Y'alreigh' me luv?
Title: Y'alreigh' me luv?
Author/Artist: hihippy
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England, mention of other characters, mainly America
Rating: T. Swearing, horrible accent.
Warnings: Swearing and Arthur speaking in an indiscernible accent.
Summary: Deanoning a fill. Prompt: England gets fed up of being fawned over for his accent, which is generally the stereotypically southern English accent that all foreigners instinctively think of when they hear the word 'British'. Eventually he's so sick of the anglophilia that the next time he goes into a world meeting, he adopts a northern accent and dialect. A strong northern accent.
Original Link: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/16221.html?thread=47677021#t47677021
You know there’s a problem when you can’t get a speech across for the fact that half the nations were gazing at you with the expression of puppy dogs, as though realising for the first time that ALL you were made up of were lots and lots of bones..
Bloody hell...
“Dealing with our current economic crisis, I propose we should-“
“Oh, just listen to the way he clips his ‘c’s!” Some random nation squealed in a whisper, though it sounded like it belonged to the more feminine of nations. England was poised to stare a bit wearily across the conference table before him, not more than a little freaked out at hearing such a snippet of conversation.
However, he was English and he was going to do this properly. He tried to blatantly ignore any more such ‘noises’.
He coughed, uneasily.
“Anyway, as I was saying-“
“Dude, Japan, are you recording this?!”
The whisper stuck a dagger in Arthur. He froze and shifted his eyes in the direction of the cluster of nations. They hadn’t seemed to have noticed that fact that he’d stopped mid-sentence too much.
Japan had quickly shaken his head, his voice a mere undertone.
“No, America-san. I am merely keeping a track of what the English words are for simple ‘research’ purposes.”
The way his eyes shifted at the words ‘research’ didn’t seem to strike the right tone with him. Mind, none of this sudden realisation seemed to have struck Arthur with the right tone to begin with.
It was either that the rest of the world had been very adept at hiding such a fascination beforehand, or that Arthur had been oblivious. Or it had been sudden. England only seemed dimly aware of the fact that America seemed to have some sort of unreasonable obsession with his accent (which is why he always felt apprehensive talking around him at times when it was just him talking and no one else - not because of some other reason, as France and a few countries would nudge each other and snigger about at) ever since the Beatles had grown huge over there in the 60’s.
But for other countries to gaze at him with the impression he was some sort of lead from a boy band with the dazzling teeth and baby-blue eyes - Arthur did not like this at all. Not at all.
“..-If the economical crisis continues to follow through-“
In fact, it was rather scaring him.
“-We urgently need to sort out some form of protocol within the EU, at least-“
Even Germany seemed to have a smile on his face. … Well, if he could hold such an emotion, perhaps. It was there in his eyes though, Arthur swore.
“… But if we delay it, who knows what-“
Hungary dreamily slipped her head against her hand, fluttering eyelids at England.
Well, bollocks.
Grasping a hold of his own tie in an uneasy manner, he glanced around the room.
“A-And, well.. U-Um. That is all.” He garbled, setting himself back down with a hurried screech of his chair.
He was certain he heard a disappointed sigh float across from the remainder of the conference room at his abrupt silence.
“Are you sure that is all, aru?” China looked over at him expectantly. He seemed the only one unfazed. Arthur shook, before quickly nodding his head.
“Oh yes, absolutely certain. In fact, I believe I have to leave early. So if you don’t mind, I’ll be making my exit in say about.. now.” He gathered all his files in one hash swoop. He threw his coat over his shoulder, and turned to exit out of the door.
Hopefully no one would have set a booby trap outside the door, keeping him trapped inside forever to apparently listen and force him to talk on a constant loop.
Managing to escape successfully from the confines of the conference room, Arthur grumbled as he made his way down to call a cab back to his hotel room. He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t keep going to meetings like this and not be able to make a serious point because half the blooming room was drooling over him every time he opened his mouth.
The first time he had noticed such behaviour was when Denmark had been grinning in the group of Nordics all situated to his side as he pointed out something to do with the recent G20 meeting coming up. Sweden looked nonchalant, but…
“…And so I feel we should meet there slightly earlier. Any questions?” England had looked around; his fingers hooked delicately around a cup of tea he had been sipping.
