[fanfic/fanart] Request fill 12: The Concert of Europe, National Day of Prayer, and failart
Title: International Cooperation
Author/Artist: sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England, France, Austria, Prussia, and a dash of Russia.
Rating: like....pg13 for France.
Warnings: France does his usual groping thing. Threat of becoming one with Russia. Failure to comply to the prompt D:
Summary: If this concert was one of pianos and not people, Austria himself might've been the first to put the poor instrument out of it's misery.
A/N: for spurnedambition , who asked for either the Concert of Europe or the Quintuple Alliance. Since one sort of melts into the other, I added both. Of course, the prompt also called for crack, which I seem incapable of as of late... orz. Comedy and I aren't on good terms right now, it's got me sleeping on the couch.
---
The four of them-England, Prussia, Austria, and Russia, that is-stare at the captive who sits between them. The bound Frenchman stares back. England sort of wants to kick him. They all sort of want to kick him, but England especially because he always wants to kick France and now he has a legitimate reason for wanting to.
“I say we strip him of all his new territories,” England says, glaring down at the seated man wearily. France gives him a wolfish grin but his eyes aren’t in it, they’re smoldering with anger and the last vestiges of his ambitions.
“If you intend to strip me, you should start with my clothes.” England blanches and rolls his eyes.
“Perhaps he should live in my house for a while? He is a bad child but I’m sure I can teach him properly.” A cold chill runs through everyone at Russia’s words, and England, Prussia and Austria exchanged glances, wondering if they all hate France enough for that. France looks ready to cry at the thought.
“I…Don’t think it’s necessary to put you through such trouble,” Austria says, tactfully negating the idea. France still looks like he’s ready to cry, but at least now it’s from gratefulness. Pathetic either way in Prussia’s opinion, real men don’t show tears!
“We should just occupy France until things settle down there,” Prussia suggests, bored and already wishing that this meeting were over.
“I do hope you’ll be gentle with me.”
A resounding sigh moves around the room, followed by another exchange of glances between England and Prussia; they’d undoubtedly be seeing each other at a nearby pub later that evening. They determine based on the way Austria is pinching the bridge of his nose that he’ll probably be joining them there, too. Russia, for the record, has been drinking since morning. The rest of them are pretty sure he has the right idea here.
000
And to think just a few years ago they were bitter enemies.
“Th’ bloody wankers, ignoring us th’ ‘ole way though…” England is only a bit sore about the snubbing he’d gotten during their alliance’s most recent congress. So he had a problem with Austria stomping all over little Italy’s revolution, did that really mean they had to act like children and ignore him? Honestly.
“Oui, they were most cruel to us, making decisions all on their own.” France pours his drinking buddy another glass of wine while topping off his own barely touched glass; he has yet to regain his former taste for the liquid. Besides, if both he and England get sloshed, then who will drag the other to bed? France is upset by the day’s happenings too, after all, and what better way to show their sympathy for each other than to show their deep understanding through intimacy?
“Jus’ ‘cause I refused to join their lit’le ‘oly Alliance I get snubbed. Wot’s so holy ‘bout an alliance with Russia and Prussia, fa’ Heaven’s sake?”
France snorted and took the smallest sip of wine; he had to keep up pretenses, after all. “What indeed,” he replied, and pat the other’s shoulder in an agreeing manner. England was so drunk, he wouldn’t even notice if it stayed where it was or moved southward.
“The bloody Pope wouldn’t even sign it! An’ ‘e should know a thing or two ‘bout holiness.”
“Perhaps, but we’ve lived long enough to see our fair share of corrupt popes, oui?” His hand slips a bit lower, just off England’s shoulder and onto his back.
“’Ose side are you on ‘ere?” The younger nation furrows his brows and gives France a half-hearted, drunken glare, his flush and pout making it much less effective.
“Yours, of course. I was cast aside, too, you know.” Hand goes down more, to the small of his back… and nothing. Good, this is a good sign for France. If he makes it all the way that means he’s won a lovely prize for the night.
“As you should be! I mean really…” England continues to rant in his own drunken way, and France listens only partially because he’s almost there, almost there, just a bit more and he’s--
--England straightens his back and gives France a look-he can’t tell if it’s exasperation or annoyance reflected back at him in those green eyes. “There’s not enough wine in the world, Francis Bonnefoy,” he says as he stands up and grabs his coat. His expression changes to show just how much enjoyment he derives from denying his elder at the last minute like he just has. “Next time, I suggest you try rum.”
