Family Ties [Part 65]
Jul. 26th, 2010 01:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): England, Wales, various fae and a sheep.
Rating: 12
Warnings: Swearing, fae deciding that fuck grammar laws, they don't need them.
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.
It was raining. That was to be expected; they were in Scotland. Wales was considerably less grumpy about the weather than England was, but this was also to be expected, since it rained more on Wales' land than it did in any other part of the British Isles. By this point complaining had become a redundant pastime.
The people of Glasgow were more than a little bemused when the two brothers walked through the suburbs to find Scotland's city flat. For starters, they still had one sheep that was insistently following Darren everywhere, though the Nation himself had gotten rather attached and named it "Gwen", to Arthur's dismay. Secondly, they were still in full military uniform, so this plus the sheep only added to the weird image. While there were grumbles that they were once again being occupied by another sodding military force, nothing more was said on the matter. And lastly, they were both trying to read a large, overcomplicated map of the city. And the sheep was chewing the corners.
Trust Scotland to have a city with a one way system more confusing than London. They should have just taken the Clockwork Orange.
"Jim's house can't be far from here, I recognise the road signs." Wales assured, wondering if England's eyebrows would one day get tangled in the middle and never stop frowning with such intensity.
"Every time you say that we go down the wrong back alley and nearly get mugged, and I am not being saved by the sheep again." grumbled England in reply, tilting his head to try and make sense of the cobweb of streets.
"Aw, come on, I thought Gwen was great, weren't you?" the elder brother cooed to the animal, scratching it under the chin with a goofy smile that only showed up whenever he was around this particular kind of fluffy animal.
"She shat on their merch and they got distracted so we legged it." Dryly, Arthur gave Darren a very flat stare. Darren whistled innocently, still petting the sheep with his hand.
Half an hour later, they determined that the house they'd passed twice without noticing it was James'. Or rather, the house Darren had noticed twice but Arthur had insisted was not James's house. It was only on the third circuit that the elder of the two noticed the twang of magic as he went past. Ah, forget-me spells. So that's how Scotland avoided bills.
"Well, looks like I'll have to go inside." Wales concluded, petting the sheep and soothing it so it lay down next to England's feet at the front door. The shorter Nation bristled.
"Why can't you stay with the bloody sheep!"
"Artie, you do remember the last time you tried to walk into Jim's house when he wasn't there, right?"
The smell of sizzling flesh and a lot of swearing came to mind.
England threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! You go in the sodding cursed place! I'll stay out here with the ruddy sheep!" with a loud huffing sound, he sat down on the steps of Scotland's front porch, folding his arms in a sulk. "I never wanted to go in anyway."
Sometimes it was all so obvious that Artie was the youngest of them. Wales mused with a suppressed grin.
Getting in to Scotland's house was very easy. The lock on his door was old and could be jimmied open with the right application of force, a fact Wales knew from having to drag the bastard home from the pub one too many times. Dealing with the liberal application of both booby traps and spells, however, was not.
Don't step on the third, dusty tile. If something moves in the mirrors that's not you, don't look at it. If something thuds upstairs, don't go up there for the next four minutes and twenty four seconds. A long list of things needed to survive Scotland's house. If you were England you wouldn't even get past the front door. Wales was not England, but he still had to be careful. The magic hummed on the walls almost audibly. All this for one little terraced house in the city?
"Jim?" Wales called. He knew he wasn't in, but it wouldn't hurt to try. "Alright then, Jim's fae? No, wait, Seelie?"
A little red light appeared at the top of the stairs. Followed by several more, some holding tiny cloths and feather dusters. Oh, so that's why the house was so clean when Scotland was allergic to housework.
"Have you seen Jim?"
A collective tinkle, a shaking heads.
"Any idea where he'd be right now so we can find him?"
The tinkling again, not unlike bells but in fact tiny voices. Cold cold cold he is with the cold one despite the broken spell he tries to save his lover, they replied as one, cacophony and harmony at the same time. Will you bring him back Cymru
"That's the plan." he nodded.
He made sure not to pull back when they abruptly flew way too close to his face for comfort. Do not allow him to be harmed any more Cymru, they hissed at him, the Sidhe of the Winter court send word of Eire's youngling his corruption will not be stood for much longer
"I know, she's gone to get him." Wales assured, though calming down the Seelie was harder than it sounded, the wild creatures that they were. "And I'm going to collect Jim, alright?"
