neil is welsh!!! he spent a lot of time up in north wales while on the run and he has an awful accent oh my god
dan, matt, allison, nicky and aaron are all from london
renee is from glasgow but went to live in london with stephanie walker
andrew was moved around a lot thanks to foster care but he spend almost all of his childhood in northern england and he also has a god-awful accent
they play exy in london and the ravens play in belfast
but anyway!! twinyards!!
Aaron is affronted by Andrews accent
how can someone look just like him and sound like that
he doesn’t pronounce anything right
andrew thinks aaron’s accent is worse, naturally
pre-uni nicky spends most of his time trying to get the twins to call a truce when they mimic everything the other says
aaron tells andrew daily that he can’t speak English
andrew tells aaron daily that he’s a chav
the one thing more annoying than andrew’s accent? kevin’s accent
just imagine; not only have they got someone screaming at them everyday that they’re not good enough, he screams in an irish accent
sometimes wymack wants to cry at this mess of a team
it gets worse when they recruit neil, oh god
he’s in a little village in west wales called aberporth when he’s recruited but he’s spent time in south and north wales too so his accent
it’s this awful mess of strong, heavy welsh mixed with a hard, common cardiff accent
wymack looks at him for twenty seconds the first time he talks, trying to translate in his head
andrew on drugs,, he doesn’t shut up about neil’s accent
neil.s accent gets stronger when he’s ranting and can you imagine him transitioning into welsh halfway through screaming at riko while watching a ravens game
andrew gets angry whenever neil speaks welsh because why is such an unattractive language so attractive when it comes out of his mouth because he already has english, german and french why does he need a language that 0 people speak
eden’s twilight is a nightclub in essex and instead of being all edgy and gothic it’s a gay bar lbr
aaron puts up with it because the drinks are cheaper and it was the only job that he was offered after leaving school with 0 qualifications and a report about all the fights he got into
aaron went to night school, turns out hes freaking intelligent and now hes in uni to become a doctor (he wont forget all the help from edens though)
neil is mr. unobservant despite being convinced that he is the master of being alert (unreliable narrator who) and doesn’t even realise it’s a gay bar until roland asks him about him and Andrew and he takes a second look around
there are drag queens there every night neil is2g
katelyn is from edinburgh purely because I love Scotland and katelyn is cute
aaron goes weak at her accent oh god
allison’s parents are actually royalty
like prince and princess or something, not the main family but still rich as hell
she’s been trying to escape their standards her whole life
can you imagine andrew and neil in their pro careers oh god
you’ve got this power couple, both sharp as anything, one on offense and one on defense and no one can fucking understand either of them
this is all I have for now but boy… i’ll probably add to this or write some specific scenes, i’m thinking of making ths a series
So like, a few years ago, I was on this holiday in Wales.
And it was pretty nice, my family go there a lot, we stay in a caravan or sometimes like a little bed and breakfast and we just relax and have a nice time, like a week off from everything.
But this one year we were looking through this rack of leaflets about tourist destinations and we found this zoo, Folly Farm, which is really nice and you can see it at folly-farm.co.uk.
And they had orangutans at the time, but they don’t any more, as you can see on the list of animals they have on their website. My brother likes orangutans a LOT.
So we thought yeah great let’s take a trip to see some animals because the only other zoo any of us have been to is the one in Chester which is fine but we’ve seen it all, we wanna see some new fresh animal friends.
The way there was fun, we took a coach with lots of Welsh families on a day trip and we made a few friends and we still keep in contact with the driver.
Then we got there and that’s when the problems started. My little brother, who was eleven at the time, ran off by himself almost immediately. We couldn’t find him and so we had to split up to search multiple directions like we were in scooby doo or something.
