Family Ties [Part 35]
Apr. 14th, 2010 10:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): France, Scotland, the WDF
Rating: 12
Warnings: Swearing, abuse of imagery.
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.
The day broke dry and sunny. Clouds floated in the distance and caught the morning sunshine, turning pink and red and orange. The breeze off the mountains was chilly, playing ripples on the surface of the still lake they marched past. Or maybe that was the rumbling of the tanks, and the rhythmic tread of boots on tarmac and dirt alike. The concrete cracked under the heavy tanks, unused to the pressure. The streets were empty and silent, save for a few brave ones that peered through curtained windows or slatted blinds.
France wondered if Scotland could sense the fear his people were radiating, or if that had been taken from him too.
"This is suicide." the blonde Nation muttered, keeping steady pace with his partner. Scotland glanced at him.
"It's in Russia's plan." he said, like that solved everything and wasn't the direct problem.
France grit his teeth and held in the anger, just like every other time. It would do no good to blow up now. "Pardon me, cher, I forgot."
The affectionate smile didn't connect to the blankness in James' eyes. "Yer daft sometimes, y'know." He said, adjusting his grip on his gun. "Ye didn' even have tae come with me this time."
Francis pursed his lips. Yes he did. He did because Scotland wasn't in his senses, not really, and that was his fault. "I know. I just worry about you getting hurt."
The red head scoffed. "Me, get hurt? Nah. I'm fine, no matter what."
The troops stopped marching. Just over the hill, following the deserted motorway, lay the English border, defenses built up much higher than Hadrian's wall ever had hoped to have been. The sun rose orange and red to their left, bathing the land in a dark glow. Streetlights flickered out one by one, and the NWO army waited, just out of reach of the radar and under the blanket of the information shield. Across the ocean, more of the NWO army troops did the same.
A soft sort of whump sound, and the ground shook.
This was swiftly followed by a much louder explosion, sending plumes of smoke high up into the morning sky, catching the dawn light and turning red and black. A few soldiers cheered as yet more explosions went off, detonating along the edge of the English defenses.
"Red sky in the mornin'." Scotland observed, neither cheering nor frowning. "S' gonna rain today."
As the army marched onto English soil, France didn't doubt it.
---
England reclined in his chair, sipping a cup of tea thoughtfully and reading a newspaper.
"Hm, could use some biscuits with this..." he mumbled.
"Here you go, amor." Portugal appeared out of nowhere, handing him some McVities Digestives, which England gratefully took. America stood in the background, looking extremely peeved that the closest thing he had to hand were cookies and they weren't right for what England liked.
"Thank you." Arthur said, smiling up at the Iberian Nation. "Though it's getting dark outside now, I can't really read this."
America was at the light switch in a flash. "I got it Iggy!" he switched on the lights, as well as a lamp for England to read by. The island Nation nodded his thanks, and the living room continued on in relative silence, the peaceful evening broken only by the occasional turning of Ireland's book, or the clatter of Wales' fingers on his laptop keyboard. Mexico, Brazil and Canada moved about in the kitchen, chatting over inane things. It was all quite domestic.
Speaking of which, England drained the last of his tea. "Bugger, all out." Before the sentence was even fully out of his mouth, he found the cup snatched from his hands by America, who dashed off to the kitchen yelling something about getting him some more. England fought back a smile. "Gab, be a dear and make sure he does it right?"
"As you wish." Portugal said jokingly, and followed the excitable blonde to the kitchen.
Wales paused in what he was doing to give his brother a look. "You shouldn't just play with them like this." He said disapprovingly, though there was a hint of amusement in the quirk of his lips. Ireland snorted into her book.
"It's only America who's oblivious, poor lad." she grinned. "Port's just messing. He's already won anyway."
"Or has he?" Wales raised his eyebrows. "Alfred's trying pretty hard. Besides which, we know who he sees more often."
Ireland bookmarked her page and closed the book, thoughtful. "Yes, but Gab's been around much longer than Al. He's got seniority, and knows what makes Artie tick."