With Albion
"Yes, with him too."
They seemed to find this answer satisfactory, as they scattered back to whatever they were doing before he had arrived. Wales breathed a sigh of relief, edging back out the door to find England sitting on the steps with a very annoyed expression.
"What?" Wales asked defensively.
"You were in there four hours." England grumbled, standing and stretching to make his back crack satisfyingly. "They must have twisted time for shits and giggles, the little bastards." The sheep bleated and got to its feet, shaking itself out. "So, where to?"
"Russia's still got him, but we did break off the mind control." he explained. England made an annoyed click with his tongue.
"Great. So we're joining Ireland to bust him out. Bastard better appreciate this."
Notes:
- The Clockwork Orange is the nickname for the Glasgow Underground Railway, so named because it's pretty reliable, runs in a giant circle and nothing more, and is orange on the maps.
- The Seelie are one of the two types of fae in Scottish lore. You have the Seelie (good or at least neutral fae) and the Unseelie (bad or evil fae). There's a thin line between the two. The Seelie would be most likely to help or at least worry about Scotland.
- Sidhe, pronounced "shee" because Ireland likes to fuck with us, is the Irish word for Fae. In Irish lore, they're generally more mean than the Scottish Seelie. They'll do things from souring milk to kidnapping children. The term "Fae" itself is all encompassing and belongs more to old English, but also appears in Welsh.
- Oh yeah the thing with the winter court. Both English and Irish fae have winter and summer courts. They argue. A lot. Faerie wars. The winter court are a lot more vicious, but the summer court are powerful. They cancel each other out.
Part 66
Characters (in this chapter): England, Wales, various fae and a sheep.
Rating: 12
Warnings: Swearing, fae deciding that fuck grammar laws, they don't need them.
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.
It was raining. That was to be expected; they were in Scotland. Wales was considerably less grumpy about the weather than England was, but this was also to be expected, since it rained more on Wales' land than it did in any other part of the British Isles. By this point complaining had become a redundant pastime.
The people of Glasgow were more than a little bemused when the two brothers walked through the suburbs to find Scotland's city flat. For starters, they still had one sheep that was insistently following Darren everywhere, though the Nation himself had gotten rather attached and named it "Gwen", to Arthur's dismay. Secondly, they were still in full military uniform, so this plus the sheep only added to the weird image. While there were grumbles that they were once again being occupied by another sodding military force, nothing more was said on the matter. And lastly, they were both trying to read a large, overcomplicated map of the city. And the sheep was chewing the corners.
Trust Scotland to have a city with a one way system more confusing than London. They should have just taken the Clockwork Orange.
"Jim's house can't be far from here, I recognise the road signs." Wales assured, wondering if England's eyebrows would one day get tangled in the middle and never stop frowning with such intensity.
"Every time you say that we go down the wrong back alley and nearly get mugged, and I am not being saved by the sheep again." grumbled England in reply, tilting his head to try and make sense of the cobweb of streets.
"Aw, come on, I thought Gwen was great, weren't you?" the elder brother cooed to the animal, scratching it under the chin with a goofy smile that only showed up whenever he was around this particular kind of fluffy animal.
"She shat on their merch and they got distracted so we legged it." Dryly, Arthur gave Darren a very flat stare. Darren whistled innocently, still petting the sheep with his hand.
Half an hour later, they determined that the house they'd passed twice without noticing it was James'. Or rather, the house Darren had noticed twice but Arthur had insisted was not James's house. It was only on the third circuit that the elder of the two noticed the twang of magic as he went past. Ah, forget-me spells. So that's how Scotland avoided bills.
"Well, looks like I'll have to go inside." Wales concluded, petting the sheep and soothing it so it lay down next to England's feet at the front door. The shorter Nation bristled.
"Why can't you stay with the bloody sheep!"
"Artie, you do remember the last time you tried to walk into Jim's house when he wasn't there, right?"
The smell of sizzling flesh and a lot of swearing came to mind.
England threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! You go in the sodding cursed place! I'll stay out here with the ruddy sheep!" with a loud huffing sound, he sat down on the steps of Scotland's front porch, folding his arms in a sulk. "I never wanted to go in anyway."
