USUK Literal 3a/?
anonymous
July 13 2011, 18:09:25 UTC
Before I get to the story, I just have to say I’m sorry about the first two chapters where I called Northern Ireland North Ireland. I kind of forgot that the Republic of Ireland had it’s own north that wasn’t NORTHERN Ireland. I have problems with directions like that. Being an America!Anon, South America and Southern America are a bit reversed in comparison and it slipped my mind North might not do the same thing. Also, I was lazy and knocked off three letters so I could type faster. Apologies to any anons that might’ve bothered. Pre-emptive apologies if I forgot to change a North to Northern in this chapter.
Scotland ordered tea and porridge.
“I’ve nae tried yer cookin’ for a century or so,” he said, examining the dish. “Should I be worried?”
“Mow weh,” Amercia shook his head and swallowed the first mouthful of eggs with an audible gulp. Scotland looked like he was holding back making a face. “I cook really well! ...and my people’s cooking don’t really count as mine, so you shouldn’t worry anyway.”
Scotland cautiously tasted some and after a moment had a second spoonful in what was apparently approval. He didn’t touch his tea. Apparently he didn’t like it cold and sweet.
It was kind of funny how long it had taken England to realize you had to ask for the hot tea specifically- and now his brothers were making the same mistake.
“Anyway,” he cut some pancakes with his fork and folded them into his mouth, chewed and swallowed, “What’re you here for? And are you sure you don’t want to try these pancakes? They make them really good here.”
“Oh,” America quickly ate the rest of the pancake.
“And after a day or so ‘e got really interested innit.”
America’s pancake slid to a halt halfway down his throat and he leaned forward coughing. Scotland reached over and knocked him on the back until it became dislodged. America set his fork down and decided to just drink his coffee for a little while instead.
“So…”
“So next month after th’ world meeting, when you come over tae Arty’s, head north tae a little place by my border. Bring Arty with ye if you want, just know I’m kicking ‘im out later.”
Despite his coffee cup suddenly being half empty, his throat seemed awfully dry. “…what am I going there for, exactly?”
Scotland’s impressive eyebrows rose. “to fuck th’ U.K?” he said.
America blinked. He finished off his coffee quickly, without choking, “Let me get this straight,” he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice to a whisper, “You’re inviting me. To fuck you. All of you.”
“Just the U.K.,” Scotland said, not bothering to whisper and finishing off the last spoonfuls of his porridge. “You’re never gonna get Ireland tae agree tae anything, honestly. Just Northern Ireland. Don’ get tha’ cocky.”
America sort of wanted to make a comment about it being just the UK. Most people didn’t even get two people from the same family and if Scotland was being serious- which France’s information lead him to believe Scotland’s mere presence made this, in fact, serious- he was being offered four brothers with some of the most desirable accents in the world.
USUK Literal 3b/?
anonymous
July 13 2011, 19:02:08 UTC
Anon does not have any idea how that triple post happened and is very sorry for any inconvenience…
“And you’re serious?” he really had to check.
“Why would I bother tae come if nae?” Scotland said. “Wales and Northern Ireland’s pranks don’t interest me tha’ much. I mean, tha’ one time with the firecrackers in the vents was decent, but calmed down too fast, y’know? Nae even a fire.”
“Wait, Wales and Northern Ireland did that?”
“Yeah. Who d’ye think did it? Sealand? The wee brat can’t even figure out he could host a fundraiser to build ‘imself more land and have greenhouses and strain the salt from the ocean to become self-sufficient. Y’know, I always figured I raised ‘em smarter than this but no, they all turn out morons,” Scotland huffed. “D’you sell alcohol in the morning? I know at least one of your states ye can’t buy it afore twelve hundred- what’s tha’ look fer?”
America quickly wiped the look from his face. “Nothing. You have a smudge there is all,” he said, gesturing vaguely towards Scotland’s cheek. “Yeah, you got it, it’s gone now.”
Scotland ‘hmm’ed. While America finished off his pancakes, Scotland pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his jeans and seemed about to go for a lighter before apparently thinking better of it (glancing at a nearby smoke detector) and put them back.
“…So why’re you offering this again?” America said once he felt the silence had stretched too long.