After a couple of minutes, I found him by the orangutans. But he wasn’t just looking at him. He was fucking IN THERE with them, just chilling. I didn’t want to get him in trouble by calling an attendant so I just had to go in there myself and try to get him out. I say try because it was almost impossible. According to him, the orangutans were his friends, and they didn’t like the zoo, and they just wanted to go on a day out themselves. I asked what the fuck he was talking about but before I could drag him out of the enclosure he had run away with one of the orangutans.
I gave chase, of course, but they were incredibly fast. He barreled through the entire zoo with the orangutan in tow, and made it all the way back to the coach. He dived on, and shouted at the driver to GO, GO, GO.
In all my life I’ve never seen something so ridiculous. The moment the driver actually listened, and pulled away, actually driving down the fucking road with a kid and an orangutan just because he was told to and I guess he thought he was being helpful- that was the silliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
Thankfully, my stepdad saw it too, and a zoo employee ran over, red faced and panting and panicking. We got in the employee’s car and followed the coach. We wanted to call the police to help but none of us could get phone signal because, like, idk, large swathes of south Wales exist in a different era or dimension of time I guess.
We followed the coach for four hours. Across practically the entirety of Wales. All the way from Pembrokeshire to fucking Rhyl. From the south coast to the north. Honestly, if we’d just kept going it wouldn’t have taken us much longer to get home to Liverpool. We travelled so fucking far in chase of this orangutan, my brother and a recklessly helpful coach driver and every moment of the journey is burned into my mind forever.
This absurd journey finally resolved itself when we got to the white rose shopping centre in Rhyl. Apparently all the zoo animals are fitted with a tracking chip and as we approached Rhyl the zoo had finally managed to contact the police who pulled the coach over and sorted out the whole situation.
We weren’t even angry. Honestly, seeing my little brother again after all that time just made me laugh. We all did. Except the orangutan because I don’t think orangutans can laugh.
But, anyway, the resolution of the story is that folly farm can’t keep orangutans any more because of the lack of security around their enclosure. Nobody got in any legal trouble because the situation was so absurd nobody knew what to do. We left Wales together, and we reminisce on the story at least once a year. I’m just glad we left our mark, even if our legacy is totally bizarre and unbelievable.
Because the zoo, the police in North Wales and practically all of Pembrokeshire have a name for my brother and the coach driver now. A fitting nickname, one that truly captures the essence of what they did, and what they’ll always be remembered for.
do you know any welsh myths? i feel like it would be fitting to have one of those!
I haven’t done anything Welsh yet, which I feel is basically just taunting my ancestors at this point, so I will grant your request. However, I’ve done it in a really arse about face kind of way, and instead of choosing one of Wales’ myriad beautiful and bizarre myths, I’ve given you a culturally appropriated folklore turned piece of false history. I hope this satisfies your Welsh craving.
There are lots of Welsh names as well as historical information and comparative lore under the Read More, if that helps at all. If you don’t want to read the poorly retold tale of a trusty hound, a legally useless baby and an improbable wolf, then press J on your keyboard to skip it as this is a long post!
Dogs are Shit at Babysitting
A long long time ago, in a time when Wales is an actual place which isn’t just ruled by the apathetic heir to the English throne, there dwells a guy named Llywelyn. Actually, there are about 6,000 guys named Llywelyn because it is a confusingly popular name, but this Llywelyn is the main Llywelyn, because his name is Llywelyn Fawr, which means Llywelyn the Great, and there is no Llywelyn the Best, or even a Llywelyn the Slightly Better. He is also basically the ruler of all of Wales, which sounds really impressive until you remember that Wales is about the size of a thimble and is mostly just fields. Anyway, at the time of this story, Llywelyn has recently become the father to an absolutely incredible baby boy, whose mother was really inconsiderate and died in childbirth. Now, this kid must be literally the best baby ever, because even though he’s illegitimate and therefore can’t be Llywelyn’s heir, making him about as useful as a Human Rights charter at a UKIP convention, Llywelyn doesn’t just fuck off. Instead, he decides to be a thoroughly modern man and take care of the baby himself. He really goes all out with it, too. Like, he moves himself into this shitty castle in the arse end of nowhere, presumably telling his wife that he’s, you know, communing with nature or working on his aura or something, and he becomes the great dad that he has no interest in being to any of his other litters of illegitimate offspring.
