Hetalia kink meme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hetalia_kink) wrote2012-06-03 02:47 pm
hetalia_kink) wrote2012-06-03 02:47 pm
Hetalia Kink meme part 15
axis powers
hetalia kink meme
part 15
hetalia kink meme
part 15
Ahh yeah that is the super duper delayed Christmas reveal for 2009 LOL...just found the time to finish it now...
clean wallpaper version HERE
clean wallpaper version HERE
France Is An Extremely Devout Catholic
(Anonymous) 2010-10-16 02:04 am (UTC)(link)After however many years (centuries?!), England decides that it just isn't fun without a major frenemy to antagonize. However, what he decides to do in order to get his historical enemy back to
dark sidehis side is up to anon.Please just go crazy.
Bonus: French colonies (HALLO CANADA) being given strict Catholic childhoods.
Restauration (1/?)
(Anonymous) 2010-10-17 09:38 pm (UTC)(link)August 1826.
It was in a little village, not totally lost in the middle of nowhere but nearly, at the proximity of the Swiss border. Arthur had looked hundred times at the address he had managed to coax out of the French nobility to be sure he hadn’t made any mistakes, but to be honest, there were not a lot of French places that could hold such a name and reason (or intuition) was telling him he was nearing his destination.
In normal conditions, he would trust the coachman to lead him the right way, but he had so many problems just finding one in Mulhausen that he wasn’t sure he was a wise thing to do. Not a lot of passerbys had been happy to answer his questions when he had bothered them for directions, looking at him warily because of his English accent or answering him in their wonderful dialect. His French wasn’t perfect, he had lowered himself to use it, but this whatever sort of German… no, thank you very much, mercy for his ears, please.
He wasn’t in a poor region; Mulhausen seemed to be a pretty city, though he didn’t have the time to pay it more attention than that, but the numerous industries hadn’t escaped him. Textile, mostly, confirming the reputation he got when he was in Paris. Besides, now they were kilometers away from the town, in the middle of fields, the landscape was wonderful. Cultures, sun, a little bit too hot, and in the background, the two chains of mountains opposing each others. He had heard the Mont Blanc could be seen from there with such a beautiful weather like this one.
Ah, what a pity. Too bad Frenchmen were wasting the plains by their mere presence, as always.
After more than one hour of travel, the village of Reiningue finally came to sight. It had nothing fundamentally different from the other villages he had crossed, typically Alsatian, with some storks on the top of the chimneys from time to time. When Arthur had the displeasure of seeing one, his coachman would start grumbling something in whatever language it was, German or an ersatz of it.
"Storich, Storich, Guter
bring mir einen kleinen Bruder
Storich, Storichn Bester
bring mir'ne kleine Schwester"
Arthur didn’t complain much, his journey was reaching its end. Because, on the other side of the road, once the last half-timbered house would be behind him, he would arrive at the Cistercian monastery of Œlenberg. Where the country of France had decide to shut himself from the rest of the world.
And from the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.
How dare he.
Notes:
-This story will take place in Alsace.
Mulhausen corresponds to the town of Mulhouse (it got its current name in 1848), and was considered as the “French Manchester” in the 19th century.
At that period, most of the French population didn’t speak French, but a regional dialect – Alsatian for Alsace.
Storks build nests in Alsace during the summer. The poem means something like “Stork, stork, my dear, bring me a little brother. Stork, Stork, my dearest, bring me a little sister.”
OP
(Anonymous) 2010-10-17 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Restauration (1/?)
(Anonymous) 2010-10-18 12:15 am (UTC)(link)Where the country of France had decide to shut himself from the rest of the world.
And from the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.
How dare he.
Pfff *snort*
This is so very Arthur, I don't even-
the poor man is feeling lonely; it isn't as much fun doing politics and nation idioc without someone to antagonise and be antagonised byXD
Re: Restauration (1/?)
(Anonymous) 2010-10-18 09:42 am (UTC)(link)Re: Restauration (1/?)
(Anonymous) 2010-10-18 10:28 am (UTC)(link)Ah, what a pity. Too bad Frenchmen were wasting the plains by their mere presence, as always.