000
“Oh you are being quite immature now,” Austria says with a hint of distain in his voice as he rolls his eyes. For quite some time now, England has found it impossible for some reason or other to cooperate with the rest of the group. They are trying to run a continent, but he’s always got something against them. Still, at least that had been done in such a way as to be acceptable, if not somewhat annoying.
The medal that was warming in Austria’s hand read ‘MY TROOPS OCCUPY NAPLES TO CHASTISE THE NEAPOLITANS FOR DARING TO CHANGE THEIR CONSTITUTION’. While Austria was indeed in the middle of punishing a particularly rebellious Italy, there was no reason to start making medals about it. Really, England made it seem like there was something wrong with keeping a tight watch on his charge.
England’s lips quirk up in such a way as to suggest a smirk, but he doesn’t allow the expression to show fully on his face; that wouldn’t be very polite of him, after all. They all know he wants to though, so the courtesy is pointless.
“Well it’s not as though I made the thing, you know.”
“Not personally, perhaps,” France mutters a bit scathingly as he looks at the little medal made in response to his own actions. Really, England just can’t help but comment on everything, can he? So he was messing with Spain a bit, what’s it to England?
England smirks at their ire and proceeds to take his seat at the conference table. “Well, no use getting upset over trifles now is there? We should be getting straight to business. So how about those Turks?”
A sigh travels through the room. France asks Russia to pass the vodka his way, and the meeting starts.
---
Notes:
1. The Concert of Europe was basically the four major powers of Europe, Britain, Austria, Prussia, and Russia, coming together after the defeat of Napoleon to establish to solve problems that popped up around Europe together. Later when France joined the party, it became the Quintuple Alliance.
2. The concert's first goal was to stop France from going to war again. They'd sort of had enough of that nonsense. They did other stuff, too, but that's irrelevant to the story. More or less, anyway.
3. At the Congress of Tropapau, England was so against the idea of intervening with the Neapolitan Liberals that he just only bothered to send a plenipotentiary. France did the same. They were basically ignored for most of the meeting because their representatives didn't have decision-making power.
4. The Congress of Verona dealt with the Italians, the Turks, and the Spanish. England was very against just about everyone else in the group by this time. So much so, that he started minting coins that commented on the political situation on mainland Europe. How British of you, Arthur.
Title: Hope for a Nation
Author/Artist: sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America
Rating: G as G can be.
Warnings: A straight shot of Christianity. If you're going to be offended by that, well then, you've been warned.
Summary: Today his people are praying for him, so he in turn will pray for them.
A/N: May 7th is the National Day of Prayer. I really, really wanted to do something for it, just because it doesn't seem to be something a lot of people know about, which is just an outright shame, I think. I'm a nondenominational Christian, so I know very little about what more organized denominations do while praying, if they do anything particularly special at all. Sorry ahead of time for offending anyone.
---
His head was bent, his eyes closed, his hands folded in his lap. The clock had just struck noon and he could feel his people coming together for his sake. It’s an indescribable feeling that makes him so painfully grateful for them, for people who still cared enough to take a half hour of their time and pray for him.
So in return, America sat by an open window, feeling the sun, however weak it was on his face. The nation would pray for those who prayed for him-and the ones who didn’t, too, because he still loved them all the same.
Father in Heaven,
We lift our eyes toward Your Throne, where You reign in righteousness.
How many times had Alfred looked to the skies, the beautiful blue expanse he’d been so blessed with, looking for God in the clouds? Perhaps he’d never see God no matter how long he looked, but one didn’t need to see to believe. He didn’t need to see His throne to know who truly reigned over him.
Your Word assures us that when Your people cry out in sincerity and humility, You will never turn a deaf ear to us.
We call upon You now, seeking Your forgiveness and favor.
Never a deaf ear, not even now when so many people doubted. As long as there was even one person willing to pray, God would hear it. Be it out loud in a church or quietly in one’s head before bed, he would always hear. It was a comforting thought to Alfred, especially in these troubled times.
Look over this fevered landscape and heal us, Lord.
Drop knees to the floor and raise eyes to the sky, for we know where our help comes from.
Oh, he knew so well where it came from. Every little thing, from the beginning to now. That he had not simply died after he’d gained his independence, that he had resources to spare and always would, that he had a system run on integrity that actually worked, for the most part, that he had expanded and become strong, stronger than anyone-all of it, all of it was thanks to God.
He was so wonderfully blessed, and now as he could feel tens of thousands coming together in God’s name for his sake, he felt it more than ever. Even in these hard times, people still looked to the Lord for guidance.