There was none, but Denmark had nudged Sweden playfully. His eyes swivelled over and Arthur and Berwald’s eyes met. A sort of hushed moment fell between them.
He gripped a little more tightly at his chair, and the slightest, slightest dimple of a blush on his cheeks appeared. He nodded.
“N’ce a’cn’t.”
Arthur pursed his lips in slight confusion, but nodded.
“Not a question.. but.. t-thank you?”
He had become aware that a conciliated agreement had been compromised somewhere in the atmosphere, a few nations smiling and even nodding with each other.
England glanced back down to the milky liquid below him.
How odd..
Odd was an understatement now. What was so abnormal about the way he spoke? He usually got taken the piss of it by his other brothers because they knew it wasn’t a ‘typical English accent’. In fact, Arthur probably had the broadest range of accents within the British Isles.
But England didn’t usually like to speak in such other manners. Some of them, especially the more northern ones, were unintelligible and could tend to make him sound more than a little… slow and less professional.
Arthur stopped, before he grinned.
Bingo.
---
“Cheers mate.” A gruff voice rang out to the cab driver, a couple of dollars being slapped in the cabbie’s hand. As he slammed the door behind him, Arthur looked up towards the windows of where the official building was, particularly towards the room where the meeting was being held. For once in his life he was probably a bit late, but that would probably make it all the more effective.
Having considered the fact that apparently the most ‘inspiring’ accent that Arthur owned was a Yorkshire accent, and knowing how unintelligible that accent could be sometimes, he’d come to a quick conclusion. Operation… Accent Change, he was going to call it.
He was going to show the rest of the nations that his voice wasn’t as attractive as he’d probably led them on with. He didn’t want to be thought of as some sexy-accent speaking person anyway - what was the use of that? England had to admit though, he could probably imagine America’s reaction already….
Brilliant.
His feet tapping lightly as he made his way up the stairs, he shuffled his briefcase under his arm a bit more. The ways of conferences were so much different from how they used to be - about a hundred years ago they didn’t even have to bother with protocols such as files and summary notes. But then again, Arthur was a superpower then, so he could do what the bloody hell liked he pleased. To some extent, anyway.
Reaching towards the doors of the conference, he could hear the mumblings and mutterings and languages of the others, just before the meeting was due to start. Great. He was probably just on time, but late enough to make an entrance.
The doors swung open, and he appeared through the door. He nodded.
“England, you’re late.”
“Nah den, keep tha knickers on. ‘m reigh’ on tym, luv.”
The whole room fell into silence.
Arthur looked up, meeting the bemused expressions of many of the nations. Japan’s eyes were boggling. England frowned.
“Oi, keep yer eyes t’ yersen!”
Spain leant over to France.
“… Amigo, is he going pirate again?”
Arthur briskly ignored the stares he was now getting. He shifted over down the side of the table to move to his seat, but he paused and smiled at the Canadian for once. He patted at his shoulder and ruffled his hair, probably stunning him into a bit of surprise that he was noticed.
“Eyup duck. Y’alreigh’?”
A brief smile passed him, before he shrugged and moved over to his seat, finally.
It took him till he sat down and pulled a tea set out of nowhere to realise he was still being stared at. The expressions were mixed. Some looked confused, some looked horrified, and some looked disappointed.
France just rolled his eyes.
Arthur glowered again, and waved a hand over the tea set.
“Wha’ dus tha fink yer’ doin’? Only avin’ a brew.”
“… What language are you speaking in, for the love of god?!”
There was a blink, but a glimmer in the Brtiton’s eyes.
“.. Aye, why dus tha say da’?”
“You… What are you saying?”
“No’ sayin’ nowt. Yer’ just deaf as a dooerknob, luv.”
Austria gawked at this alien language. Australia resumed to stand up, his hands placed on the table. He smirked, slightly.
“Oi mate, y’ sound just like Cook.”
England spun in his chair a little, facing the similar browed nation.
“wa’s da’ go’ t’ do wi’ owt?”
“Just sayin’, mate. Nice accent.”
“Ta.”
The rest of the room seemed indubitably stumped. Who was this new heavy accented person? Surely he couldn’t be speaking English. Surely…
What did Australia mean? Surely he couldn’t understand what the man was saying? None of it was comprehensible. No one else could understand him. They couldn’t let him speak…
China turned towards him.
