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urdrowning · 1 year

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soft launch / l. williamson

part two of superstar! jsut somethjng small for the birthday girl. i am also scared of making a social media fic so if this is shit.. dhmu. also YES i made myself part of the band cause the idea of having mini urdrowning fan accounts is hilarious.

leahwilliamsonn

liked by keirawalsh and 52,087 others

leahwilliamsonn: Bit of a meet and greet 🤍

alexscott2 Fair enough, your music taste isn’t all that bad 🤣

↳ leahwilliamsonn You should have more faith in me ⠀ mate

assenalwfc THEY WENT TO A (your band name) CONCERT?? leah who’s ur bias.. 🤨🧐

lw6lliams0n who’s that behind alex

↳ lgb3attie IS THAT Y/N??

li0nesss65 Leahhh i love u so much

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yourinstagram

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liked by leahwilliamsonn and 563,865 more

yourinstagram: brighton you are always incredible. sorry i fell over mid song <3

urdrowning oh but it was so funny

↳ yourinstagram and you wouldn’t even help me ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ up.. you’re a monster.

lw6lliams0n anyone else seeing that lw6 like?

↳ weredrowning I THOUGHT IWAS THE ONLY ONE ⠀ WHI NOTICED IT

↳ assenalwfc i meann she did go to the concert in ⠀ ⠀ london last week.

r0rysupremacy i saw y/n y/ln fall over live and tbh i can die happy

↳ yourinstagram it’s like you guys enjoy my ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ suffering??

↳ weredrowning girl quit responding to comments ⠀ ⠀ and go make new music 🙄

*urdrowning liked weredrowning’s comment*

leahwilliamsonn

liked by yourinstagram and 123,765 others

leahwilliamsonn: Special day. Hope to see you soon Gooners ❤️🤍

yourinstagram ❤️🤍

*leahwilliamsonn liked yourinstagram’s comment*

lgb3attie y/n like and comment?? somethings going on here .. 🧐

↳ lgb3attie NAHH Y/N WAS AT THE GAME AND ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ SAT WITH AMBER.. what on earth is going on in ⠀ ⠀ the house of commons.

assenalwfc they are dating. nobody can tell me differently. if you disagree, you’re wrong.

↳ weredrowning LEAH IF YOURE DATING Y/N, ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ DONT RESPOND TO THIS COMMENT.

↳ weredrowning now look at that.

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yourinstagram

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 486,084 others

yourinstagram: when north london is red 🔴⚪️

leahwilliamsonn Wooww. Done me dirty here 😂

↳ r0rysupremacy NO FLIRTING IN THE CKMMENT ⠀ SECTION ❌❌❌THIS IS A PUBLIC SPCE❗️🚨 ⠀ 🚨🚨

↳ yourinstagram 👀👀

↳ weredrowning y/n i’m getting real sick and tired of ⠀ you constantly teasing this relationship.

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leahwilliamsonn

liked by yourinstagram and 127,965 others

leahwilliamsonn: Amazing singing from tonight. The band was decent at it as well 🥴

lgb3eattie i’m literally begging you guys to confirm it. i can’t handle the teasing anymore.

keirawalsh Get me some spare tickets next time

↳ leahwilliamsonn No promises 😉

urdrowning only decent.. okay i’m a wales supporter now instead. CYMRU 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

↳ yourinstagram word. I LOVE RUGBY.

assenalwfc Leah.. what happened to being a footballer, not a singer.

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yourinstagram

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liked by alessiarusso99 and 897,767 others

yourinstagram: life as of recent

…

leahwilliamsonn Love you x

↳ yourinstagram 💗💗

lgb3attie FUCKING FINALLY

amberrosegill Welcome to the wag life.

urdrowning do u think u could get me alessia’s number @/leahwilliamsonn. please ur dating my bandmate

↳ alessiarusso99 You don’t need Leah, send me a ⠀ ⠀ dm 😚

↳ urdrowning NOOO FUCKINGWAYYY

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#woso x reader #woso fanfic #woso imagine #engwnt x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc #woso community

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llyfrenfys · 7 months

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Some really good notes from my post courtesy of @margridarnauds about that person accidentally using a white nationalist slogan to support the Welsh language:

I know someone who is doing a PhD on the Far Right and the co-option of cultural movements and these tags are bang on. Its the difference between a healthy nationalism and an unhealthy nationalism. A lot of this goes for Irish nationalism as well as it does for Welsh nationalism.