I remember reading something familiar awhile ago, just so English, Arthur XDDD!
Restauration (2a/?)
(Anonymous) 2010-10-19 06:02 pm (UTC)(link)The coach slowed down at the approach of what could be mistaken for a gigantic farm, save for the steeple towering over the rest of the buildings. When his vehicle turned to enter the entrance to the courtyard, Arthur, his head outside the window, diverted his gaze from the left where he had the pleasure of observing an impressive mill to the pink church in front of him and contrasting with the walls covered by lime he had seen in the village or with the other buildings of the monastery.
The abbey was huge. He had guessed it already, but suddenly being surrounded, embraced by the edifice, in a silence only broken by the noise of the wheels and the hoofs of the horses made the picture all the more impressive. Arthur was a bit surprised by the intensity of his reaction but it created in him this awful impression of being alone in front of God. Which was pretty stupid anyway, as a monk was also present, now looking in their direction and intrigued at the prospect of meeting the unknown visitors. Look, not alone.
It was also making Arthur slightly uneasy as he had known for centuries Catholics were doing it the wrong way.
The vehicle finally stopped and parked on the side in a screeching noise, next to a little tree to shade the horses and at the proximity of a trough. Arthur quickly readjusted himself, and didn’t wait for the coachman to open his door. He got out, happy to finally being able to move his legs and to do something other than trying to read; shaken as he had been during the journey, the activity hadn’t been very pleasant. The weather was less oppressive as well, now he could feel the flick of wind in his hair.
He quickly threw a look at the coachman to ask if he minded being used as a translator, but he was already pretending to be busy taking care of his horses. Useless as he would be, Arthur decided it’d be more efficient if he dealt with the monk, already on his way, himself. Not even bothering to translate, he straightened his posture and asked:
“Hey you! Do you know where I can find Francis Bonnefoy?”
When he didn’t get any immediate answer, Arthur tried another appellation.
“ … Brother Francis?”
The man of God, wearing the traditional white cassock with the sort-of brown cape (Arthur had forgotten the name), was to say the least confused by the outburst, and maybe by the annoyance Arthur hadn’t bothered to hide. But when Arthur finally reached the conclusion that he either didn't speak England, or had followed the evolution of a cucumber, the priest decided to respond reacting to the only word he had understood:
“Francis? Frère Francis?”
“Yeah, him. Frère Francis,” Arthur repeated. The name was skinning his tongue already, and it should only get worse. “Sauriez-vous où je puis le trouver?”
Re: Restauration (2b/?)
(Anonymous) 2010-10-19 06:04 pm (UTC)(link)Brother Wilhelm - according to Arthur’s deduction skills during their respective presentation – had directly taken him into a little room inside the monastery, close to the proximity of what seems to be the main entrance, to get the authorization to come back with Brother Francis. He was even thoughtful enough to bring him a glass of milk.
Arthur had come up with a stupid excuse, talking about urgent family matters that were absolutely nonexistent but needed to be kept private; monks had to cut themselves from their family, but it didn’t mean they had to stop caring. Wilhelm hadn’t probably felt for his explanations but Arthur didn’t ask for his opinion. He had a letter for the abbey explaining his will to meet Francis Bonnefoy, signed by French and English plenipotentiaries, and from the information he had said the abbey knew about the peculiar condition of his monk. That was more than enough to bring him the one he wanted.
Finishing his milk, Arthur eyed the crucifix above the door and the bareness of the creamy walls. There was nothing else except the table and some chairs; he could imagine how cold it would be in the depth of winter, and shivered despite of himself.
What the hell had crossed Francis’ mind to enter into a world like this? England frowned; he hoped, he dearly hoped his dear (yeah, dear, somehow) colleague had a reasonable explanation, other than he had the ‘urge to’. Nations had urges coming from the nature and the people living in them; so if Francis had suddenly gotten the aspiration to lose himself in the desert of monarchism, something was definitely rotten in the Kingdom of France.
Not. Again.
His thread of thoughts got interrupted by a knock on the door. Rising from his chair in time for the door to be opened, Arthur faced Brother Wilhelm, who smiled and quickly moved to the side to enable the man following him to enter.
