All The Time In The World
Jul. 31st, 2009 06:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pyrrhiccomedyTitle: All The Time In The World
Originally posted: Here, for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ghostofthemotif for her reverse request post. Thanks to lilichen for bravely providing me with some French profanity. *grins*
Length: 2500 words.
Characters/Pairings: England/France.
Premise: Here's the prompt - "England/France. The two nations discuss whether or not they believe a 'united world without borders' would result in their deaths, or if they'd be freed from their responsibilities and able to lead a normal life. Wishes for their future, fears for their countries, and grudgingly comforting words would be nice inserts." I did my best!
Time period: Modern.
Smuttiness: 1/10
Funnyness: 3/10
Wrist slashiness: 2/10
Lolhistoryness: 2/10
Violence: 0/10
Would I like it?: It's basically a rambly, philosophical conversation between a couple of cranky old married people. It's also my first time writing for this pairing--I hope I did all right.
---
He didn't know how a thousand years of war with France had turned into more than a century of cooperation--or how a century of cooperation had turned into knowing how he liked his sodding eggs for breakfast.
"Sit down, Angleterre, before you break something." France swept him away from the counter to a sunlit corner of the room laid out already with honey, tea and crumpets.
France liked his eggs 'not prepared by England.'
England huffed and folded himself down at the sunwarmed breakfast table.
"Such a rude child," France went on. England watched as France took over his station at the stove, changed the temperature for the gas burner, and sloshed England's half-finished attempt at eggs machiavellian into the sink. "I'm sure it's all your influence. Do you know what he said to me, at the G8? That he was looking forward to when, in his words, 'this whole EU thing really goes official,'" France's upper lip curled, "And he only had to deal with one of us."
"What do you mean, my influence?" England protested. "The only one I'm rude to is you." He picked up a crumpet, warm and spongy and crisp on top, and flexed it a little in his hand. He always made sure to bring these, when he stayed at France's house. Otherwise, it'd be croissants and brie for breakfast every morning, or something, and England would rather die.
"Only in your opinion," France replied. Their eyes met briefly over the counter, and neither of them smiled, because neither of them had to. He went on, "He said we're all 'too much to keep track of,' 'he's busy, you know'--he said we're not much different from his states, and it would be so convenient if he could 'deal with us all at once.'"
"America's iron grip on the nuances of foreign policy has always been his most salient virtue." England reached for the honey.
"I said to him, yes, just like your states, aside from the thousands of years of history which make us distinct and separate us--"
"Still not separated far enough," England added.
"I reminded him of that, too; how you don't even think of yourself as European."
"Yes? And what did he say?"
"He said 'if you can fly there in an hour from Paris, it's Europe.'" France flipped something steaming in the pan onto a plate, tossed his hair, and came out from the wide and well-appointed kitchen to join England at the breakfast table. England didn't even recognize what he was eating, and he was far too proud to ask to try it. And France would make him ask.
He took a bite from his crumpet with great deliberation. "You should have reminded him that there are parts of his country from which one can fly in an hour to Russia, if that's all it takes to be culturally interchangeable."
"I should," France agreed, "If I did not bruise so easily."
A little pause while they both imagined one of America's face-heel turns, from 'I'm trying to be diplomatic, honest' to someone getting laid out with a mouthful of broken teeth.
France shrugged it away. "You could do it, Angleterre; no one would notice if your teeth were made any worse. And a pretty bruise might even improve your general appearance."
England swatted France's hand away and claimed the table salt. "Oh, sod off."
---
"You know, it does get me thinking." England stretched back in his chair once they finished their meal. France glanced up from perusing some gossip magazine. "Our politicians do like to talk about 'a united world without borders;' do you think anything will ever come of it?"
France looked blank for a few seconds. "Oh…this is about that thing America said?"
"Mm. I can't imagine someone like us ever emerging to represent the EU, but…"
"Neither can I," France murmured. "Although, perhaps I wouldn't mind; fewer tedious meetings I would have to attend."