There's nothing wrong with (and arguably a lot right with) minority language preservation. It can be used for great good (strengthens community ties, preserves culture) but if co-option is not guarded against readily, it can also be used for great evil (see: using minority language struggles as an argument against immigration, for example).

The Far Right sees the cultural preservation of anything (white) and it's like a bat signal. These things are magnets for white supremacists and assorted fascists of all kinds. Which is why it is so goddamn important to be vigilant against people like that hijacking your movement.

I see a worrying amount of Welsh nationalists use (accidentally or not) the language of the far right to argue for Welsh language preservation. It can be as innocuous as advocating for a Welsh Academie Francaise to as obvious as insinuating that Wales must be kept "ethnically" Welsh in order to keep out foreign influence on the language. I see this go unchecked all the time in various Facebook groups for Welsh independence (most of which I've left since admins of these pages either don't know or don't care that people use their groups to share these sentiments).

Nationalism ≠ Fascism - but if you don't keep an eye on the company you're keeping, any well-meaning nationalist/independence or language preservation movement can be hijacked to promote hate. I only know a scant amount because I was only vaguely considering joining Yes Cymru a few years before they all went sideways (but I remember Owen Exie Hurcum talking about this on Twitter at the time) but the leadership of Yes Cymru began to squeeze out minorities from the group- nonwhite folks, gay people, trans people etc. Whole thing put me off from joining. I don't remember the full details but from the testimonies of others, the group was hijacked and steered into a reactionary way of being. Considering a large amount of Welsh nationalists also idolise groups like the FWA (Free Wales Army - a Welsh nationalist group formed in 1963 which tried to emulate the IRA in Ireland, with little success- mostly just playing paramilitary dress up) - whose symbol is this flag:

Even if the flag itself is based on Welsh folklore and is supposedly an entirely innocent, non fash design- it still is like a beacon to the Far Right who will take any amount of symbolic validation as a cue to join your movement and derail it for their own ends.

Which is why Celtic scholars, people with casual interest in Celtic languages and/or their respective cultures and civic nationalists alike need to be vigilant against those who would co-opt the field for their own twisted hate campaign.

So, one final thought,

Returning to my original post responding to that American chiming into Welsh politics from overseas. Please PLEASE be careful when wading into politics that isn't yours. Where the Far Right are involved, it doesn't take much to cause a dumpster fire - if you aren't 'on the ground' with these issues so to speak, you aren't in the firing line if your comments go sideways and enable/provoke the Far Right in this country.

If you have an interest in Celtic languages, countries and politics- you have a duty to be responsible with what you do and say. This isn't to say that you cannot engage with these topics- but that you should exercise caution lest you accidentally worsen an already delicate situation.

This has been your regularly scheduled Celtic anti-fascist tedtalk. Please reblog to make sure more people become aware of how delicate things can be and how to prevent fascists from getting a foothold in this field. Thank you.

#cymraeg #Welsh #Gaelige #Irish #Luke's originals #antifascist #pleass reblog

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crynwr-drwg · 4 months

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Lmao????

#cymblr #wales #cymru #welsh #crynwrdrwg #yes cymru

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oumaheroes · 5 months

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OK- ok ok listen, so in you're do not got gentle series, in Ireland's one. it said that scotland offered to "help him go painlessly" so he wouldn't die of infection. but HOW did they kill him off tho? like that must have been difficult, especially at the age they were. I cant imagine it worked first time, like did they have to try multiple times?? IM SO CURIOUS PLEASE, I must feed my brain rot. please bestow this information on me

Alba has always been good with plants. Well worked leaves left as dark stains between his fingers, clumps of their flesh dark and stubborn under his nails. It is an old, careful knowledge he carries: which plants to pick for what effect, when and how best to collect them. How to strain them even without the specialised tools he wants, how long to boil them to release the best of their properties. He mumbles their seasons and duration under his breath on sleepless nights, tired eyes watching the stars as his brothers sleep nearby.

‘It matters,’ he makes sure to tell Albion as he demonstrates how best to pinch flower between forefinger and thumb, his brother too young to remember Mama’s teaching on the subject, ‘It matters. Always watch the moon and the weather before you pick anything, otherwise you can’t trust what it will do.’

