erb.” Insisted the American.
“Trousers.”
“Pants.”
“To-mar-toh.”
“To-may-doh.”
“ZED!”
“ZEE!”
“OH THAT DOES IT!” England leapt for him, snarling. America was ready, throwing his elder to the side and jumping on top of him to start the wrestling match.
“BRING IT ON OLD MAN!”
“STOP BUTCHERING THE LANGUAGE I GAVE YOU, BRAT!”
“YOU SPELL IT STUPID ANYWAY! COLOR DOESN’T NEED A U!”
“DON’T PRETEND LIKE YOU KNOW ANYTHING, YOU INSOLENT LITTLE-”
Darren, Aine, and Matthew watched the age-old battle recommence with varying degrees of worry. The red head looked about ready to break out the popcorn, where as Matt looked like he was going to dive in and break it up, but was too scared to try. Mexico walked into the room and paused to stare at the fight.
“What’s with them?” she asked Ireland over the shouting.
“They’re fighting over their language again.”
“YOU COULDN’T SPELL ORGANISE TO SAVE YOUR LIFE!”
“OH-AR-GEE-AY-EN-EYE-ZEE-EE!”
“WRONG, WRONG, WRONG!”
“Oh.” María blinked. She offered the others what she’d been cooking up for dinner. “Fajita?”
Ireland’s eyes lit up, while Canada paled. “Ooh, ta muchly.”
“H-how many chilies did you put in there this time?” he stared at the food like it was going to leap up and bite him. Or combust.
“Only eight, why?”
Finally, Wales stepped between the two, tearing a hissing and spitting Arthur off Alfred, who was shouting something about “adding consonants on the end of words to cheat at scrabble.”
“How about we put this to a vote.” He suggested, looking between the two. Arthur pouted slightly, split lip or not.
“A vote.” He intoned, like it was a stupid suggestion. However, America jumped up, beaming gleefully.
“Yeah, let’s do this the democratic way! I love democracy!” he grinned. Darren nodded.
“Alright, everyone who pronounces this letter-” he drew a Z in the air. “as ‘zed’, raise your hand.”
Ireland, England, Wales and Canada all put their hands up. Mexico shrugged, eating a fajita and watching the slowly horrified look creep onto Alfred’s face.
“Trousers, all in favor say ‘aye’.”
Again, England, Ireland and Wales all put up their hands, and eventually Canada, with some hesitation. A triumphant smirk was beginning to form on England’s face.
“Colour; spelt with a U?”
Everyone but America nodded. He spluttered.
“That’s cheating!” he yelped, pointing at the British isles siblings. “You’re cheating!”
“I thought you liked democracy, Alfred.” Arthur grinned evilly. The United States flailed about.
“Shut up! My vote counts for more because I have more people than all of you combined!”
“Moron’s got a point.” Mexico pointed out, and America turned to her hopefully.
“Yeah, back me up, Mexico!”
“If I do, can I have Texas?”
“Hahaha, no.”
“Well, I don’t even like speaking English, it’s an ugly, stupid language anyway.” She huffed, flicking a long braid over her shoulder. All the Anglophiles stared at her.
“You speak Spanish different from Spain, though.” Matthew pointed out.
“And you speak French different than France. Either way, we’re pissing off our parent Nations.”
“Can’t call Iggy a parent, he’s too-” America gestured for the word while England glared at him. “Repressed. Bad role model.” Arthur squawked indignantly. Alfred ignored him. “Anyway, maybe we should just accept that I speak American and Iggy speaks English. Every language has an origin, I’m just developing my own.” He grinned. The others stared.
“… you’re still an ungrateful brat that is making a Frankenstein monster out of my language.” England grumbled.
“You act like your language wasn’t a mish mash of others in the first place, Artie.” Ireland prodded. England flushed, but his sister continued. "I mean, most of your language is either Germanic-" England frowned. "-or Latinate-" A twitch. "-or even French."
"Alright, enough! Enough of this!" England yelled, smacking his hand down on the maps. "We're going to the Middle East tonight, we all need to prepare. Ireland, you stay here and look after your brother." he stomped to the door. "I'm going to go pack."
Waiting until England had gone out of ear shot, Ireland and America gave each other a high-five.
"Did you plan that?" Wales asked, only half-expecting an answer.