At about this point, America realized Scotland had no such pleasant expression as a smile. His face went from neutral to broken out into such a wicked grin America wondered if he shouldn’t have asked.
“Well, Northern Ireland and Wales are fine making small trouble. I like bigger things,” Scotland said. “And this you-ess-you-kay shit seems interesting enough. I almost want to see their faces if you walk in one day and announce it’s nae a joke anymore.”
“You’d announce it?” America shouted. He froze and glanced around the diner and saw all the patrons staring at their little booth. Lowering his voice to an almost whisper, he repeated, “You’d announce it?”
“Why not?” Scotland said, for the moment obliging and keeping his voice soft. “It’s nae like it’d stay secret long anyway. But then it’d be gossip, so breaking it on our own has a better effect. Weren’t ye supposed to have a sense o’ humor?”
“I stay away from those kinds of giggles,” America said.
Scotland snorted.
“Puritan.”
“Anglican.”
“I have my own church,” Scotland dropped his grin. “I’ve had this conversation plenty’a times, let me tell ye. I don’t want me religion coming up while I’m trying tae get laid.”
“You’re putting an awful lot of effort into getting laid…” America said.
Scotland raised one of his eyebrows again and leveled a stare at America. “Lad,” he said, “I cook dinner a few times a week, and argue with people. I golf. Sometimes Ireland spars with me when he’s ‘round. D’ye have any idea how much spare time I wish I didn’t have?”
“No,” America said at after a moment, “not really. People yell at me when I’m doing anything but drowning in paperwork.”
Scotland grunted what America assumed was some sort of acknowledgement. “Well,” he said after a moment. “Too bad. I have spare time and feel like dicking around a bit with what ‘ave ye- we’re not really allowed to rebel anymore what with how all Arty’s allies would swoop in and crush us y’see- so this is the most fun I get. So, what d’ye say?”
USUK Literal 3c/?
anonymous
July 13 2011, 19:20:56 UTC
“Um,” America stared at his plate. When had he run out of things to occupy his mouth with, again? “I might have to think about it a bit. I mean, me and England are….”
“Puritan,” Scotland repeated. “Live a little. Polygamy. Golf. Cannibalism. Fucking. It’s all very fun, laddie, trust me.”
America felt like he’d missed something in that sentence but his mind was too occupied with the possibilities following the next world meeting that had just truly registered with him to take notice or reply.
Scotland seemed to grow tired of waiting after a minute or so of letting America stew. He took a napkin from the holder and a pen from his pocket. After scribbling near the edges to get the ink flowing, Scotland jotted down a number, folded the napkin and handed it to America.
“That’s the address and a phone if ye need tae get us. Remember, after the second meeting, my border, if ye don’t call, ask Arty. He’ll get you there,” he said, stood, turned, and walked out of the diner. America saw him pull out a cigarette and light up the moment he was out the door. Then, Scotland turned a corner, and was gone.
America tipped the waitress a fifty.
000
The remaining week to the World Meeting dragged its feet the whole way. America’s flight (on one of those new planes- air bus, maybe?- it was going to be so cool) was delayed three hours so he’d drag himself into a taxi at seven AM in Britain. The minute dinner was served on the air bus, he lay the chair back and curled in it to sleep, making sure the stewards knew that he wanted to sleep until the last possible moment of the flight so the jetlag might not hit him as badly.
He slept in the taxi to his hotel because it was a bad traffic day, forced himself to keep awake while setting up in his hotel room, ate a quick dinner, and attacked the health and fitness center in the hotel until he was so exhausted he would sleep clean through England’s night and wake up the next morning on the right schedule for the two days of the conference.
(England’s McDonald’s were surprisingly good, America noted for the tenth time. It was all nice and fresh because England’s home was small and nothing had to be shipped too far. America wasn’t jealous of course- he was very proud of his own transportation services. After all, those boots he kept in his Okalahoma home closet hadn’t ever been just for show. )
The first day of the conference dragged. England seemed to share the sentiment, as he followed America back to his hotel room with nary a complaint directed at America’s behavior in particular.
USUK Literal 3d/?
anonymous
July 13 2011, 19:33:37 UTC
“Fucking Pakistan,” England muttered, “he will never let that go, will he?”
“Let’s not talk about the Middle East,” America said. “Headaches.”