Brother Wilhelm wasn’t young or very tall, somehow in his fifties, his brown hair more grey than brown and contrasting with the man at his side. Blond, ageless, whose eyes were sparkling with amusement. He was also wearing the traditional clothes, hiding the shape of his body from the eyes of the common mortals. It wasn’t the most important to Arthur, who couldn’t move his gaze away from the hair.
Francis had cut his hair.
His silky, smooth hair, colour of a wheat field, had been sacrificed and was now short, even shorter than Arthur’s. And still in far better shape than his, he noticed with disappointment as he was doing his best not to gap at the transformation that had happened to his rival. It was a real change, maybe not in soul –his eyes, dear God, his eyes were still the same- but definitely in form, revealing through his appearance the seriousness he was so often hiding.
He also had kept the beard he had let grow at the beginning of the Revolution – a deal with Corsica, if he believed the legend, because it has been the first time the island had approved something Francis had done.
Francis turned to Brother Wilhelm, thanked him for his help and closed the door once the other monk disappeared, leaving them both alone in the same room.
It had been around ten years they hadn’t seen each other, Arthur realized.
“Well, Arthur,” Francis started with his usual singing voice, trained by years of canticle, “it’s a real pleasure to see you here. I wasn’t expecting you at all; I shall thank the Lord for offering me the chance for you to great me with your presence.”
He signed himself just after, and Arthur understood with utter horror he was deadly serious.
“Shut the fuck up, Brother Francis. You’re going back with me.”
Re: Restauration (2c/?) - Notes
(Anonymous) 2010-10-19 06:09 pm (UTC)(link)-Sauriez vous où je puis le trouver : Would thou know where I can find him?
- According to Saint Benedict’s rule, that Trappist monks follow, hosts arriving to a monastery have to be presented to the whole community after their arrival and should be treated with great care. Reason why Arthur has to inform the abbey he needs a private discussion with Francis.
- Corsica is manly. And had been very difficult to pacify when France got his hands on it (and it is author’s headcanon Francis got his beard during the Revolution because he forgot to shave on Bastille Day)
- Monks have short hair, but are allowed to keep a beard if they want.
Thank you for your comments :)
OP
(Anonymous) 2010-10-19 08:05 pm (UTC)(link)It didn't even cross my mind that Francis would have to cut his hair. You've thought everything out so well, and Arthur's characterization is one of the best I've ever seen. I wish I could say more, but I'm unfortunately rather incoherent.
Re: Restauration (2c/?) - Notes
(Anonymous) 2010-10-19 11:39 pm (UTC)(link)Man, this is gorgeous. Seriously, can't wait for more. I was just about to sleep when I figured "eh, I'll see if this fill can get my interest" and it so did.
Will be checking on this fill~
Re: Restauration (2c/?) - Notes
(Anonymous) 2010-10-20 10:40 am (UTC)(link)Re: Restauration (2c/?) - Notes
(Anonymous) 2010-10-21 12:39 am (UTC)(link)What the hell had crossed Francis’ mind to enter into a world like this? England frowned; he hoped, he dearly hoped his dear (yeah, dear, somehow) colleague had a reasonable explanation, other than he had the ‘urge to’. Nations had urges coming from the nature and the people living in them; so if Francis had suddenly gotten the aspiration to lose himself in the desert of monarchism, something was definitely rotten in the Kingdom of France.
Not. Again.
Interesting headcanon you got there; definitely makes this all the more fascinating, and maybe gives us better reason for England's motives for this visit.
Also, pfff; England's facepalming was heard all the way to hereXD
Francis had cut his hair.
His silky, smooth hair, colour of a wheat field, had been sacrificed and was now short, even shorter than Arthur’s. And still in far better shape than his, he noticed with disappointment as he was doing his best not to gap at the transformation that had happened to his rival. It was a real change, maybe not in soul –his eyes, dear God, his eyes were still the same- but definitely in form, revealing through his appearance the seriousness he was so often hiding.
Curiously, this paragraph made me snort (because really, Arthur, hair jealousy is so far in your pastXD), but also giddy with excitement, since I ship FrUK hard and I can't be imagining the dismay and mourning England is doing here, in his own way.