"Yes, but you have to admire the effort that Alfred's putting in." Darren argued back. "And he has much more to offer, being who he is."
"Aye, there's that, but--" Aine stopped short in her sentence, causing Darren to look questioningly at her. "Artie, you alright?"
England had put a hand to his head, some time during all of this, eyes wide and not seeing the room in front of him, but something else. His breath came in short gasps. Wales got up from his seat. "Arthur?"
England tried to get to his feet, swayed and was caught by his brother. "Fuck. Fuck, an invasion!" a sheen of sweat broke out on his skin as he tried to regain his balance. The sudden force of the attack left him reeling.
Ireland lept to her feet. "A what?!"
Her shout caused the others to come running in. "What's happening?" "Arthur!" "Que está acontecendo?" "Did someone say invasion?"
But shockingly, it was Canada who was heard above all the others. "Auntie Ireland!"
The red headed Nation was holding on to the backs of chairs for support as she made her way to the door on shaking legs. "North, I have to get to North." she gasped, grasping on to the doorway as Canada pursued, trying to hold her up. "That Russian bastard's attacking from that border. North, is he still downstairs...?" she couldn't go any further, collapsing to her knees in the doorway. Canada rushed past her and down the stairs to the basement to check.
"Iggy!" America hovered nervously over his former mentor, who had been pushed back into his seat until the dizziness passed. "Don't die!"
"I'm not going to die you idiot." England mumbled, hand over his eyes as though that would stop the sensation that he'd just stepped off a Waltzer. "I've been invaded before. The modern day version is just... faster. More disorienting."
Wales handed England a glass of water. "Russia's getting desperate. We've been holding the lines well in Alaska, even pushing back in some places, and he's nearly been driven out of Finland. Winter's over, he's lost his advantage. He's invading both of you to take a last swipe at our morale."
Canada raced back in to the room. "Northern Ireland's gone!"
Ireland let off a stream of foul curses. "That son of a bitch. He must have snuck him out somehow. If he thinks we're not going to retaliate against this, he's wrong. He's dead wrong."
Wales nodded. "We have eighty tanks equipped with the force field. America, when will the incendiaries shipments be ready?"
"You can have them by tomorrow." America assured, determination strong in his eyes. "And I'll lend as many soldiers as I can spare to you as well."
England's eyes widened. "America, you're stretched thin enough as it is! Between the Middle East and defending home territory..." but the younger Nation just shook his head, fists clenched at his sides.
"I'm going to help you. I want to!"
A tense moment passed, and Portugal sighed. "I'll redirect more of my forces to fight in the Middle East. That should lift the load on you, America."
Everyone stared at him. Brazil looked particularly concerned. "Is that a good idea? You'd have to go around Spain in order to fight in the Mediterranean, and he hasn't decided on anything yet."
Tan shoulders straightened. "I'll take my chances. However, this means that I will trust you," he fixed America with a look. "to make sure nothing more happens to Inglaterra. Compreendes?"
Alfred nodded solomnly. "Right."
"Still here." England grumbled, though a slight blush was creeping across his face. "Stop talking over me like I'm a child, honestly."
The younger blonde peered at his former colonizer. "Hey, you're right, it does start in the middle of his cheeks."
"I hate you both."
Notes:
- For international readers who may not know, there's an English saying "red sky at night, shepherd's delight, red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning". If you get a red sunset, you'll have a non-rainy day tomorrow. If you have a red sunrise, it'll rain that day. Simple, and it works.
- Motorway = highway. Same difference.
-Please forgive my Bablefish Portuguese. >>;;;; Fixed thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tejab!
- Told you the fun wouldn't last forever.
- Sorry for the delay guys. I did a load of overtime at work.
Part 36
Characters (in this chapter): France, Scotland, the WDF
Rating: 12
Warnings: Swearing, abuse of imagery.
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.