He’s not alone, however, because living in a huge castle with just an infant would get kind of boring, once the novelty of cleaning up sick and washing nappies wore off. No, Llywelyn takes his best bro with him: the one friend who’s stuck with him through thick and thin; the pal who’d never judge him for leaving his wife and heir to shack up with a technically useless illegitimate baby. The name of this astonishingly faithful friend is Gelert, and also he has four legs. Not because he’s some sort of mystical sprite, but because he is a dog, and dogs quite often have four legs. As far as dogs go, Gelert is definitely in the uppermost percentile. He’s probably in the top ten. He’s just an all-round A+ canine companion. He was given to Llywelyn as a wedding gift by his father-in-law, King John ‘if I kick my illegitimate daughter Joan out to marry Llywelyn and live in Wales, is that a good enough excuse to ransack the place and raze it to the goddamn ground, leaving it as nothing but a heap of charred remains next to the glorious rolling hills’ of England, which means that of all the things that Llywelyn’s father-in-law gave him on his special day, Llywelyn valued the dog over his wife. Which is fine actually, because they got married when Llywelyn was 31 and Joan was 12, so they probably didn’t have that much in common anyway.
Anyway, Llywelyn and Gelert are totally inseparable. There’s probably entire montages of the two of them just being adorable best friends, with them running down hills in slow motion and sniffing flowers, and Llywelyn sitting in front of a roaring fire and nursing his baby with a plastic teat while Gelert rests faithfully at his slipper-clad feet, and Gelert baring his teeth and snarling as he loyally rips the throat out of the bunny that Llywelyn is hunting, and it’s all lovely and very Lassie-esque. The two of them live with Llywelyn’s pointless illegitimate offspring in their empty castle surrounded by woodland and emptiness, and it’s all just excellent.
One day, Llywelyn is invited to go out on a lads’ hunting trip (basically the equivalent of a boys only trip to Magaluf in those days) with some visiting noblemen and, being a single dad, he naturally leaps at the chance to wear a fancy coat and maybe show off his abs a bit and just fucking kill some shit for fun. However, there’s one slight flaw in the plan, and that’s the fact that living in a castle on a hill in the middle of nowhere does rather limit his babysitting options. There’s no convenient teenage girl called Carly who just wants to make enough money to go to Coachella this year and also prove to her mother that she’s responsible. Not even one. So, Llywelyn improvises, and he decides that the best thing to do would be to just get his best friend to cover for him. But it’s fine, because he doesn’t do anything bizarre like ask Gelert to babysit or anything. That would be weird. He’s just like “look, I’m going on a hunt with the lads, and of course you’re invited because you’re an absolutely stellar hunting hound, but I need you to just check that the castle is safe from, like, random wolves. I have a very real fear of wolves in my castle. I would not like that at all. This castle has historically been a wolf-free zone, and I really plan on keeping it that way. I don’t want to tarnish my perfect track record of zero wolf-related incidents within these walls. Can you do that for me?” and Gelert probably does that thing that dogs do when they silently commune with your soul to convey a wordless message of complete obedience, and Llywelyn beams and says “great, I’ll just go and set some stuff up with the lads and I’ll call you once you’ve had a chance to completely safeguard the life of my defenceless newborn son against improbable wolves,” and Gelert barks and wags his tail and Llywelyn goes off to sharpen his sword in preparation for manly violent japes, then joins his group of hunt-ready friends in the woods.