Alba slips away down the hill fort as the humans sleep, Albion and Cymru left to guard. Some of the plants he seeks sit on the back of the hill itself, some lie deep within ancient woodlands- moss on cool roots and tubers under damp stone. He cannot wait until the time is just right, cannot wait until the moon hangs fat in the sky as some best need, but he makes sure that the stems fold plump as he plucks them, makes sure they are fresh and healthy. Many times Alba has prepared plants to ensure they do not harm, now he must collect to ensure that they do. They need to be strong; they need to be quick. There can be no mistakes, it is a cruelty Ériu does not deserve, and Alba picks prematurely with guilt and worry despite his confident promise.

Alba waits until Éiru says yes. Until he finally nods, teeth chattering and eyes bloodshot and desperate in sunken sockets. Only then does he hold a patiently blended paste to cracked lips, makes sure it is washed down with water till all is gone. And then after, holds the cool hand close so he can feel as it slackens.

It is kind. It is better.

And Éiru goes.

#hws Scotland #aph scotland #hetalia #hws #aph #Do Not Go Gentle AU #heroes writes

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scotianostra · 2 months

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On March 1st 1979 Scots voted in favour of Devolution, but failed to reach the required 40% of the population in favour of implementing it - due to 36% of the electorate not voting.

THE PLOT.

The introduction of devolution legislation in 1976 was largely the product of nationalist pressures on the Government. James Callaghan's Labour government had a majority of only three after the 1974 (October) election and by 1977 had no majority at all after a series of by-election defeats. The government was therefore vulnerable to pressures from the Scottish National Party and Plaid Cymru, who between them won 14 seats at the election (SNP 11, Plaid Cymru 3). The Kilbrandon commission had reported in 1974, recommending the establishment of a Scottish parliament and endorsing the principle of devolution.

A combined Scotland and Wales Bill was introduced in November 1976. It gained a second reading only after referendums in both Scotland and Wales had been conceded. The Shadow Secretary of State for Scotland, Alick Buchanan-Smith, and one of his front benchers, Malcolm Rifkind, resigned their posts when the Shadow Cabinet decided to oppose its second reading. On the first day of committee 350 amendments were put down. Michael Foot, (then Lord President and Cabinet Minister responsible for the devolution bill) was reluctant to impose a guillotine. After nearly 100 hours of debate only three and a half clauses of the bill had been considered. A guillotine motion was tabled but defeated in February 1977. The Bill was withdrawn.

In November 1977 separate Bills for Scotland and Wales were introduced, with support from the Liberals. This reduced opposition from those who had previously opposed the combined Bill on the grounds that the Welsh did not really want devolution. This time the guillotine motion was won.

As the committee stage was nearing its end, it scrutinised an amendment from Labour backbencher George Cunningham. It required the Secretary of State to lay before Parliament an order repealing the Act unless at least 40% of the eligible electorate voted "yes". The amendment was strongly opposed by the Government, but they lost the vote by 166 votes to 151.

In the referendum, on 1st March 1979, Scotland voted in favour of devolution by 52% to 48% - but only 32.9% of the electorate had joined the majority. In Wales the vote was against devolution, by 80% to 20%. The Acts were repealed the next month.

The Government was not helped by the extent of internal dissent within the Labour party. There was an active Labour 'Vote No' campaign in Scotland, of which Brian Wilson was Chairman, and Robin Cook a Vice-Chairman together with Tam Dalyell.

In Wales, Neil Kinnock was among those who campaigned for a "no" vote. During the last few days of the campaign in Wales, the pro-devolution Labour party -TUC group argued that a "No" vote would be a vote for the Tories, and a vote against the Government. This was a gamble that did not pay off; the scale of the "No" victory meant that those who had campaigned against the government could feel vindicated.

A motion of no confidence in the government was tabled by the Conservatives and supported by the SNP, the Liberals and eight Ulster Unionists. This motion was carried by one vote on 28th March 1979. The next day Callaghan announced that Parliament would be dissolved.

The 1979 Results:

Scotland: Question: Do you want the provisions of the Scotland Act 1978 to be put into effect ?

Yes 1,230,937 (51.6%)

No 1,153, 502 (48.4%)

Rejected ballot papers 3,133

Electorate 3, 747,112

Turnout 63.6%

But, we Scots are known the world over for this saying. Try, try and try again we did and won our parliament. We did and we put the party in powder who would take us to freedom. We will never give up our fight to be an Independent country once more.