The day broke dry and sunny. Clouds floated in the distance and caught the morning sunshine, turning pink and red and orange. The breeze off the mountains was chilly, playing ripples on the surface of the still lake they marched past. Or maybe that was the rumbling of the tanks, and the rhythmic tread of boots on tarmac and dirt alike. The concrete cracked under the heavy tanks, unused to the pressure. The streets were empty and silent, save for a few brave ones that peered through curtained windows or slatted blinds.
France wondered if Scotland could sense the fear his people were radiating, or if that had been taken from him too.
"This is suicide." the blonde Nation muttered, keeping steady pace with his partner. Scotland glanced at him.
"It's in Russia's plan." he said, like that solved everything and wasn't the direct problem.
France grit his teeth and held in the anger, just like every other time. It would do no good to blow up now. "Pardon me, cher, I forgot."
The affectionate smile didn't connect to the blankness in James' eyes. "Yer daft sometimes, y'know." He said, adjusting his grip on his gun. "Ye didn' even have tae come with me this time."
Francis pursed his lips. Yes he did. He did because Scotland wasn't in his senses, not really, and that was his fault. "I know. I just worry about you getting hurt."
The red head scoffed. "Me, get hurt? Nah. I'm fine, no matter what."
The troops stopped marching. Just over the hill, following the deserted motorway, lay the English border, defenses built up much higher than Hadrian's wall ever had hoped to have been. The sun rose orange and red to their left, bathing the land in a dark glow. Streetlights flickered out one by one, and the NWO army waited, just out of reach of the radar and under the blanket of the information shield. Across the ocean, more of the NWO army troops did the same.
A soft sort of whump sound, and the ground shook.
This was swiftly followed by a much louder explosion, sending plumes of smoke high up into the morning sky, catching the dawn light and turning red and black. A few soldiers cheered as yet more explosions went off, detonating along the edge of the English defenses.
"Red sky in the mornin'." Scotland observed, neither cheering nor frowning. "S' gonna rain today."
As the army marched onto English soil, France didn't doubt it.
---
England reclined in his chair, sipping a cup of tea thoughtfully and reading a newspaper.
"Hm, could use some biscuits with this..." he mumbled.
"Here you go, amor." Portugal appeared out of nowhere, handing him some McVities Digestives, which England gratefully took. America stood in the background, looking extremely peeved that the closest thing he had to hand were cookies and they weren't right for what England liked.
"Thank you." Arthur said, smiling up at the Iberian Nation. "Though it's getting dark outside now, I can't really read this."
America was at the light switch in a flash. "I got it Iggy!" he switched on the lights, as well as a lamp for England to read by. The island Nation nodded his thanks, and the living room continued on in relative silence, the peaceful evening broken only by the occasional turning of Ireland's book, or the clatter of Wales' fingers on his laptop keyboard. Mexico, Brazil and Canada moved about in the kitchen, chatting over inane things. It was all quite domestic.
Speaking of which, England drained the last of his tea. "Bugger, all out." Before the sentence was even fully out of his mouth, he found the cup snatched from his hands by America, who dashed off to the kitchen yelling something about getting him some more. England fought back a smile. "Gab, be a dear and make sure he does it right?"
"As you wish." Portugal said jokingly, and followed the excitable blonde to the kitchen.
Wales paused in what he was doing to give his brother a look. "You shouldn't just play with them like this." He said disapprovingly, though there was a hint of amusement in the quirk of his lips. Ireland snorted into her book.
"It's only America who's oblivious, poor lad." she grinned. "Port's just messing. He's already won anyway."
"Or has he?" Wales raised his eyebrows. "Alfred's trying pretty hard. Besides which, we know who he sees more often."
Ireland bookmarked her page and closed the book, thoughtful. "Yes, but Gab's been around much longer than Al. He's got seniority, and knows what makes Artie tick."
"Yes, but you have to admire the effort that Alfred's putting in." Darren argued back. "And he has much more to offer, being who he is."