“Right, right,” England said, then sighed. “So. Changing the subject. Do you have any plans tonight?”
“Not tonight,” America said, “why?”
“Standard question,” England said. They arrived at America’s room.
“You seem kinda edgier today than usual. What’s going on? It can’t just be Pakistan complaining about-”
“-No Middle East. Headaches.”
“Right. It can’t be just the headaches, can it?”
England paced a moment and inspected America’s minibar. After a moment he confiscated the small bottle of port within it, popped the lid off and downed a fair portion. “It’s nothing, really. Ireland just won’t stop pestering me.”
“What’s he want?” America kicked his shoes off and sat on the bed.
“Oh, just if I’m going to Scotland’s for something or other. Family things.”
America choked.
“What?” England said, already opening a second bottle, “Are you doing anything with the brutes?”
“No! Why would you think that?” America laughed, “You say some pretty ridiculous things sometimes, Iggy…”
“So what’s happening? And yes, I should know about it.”
“…why are you drinking three bottles of port and how did you manage that in two minutes?”
“I’m talking about my brothers,” England said, opening a third bottle and racking up the hotel bill like no tomorrow in the process, “I’ve got to get a bit drunk first.”
“A bit.”
“Yes. A bit. Otherwise I… you know. Stop me at five bottles, by then should be sufficient.”
America watched as the third bottle disappeared. “So if this is you about your brothers, how bad are the guys known for their tolerance?”
“Awful,” England said and popped open the fourth. “You’re fuckin’ m’ brothers, then?”
USUK Literal 3d/? A/N
anonymous
July 13 2011, 19:46:40 UTC
I think there are just two fun facts and then some more rambling:
In Ameirca (for any anons who are not from America) , if you order ‘tea’ you will get iced tea unless you specify ‘HOT tea’ . This may seem silly, unless you have ever been to the south of America in summer. Tipping (leaving money after getting a meal) is also a big fucking deal. Fun fact: once I was at a boarding school and some Chinese girls were chewed out for not tipping their pizza delivery guys. Seeing as they never got in trouble for anything else, it was a wonderful moment for me.
Scotland has his own church. The church of Scotland. Also known as The Kirk. Yeeep. At least, that’s what google tells me… and as I’m sure all APH fans have giggled at a few times, America was colonized by Puritans… who did not like sex outside of marriage. And went to church a lot. A LOT. I don’t know if Scotland had anything against Puritans like England did, so that was utterly unresearched and is only in there based on a hopeful win for the Rule of Funny.
Headcannon: Scotland = does it for the lulz. Not just sex. Everything. He was the one stuck raising three little brothers who did almost nothing but cause trouble, grew up and caused even more trouble for him, and from there his history is full of so much terrible shit that one day he up and decided “fuck it. I’m going to be a dick and laugh at people all the time.” And that is how he has been ever since. Anyone ever wonder why he drinks so much? That’s why.
Scotland is surprisingly reclusive (and secretly a mad genius. That telephone you're talking on? He invented that) If Wales is the Canada of the British Isles, Scotland is the Ukraine. Oldest sibling that people acknowledge exists, but no one really talks about him much until they remember his… attributes. Also, terrible cold weather and badass warriors (you all know who the Cossacks were, right? Yeah. UKRAINE HAD THEM at least so google says. If that’s inaccurate, blame google again. I’m bad at remembering all the stuff it’s told me, so if I got that mixed up… whoops.)
Aaand yeah I hope you all enjoyed this! Almost to the orgy! 8D ALMOST THERE.
Re: USUK Literal 3d/? A/N
anonymous
July 14 2011, 05:24:20 UTC
A!Anon here. I know the difference between cannon and canon, I just really wish my computer knew the difference between when to use autocorrect and when I've used the word so many time it really didn't have to fix it D8 Sorry.
Tangent. I recently learned that apparently cannon is already plural. Cannons isn't a real word. I find this fascinating and am probably going to share it with everyone who mentions cannon for the rest of my life. I'll go crawl back into my hole of useless facts now and stop talking...
Re: USUK Literal 3d/? A/N
anonymous
July 14 2011, 03:15:01 UTC
This is making me laugh SO HARD. Scotland's conversation with America was read alloud for the benefit of a completely nonplussed family and I think I laughed even harder at your A/N. Especially the bit about the Cossacks.