#scotland #scottish #history #devolution #rigged vote #self determination

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historia-vitae-magistras · 1 year

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Can you tell us more about who England refers too as mother? And did you divide the UK siblings roughly into two pairs because of Roman Britain? I'm sorry you just keep dropping hints and no one else has asked 💌

Oh lord, okay. So disclaimer, working with prehistory is a fucking crap shoot. Archaeology has a lot of interpretations and not as many facts as historians and archivists like me, especially who studied modern history, would like. And even when history does come to the islands in the form of the Roman writers, that is also largely questionable because propaganda is as old as human communication. So I try to work with what we do know, but before a certain point, I'm basically writing fantasy. But also, no one has to work with history ever in a fucking stupid anime fandom. I'm just a diagnosed anxious headcase who copes with the uncertainty of existence by researching the fuck out of every choice I've ever made sober, including this shitshow of a blog and predecessors. Most of my focus is on much later history, so I'm taking a minimalist approach here and making as little work for myself as possible while at least taking some guidance from history to fit the themes I like so none of this is likely going to be the best take, tbh. That said, onwards into the breach, I fucken guess.

Can you tell us more about who England refers to as mother?

Yes. So most of the time, the conglomerate characters of "Germania" or the fanon "Native America," where dozens and hundreds and thousands of politically interlocked or entirely separate cultures are smushed into one character, make zero sense to me. In the case of Native America, it's downright racist, and in the case of Germania it's basically sucking Tacitus off 2,000 years after the fact. But Brittania could make sense. Being an island separated from mainland Europe made for some attractive socio-political and cultural unity hinted at in writing after the Roman invasion and before the fact in the archaeological record. But how long before the Romans? Where do I begin with Brittania, eh? The Red Lady of Paviland? The Creswell Crags? The Starr Mesolithic Site? Neolithic Chambered Tomb-Shrines? Stonehenge? The Iron Age Hillforts? Ah! There we go, the Celtic arrival in Britain. i.e. the option that makes me do the least work to get the job done. The Celts arrive in Britain about 1,300-800 BCE and in Ireland about 800-500 BCE depending on who you read. There is one tribe among the Celtic that had strong links to Britain and Ireland. The Brigantes were stuck in the border region between what is today Scotland and England, with at least some sort of material connections in Wales and Ireland. So my shortcut to a decent storyline that had some basis in fact, was to have her people interpret her as their patron goddess of Brigantia and link her tightly to Celtic paganism and weakened by the invasions of Rome but also the widespread adoption of Christianity in the 5th century. She was a proud woman who enjoyed the worship she once knew and who loved her children fiercely. She was every bit a Cartimandua or Boudicca. And when Christ and his nails bled her to death, her sons eventually dug her a barrow at the foot of an iron age hillfort, and her only daughter braided her hair and placed her golden jewelry on her one last time and their world was never the same.

And did you divide the UK siblings roughly into two pairs because of Roman Britain?

Yes and no. The Romans did take and hold England and Wales but Wales was much harder to hold onto. Under the Romans, life didn't change there or in Scotland nearly as much as in England. My main reason for splitting them into Brighid and Alasdair and Rhys and Arthur beyond much more modern politics is linguistic. Scottish Gaelic is much more related to Irish than it is to Welsh. And the Welsh word Cymru once referred to both the Welsh and Cumbrians. Now Cumbrian is a fascinating little language that is now dead, but it left a fantastic legacy in its counting system. @oumaheroes headcanons it as being something he uses to refer to his weans, and I, sobbing, concur wholeheartedly. I also have made random references to a shitfaced Arthur babbling in Cumbrian. So with that being a Celtic language in what is today England, et voila, two pairs.

#Britannia and her children || they made a desert and called it peace #the ask box || probis pateo #Alasdair || my heart's in the highlands #Arthur || stone set in the silver sea #Brighid || an bearna bhaoil #Rhys || my word for heaven was not yours

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dougielombax · 9 months

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No.

No, it’s Wales.

Wales! (Cymru)

Yes.

Wales.

Not Whales.

Big difference.

Yes.

One is a small (average-ish size) Celtic nation next to England, the other is a large marine mammal.

Big difference!