Sometimes it was all so obvious that Artie was the youngest of them. Wales mused with a suppressed grin.
Getting in to Scotland's house was very easy. The lock on his door was old and could be jimmied open with the right application of force, a fact Wales knew from having to drag the bastard home from the pub one too many times. Dealing with the liberal application of both booby traps and spells, however, was not.
Don't step on the third, dusty tile. If something moves in the mirrors that's not you, don't look at it. If something thuds upstairs, don't go up there for the next four minutes and twenty four seconds. A long list of things needed to survive Scotland's house. If you were England you wouldn't even get past the front door. Wales was not England, but he still had to be careful. The magic hummed on the walls almost audibly. All this for one little terraced house in the city?
"Jim?" Wales called. He knew he wasn't in, but it wouldn't hurt to try. "Alright then, Jim's fae? No, wait, Seelie?"
A little red light appeared at the top of the stairs. Followed by several more, some holding tiny cloths and feather dusters. Oh, so that's why the house was so clean when Scotland was allergic to housework.
"Have you seen Jim?"
A collective tinkle, a shaking heads.
"Any idea where he'd be right now so we can find him?"
The tinkling again, not unlike bells but in fact tiny voices. Cold cold cold he is with the cold one despite the broken spell he tries to save his lover, they replied as one, cacophony and harmony at the same time. Will you bring him back Cymru
"That's the plan." he nodded.
He made sure not to pull back when they abruptly flew way too close to his face for comfort. Do not allow him to be harmed any more Cymru, they hissed at him, the Sidhe of the Winter court send word of Eire's youngling his corruption will not be stood for much longer
"I know, she's gone to get him." Wales assured, though calming down the Seelie was harder than it sounded, the wild creatures that they were. "And I'm going to collect Jim, alright?"
With Albion
"Yes, with him too."
They seemed to find this answer satisfactory, as they scattered back to whatever they were doing before he had arrived. Wales breathed a sigh of relief, edging back out the door to find England sitting on the steps with a very annoyed expression.
"What?" Wales asked defensively.
"You were in there four hours." England grumbled, standing and stretching to make his back crack satisfyingly. "They must have twisted time for shits and giggles, the little bastards." The sheep bleated and got to its feet, shaking itself out. "So, where to?"
"Russia's still got him, but we did break off the mind control." he explained. England made an annoyed click with his tongue.
"Great. So we're joining Ireland to bust him out. Bastard better appreciate this."
Notes:
- The Clockwork Orange is the nickname for the Glasgow Underground Railway, so named because it's pretty reliable, runs in a giant circle and nothing more, and is orange on the maps.
- The Seelie are one of the two types of fae in Scottish lore. You have the Seelie (good or at least neutral fae) and the Unseelie (bad or evil fae). There's a thin line between the two. The Seelie would be most likely to help or at least worry about Scotland.
- Sidhe, pronounced "shee" because Ireland likes to fuck with us, is the Irish word for Fae. In Irish lore, they're generally more mean than the Scottish Seelie. They'll do things from souring milk to kidnapping children. The term "Fae" itself is all encompassing and belongs more to old English, but also appears in Welsh.
- Oh yeah the thing with the winter court. Both English and Irish fae have winter and summer courts. They argue. A lot. Faerie wars. The winter court are a lot more vicious, but the summer court are powerful. They cancel each other out.
Part 66
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 01:12 pm (UTC)I just aw’d at Gwen =*-*= (fluffy and cozy and snugly ksajgkajsgjhcgiug)
Scotland’s house is fun! And I would like to have those Seelie helping me with the cleaning.
*reads the sizzling flesh part* Does he have a flamethrower or am I imagining things!? 8D
no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 05:20 pm (UTC)She's a cutie, in my mind. Still a smelly sheep (because I swear they reek) but also badass.
It's an idea ganked from many other Scotland writers. I thought it seemed funny and added it in.
Or a fire spell. Idk it was meant to be left to the imagination of the reader anyway. <3
no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 07:24 pm (UTC)so Wales must stink too...I'm just sayin'Fire spell maybe, but the mental image isn't as epic... *imagines Scotland with a flamethrower all like "Say hello to my little friend!"*