"I needed a little humor in this afternoon." Ireland admitted with a shrug, making her way to the door as well. "Well, have fun without me you guys."
Notes:
- "to-mah-doh": to the English ear, the American pronounciations of "t"s in the middle of words seem to transform into "d"s. So, to use an overused example: Harry Potter, filtered through American sounds like "hah-ree paah-der" to us.We find it adorable.
- I don't know if Canadians use "trouser". I just went with the fact there seems to be a prevalence of British English.
- Fajitas (fa-hee-tas) are fegging delicious.
- English is in fact made out of every language that has ever been used by the invaders of our land. This means it's part Celtic (very small amount these day) Scandinavian (lots of this), French (which is why we call cow "beef", not "cowmeat") lots of Germanic stuff (from the Saxon settlement. Most of our short words are from this.) and Latinate (from... Rome, duh. All the long words seem to be from this.)
Characters: The WDF (Ireland, England, America, Mexico, Wales and Canada)
Rating: 12
Warnings: Swearing, arguments over English Language.
Summary: Remember in part 20 of Family Ties where Ireland mentioned that her changing out of her jumper/sweater started off another fight over English? I got bored.
Aine shrugged out of her jumper, slightly pink cheeked. “Did you have to turn up the heat in here so much, Matty?” she huffed. The Canadian flushed.
“María was getting cold…” he mumbled.
“Toss your sweater over here, I’ll put it in the closet.” America called, on his way out of the room with a few other coats. England paused in where he was looking over the world maps.
“It’s called a jumper, Alfred.” He intoned. The other blonde frowned.
“Nuh-uh, a jumper’s something you wear over a dress.” He indicated by his shoulders.
Giant British eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “No, that’s a shrug.”
“You speak English all weird, Iggy.”
“I invented the bloody language you twat!” Arthur raged. The two glared at each other, and Darren massaged his temple as he felt the old argument start up.
“Herb.” The Englishman glared.
“’erb.” Insisted the American.
“Trousers.”
“Pants.”
“To-mar-toh.”
“To-may-doh.”
“ZED!”
“ZEE!”
“OH THAT DOES IT!” England leapt for him, snarling. America was ready, throwing his elder to the side and jumping on top of him to start the wrestling match.
“BRING IT ON OLD MAN!”
“STOP BUTCHERING THE LANGUAGE I GAVE YOU, BRAT!”
“YOU SPELL IT STUPID ANYWAY! COLOR DOESN’T NEED A U!”
“DON’T PRETEND LIKE YOU KNOW ANYTHING, YOU INSOLENT LITTLE-”
Darren, Aine, and Matthew watched the age-old battle recommence with varying degrees of worry. The red head looked about ready to break out the popcorn, where as Matt looked like he was going to dive in and break it up, but was too scared to try. Mexico walked into the room and paused to stare at the fight.
“What’s with them?” she asked Ireland over the shouting.
“They’re fighting over their language again.”
“YOU COULDN’T SPELL ORGANISE TO SAVE YOUR LIFE!”
“OH-AR-GEE-AY-EN-EYE-ZEE-EE!”
“WRONG, WRONG, WRONG!”
“Oh.” María blinked. She offered the others what she’d been cooking up for dinner. “Fajita?”
Ireland’s eyes lit up, while Canada paled. “Ooh, ta muchly.”
“H-how many chilies did you put in there this time?” he stared at the food like it was going to leap up and bite him. Or combust.
“Only eight, why?”
Finally, Wales stepped between the two, tearing a hissing and spitting Arthur off Alfred, who was shouting something about “adding consonants on the end of words to cheat at scrabble.”
“How about we put this to a vote.” He suggested, looking between the two. Arthur pouted slightly, split lip or not.
“A vote.” He intoned, like it was a stupid suggestion. However, America jumped up, beaming gleefully.
“Yeah, let’s do this the democratic way! I love democracy!” he grinned. Darren nodded.
“Alright, everyone who pronounces this letter-” he drew a Z in the air. “as ‘zed’, raise your hand.”
Ireland, England, Wales and Canada all put their hands up. Mexico shrugged, eating a fajita and watching the slowly horrified look creep onto Alfred’s face.
“Trousers, all in favor say ‘aye’.”
Again, England, Ireland and Wales all put up their hands, and eventually Canada, with some hesitation. A triumphant smirk was beginning to form on England’s face.
“Colour; spelt with a U?”