Wales: 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

Whales: 🐋🐋🐋🐋🐋🐋🐋🐋🐋

#personal stuff #dougie rambles #what #political crap #my poor attempt at a joke #wales #whales #cetaceans #marine mammals

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theherdofturtles · 1 year

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Fandom: Hetalia Prompt: Kidnapped Rating: G Word Count: 2532 Decided to make a thing that could fit into When Men Weren't Present between chapters 1 & 2 but isn't plot important. I tried to make this fic complimentary to On Pol and the Eng also just for fun. England gets mixed up in Fae shenanigans. @badthingshappenbingo

In a turn of events England should've seen, England got picked up from the earth in the arms of his brother in the aftermath of their first victory against the Norman foes.

Alba had yanked him up from the earth and immediately went to work dropping his fresh-won ego into the dirt. England kicked and squirmed until letting loose, giving up. The hug forced on him was inescapable.

The words, though, he was determined to offset. Alba accused him of the most offensive shortcomings with his smile and stupid tease.

"Wha- no!" England said, offended, "I can use magic just fine!"

"Kinye?" Alba challenged him. "I don't think you ken a simple pixie summoning spell since thu a' gabhail Éire's fancy new religion."

"Yes I do! I can prove it! I could do one here and now!"

Alba tilted his head in mock thought, pretending to think hard about his claim. England impatiently wriggled. He knew his brother would let up and make him try for his own entertainment--and England would show him wrong!

"Ye'll try?" Alba finally said.

"I will!"

Alba let him drop back to his feet and England popped back up like a daisy.

"Here, Cymru, our wee brother's gaun to put on a show for us!" He shouted and waved over another pair of eyes to add to England's pressure. Several humans looked up from their business looting fallen men, but dropped their interest once they realised it concerned the oddest of them.

His other sibling came wandering, and he came wandering while still wearing the blood of their enemies on his clothes. England wrinkled his nose with distaste. Cymru was still Druid... fully, as the past had decreed it. No other brother prayed to the earth anymore as Éire had brought a new faith to their land, and as eldest, led them alongside him. Cymru held out. Alba skirt the edges. It showed how Cymru refused to scrub his clothes, and blood was sacred, life, it was to be respected. A black, dried smear of gore was left stained on his brother's sleeves even though the rest of his armor and cloths and all his fellows had scrubbed themselves clean. 'The battle isn't over, William is on his way,' Cymru had said right after they won. It was a 'trophy and a promise for the next batch.' Alba conceded that it was profane. England agreed, because England wanted to bask in the feeling of having won without thinking about the next battle.

"A show? What's he going to do in his show?" Cymru immediately picked up on Alba's game, albeit with a lighter laugh and encouraging tone.

It almost annoyed him, but he knew he'd prove to them how well-practiced he'd became. He'd lived alone for a while after the Romans and Danes, he'd had much time to sharpen his magic on his own.

"He's gaun to summon some fairy."

"I hope he remembers what they look like? He never goes with me to Calan Mai celebrations anymore," Cymru said.

"Of course I recall them!" England had seen many and they knew it!

"Aye but you've never been to the Otherworld."

His brothers grinned. England stiffened.

Deus vous guarde. Fireplaces that hissed and sparked like fireflies, red pelted fangs with glittering stag-eyes, deep, cold, wormed earth.

Some intuition stopped him from claiming his adventures had, indeed, brought him to the Otherworld.

Fireglow, damp soil and the grin of fangs, deep Otherworld, stumbling through a mushroom ring further than he had ever intended. The mist gates he had missed... England hadn't entered the way he ought to have entered. Snared in Fae traps.

Memory of that fae lord came sneaking back into his mind.

That Fox... England had his weaved gift safely looped onto a thick cord of a necklace.

He'd nearly forgotten.

His fingers subconsciously reached to his waist-pouch where he believed he'd put the coarse cord...

"Sasann?"

His reverie broke.

"It's England," he complained. He'd worked hard for the name, his brothers still refused it.

"Oh? And you haven't any second thoughts about showing us how rusty your magic's gotten?" Came the immediate tease.

"No! I was just thinking to myself!"

England took his stick of a wand from his cloak. No brother ever went anywhere without mum's last gift, a piece of her fading magic which had rested in her people's sacred yew tree, cut neatly into a concise point. Never a mother ever died who had a family.

Bracing himself, he angled his foot forward, raised his wand-hand back, and pulled his own magic to curl warmly along the wand.

A pixie summoning spell took barely any focus at all.