After a little while, Llywelyn decides that it’s probably been long enough for Gelert to perform all his rigorous security checks, and besides, the lads are getting restless with slaughter cravings, so Llywelyn blows on his super rad hunting horn and waits for a few minutes for Gelert to appear, but much to Llywelyn’s chagrin, Gelert remains about as absent as Llywelyn’s paternal skills. All of Llywelyn’s manly hunting companions sigh, and they’re like “look, Llywelyn, he’s not coming, can we just go already? We came here to metaphorically shoot the shit and literally kill tiny animals, and we’ve all shot about as much shit as we can handle.” Llywelyn just sort of looks worriedly over his shoulder at the castle in the distance, and he says “can we just wait a few minutes, guys? Maybe his alarm didn’t go off or something, he’s probably just getting ready. Let me blow my phallic horn again,” and so he blows his hunting horn again and waits for his trusty hound, all expectant and wide-eyed, but Gelert still doesn’t appear. At this point, his slaughter-hungry menfolk are just groaning and tutting and making their horses trot around in bored circles and talking about how they could totally be piercing the flesh of some innocent animals right now, and eventually Llywelyn just gives up and says “OK, fine, we’ll have to go without him, but we’re not going to have a good time, and we’re all going to feel really guilty about it, so I hope you’re happy,” and his fellow hunters just nod briskly and they’re all “we’re 100% happier at the promise of dead rabbits, now let’s go and establish man as one of the dominant ruinous forces of nature!” and off they go to, like, slaughter badgers and shit. I don’t know what animals are native to Welsh woodland. Maybe a red squirrel or two. Possibly a heron.
When they’ve finished their testosterone-fueled bout of merciless animal slaughter, Llywelyn and the lads trail back to the castle to drink alcohol and talk about how rad the whole thing was. However, when they get to the castle, the first thing Llywelyn notices is that all the furniture has been thrown everywhere, and there’s blood all over the walls. It basically looks like there’s been a horrific incident at IKEA, with entrails splattered all up the ceiling and bits of things that should definitely be on the inside, but are now very much on the outside of who or whatever they once belonged to. Immediately, Llywelyn draws his sword and he’s like “something has gone very amiss here, I suspect wolves,” and one of his companions whispers “it would be a very good idea to try and find your son, because I have a sneaking suspicion that he probably couldn’t take a wolf in a fight, mano a mano” and Llywelyn nods sagely and is about to give some orders when another one of his companions pipes up “no, it’s cool, I’ve found your son, he’s not here” and Llywelyn is like “how have you found him if he’s not here?” and the man points at the corner of the room, where Llywelyn’s son’s crib is overturned in a pool of blood, and next to it lies the sleeping Gelert, whose jaws are covered in blood and guts, and Llywelyn’s heart just sinks.
He turns to his hunting lads and says “lads, you don’t want to see this,” and they’re like “ooh, are you going to mercilessly slaughter your dog, because we absolutely live for that shit and we totally want to see that,” and Llywelyn just fixes them with a stern glare and they all scarper, and he closes the door behind them and turns back to Gelert, who’s woken up at this point and is sitting up, wagging his tail. Llywelyn just lets rip at him, all “I trusted you! I appointed you royal babysitter, and this is how you repay me? By murdering my baby? This is not what I didn’t pay you for! All those times we frolicked in the woods around the bodies of our fresh kills – did all that mean nothing to you? I can’t believe this, you’re the worst friend ever, and one of my bros once boned my wife in our marital bed, so that’s really saying something,” and Gelert just sits there, because he is a dog and doesn’t really know what the fuck is going on. Then, Llywelyn fixes his old friend with a remorseful look and says “it’s really partly my own fault, I should have got a registered babysitter and also probably a human one, but you did eat my son, so I feel like you should also take some of the responsibility here,” and Gelert wags his tail a bit and Llywelyn is like “I thought I’d finished my ceaseless rampage of animal murder for the day, but clearly I was wrong,” and he just plunges his sword right into Gelert’s body, and Gelert makes a noise that can only be described as a death yelp, and dies.