“Would you like to make your presentation, aru?”
“Cheers.” Arthur grinned, standing up. Rather than a sense of interest and attentiveness, most of the nations seemed to sigh hesitantly under their breath. Most were still too stunned. Ruffling a few papers lazily, Arthur stood up. He coughed to start his point.
“Reigh’ den. Le’s gi’ star’ed so I can gi’ dahn t’ pub quick.”
There was another grin, and for once Arthur didn’t stop when the responsive was generally that of fear.
“Nah den. We shud stop tekin’ things dahn tip cus dey need recyclin’, reigh’? So, ow’ abah’ we jus’ stop avin’ a tip alt’gethuh? Meks moer sense, dunni’? An’ mebbe if we pu’ sum laws n’ crap n’ place too, da’ maigh’ ‘elp. I no’ we go’ sum already, bu’ we ant really for’ bah’ dis reigh’, aveweh?”
England couldn’t help smiling. Some nations remained obviously perplexed, as though wondering where a phrase book was kept for such a language, or some were even attempting to make notes. Arthur wondered if he was honestly speaking that clear English.
“Nutha’ fing I shud talk abah’; I no’ da’ I sed dis last tym, bu’---- wud dah stop yer’ roarin’!” Arthur suddenly spat, looking over across the room.
America was curled up in a corner, wailing to himself with cries of ‘Noooooooooo’ and about how Arthur’s speaking was now torture to his ears. And he was doing it very, very loudly. England tutted and folded his arms, before he marched on over. He kicked lightly at the bottom of his back to get his attention.
“Oi, shu’ yer gob! M’ talkin’ ‘ere!”
America stiffened, before he turned around, his eyes wide. You could see the hopes and dreams and membrane of his anglophillia slowly disintegrating on the spot. His lip wobbled.
“Your voice sucks!”
“.. Lyke y’ ave room t’ talk.”
“Oh thanks a lot, man. What.. what….”
“.. Accen’?”
“Yeah.”
“Yorkshire.”
Somewhere in the background, Australia’s fist punched the air.
“… Where’s that?”
“Sheffield, t’ be specific. An’..” Arthur wiggled his eyebrows in reference. Everything was going to plan. He was actually beating something down on Alfred for once! Yes….!
America’s eyes switched.
A moment later, he was on his feet and had slung an arm around the Englishman’s shoulder.
That wide grin appeared, slipping over his expression like a Cheshire cat.
“Really, Artie? Must be a lot of trees there.”
A pause.
“.. G-GERROF ME Y’ YANK!”
That excruciating pain of laughter soon filled the corners of the halls again, Arthur’s face bruising red from the embarrassment. Dancing about in his typical joy, there seemed to be a sudden wave of normality return to the congregation.
He twirled Arthur about.
“Lotsa trees! Lotsa big bushes!”
Francis did smirk.
“I do recall Angleterre owning a city with the most trees per personne… more than any other city in Europe.”
England’s face fell, and he scowled back at the Frenchman as he was spun about.
Operation Accent Change was a failure. A downright failure.
He flailed.
“ALRIGHT ALRIGHT I’LL STOP!”
America stopped. He thought for a moment.
He smiled.
“Nahhhh, you know what? I kinda liked it. Keep doing it!”
Arthur groaned.
In the background, Japan typed something onto a PDA.
“Result: England has more than one accent. Must research more.”
It was closed, and Kiku eyed the net behind the door that England was now striding out to.
His eyes flashed.
Operation Obtain Accent: Complete.
All according to plan…
---
Notes:
-This accent which should be a sheffield accent is in fact my native accent. I actually had to look up a few things on it though because i'm a dunce and this is what i get for going cosmopolitan with americans for four years cry.
-I wasn't lying about the 'inspiration' part. wiki quote - "An April 2008 survey found that Yorkshire accents are now ranked above Received Pronunciation for inspiring confidence in the speaker.[3]" RP is queen's english.
-With Aussie talking about 'how he sounds like cook' is in reference to captain cook, who was from Whitby, North Yorkshire. He should've had a similar accent.
-If anyone needs translations for horrible yorkshire phoneticness feel free to ask.