“Shut the fuck up, Brother Francis. You’re going back with me.”
ENGLAND, STOP WITH THE AWESOME, YOU'LL FREAKIN IMPLODE THE UNIVERSE <3
Re: Restauration (2c/?) - Notes
(Anonymous) 2010-11-04 10:26 am (UTC)(link)I look forward to future updates!
Restauration 3a/?
(Anonymous) 2010-11-10 09:33 am (UTC)(link)“Do you want more milk? I can search for some for you if you want.”
“Do not try to buy time, Francis.”
“Then I’m very afraid you’re losing yours.”
Francis hesitated slightly, before sitting on the chair that was next to him, taking care of his dress in the process. The gesture was almost heartwarming, and wrong in so many degrees. Arthur frowned, but refused to act the same way.
Instead, he decided to stay up, to dominate the room and pretended to take a great interest in the window, spying on the coachman who was supposed to wait for him and his business to be over. He didn’t trust that guy, dammit. And with his back towards Francis, it was a good excuse not to be distracted by the other Nation.
Otherwise he would be staring.
That wouldn’t be proper.
“How did you find me anyway?” Francis asked with curiosity.
He on the other hand didn’t seem bothered by the situation. Not angry, frustrated, anxious or even pleased to see his own rival after all these years. Well, pleased maybe, a bit, but then it was genuine happiness, the same reaction he’d had if a little child had offered him a piece of blueberry pie. None of the sadistic pleasure that usually ran through their veins at the prospect of crushing the other next time they’ll have to meet.
To be honest, Arthur hadn’t thought about it beforehand, he had just expected to be welcomed the usual way; he had expected Francis to be the same. Just… trying to imitate his own asocial mood. Or maybe chuckling, because who knew; it could be a part of a great scheme to mock him. Arthur was supposed to be one too haughty to deign communicating with the other Nations, not the one begging bastards to communicate face to face and not through letters.
“La Fayette.”
Arthur sighed slowly, and turned his head in Francis’ direction, his arms behind his back. Brother Wilhelm had entered his sight and was conversing with the coachman, giving no need to check on him for the moment.
No French politicians had been willing to give him information when he had arrived in Paris earlier that month to explain the lack of presence of their country, like the good Frenchmen they were. Pissed off and hell if he created a diplomatic crisis Arthur decided not to care. Nations didn’t vanish that easily. He had tried to contact men that he knew had been dear to France’s heart, hoping one of them may have answers to his questions.
His first victim, the old marquis of Lafayette, was an immediate hit, and as Arthur has found, a very agreeable host.
Happy surprise, because he wouldn’t have stood a minute with Talleyrand.
A big smile made its way on Francis’ face.
“Oh this dear Gilbert, always so caring. It is probably a sign of God that you should come here. He hasn’t been back from his journey in South America for long, you were lucky to get him. The poor man didn’t have the time to come and visit yet, to tell us more about it – a pity, we all are very interested in what we could learn from him. How did you manage to coax the address out of him by the way? And is he fine?”
“We’re both gentlemen. He obliged when I revealed to him it was needed for achieving peace in Europe. And yes, he’s fine”
Re: Restauration 3b/?
(Anonymous) 2010-11-10 09:36 am (UTC)(link)That was pretty stupid; he had witnessed Francis pray hundreds of times, he sometimes even joined him before discovering the pleasure of being religiously independent and trolling, sorry converting the world to his truth. Wasn’t much a problem; Francis had always been open, even on this subject. But now…
Another pang of disgust rose up, especially when the Catholic nation got back to his normal self and joyfully cheered, “Achieving peace in Europe? I’m very flattered you thought of me.”
Ha, he had noticed. Arthur shrugged.
“Yes. Peace.That kind of false excuse always works with humans. Anyway, isn’t it something you care about?”
“The Lord is a God of peace according to Saint Paul. Who am I to contradict?”
“The Kingdom of France.”