Almost immediately this really high pitched wailing starts up, and Llywelyn looks around in fright, then makes the somewhat belated decision to pick up the upturned crib, and there, absolutely pristine despite the pool of blood around the crib, is his baby son, still alive and pink and healthy and other things that babies generally should be when they haven’t been eaten by dogs. Then Llywelyn notices that there’s also a massive dead wolf in the corner of the room, and it’s almost certainly been there the entire time because dead wolves tend to have difficulty with locomotion, and he realises that he clearly has the observational skills of a mushroom because the blood is clearly the wolf’s and not his son’s, and he drops his sword and it clatters to the floor, mixing Gelert’s blood with what he now knows to be the blood of the improbable wolf, and he falls to the floor in a heap of anguish and probably embarrassment and starts crying in a really manly fashion, because he’s just killed his absolute best bro for nothing.
When he’s finished weeping for the time being, he picks up the body of Gelert and starts whispering to it, like “I misjudged you so hard, you were the best babysitter ever, I’ve never had a babysitter rip a wolf’s throat apart with their teeth to protect my baby son before, I would have given you some Pedigree Chum instead of a cruel and untimely death if I’d realised,” and then has a brilliant idea as to how he can pay tribute to his late canine companion. He carries Gelert outside, burying him at the top of a high mound so that everyone who comes by – statistically, likely no-one ever – will know about the bravery of Gelert and the perils of freelance babysitting without a written contract.
My other retellings can be found here; my dedicated mythology blog is here; and my Mythology Mondays Facebook page is here. The latter two links also allow you to follow my progress in writing a whole actual book. Thrilling.
The other day, we saw a bunny in this yard while walking our neighborhood. It was fairly close, as you can see from the first picture. Eevee saw it, but Fennekin and Carson never realized what we stopped to look at. It just sat there frozen until we left.
Wow ok so today went nowhere how I anticipated! I hope this reaches @therealjacksepticeye because I cannot express how grateful I am that you helped a weirdo stranger in the middle of her work (CAFFE NERO REPRESENT) and be so welcoming and actually put me on your guest list for Cardiff’s show of Ready Player 3. I still couldn’t quite believe when I got the tickets for me and my friend that you actually carried your promise out and once again THANK YOU SO MUCH! To go out on your way to help a fan and be so generous!
THE SHOW WAS AMAZING! I was on your side of the Mario Kart game, GO YOSHI and even though we lost it was such a great event. Arin and Dan were SUPER GREAT TO SEE LIVE, DAN IS A ROCK STAR, and seeing you guys interact with the fans was again, such a joy to watch!!
Also I took the opportunity to get two signed posters for my nephew and his cousin TWO HUGE FANS of yours and yes, I am officially the best aunty!
So THANKS once again! I just really wanted you to know that what you did today made me extremely happy and Friday the 13th will always hold a special date for me because you made it so lucky!! Honestly thanks for stopping outside my work when you did haha.
(also great welsh accents you guys!)
Lots of thanks and love and A HIGH FIVE to you Jack from your super happy pal, Rhosyn!!
This a random, pet peeve of mine I’d like to share with you….
‘Celtic’ has become a popular label amongst new age communities since the 90s. The surge in interest in Celtic, or Brythonic cultures has been great, but alongside it some very bad, cheesy artwork has been created to illustrate some Welsh mythological figures. Welsh mythology is not known on a global stage like Norse mythology for example, and many people don’t know where Wales is, or what a lot of Welsh people actually look like!
I’m a bit tired of seeing Celtic people and Welsh mythological figures depicted as blonde haired, Germanic looking, quasi-scandinavian superheros in paintings. True blonde hair in Wales is actually less common than red hair! In fact it was so rare in my area and high school that the only people or kids I knew with blonde hair were people with English parents! That’s how rare it is in adults at least. It’s the same for Irish people. It would be nice if those artists took care to research first what Welsh people look like before painting our mythological heros. If I painted a Japanese goddess or hero, I wouldn’t want her to look Chinese for example (and I realise that within China there are many cultures and probably looks).