He almost paid too little attention-- it flicked with a whizz-zip and a little dust-like gold-snow shooting from the star of the end.

It hit the dirt in a snuffed plume of smoke.

Visually, the display hadn't been pretty or controlled by any means, but luckily that didn't negate the workings of magic. England felt something had changed. There was a heavier static in the air.

"Hahah! Ah, that daedna go a snip!" Scotland bellowed. Cymru merely shook his head with a small smile.

His brows furrowed.

Laughter?

But... the air--he felt it, it was magic full, he'd summoned something? Surely? A fae--a brownie or a pixie--he knew he'd done something!

His brothers didn't seem to feel it. England frantically turned a circle to look for what he'd summoned. His brothers renewed their laughter.

"I swear I summoned something I..."

His sight met a glittering dark gaze.

England's breath caught.

A paw-digit, slowly, lifted to its lips to shush him. Its eyes were granite, its head tilt uneven, its smile balanced on the verge of fangs.

Behind his brothers.

"Salute," it said low and delighted, "I see you've painted yourself in blood. Red suits you well." He spoke lowly.

England had scrubbed himself of battle. There was no blood, he didn't know what the fae was talking about. He started to speak to correct the Fox, but he never made a sound. The fox hushed him again.

"This is between us, us good friends. Did you forget your brothers are here to hear you? They do not have the sight for me. They wouldn't understand, no, no if you give your friend up you might have to explain your stumble in the woods. How embarrassing to fall into a mushroom ring."

England shut up.

His brothers had quieted as well.

"It's okay, we'll practice your magic and you'll get better again." Cymru mistook his paleness for humiliation.

No, no, that wasn't true--

"Let them believe what they will." Reynard circled around his brothers, coming closer before turning off to walk to the woods. "Follow. You should run, make it fast. Then we will talk, for I know enemies well. When you leave your brothers, they will think your flight their own fault. They might even shower you with their attentions and apologies later... wouldn't you like that?"

His tail circled a beckoning.

England wrung his hands around his wand. Dare he trust a fox of a Fae... the even if the Fae hadn't harmed him before, the Fae wasn't in obligation to leave him untouched again. But the Fae had favoured him, some Fae gave men secrets and tips, Reynard seemed to sympathise with his struggle against the Normans?

Yet Reynard was a Fae, something mysterious and twisting. Something powerful.

How well did this Fae know his enemies?

"Your choice. Run."

England let his conflict continue to war even as he began to move. He didn't think about running. His foot rolled to his toes, he leaned, falling quick into a dash that he barely registered.

A string tugged him gently as he moved to run, but, Reynard, strolling ahead, remained always ahead.

Then, in a blink, England was under the thick forest shade.

He couldn't hear his brothers anymore. The forest arms wrapped silent around him, all else stagnated. Not a bird, not a fly. Reynard was the only movement he saw out of the corner of his eye--for even the sky had taken a break for Reynard.

Not a single gust of wind.

"Good choice," the fox praised with dark eyes, "I understood you to be fox-clever, which you have not failed."

"When will I go back to my brothers?" He asked to cut the fox from speaking further. Praise was warm, it was a fluffing of his feathers he liked, especially so soon after his accompanying victory, but he wanted praise most from another set of mouths. The words of a Fae were less than the words of a brother.

"Soon, do not fret." Its body stood stretched on twos, pulling itself into his own child-sized hight range. Its feet enjoyed a stage of a log which put it higher than him. The stage seemed to make Reynard particularly imposing with straight held shoulders and narrow nose. "I came to offer my fair hand to council, for I'd hate for such a clever kit to fall dead before his worth is known."

Its paw held out as a human hand, a royal hand to be kissed.

"Why? What importance am I to you? Why did you of all fae answer me?"

"I offered a valuable possession unto you, my name, one I lent for wise use. Do not mock my gift! Did you not expect loyalty? And here you aimlessly beckoned, je écoutait. To gift words is my only desire... for one like you so..." it rolled its paw, flexing each toe before settling.

"Close," Reynard said wistfully.

His tone became fond once more. England shifted where he stood.

"Close...?"

"Indeed. Return your mind, let us learn of the legion which tramples English way."

Legion reminded him of Rome. Rome who had given him much--roads and architecture and words and walls--but the rebellions buried in his earth had been savage and the years degrading. His land had always been barren of rare resources, the Romans had concluded that humans were the only resource worth exploiting.