Author/Artist: hihippy
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England, mention of other characters, mainly America
Rating: T. Swearing, horrible accent.
Warnings: Swearing and Arthur speaking in an indiscernible accent.
Summary: Deanoning a fill. Prompt: England gets fed up of being fawned over for his accent, which is generally the stereotypically southern English accent that all foreigners instinctively think of when they hear the word 'British'. Eventually he's so sick of the anglophilia that the next time he goes into a world meeting, he adopts a northern accent and dialect. A strong northern accent.
Original Link: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/16221.html?thread=47677021#t47677021
You know there’s a problem when you can’t get a speech across for the fact that half the nations were gazing at you with the expression of puppy dogs, as though realising for the first time that ALL you were made up of were lots and lots of bones..
Bloody hell...
“Dealing with our current economic crisis, I propose we should-“
“Oh, just listen to the way he clips his ‘c’s!” Some random nation squealed in a whisper, though it sounded like it belonged to the more feminine of nations. England was poised to stare a bit wearily across the conference table before him, not more than a little freaked out at hearing such a snippet of conversation.
However, he was English and he was going to do this properly. He tried to blatantly ignore any more such ‘noises’.
He coughed, uneasily.
“Anyway, as I was saying-“
“Dude, Japan, are you recording this?!”
The whisper stuck a dagger in Arthur. He froze and shifted his eyes in the direction of the cluster of nations. They hadn’t seemed to have noticed that fact that he’d stopped mid-sentence too much.
Japan had quickly shaken his head, his voice a mere undertone.
“No, America-san. I am merely keeping a track of what the English words are for simple ‘research’ purposes.”
The way his eyes shifted at the words ‘research’ didn’t seem to strike the right tone with him. Mind, none of this sudden realisation seemed to have struck Arthur with the right tone to begin with.
It was either that the rest of the world had been very adept at hiding such a fascination beforehand, or that Arthur had been oblivious. Or it had been sudden. England only seemed dimly aware of the fact that America seemed to have some sort of unreasonable obsession with his accent (which is why he always felt apprehensive talking around him at times when it was just him talking and no one else - not because of some other reason, as France and a few countries would nudge each other and snigger about at) ever since the Beatles had grown huge over there in the 60’s.
But for other countries to gaze at him with the impression he was some sort of lead from a boy band with the dazzling teeth and baby-blue eyes - Arthur did not like this at all. Not at all.
“..-If the economical crisis continues to follow through-“
In fact, it was rather scaring him.
“-We urgently need to sort out some form of protocol within the EU, at least-“
Even Germany seemed to have a smile on his face. … Well, if he could hold such an emotion, perhaps. It was there in his eyes though, Arthur swore.
“… But if we delay it, who knows what-“
Hungary dreamily slipped her head against her hand, fluttering eyelids at England.
Well, bollocks.
Grasping a hold of his own tie in an uneasy manner, he glanced around the room.
“A-And, well.. U-Um. That is all.” He garbled, setting himself back down with a hurried screech of his chair.
He was certain he heard a disappointed sigh float across from the remainder of the conference room at his abrupt silence.
“Are you sure that is all, aru?” China looked over at him expectantly. He seemed the only one unfazed. Arthur shook, before quickly nodding his head.
“Oh yes, absolutely certain. In fact, I believe I have to leave early. So if you don’t mind, I’ll be making my exit in say about.. now.” He gathered all his files in one hash swoop. He threw his coat over his shoulder, and turned to exit out of the door.
Hopefully no one would have set a booby trap outside the door, keeping him trapped inside forever to apparently listen and force him to talk on a constant loop.
Managing to escape successfully from the confines of the conference room, Arthur grumbled as he made his way down to call a cab back to his hotel room. He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t keep going to meetings like this and not be able to make a serious point because half the blooming room was drooling over him every time he opened his mouth.
The first time he had noticed such behaviour was when Denmark had been grinning in the group of Nordics all situated to his side as he pointed out something to do with the recent G20 meeting coming up. Sweden looked nonchalant, but…
“…And so I feel we should meet there slightly earlier. Any questions?” England had looked around; his fingers hooked delicately around a cup of tea he had been sipping.