Many Welsh people have dark brown, or almost black hair and can look almost Spanish, which would would make sense given our genetic heritage. Just think of Catherine Zeta Jones! Many think she has Spanish roots, but she’s Welsh with some Irish ancestry! Some people are in disbelief over this but that just shows how little they know of Welsh people. I am not surprised she’s Welsh because one side of my family mostly look like this. Some of them could pass for northern Spanish, or even half Turkish! The other side of my family is pale skinned with a few red heads. I am a mixture of both.
There are some blonde Welsh people of course, but it is still rare amongst Welsh people where I grew up the same as it is rarer amongst Greeks, Spaniards or Italians. This is why when I produce artwork now, the women have either red or dark hair! It’s to maintain some sort of balance in a world that is unfamiliar with us!
Okay, so I was reading a fanfic where Harry had escaped the Dursley’s and ended up on the streets in Wales, and there was a lot of Welsh that started getting me thinking I should learn more. It’s not a language I’ve really thought about learning much, but it’s sooo pretty. You guys should totally listen to this old lullaby I found on youtube.
Disclaimer: I happen to be both Welsh and LGBT but I’ve not spoken extensively to others in the LGBT community in Welsh so a lot of these are dictionary terms and I’ll put a (?) next to anything I’m unsure about.
Sexuality - rhywioldeb (m)
Sex (both the act and a person’s sex) / gender - rhyw (m)
(Sexual) minority - lleiafrif (rhywiol) (m)
Same-sex marriage - priodas gyfunryw (f)
Homophobia - homoffobia
Pronouns: Both he/him/his and she/her/her equivalents exist in Welsh, as with most languages. Since its prevalence in English, the singular “they” can also be used in speech (although it may be frowned upon academically, I can’t be sure).
Sorry this list isn’t nearly as extensive as I’d like it to be, but the Welsh dictionary isn’t as up to date as the English one and I’m going by what I think makes sense. If anyone else has any more terms/corrections, please contribute!
WHEN will you start a beauty channel on yt? Not that you have to or anything but I love your looks and there's not a lot of Welsh beauty guru's out there.
omdghd you’re so sweet thank you so much! my sisters were asking the same question today and my older sister was even kind enough to offer to help me video + edit (she has a media degree + experience) but i just want to wait until I’m settled into uni, once i’m comfortable there and have like a handle on living by myself + in a new city for the first time i think i’m gonna give it a go
Now for a “Do and Don’t guideline” for Wales! Apologies for the time it took to make this one anons, I needed to contact a few people who live in Wales because while I can speak about Wales’ history and culture without too much issue, I’ve never set foot in the country so I needed to take into consideration aspects of Wales that I wouldn’t be immediately aware of. Having an insight from people living in the country goes a long way for me. Keep in mind, these guidelines are just suggestions. I recommend only taking a few traits here and there and then developing your Wales OC from this point on. (3rd anon, I’ll answer your other question on a separate post. This one refers to your first question.)