He'd lost much in exchange for his gains.

Normans could be less than Romans, Rome had been the greatest to ever live. And England had driven out the greatest, he could drive out the Normans.

"I don't need your help, my brothers standing with me are enough."

The fox hummed a tone of soft demean.

"I see," the Fae sighed. "I see. Yes." He shook his head and his ears folded backwards. "Waste, I will let you discover this yourself. Little will to realign or alter your allies and foes." The fox paw raised and tapped two thorn-claws together.

It took England a moment to notice that the forest had suddenly resumed moving. It took him moments longer to see it was moving wrong, not how forests aught to move.

The leaves began to crawl, faster, colours taking on the texture of wax, a grim, melting forest of greens and browns and blacks. The smudging fire orange of Reynard's visage dripped, dripped, dripped dizzy into the muddy mix till all merged into muddy black.

The forest died as a candle did, drooping, dripping, melting.

England lost control of his arms and legs. To his silent horror, his hands began to drip, too. He couldn't move, his heart pounded a heavy thump of fear as he was swallowed into nothing.

And for a moment everything washed away...

England half-woke to soft, gentle, swaying trees.

He groggily wondered if he still dreamt.

Where...?

Had he woken?

England drifted on the edge of his dreams. The trees were navy in the night, visible as he swam between sleep and awareness. Imagining his body crawling off for the tree-line fooled his head, but never moving, he remained.

Between sleep he fell as his mind grew tired.

England woke.

He was warm.

Lulls of heat were in the air.... England found his body mobile and curled into soft pelts and blankets. Crackling pops of wood drying in a fire bloomed near, washing shadows and a glow on the unrealised shapes around him. The forest was gone, the sky was still dark. He shifted, rolling to reorient his confusion.

"Sasann?"

Home. Where was mother?

A hand came to his shoulder. England let himself be guided to lift from his nest. He clutched the blankets close to keep their warmth.

Stars glittered navy overhead.

Seeing the open stars... there, no shelter overhead. No roof. There was no mother to wonder about. No... she was a memory.

England pulled the blankets closer.

Alba... his brother was next to him, carefully and silently checking him.

His brothers were camped in a cove of rocks, he saw. Éire was missing, Cymru and Alba were the only ones left by his side.

England barely remembered his dream... fae-like. It should've been real. It had been midday when he'd... left, right? Or after? Had he gone at all? The fae might've warped time, slowing their meeting had lasted longer than it had seemed. The memory of it was slipping unnaturally... replacing the memory was a cotton-stuffed spiderweb that reeked of fairy magic.

That made him frightened.

"What happened?" England leaned against Alba. Scotland's face was shrouded by the glow of the fire.

"... Ah dinnae ken. You ran aa we dinnae find you 'til late... you were sleeping ablow a Hawthorn."

England took a deep breath.

Hawthorn, the wood home of fae. Those who slept below would rarely wake again.

"What were you doin' ablo a Hawthorn?" His brother spoke in such a resigned, pained voice.

"I don't know I... I-I didn't go to the Otherworld."

The fox had taken him into the forest, the place that had melted. But? Had he? Had the forest been made of otherworld tree?

England wrung his hands.

It had been odd tree-kind, mute and dead. No bug, no bird, no living he had heard. The forest had been wrong... warped as otherword things were. It could have been fae forest, for even the sky had been unmoving. Only the Fox had been alive as living things should be.

But how could Reynard have taken him to the Otherworld without permission?

England got colder than he was already cold as he realised.

He had inadvertently agreed to go with a fae. To go anywhere. The fae had offered to take him somewhere away from his brothers, it had asked him to follow, England had taken the offer. He had given himself up fully to the fae's will and Otherworld realm.

"I made a mistake," England whispered.

"Tell me you hivna' made a promise..." His brother's brows drew together. "Tell me it wisna' longer than a day?"

"I don't think... I think-I think I turned something down. I can't remember.... I know it was short, so short, I was just... I was just with you and...then..." England couldn't say anything else.

"That's good," Scotland said. He embraced England in a tight hug, one hand carding into his tangled hair guiding his head to rest on his shoulder. "I think you'd've remembered it if you'd've made a promise."

"M' sorry..."

"No apologies, you're nae gone."

England realised his wand was no longer with him.

#aph england #aph scotland #aph wales #hetalia fanfiction #reynard the fox #fae folk

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