Fun fact about Tipping: Mum didn't tip a takeout chinese place, once, and they CALLED US and asked if we accidentally forgot. Good law.
Re: USUK Literal 3d/? A/N
anonymous
July 14 2011, 05:31:06 UTC
A!Anon here. She's going to break her paralyzing fear of the mods being mad at her for starting conversations in replies by saying I REALLY WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOUR FAMILY THOUGHT AND IF YOU'D LIKE TO TELL ME THAT WOULD BE REALLY COOL 8D
Well if I worked in a restaurant I'd be relentless about getting as much money as I could, too. It can't be that great working there unless you're a very, VERY social person... and to a fault.
Thank you! I'm really glad you think it's funny! I actually love reading A/Ns and try hard to make mine as entertaining as the story itself. Dull notes make for bad learning. 8D
Scotland ordered tea and porridge.
“I’ve nae tried yer cookin’ for a century or so,” he said, examining the dish. “Should I be worried?”
“Mow weh,” Amercia shook his head and swallowed the first mouthful of eggs with an audible gulp. Scotland looked like he was holding back making a face. “I cook really well! ...and my people’s cooking don’t really count as mine, so you shouldn’t worry anyway.”
Scotland cautiously tasted some and after a moment had a second spoonful in what was apparently approval. He didn’t touch his tea. Apparently he didn’t like it cold and sweet.
It was kind of funny how long it had taken England to realize you had to ask for the hot tea specifically- and now his brothers were making the same mistake.
“Anyway,” he cut some pancakes with his fork and folded them into his mouth, chewed and swallowed, “What’re you here for? And are you sure you don’t want to try these pancakes? They make them really good here.”
“No,” Scotland ate his porridge.
“Oh. Damn. Bummer. So why are you here?”
“Wales got pretty upset aboot th’ you-ess-you-kay shit.”
“Oh,” America quickly ate the rest of the pancake.
“And after a day or so ‘e got really interested innit.”
America’s pancake slid to a halt halfway down his throat and he leaned forward coughing. Scotland reached over and knocked him on the back until it became dislodged. America set his fork down and decided to just drink his coffee for a little while instead.
“So…”
“So next month after th’ world meeting, when you come over tae Arty’s, head north tae a little place by my border. Bring Arty with ye if you want, just know I’m kicking ‘im out later.”
Despite his coffee cup suddenly being half empty, his throat seemed awfully dry. “…what am I going there for, exactly?”
Scotland’s impressive eyebrows rose. “to fuck th’ U.K?” he said.
America blinked. He finished off his coffee quickly, without choking, “Let me get this straight,” he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice to a whisper, “You’re inviting me. To fuck you. All of you.”
“Just the U.K.,” Scotland said, not bothering to whisper and finishing off the last spoonfuls of his porridge. “You’re never gonna get Ireland tae agree tae anything, honestly. Just Northern Ireland. Don’ get tha’ cocky.”
America sort of wanted to make a comment about it being just the UK. Most people didn’t even get two people from the same family and if Scotland was being serious- which France’s information lead him to believe Scotland’s mere presence made this, in fact, serious- he was being offered four brothers with some of the most desirable accents in the world.
Just the entire UK. Damn.
Reply
“And you’re serious?” he really had to check.
“Why would I bother tae come if nae?” Scotland said. “Wales and Northern Ireland’s pranks don’t interest me tha’ much. I mean, tha’ one time with the firecrackers in the vents was decent, but calmed down too fast, y’know? Nae even a fire.”
“Wait, Wales and Northern Ireland did that?”
“Yeah. Who d’ye think did it? Sealand? The wee brat can’t even figure out he could host a fundraiser to build ‘imself more land and have greenhouses and strain the salt from the ocean to become self-sufficient. Y’know, I always figured I raised ‘em smarter than this but no, they all turn out morons,” Scotland huffed. “D’you sell alcohol in the morning? I know at least one of your states ye can’t buy it afore twelve hundred- what’s tha’ look fer?”
America quickly wiped the look from his face. “Nothing. You have a smudge there is all,” he said, gesturing vaguely towards Scotland’s cheek. “Yeah, you got it, it’s gone now.”