- compassionate, generous (that’s one trait that would be very marked in Wales, since historically and even now Wales has a high level of poverty. A lot of Welsh people have a very generous nature as a result) - friendly, welcoming, good-natured, amiable - determined - loyal - huge rugby fan (just… rugby. You cannot hope to have a character accurately represent Wales without mentioning rugby at least once. The sport is practically a religion in Wales. Rugby is an extremely popular sport and Wales would most likely be really good at it. He probably would have a certain smugness over that fact as well) - love for singing, speaks muscially (singing is probably just as important to Wales as rugby is. Wales is known by the nickname “Land of Song” and a lot of his people are very talented singers. As a result, many Welsh people speak with a melodious lilt) - very difficult to anger (the Welsh are not known for their short tempers like the rest of the British Isles. It’s difficult to anger Wales, however if he is truly enraged about something he can be quite frightening. Wales might not be set off as easily as the others, but the potential to be enraged is still there) - passive aggressive with anger, can hold grudges (even if someone attempts to provoke Wales into a rage, more often than not he’ll become passive aggressive rather than become openly angry) - proudly bilingual (okay this one would seem strange but I have seen an alarming amount of people who place too much emphasis on Wales’ native language and making him completely hostile towards English. Believe me, Wales is really proud of his native language but he takes pride in being bilingual as well) - quite maternal, good with advice - modest, humble, dislikes making a fuss (as a Welsh person explained to me, the Welsh generally don’t like making a fuss or people who try to stand on ceremony. If you’re a celebrity in Wales, most of the Welsh are not going to treat you any differently from other people. Wales is probably not the only country where this happens but it’s still worth noting) - stubborn - quiet, thoughful, introspective - playful, teasing, possibly flirty (it should be noted though that the flirty aspect is more a southern Welsh trait) - social drinker (*sigh* I’m not very fond of the drinking stereotype because I feel that people love to over-exaggerate this trait… but this is the British Isles, there’s a powerful and vibrant drinking culture in every country here. Drinking is a social event to Wales and the neighbouring countries. All I can add is to be respectful about it. Wales and his siblings have centuries of drinking behind them, they have a lot of experience.)
- weak (this is a trait I see very often in Wales OCs and it disturbs me quite a bit. Many people joke “Wales has been part of England forever, lol he’s so weak” and just… no. Hell no. It took the Normans/Anglo-Normans 200 years to completely conquer Wales whereas England was conquered by the Normans in 4 years. Wales is the country with a love for rugby and experienced in mining… Wales is many things but weak is not one of them) - sheepshagger (this shouldn’t even have to be said. Yes it’s one of the more famous stereotypes associated with Wales and it’s probably the most offensive and false. It’s a stereotype that was created to underline the backwardness and primitive state of the Welsh, it’s not derived from fact. Wales would absolutely not be a sheepshagger, so please avoid implying this) - abusive, violent - overly sexualised - pushover, only mirrors England’s opinions (something I see rather often as well, avoid this absolutely. Wales has his own opinions) - turning Wales into England’s victim (I’ve seen all types, from making Wales into England’s punching bag to a victim of sexual abuse… why doesn’t anyone see the offensive nature of this?) - extremely grumpy and aggressive (believe me, I’ve seen quite a few Wales OCs being portrayed as ridiculously grumpy and aggressive. Firstly, Wales is not easily angered and in most cases, he would rather opt to be passive aggressive. In only rare cases would Wales become truly enraged and not mask it.) - unfriendly, unwelcoming, anti-social (even if Wales is a rather isolated country who doesn’t interact with a lot of other nations on the world stage, the country is still well-known for being friendly and open. So making Wales unfriendly or unwelcoming isn’t faithful to the actual spirit of the Welsh people) - cold, distant towards siblings (shouldn’t even be said, this trait makes no sense) - not being a rugby fan - being completely obsessed with sheep and dragons (there are times where… people go a bit overboard with how much Wales would like sheep and dragons. Leaving the “sheepshagger” trait aside, I’ve still seen people overexaggerate Wales’ fondness for sheep. Same can be said for dragons. Wales would be fond of dragons and he would even like sheep (in the non-sheepshagger way) but I feel the need to underline that he wouldn’t be absolutely obsessed with them to an unhealthy degree as some people have portrayed their Wales OC as) - deep hatred towards England, especially in modern times (this is probably one of the more common “don’t” traits I see in Wales OCs and it’s one I completely disagree with. I have talked to a number of Welsh people who live in the country and they would rather use these following words instead of hatred: wariness, annoyance, resentment and exasperation. England has done things that were harmful to Wales, whether consciously or unnconsciously. The latter has been far more common and there’s nothing from my conversations with Welsh people and Wales’ history that would imply a deep hatred towards England)