There was none, but Denmark had nudged Sweden playfully. His eyes swivelled over and Arthur and Berwald’s eyes met. A sort of hushed moment fell between them.
He gripped a little more tightly at his chair, and the slightest, slightest dimple of a blush on his cheeks appeared. He nodded.
“N’ce a’cn’t.”
Arthur pursed his lips in slight confusion, but nodded.
“Not a question.. but.. t-thank you?”
He had become aware that a conciliated agreement had been compromised somewhere in the atmosphere, a few nations smiling and even nodding with each other.
England glanced back down to the milky liquid below him.
How odd..
Odd was an understatement now. What was so abnormal about the way he spoke? He usually got taken the piss of it by his other brothers because they knew it wasn’t a ‘typical English accent’. In fact, Arthur probably had the broadest range of accents within the British Isles.
But England didn’t usually like to speak in such other manners. Some of them, especially the more northern ones, were unintelligible and could tend to make him sound more than a little… slow and less professional.
Arthur stopped, before he grinned.
Bingo.
---
“Cheers mate.” A gruff voice rang out to the cab driver, a couple of dollars being slapped in the cabbie’s hand. As he slammed the door behind him, Arthur looked up towards the windows of where the official building was, particularly towards the room where the meeting was being held. For once in his life he was probably a bit late, but that would probably make it all the more effective.
Having considered the fact that apparently the most ‘inspiring’ accent that Arthur owned was a Yorkshire accent, and knowing how unintelligible that accent could be sometimes, he’d come to a quick conclusion. Operation… Accent Change, he was going to call it.
He was going to show the rest of the nations that his voice wasn’t as attractive as he’d probably led them on with. He didn’t want to be thought of as some sexy-accent speaking person anyway - what was the use of that? England had to admit though, he could probably imagine America’s reaction already….
Brilliant.
His feet tapping lightly as he made his way up the stairs, he shuffled his briefcase under his arm a bit more. The ways of conferences were so much different from how they used to be - about a hundred years ago they didn’t even have to bother with protocols such as files and summary notes. But then again, Arthur was a superpower then, so he could do what the bloody hell liked he pleased. To some extent, anyway.
Reaching towards the doors of the conference, he could hear the mumblings and mutterings and languages of the others, just before the meeting was due to start. Great. He was probably just on time, but late enough to make an entrance.
The doors swung open, and he appeared through the door. He nodded.
“England, you’re late.”
“Nah den, keep tha knickers on. ‘m reigh’ on tym, luv.”
The whole room fell into silence.
Arthur looked up, meeting the bemused expressions of many of the nations. Japan’s eyes were boggling. England frowned.
“Oi, keep yer eyes t’ yersen!”
Spain leant over to France.
“… Amigo, is he going pirate again?”
Arthur briskly ignored the stares he was now getting. He shifted over down the side of the table to move to his seat, but he paused and smiled at the Canadian for once. He patted at his shoulder and ruffled his hair, probably stunning him into a bit of surprise that he was noticed.
“Eyup duck. Y’alreigh’?”
A brief smile passed him, before he shrugged and moved over to his seat, finally.
It took him till he sat down and pulled a tea set out of nowhere to realise he was still being stared at. The expressions were mixed. Some looked confused, some looked horrified, and some looked disappointed.
France just rolled his eyes.
Arthur glowered again, and waved a hand over the tea set.
“Wha’ dus tha fink yer’ doin’? Only avin’ a brew.”
“… What language are you speaking in, for the love of god?!”
There was a blink, but a glimmer in the Brtiton’s eyes.
“.. Aye, why dus tha say da’?”
“You… What are you saying?”
“No’ sayin’ nowt. Yer’ just deaf as a dooerknob, luv.”
Austria gawked at this alien language. Australia resumed to stand up, his hands placed on the table. He smirked, slightly.
“Oi mate, y’ sound just like Cook.”
England spun in his chair a little, facing the similar browed nation.
“wa’s da’ go’ t’ do wi’ owt?”
“Just sayin’, mate. Nice accent.”
“Ta.”
The rest of the room seemed indubitably stumped. Who was this new heavy accented person? Surely he couldn’t be speaking English. Surely…
What did Australia mean? Surely he couldn’t understand what the man was saying? None of it was comprehensible. No one else could understand him. They couldn’t let him speak…
China turned towards him.