Unite these States again in devotion to You, and blur every dividing line.
And there were so many dividing lines. Race, religion, income and a million other things threatened to tear him to pieces, but he was still whole, still one, proving that nothing was so strong it could destroy a house built on the foundation of the Lord. Even when a split had formed, it had been repaired, smoothed over and now he could hardly see the scar it left behind. If he could just blur the line a little more, rub out all of the lines that divided his states, all his people…
Because he wasn’t a bunch of little countries, he wasn’t just a mix of states, he was One Nation, Under God, and as long as it stayed that way he was indivisible.
Do not give us over to our sins. Give us, instead, over to passionate prayer that moves Your heart.
“May Your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in You."
So much hope, the optimism he’d held since the beginning only grew even as the future seemed to dim in front of him. It felt like he was walking down a tunnel that steadily got dark, darker and darker, but at the end there was a pinpoint of light that lets him stride forward, forever seeing the hope presented to him by God. Even in the very depths of the darkness he remained resolutely facing forward, for when he is at his weakest, that is when he is strongest.
This nation was blessed, blessed by God and loved more than he could imagine. America could feel himself healing somewhere, something was being fixed as his hands clasped together little tighter and a gentle smile moved over his lips. His people, who cared for his well-being so much, were joining together to heal him.
So for a much longer time he prayed for them, each person in his country, from his boss to the weakest of men on the streets. It was the least he could do for them, but even this small thing could have impact.
As far as he knew, it wasn’t even May seventh anymore when he let out a resounding, happy sigh and closed his prayer.
In the Name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ
Amen.
---
No notes for this one , not really. The prayer for tomorrow is on the website, if anyone is curious about it.
And lastly~
Title: Special Relationship: the Movie
Author/Artist: Sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): U.S. and U.K.
Rating: G
Warnings: It's just lame and messy. Sorry D:
Prompt: HBO is bringing you your OTP, just without the cute anthropomorphic characters.
Special Relationship:The Movie by ~Sesshomarus4never on deviantART
Ugh.... so sorry this isn't better, but somehow this is the only thing that came to mind when I thought about this prompt, despite the fact that this movie is sort of like political porn for Hetalia fans. Heck, why didn't I write that?
Questions, comments, cocerns, critiques?
Author/Artist: sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England, France, Austria, Prussia, and a dash of Russia.
Rating: like....pg13 for France.
Warnings: France does his usual groping thing. Threat of becoming one with Russia. Failure to comply to the prompt D:
Summary: If this concert was one of pianos and not people, Austria himself might've been the first to put the poor instrument out of it's misery.
A/N: for spurnedambition , who asked for either the Concert of Europe or the Quintuple Alliance. Since one sort of melts into the other, I added both. Of course, the prompt also called for crack, which I seem incapable of as of late... orz. Comedy and I aren't on good terms right now, it's got me sleeping on the couch.
---
The four of them-England, Prussia, Austria, and Russia, that is-stare at the captive who sits between them. The bound Frenchman stares back. England sort of wants to kick him. They all sort of want to kick him, but England especially because he always wants to kick France and now he has a legitimate reason for wanting to.
“I say we strip him of all his new territories,” England says, glaring down at the seated man wearily. France gives him a wolfish grin but his eyes aren’t in it, they’re smoldering with anger and the last vestiges of his ambitions.
“If you intend to strip me, you should start with my clothes.” England blanches and rolls his eyes.
“Perhaps he should live in my house for a while? He is a bad child but I’m sure I can teach him properly.” A cold chill runs through everyone at Russia’s words, and England, Prussia and Austria exchanged glances, wondering if they all hate France enough for that. France looks ready to cry at the thought.
“I…Don’t think it’s necessary to put you through such trouble,” Austria says, tactfully negating the idea. France still looks like he’s ready to cry, but at least now it’s from gratefulness. Pathetic either way in Prussia’s opinion, real men don’t show tears!
“We should just occupy France until things settle down there,” Prussia suggests, bored and already wishing that this meeting were over.
“I do hope you’ll be gentle with me.”
A resounding sigh moves around the room, followed by another exchange of glances between England and Prussia; they’d undoubtedly be seeing each other at a nearby pub later that evening. They determine based on the way Austria is pinching the bridge of his nose that he’ll probably be joining them there, too. Russia, for the record, has been drinking since morning. The rest of them are pretty sure he has the right idea here.
000
And to think just a few years ago they were bitter enemies.