"Aye, there's that, but--" Aine stopped short in her sentence, causing Darren to look questioningly at her. "Artie, you alright?"
England had put a hand to his head, some time during all of this, eyes wide and not seeing the room in front of him, but something else. His breath came in short gasps. Wales got up from his seat. "Arthur?"
England tried to get to his feet, swayed and was caught by his brother. "Fuck. Fuck, an invasion!" a sheen of sweat broke out on his skin as he tried to regain his balance. The sudden force of the attack left him reeling.
Ireland lept to her feet. "A what?!"
Her shout caused the others to come running in. "What's happening?" "Arthur!" "Que está acontecendo?" "Did someone say invasion?"
But shockingly, it was Canada who was heard above all the others. "Auntie Ireland!"
The red headed Nation was holding on to the backs of chairs for support as she made her way to the door on shaking legs. "North, I have to get to North." she gasped, grasping on to the doorway as Canada pursued, trying to hold her up. "That Russian bastard's attacking from that border. North, is he still downstairs...?" she couldn't go any further, collapsing to her knees in the doorway. Canada rushed past her and down the stairs to the basement to check.
"Iggy!" America hovered nervously over his former mentor, who had been pushed back into his seat until the dizziness passed. "Don't die!"
"I'm not going to die you idiot." England mumbled, hand over his eyes as though that would stop the sensation that he'd just stepped off a Waltzer. "I've been invaded before. The modern day version is just... faster. More disorienting."
Wales handed England a glass of water. "Russia's getting desperate. We've been holding the lines well in Alaska, even pushing back in some places, and he's nearly been driven out of Finland. Winter's over, he's lost his advantage. He's invading both of you to take a last swipe at our morale."
Canada raced back in to the room. "Northern Ireland's gone!"
Ireland let off a stream of foul curses. "That son of a bitch. He must have snuck him out somehow. If he thinks we're not going to retaliate against this, he's wrong. He's dead wrong."
Wales nodded. "We have eighty tanks equipped with the force field. America, when will the incendiaries shipments be ready?"
"You can have them by tomorrow." America assured, determination strong in his eyes. "And I'll lend as many soldiers as I can spare to you as well."
England's eyes widened. "America, you're stretched thin enough as it is! Between the Middle East and defending home territory..." but the younger Nation just shook his head, fists clenched at his sides.
"I'm going to help you. I want to!"
A tense moment passed, and Portugal sighed. "I'll redirect more of my forces to fight in the Middle East. That should lift the load on you, America."
Everyone stared at him. Brazil looked particularly concerned. "Is that a good idea? You'd have to go around Spain in order to fight in the Mediterranean, and he hasn't decided on anything yet."
Tan shoulders straightened. "I'll take my chances. However, this means that I will trust you," he fixed America with a look. "to make sure nothing more happens to Inglaterra. Compreendes?"
Alfred nodded solomnly. "Right."
"Still here." England grumbled, though a slight blush was creeping across his face. "Stop talking over me like I'm a child, honestly."
The younger blonde peered at his former colonizer. "Hey, you're right, it does start in the middle of his cheeks."
"I hate you both."
Notes:
- For international readers who may not know, there's an English saying "red sky at night, shepherd's delight, red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning". If you get a red sunset, you'll have a non-rainy day tomorrow. If you have a red sunrise, it'll rain that day. Simple, and it works.
- Motorway = highway. Same difference.
-
tejab!- Told you the fun wouldn't last forever.
- Sorry for the delay guys. I did a load of overtime at work.
Part 36
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-04-14 10:30 pm (UTC)And speaking of America, good god, you hopeless sap. The Isle sibs arguing over the whole thing made me giggle. 8D
AHHHH INVASION! RUSSIA YOU EVIL BASTARD! >[
no subject
Date: 2010-04-15 11:16 am (UTC)He's such a romantic. Unfortunately, his rival is a Romantic. Capital R. Go figure.
ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO RUSSIA *shot*
no subject
Date: 2010-06-10 06:53 pm (UTC)