“Would you like to make your presentation, aru?”
“Cheers.” Arthur grinned, standing up. Rather than a sense of interest and attentiveness, most of the nations seemed to sigh hesitantly under their breath. Most were still too stunned. Ruffling a few papers lazily, Arthur stood up. He coughed to start his point.
“Reigh’ den. Le’s gi’ star’ed so I can gi’ dahn t’ pub quick.”
There was another grin, and for once Arthur didn’t stop when the responsive was generally that of fear.
“Nah den. We shud stop tekin’ things dahn tip cus dey need recyclin’, reigh’? So, ow’ abah’ we jus’ stop avin’ a tip alt’gethuh? Meks moer sense, dunni’? An’ mebbe if we pu’ sum laws n’ crap n’ place too, da’ maigh’ ‘elp. I no’ we go’ sum already, bu’ we ant really for’ bah’ dis reigh’, aveweh?”
England couldn’t help smiling. Some nations remained obviously perplexed, as though wondering where a phrase book was kept for such a language, or some were even attempting to make notes. Arthur wondered if he was honestly speaking that clear English.
“Nutha’ fing I shud talk abah’; I no’ da’ I sed dis last tym, bu’---- wud dah stop yer’ roarin’!” Arthur suddenly spat, looking over across the room.
America was curled up in a corner, wailing to himself with cries of ‘Noooooooooo’ and about how Arthur’s speaking was now torture to his ears. And he was doing it very, very loudly. England tutted and folded his arms, before he marched on over. He kicked lightly at the bottom of his back to get his attention.
“Oi, shu’ yer gob! M’ talkin’ ‘ere!”
America stiffened, before he turned around, his eyes wide. You could see the hopes and dreams and membrane of his anglophillia slowly disintegrating on the spot. His lip wobbled.
“Your voice sucks!”
“.. Lyke y’ ave room t’ talk.”
“Oh thanks a lot, man. What.. what….”
“.. Accen’?”
“Yeah.”
“Yorkshire.”
Somewhere in the background, Australia’s fist punched the air.
“… Where’s that?”
“Sheffield, t’ be specific. An’..” Arthur wiggled his eyebrows in reference. Everything was going to plan. He was actually beating something down on Alfred for once! Yes….!
America’s eyes switched.
A moment later, he was on his feet and had slung an arm around the Englishman’s shoulder.
That wide grin appeared, slipping over his expression like a Cheshire cat.
“Really, Artie? Must be a lot of trees there.”
A pause.
“.. G-GERROF ME Y’ YANK!”
That excruciating pain of laughter soon filled the corners of the halls again, Arthur’s face bruising red from the embarrassment. Dancing about in his typical joy, there seemed to be a sudden wave of normality return to the congregation.
He twirled Arthur about.
“Lotsa trees! Lotsa big bushes!”
Francis did smirk.
“I do recall Angleterre owning a city with the most trees per personne… more than any other city in Europe.”
England’s face fell, and he scowled back at the Frenchman as he was spun about.
Operation Accent Change was a failure. A downright failure.
He flailed.
“ALRIGHT ALRIGHT I’LL STOP!”
America stopped. He thought for a moment.
He smiled.
“Nahhhh, you know what? I kinda liked it. Keep doing it!”
Arthur groaned.
In the background, Japan typed something onto a PDA.
“Result: England has more than one accent. Must research more.”
It was closed, and Kiku eyed the net behind the door that England was now striding out to.
His eyes flashed.
Operation Obtain Accent: Complete.
All according to plan…
---
Notes:
-This accent which should be a sheffield accent is in fact my native accent. I actually had to look up a few things on it though because i'm a dunce and this is what i get for going cosmopolitan with americans for four years cry.
-I wasn't lying about the 'inspiration' part. wiki quote - "An April 2008 survey found that Yorkshire accents are now ranked above Received Pronunciation for inspiring confidence in the speaker.[3]" RP is queen's english.
-With Aussie talking about 'how he sounds like cook' is in reference to captain cook, who was from Whitby, North Yorkshire. He should've had a similar accent.
-If anyone needs translations for horrible yorkshire phoneticness feel free to ask.