France chuckled and looked at him with a paternal expression on his face. That was maybe the scariest thing ever; Francis being blandly honest but without any mischief and master plan hidden behind his back. Arthur wasn’t the best for throwing his heart in the face of the ones he cared about. And one constant point in his life was that his eternal enemy had the same problem, only because he had none. Being reminded he was wrong… he had never liked it.
God dammit, how did France learn to leer without all of that sexual tension?
“I am just following the path you have traced for me.”
Arthur froze.
He stared.
Francis was suddenly becoming very punch-able, as Arthur paled and reddened in less than a second, trying to understand what had gone so wrong in the person in front of him. Being French wasn’t an excuse for having such a rotten brain, and to imply Arthur had tempted him to follow a path even more rotten.
“I don’t remember implying that kneeling to the Pope was part of my great scheme in life,” he spat. “You could have better use to me. But you never think. Maybe there was a reason why I didn’t emasculate you on the spot at Waterloo.”
“Probably. The same that brought my Kings back in the country, I guess. Though I was in the dark, and had I ask for an explanation, I doubt I would have gotten one. You never visited me at that time. Should I have begged or kneeled in between your legs, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”
They would have shagged, it was far more than nothing. Arthur dismissed the thought on the spot. Remembering the last time he got laid wasn’t a good idea. Especially in this kind of place. And when he was trying to decipher the curve of his body and discover if something else had changed within him, hidden by the inform layer of his clothes and the hint of the cross behind the table.
“Such a light pain for the sins you have caused.”
“And so little trouble for you to care, but I don’t blame you. What I did back then… I had to come up with a conclusion, to decide my feelings about this heritage. But salvation is something that I needed to find on my own, and for that lonely path, the only one I trusted enough to confess my sins and simple worries was this dear abbé Grégoire.”
There were no regrets or reproaches in Francis’ tone, and he wasn’t deprived of his smile either. Talking about his ‘revelation’ somehow seemed to please him, even if he was very thrifty about his own feelings, and Arthur shuddered. Catholics. Had no brain for logic.
“Grégoire? Wait a minute, isn’t that priest stupid enough to support your Revolution? You… gave your soul to a man who sided with the killers of his own kind? Please, how can I take you seriously if you give me that pitiful form of an excuse?”
“Faith and politics are two different things, but somehow that’s a lesson you probably have failed to understand,” Francis murmured. “Napoléon managed to appease the situation; I’m not trying to raise any opposition. I didn’t go to Grégoire to talk about how the Church of France shall be organised, or how we could help the congregation to obtain a place to live once again, but how, as a Christian, I can redeem myself in the eyes of God for the follies I had caused, willingly or not. It was… a personal decision.”
Re: Restauration 3c/?
(Anonymous) 2010-11-10 09:40 am (UTC)(link)“And your King agreed? Please.”
“Why shouldn’t he? He understood the call I received from God. And I’m able to take care of the problems of the Kingdom from my little spot – I answered to your every letters, I advised him following my faith and my conscience as I always do with my kings, and so far I must say this is working much better than expected. As a proof… without that sudden … curiosity? of yours, you wouldn’t have ever registered my ‘disappearance’”
Even if he should have expected it, Arthur still didn’t like the way Francis was trying to convince him he wasn’t needed. That he could stay in the dark, as a shadow, faithfully obeying him, but his mind and soul devoted to another. He didn’t appreciate the implying tone or to be reminded of his own ehavior either. He wasn’t in this pseudo-house of God to be judged. The only judge was him.
Refraining himself from kicking his fist on the table, he growled, “Curiosity?”
“You didn’t need to come to Alsace to inform me. You never cared before”
“Well, my bad. Maybe others would have the same idea. Ivan didn’t mention anything, now that I think of it. Roderich then?”
Francis eyebrows’ twitched. “So it is about Herakles. I’ve heard you reached an agreement with Ivan about the current rebellion, despite… Roderich’s opinions”
“Yes it is. Curiosity! I’m just here to assure myself of your cooperation, now I can notice myself your lack of... aggressive feelings. If you had been a real Christian, if you had been following your own principles, you would have known.”
“If you are contesting the foreign politics of my King, then please, tell me, I’ll do my best to do as you desire.”