“Th’ bloody wankers, ignoring us th’ ‘ole way though…” England is only a bit sore about the snubbing he’d gotten during their alliance’s most recent congress. So he had a problem with Austria stomping all over little Italy’s revolution, did that really mean they had to act like children and ignore him? Honestly.
“Oui, they were most cruel to us, making decisions all on their own.” France pours his drinking buddy another glass of wine while topping off his own barely touched glass; he has yet to regain his former taste for the liquid. Besides, if both he and England get sloshed, then who will drag the other to bed? France is upset by the day’s happenings too, after all, and what better way to show their sympathy for each other than to show their deep understanding through intimacy?
“Jus’ ‘cause I refused to join their lit’le ‘oly Alliance I get snubbed. Wot’s so holy ‘bout an alliance with Russia and Prussia, fa’ Heaven’s sake?”
France snorted and took the smallest sip of wine; he had to keep up pretenses, after all. “What indeed,” he replied, and pat the other’s shoulder in an agreeing manner. England was so drunk, he wouldn’t even notice if it stayed where it was or moved southward.
“The bloody Pope wouldn’t even sign it! An’ ‘e should know a thing or two ‘bout holiness.”
“Perhaps, but we’ve lived long enough to see our fair share of corrupt popes, oui?” His hand slips a bit lower, just off England’s shoulder and onto his back.
“’Ose side are you on ‘ere?” The younger nation furrows his brows and gives France a half-hearted, drunken glare, his flush and pout making it much less effective.
“Yours, of course. I was cast aside, too, you know.” Hand goes down more, to the small of his back… and nothing. Good, this is a good sign for France. If he makes it all the way that means he’s won a lovely prize for the night.
“As you should be! I mean really…” England continues to rant in his own drunken way, and France listens only partially because he’s almost there, almost there, just a bit more and he’s--
--England straightens his back and gives France a look-he can’t tell if it’s exasperation or annoyance reflected back at him in those green eyes. “There’s not enough wine in the world, Francis Bonnefoy,” he says as he stands up and grabs his coat. His expression changes to show just how much enjoyment he derives from denying his elder at the last minute like he just has. “Next time, I suggest you try rum.”
000
“Oh you are being quite immature now,” Austria says with a hint of distain in his voice as he rolls his eyes. For quite some time now, England has found it impossible for some reason or other to cooperate with the rest of the group. They are trying to run a continent, but he’s always got something against them. Still, at least that had been done in such a way as to be acceptable, if not somewhat annoying.
The medal that was warming in Austria’s hand read ‘MY TROOPS OCCUPY NAPLES TO CHASTISE THE NEAPOLITANS FOR DARING TO CHANGE THEIR CONSTITUTION’. While Austria was indeed in the middle of punishing a particularly rebellious Italy, there was no reason to start making medals about it. Really, England made it seem like there was something wrong with keeping a tight watch on his charge.
England’s lips quirk up in such a way as to suggest a smirk, but he doesn’t allow the expression to show fully on his face; that wouldn’t be very polite of him, after all. They all know he wants to though, so the courtesy is pointless.
“Well it’s not as though I made the thing, you know.”
“Not personally, perhaps,” France mutters a bit scathingly as he looks at the little medal made in response to his own actions. Really, England just can’t help but comment on everything, can he? So he was messing with Spain a bit, what’s it to England?
England smirks at their ire and proceeds to take his seat at the conference table. “Well, no use getting upset over trifles now is there? We should be getting straight to business. So how about those Turks?”
A sigh travels through the room. France asks Russia to pass the vodka his way, and the meeting starts.
---
Notes:
1. The Concert of Europe was basically the four major powers of Europe, Britain, Austria, Prussia, and Russia, coming together after the defeat of Napoleon to establish to solve problems that popped up around Europe together. Later when France joined the party, it became the Quintuple Alliance.
2. The concert's first goal was to stop France from going to war again. They'd sort of had enough of that nonsense. They did other stuff, too, but that's irrelevant to the story. More or less, anyway.
3. At the Congress of Tropapau, England was so against the idea of intervening with the Neapolitan Liberals that he just only bothered to send a plenipotentiary. France did the same. They were basically ignored for most of the meeting because their representatives didn't have decision-making power.
4. The Congress of Verona dealt with the Italians, the Turks, and the Spanish. England was very against just about everyone else in the group by this time. So much so, that he started minting coins that commented on the political situation on mainland Europe. How British of you, Arthur.