Scotland ‘hmm’ed. While America finished off his pancakes, Scotland pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his jeans and seemed about to go for a lighter before apparently thinking better of it (glancing at a nearby smoke detector) and put them back.
“…So why’re you offering this again?” America said once he felt the silence had stretched too long.
At about this point, America realized Scotland had no such pleasant expression as a smile. His face went from neutral to broken out into such a wicked grin America wondered if he shouldn’t have asked.
“Well, Northern Ireland and Wales are fine making small trouble. I like bigger things,” Scotland said. “And this you-ess-you-kay shit seems interesting enough. I almost want to see their faces if you walk in one day and announce it’s nae a joke anymore.”
“You’d announce it?” America shouted. He froze and glanced around the diner and saw all the patrons staring at their little booth. Lowering his voice to an almost whisper, he repeated, “You’d announce it?”
“Why not?” Scotland said, for the moment obliging and keeping his voice soft. “It’s nae like it’d stay secret long anyway. But then it’d be gossip, so breaking it on our own has a better effect. Weren’t ye supposed to have a sense o’ humor?”
“I stay away from those kinds of giggles,” America said.
Scotland snorted.
“Puritan.”
“Anglican.”
“I have my own church,” Scotland dropped his grin. “I’ve had this conversation plenty’a times, let me tell ye. I don’t want me religion coming up while I’m trying tae get laid.”
“You’re putting an awful lot of effort into getting laid…” America said.
Scotland raised one of his eyebrows again and leveled a stare at America. “Lad,” he said, “I cook dinner a few times a week, and argue with people. I golf. Sometimes Ireland spars with me when he’s ‘round. D’ye have any idea how much spare time I wish I didn’t have?”
“No,” America said at after a moment, “not really. People yell at me when I’m doing anything but drowning in paperwork.”
Scotland grunted what America assumed was some sort of acknowledgement. “Well,” he said after a moment. “Too bad. I have spare time and feel like dicking around a bit with what ‘ave ye- we’re not really allowed to rebel anymore what with how all Arty’s allies would swoop in and crush us y’see- so this is the most fun I get. So, what d’ye say?”
Reply
“Puritan,” Scotland repeated. “Live a little. Polygamy. Golf. Cannibalism. Fucking. It’s all very fun, laddie, trust me.”
America felt like he’d missed something in that sentence but his mind was too occupied with the possibilities following the next world meeting that had just truly registered with him to take notice or reply.
Scotland seemed to grow tired of waiting after a minute or so of letting America stew. He took a napkin from the holder and a pen from his pocket. After scribbling near the edges to get the ink flowing, Scotland jotted down a number, folded the napkin and handed it to America.
“That’s the address and a phone if ye need tae get us. Remember, after the second meeting, my border, if ye don’t call, ask Arty. He’ll get you there,” he said, stood, turned, and walked out of the diner. America saw him pull out a cigarette and light up the moment he was out the door. Then, Scotland turned a corner, and was gone.
America tipped the waitress a fifty.
000
The remaining week to the World Meeting dragged its feet the whole way. America’s flight (on one of those new planes- air bus, maybe?- it was going to be so cool) was delayed three hours so he’d drag himself into a taxi at seven AM in Britain. The minute dinner was served on the air bus, he lay the chair back and curled in it to sleep, making sure the stewards knew that he wanted to sleep until the last possible moment of the flight so the jetlag might not hit him as badly.
He slept in the taxi to his hotel because it was a bad traffic day, forced himself to keep awake while setting up in his hotel room, ate a quick dinner, and attacked the health and fitness center in the hotel until he was so exhausted he would sleep clean through England’s night and wake up the next morning on the right schedule for the two days of the conference.
(England’s McDonald’s were surprisingly good, America noted for the tenth time. It was all nice and fresh because England’s home was small and nothing had to be shipped too far. America wasn’t jealous of course- he was very proud of his own transportation services. After all, those boots he kept in his Okalahoma home closet hadn’t ever been just for show. )
The first day of the conference dragged. England seemed to share the sentiment, as he followed America back to his hotel room with nary a complaint directed at America’s behavior in particular.
Reply
“Let’s not talk about the Middle East,” America said. “Headaches.”
“Right, right,” England said, then sighed. “So. Changing the subject. Do you have any plans tonight?”