His expression softened and he was happy once again. Arthur couldn’t see his own, but he had stiffened, and the sudden hands of Francis’ upon his own felt weird. Strange. Welcomed. He just couldn’t stand its taste of a goodbye. And of something else as Francis added, “I managed during more than four years, you didn’t notice, therefore, I am sorry, but the first wish you expressed when you arrived, I cannot and will not grant it. There’s no argument on this Earth to prove my presence is needed in the common of the mortals.”
Francis had offered him the expression of an appeased man as he had explained the trouble of his soul and the questions of turning his back to the Revolution tormenting him during the first years of the Bourbon Restoration, and in the depth of Arthur’s mind, something had tilted, and things had started to get into the right place. In front of him was a man following the letter of God : Francis was trying his best to forgive, to forget. And he was asking Arthur to do the same.
And that wasn’t Francis at all. But in this violence against his grudging nature, in this fight against himself to respect his Catholic values, he was a man of God willing to reach the truth of his own faith.
But more than that, he was still a Nation. And something inside Arthur writhed, yearned when Francis had given his final word in one breath, decided, that flame inside of his eyes. But that flame wasn’t against him, it wasn’t burning with the desire to kill, or to confront him, or to be there for him.
And somehow, Arthur ached at this revelation.
Francis was the country of love, and there was no greater love on this Earth than the one devoted to the Almighty Lord.
Shit.
Who was he to compete against God Itself?
Re: Restauration 3d/? - Notes
(Anonymous) 2010-11-10 09:45 am (UTC)(link)- the Restauration is the French name given to the period between 1815 and 1848, when the monarchy was brought back to France. Since the action takes place in 1826, the King at that time was Charles X.
- La Fayette is mostly known for his action during the US Independence war, even in France. During the Restauration, he was a deputy but he spent a lot of time in America (in the US or in South America).
- Epistle of Saint Paul, XIV, 33 : God is a god of peace.
- l’Abbé Grégoire was a French religious man who supported the Révolution, because he thought faith could work with the new ideals of the country. Even if the Revolutionnaries got more and more opposed to the Catholic Church and tried to ‘dechristianize’ the country – which was one of the roots of the Civil war. It lasted until the Concordat made by Napoléon in 1801 which allowed the return of Catholicism (was suppressed in 1905, but some places in France still apply it). Congregations which were forbidden only started to develop once again around the 1820’s.
- England sided with Greece during his Independence war against the Ottoman Empire. France wasn’t at first really interested in the matter, but Austria didn’t approve of the agreement England and Russia made to help Greece in April 1926 (Austria was against national wars of independence, being a multicultural state itself). And Russia wanted to get more influence ,and if possible, an access to the Black Sea – England could control its ambition by siding with the Tsar (Russia was seen as a threat to the commercial path to India. The Ottoman Empire offered stability). And anyway, a good part of the opinion was supporting Greece (and well… Lord Byron…). In September, Charles X sided with England, and in 1827, they intervened militarily.
Sorry, sorry for the delay. Life and muse had been somehow hectic last month, and now Nanowrimo has began… but well, I haven’t forgotten this fill, don’t worry!
OP : Ah, no thank you for creating a prompt like this!
Yeah, I thought it would be interesting, since usually France with short hair is something used for WW2 or post WW2 pics. I wanted to show Francis could give his hair himself, for free, just to show his love and submission to God.
New!Reader anon: thank you for taking the time to comment
Anon 1 : thank you. Sure, I’m doing my best! (but exams are not helping :c)
Anon 2 : Thank you.
As you’ve read, Arthur’s motivations are mostly egoistic – he can’t stand that his rival considers his relationship with God more important than the one he has with him, but who is he to compete with God? Even if he's not Catholic, it's still God... But don’t worry, you’ve spot on to something ;p
Anon 3 : thank you *blush*
OP
(Anonymous) 2010-11-10 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Restauration 3d/? - Notes
(Anonymous) 2010-11-11 02:13 am (UTC)(link)And also, authornon, have you written for the kinkmeme before? This anon would like to read your other fills ^^
Re: Restauration 3d/? - Notes
(Anonymous) 2010-11-13 03:54 pm (UTC)(link)