Everyone but America nodded. He spluttered.
“That’s cheating!” he yelped, pointing at the British isles siblings. “You’re cheating!”
“I thought you liked democracy, Alfred.” Arthur grinned evilly. The United States flailed about.
“Shut up! My vote counts for more because I have more people than all of you combined!”
“Moron’s got a point.” Mexico pointed out, and America turned to her hopefully.
“Yeah, back me up, Mexico!”
“If I do, can I have Texas?”
“Hahaha, no.”
“Well, I don’t even like speaking English, it’s an ugly, stupid language anyway.” She huffed, flicking a long braid over her shoulder. All the Anglophiles stared at her.
“You speak Spanish different from Spain, though.” Matthew pointed out.
“And you speak French different than France. Either way, we’re pissing off our parent Nations.”
“Can’t call Iggy a parent, he’s too-” America gestured for the word while England glared at him. “Repressed. Bad role model.” Arthur squawked indignantly. Alfred ignored him. “Anyway, maybe we should just accept that I speak American and Iggy speaks English. Every language has an origin, I’m just developing my own.” He grinned. The others stared.
“… you’re still an ungrateful brat that is making a Frankenstein monster out of my language.” England grumbled.
“You act like your language wasn’t a mish mash of others in the first place, Artie.” Ireland prodded. England flushed, but his sister continued. "I mean, most of your language is either Germanic-" England frowned. "-or Latinate-" A twitch. "-or even French."
"Alright, enough! Enough of this!" England yelled, smacking his hand down on the maps. "We're going to the Middle East tonight, we all need to prepare. Ireland, you stay here and look after your brother." he stomped to the door. "I'm going to go pack."
Waiting until England had gone out of ear shot, Ireland and America gave each other a high-five.
"Did you plan that?" Wales asked, only half-expecting an answer.
"I needed a little humor in this afternoon." Ireland admitted with a shrug, making her way to the door as well. "Well, have fun without me you guys."
Notes:
- "to-mah-doh": to the English ear, the American pronounciations of "t"s in the middle of words seem to transform into "d"s. So, to use an overused example: Harry Potter, filtered through American sounds like "hah-ree paah-der" to us.
- I don't know if Canadians use "trouser". I just went with the fact there seems to be a prevalence of British English.
- Fajitas (fa-hee-tas) are fegging delicious.
- English is in fact made out of every language that has ever been used by the invaders of our land. This means it's part Celtic (very small amount these day) Scandinavian (lots of this), French (which is why we call cow "beef", not "cowmeat") lots of Germanic stuff (from the Saxon settlement. Most of our short words are from this.) and Latinate (from... Rome, duh. All the long words seem to be from this.)
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Re: No problem~ <3
Date: 2010-03-05 11:19 pm (UTC)Lol. She would probably go all Mayan-Warrior on America's ass.
:/
Ffff
Date: 2010-03-05 11:39 pm (UTC)"W-what the hell Al-"
"Hide me!" yelped America, leaping behind Canada's sofa.
"What have you done now?"
The ground rumbled ominously. The sky overhead, previously sunny, darkened. America let out a very unmanly shriek of terror.
"She's gonna kill me!"
"Who is?!"
"AMÉRICAAAAA!!" came the outraged yell, like cracking thunder, and suddenly Canada knew fear.
"You tried to feed her Taco Bell, didn't you."
"It was meant to be a peace offering!"
And then María was in the doorway, hair threaded with feathers and face murderous and- holy maple was that an axe?!
"HOW DARE YOU PERVERT MY FOOD LIKE THAT!" she roared, and Alfred squeaked and hid behind Matthew, who immediately felt the rage of every mother in Mexico turned on him in a single beam of concentrated hate.
"Oh maple." he squeaked.
And that is how 2012 is REALLY going to go down.
...
*goes to bed*
Re: Ffff
Date: 2010-03-05 11:47 pm (UTC)Poor little Matth, young and completely free of guilt Matthew... Hell he is the youngest yet the tallest.
"HOW DARE YOU PERVERT MY FOOD LIKE THAT!" Oh Alfred, what have you done?
Re: Ffff
Date: 2010-03-06 12:26 am (UTC)Ahahahaha. 2012 reference.
Oh my Alfred. You can run but you can't hide.
Re: Ffff
Date: 2010-03-06 06:25 am (UTC)