“Not tonight,” America said, “why?”
“Standard question,” England said. They arrived at America’s room.
“You seem kinda edgier today than usual. What’s going on? It can’t just be Pakistan complaining about-”
“-No Middle East. Headaches.”
“Right. It can’t be just the headaches, can it?”
England paced a moment and inspected America’s minibar. After a moment he confiscated the small bottle of port within it, popped the lid off and downed a fair portion. “It’s nothing, really. Ireland just won’t stop pestering me.”
“What’s he want?” America kicked his shoes off and sat on the bed.
“Oh, just if I’m going to Scotland’s for something or other. Family things.”
America choked.
“What?” England said, already opening a second bottle, “Are you doing anything with the brutes?”
“No! Why would you think that?” America laughed, “You say some pretty ridiculous things sometimes, Iggy…”
“So what’s happening? And yes, I should know about it.”
“…why are you drinking three bottles of port and how did you manage that in two minutes?”
“I’m talking about my brothers,” England said, opening a third bottle and racking up the hotel bill like no tomorrow in the process, “I’ve got to get a bit drunk first.”
“A bit.”
“Yes. A bit. Otherwise I… you know. Stop me at five bottles, by then should be sufficient.”
America watched as the third bottle disappeared. “So if this is you about your brothers, how bad are the guys known for their tolerance?”
“Awful,” England said and popped open the fourth. “You’re fuckin’ m’ brothers, then?”
Reply
In Ameirca (for any anons who are not from America) , if you order ‘tea’ you will get iced tea unless you specify ‘HOT tea’ . This may seem silly, unless you have ever been to the south of America in summer. Tipping (leaving money after getting a meal) is also a big fucking deal. Fun fact: once I was at a boarding school and some Chinese girls were chewed out for not tipping their pizza delivery guys. Seeing as they never got in trouble for anything else, it was a wonderful moment for me.
Scotland has his own church. The church of Scotland. Also known as The Kirk. Yeeep. At least, that’s what google tells me… and as I’m sure all APH fans have giggled at a few times, America was colonized by Puritans… who did not like sex outside of marriage. And went to church a lot. A LOT. I don’t know if Scotland had anything against Puritans like England did, so that was utterly unresearched and is only in there based on a hopeful win for the Rule of Funny.
Headcannon: Scotland = does it for the lulz. Not just sex. Everything. He was the one stuck raising three little brothers who did almost nothing but cause trouble, grew up and caused even more trouble for him, and from there his history is full of so much terrible shit that one day he up and decided “fuck it. I’m going to be a dick and laugh at people all the time.” And that is how he has been ever since. Anyone ever wonder why he drinks so much? That’s why.
Scotland is surprisingly reclusive (and secretly a mad genius. That telephone you're talking on? He invented that) If Wales is the Canada of the British Isles, Scotland is the Ukraine. Oldest sibling that people acknowledge exists, but no one really talks about him much until they remember his… attributes. Also, terrible cold weather and badass warriors (you all know who the Cossacks were, right? Yeah. UKRAINE HAD THEM at least so google says. If that’s inaccurate, blame google again. I’m bad at remembering all the stuff it’s told me, so if I got that mixed up… whoops.)
Aaand yeah I hope you all enjoyed this! Almost to the orgy! 8D ALMOST THERE.
Reply
Reply
Tangent. I recently learned that apparently cannon is already plural. Cannons isn't a real word. I find this fascinating and am probably going to share it with everyone who mentions cannon for the rest of my life. I'll go crawl back into my hole of useless facts now and stop talking...
Reply
Fun fact about Tipping: Mum didn't tip a takeout chinese place, once, and they CALLED US and asked if we accidentally forgot. Good law.
... Okay I'm done. THIS IS BRILLIANT.
Reply
Well if I worked in a restaurant I'd be relentless about getting as much money as I could, too. It can't be that great working there unless you're a very, VERY social person... and to a fault.
Thank you! I'm really glad you think it's funny!
I actually love reading A/Ns and try hard to make mine as entertaining as the story itself. Dull notes make for bad learning. 8D
Reply
I LOVE your Scotland!
Reply
....THIS!!
SO TRUE. I think just being n a room with them would cause most peoples underwear to explode. Because DAMN. =.= yes.
Reply
Leave a comment