Title: Hope for a Nation
Author/Artist: sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America
Rating: G as G can be.
Warnings: A straight shot of Christianity. If you're going to be offended by that, well then, you've been warned.
Summary: Today his people are praying for him, so he in turn will pray for them.
A/N: May 7th is the National Day of Prayer. I really, really wanted to do something for it, just because it doesn't seem to be something a lot of people know about, which is just an outright shame, I think. I'm a nondenominational Christian, so I know very little about what more organized denominations do while praying, if they do anything particularly special at all. Sorry ahead of time for offending anyone.
---
His head was bent, his eyes closed, his hands folded in his lap. The clock had just struck noon and he could feel his people coming together for his sake. It’s an indescribable feeling that makes him so painfully grateful for them, for people who still cared enough to take a half hour of their time and pray for him.
So in return, America sat by an open window, feeling the sun, however weak it was on his face. The nation would pray for those who prayed for him-and the ones who didn’t, too, because he still loved them all the same.
Father in Heaven,
We lift our eyes toward Your Throne, where You reign in righteousness.
How many times had Alfred looked to the skies, the beautiful blue expanse he’d been so blessed with, looking for God in the clouds? Perhaps he’d never see God no matter how long he looked, but one didn’t need to see to believe. He didn’t need to see His throne to know who truly reigned over him.
Your Word assures us that when Your people cry out in sincerity and humility, You will never turn a deaf ear to us.
We call upon You now, seeking Your forgiveness and favor.
Never a deaf ear, not even now when so many people doubted. As long as there was even one person willing to pray, God would hear it. Be it out loud in a church or quietly in one’s head before bed, he would always hear. It was a comforting thought to Alfred, especially in these troubled times.
Look over this fevered landscape and heal us, Lord.
Drop knees to the floor and raise eyes to the sky, for we know where our help comes from.
Oh, he knew so well where it came from. Every little thing, from the beginning to now. That he had not simply died after he’d gained his independence, that he had resources to spare and always would, that he had a system run on integrity that actually worked, for the most part, that he had expanded and become strong, stronger than anyone-all of it, all of it was thanks to God.
He was so wonderfully blessed, and now as he could feel tens of thousands coming together in God’s name for his sake, he felt it more than ever. Even in these hard times, people still looked to the Lord for guidance.
Unite these States again in devotion to You, and blur every dividing line.
And there were so many dividing lines. Race, religion, income and a million other things threatened to tear him to pieces, but he was still whole, still one, proving that nothing was so strong it could destroy a house built on the foundation of the Lord. Even when a split had formed, it had been repaired, smoothed over and now he could hardly see the scar it left behind. If he could just blur the line a little more, rub out all of the lines that divided his states, all his people…
Because he wasn’t a bunch of little countries, he wasn’t just a mix of states, he was One Nation, Under God, and as long as it stayed that way he was indivisible.
Do not give us over to our sins. Give us, instead, over to passionate prayer that moves Your heart.
“May Your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in You."
So much hope, the optimism he’d held since the beginning only grew even as the future seemed to dim in front of him. It felt like he was walking down a tunnel that steadily got dark, darker and darker, but at the end there was a pinpoint of light that lets him stride forward, forever seeing the hope presented to him by God. Even in the very depths of the darkness he remained resolutely facing forward, for when he is at his weakest, that is when he is strongest.
This nation was blessed, blessed by God and loved more than he could imagine. America could feel himself healing somewhere, something was being fixed as his hands clasped together little tighter and a gentle smile moved over his lips. His people, who cared for his well-being so much, were joining together to heal him.
So for a much longer time he prayed for them, each person in his country, from his boss to the weakest of men on the streets. It was the least he could do for them, but even this small thing could have impact.
As far as he knew, it wasn’t even May seventh anymore when he let out a resounding, happy sigh and closed his prayer.
In the Name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ
Amen.
---
No notes for this one , not really. The prayer for tomorrow is on the website, if anyone is curious about it.
And lastly~
Title: Special Relationship: the Movie
Author/Artist: Sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): U.S. and U.K.
Rating: G
Warnings: It's just lame and messy. Sorry D:
Prompt: HBO is bringing you your OTP, just without the cute anthropomorphic characters.
Special Relationship:The Movie by ~Sesshomarus4never on deviantART
Ugh.... so sorry this isn't better, but somehow this is the only thing that came to mind when I thought about this prompt, despite the fact that this movie is sort of like political porn for Hetalia fans. Heck, why didn't I write that?
Questions, comments, cocerns, critiques?