"It's not as if it's unprecedented," England reflected, "Established nations banding together and giving way to some overarching entity. Just last month I had a lovely chat with United Arab Emirates. Have you seen the plans for that new tower he's building?"
"Perhaps, but consider your brothers." France flicked his magazine onto the table. "You've represented all of them for years, and you all persist just the same as you always have."
"Unfortunately," England sighed.
"It takes more to make one of us than the legal fact of a country. They need that…ah, how did you put it, once? That touch of destiny."
"But it does happen," England repeated.
France threw away a lazy smile and shrugged away a lock of hair. "Don't tell me you're worried about waking up some morning as part of some--how do you imagine it, cheri? Some monster out of America's terrible movies, stitched together from various parts of all of us? Perhaps Germany's volume, Italy's good sense, Austria's efficiency, Spain's resolve, your appalling fashion sense…my God, suddenly I see why you might be worried--"
"Very droll," England grumbled. "And what part would you play in this Frankenstein?"
"I will not participate," France demurred. "But I will be happy to offer it advice on how it could improve itself."
"Oh, do we just get to opt out? In that case, I'll keep my fashion sense, and your monster can go about naked, for all I care."
"I'm sure all the others feel the same. So I wouldn't worry."
England made a vague sound in the back of his throat and sipped at his tea. France looked out the window. England watched France's profile over his teacup while France's attention was away. Ten o'clock sunlight fell across him and bathed him in a soft luster. It was…greasy, really; not a glow at all--France just needed a shower. And a shave; and the way the first two buttons on his shirt hung open was certainly no way to present oneself when there were guests in the house, and--
"Like what you see, Angleterre?" France smiled, his chin propped in his hand, still gazing out over the garden.
"Certainly not." England crossed his legs.
He suspected for a while that France was only concentrating on looking photogenic in the sunlight, but then the other nation let out a little sigh and suggested, "It would take a very long time."
"--Sorry?" England's eyes flickered up from the triangle of radiant skin exposed below France's collar.
"For our people to forget us--and think of themselves as something else." He folded his arm down on the table.
"…I'm sorry, I don't follow…"
"Your 'united world without borders.'" France glanced his way. "We would have to become very nearly culturally indistinguishable, don't you think? My people are French. They have been French for as long as there have been nations in Europe."
"Likewise." England scratched the side of his nose. "That is, English, but--"
"There are so many things that make us distinct. History, prejudice, culture…"
"Good taste," England added. "Notions of decency."
"--Language…your language really does make a horrible sound, rosbif--"
"Yes, yes…"
"Compared to French, you know, in which you can say va te faire foutre, enculé or ma saucisse est dans la bouche de ta maman and make it sound like poetry--"
"I beg your pardon--"
"And cuisine; French cuisine is, after all, the best in the world, while yours," he sighed. "What you do to food is a crime. I mean it. It is a crime, and you should be punished."
"Did you just say your sausage was in my mother's--"
"I would say you should be sent to prison, but there you might actually find the cuisine to be an improvement. Maybe shot--"
England finally noticed the edge in France's voice. He peered at him. "Is this something you've worried about?"
"My people are French," he repeated.
A thin grey tension stretched the air between them. England extended his legs before him and laced his fingers in his lap. France propped his chin up again and looked determinedly out the window.
"I'm sure I would never have brought it up, if I'd known it was a real concern," he said at last.
France shrugged. "You aren't as involved in the EU as I am. It's impossible not to think about it, when you can see this unification, drawing us closer every day. Those boundaries between us blurring..."
"So all of these laws of yours, to, ah, protect your language and culture from outside--"
"I'm not the only one with those laws." That a touch sharply. "There are many of us concerned about safeguarding our identities."
"I thought you were just being petty," England mused. France flashed him a grimace of a smile and rubbed the side of his jaw against his shoulder. "But…come now. Even if the nations of Europe should be, as you say, drawn together--or the nations of the whole world, for that matter--there's nothing so very disastrous in that, is there? Falling under the auspices of some wider state? Moving into Germany's basement seems to have had no effect on Prussia other than to free up more time for him to be wanker--"
"But you see less and less of him lately." There was no mistaking the anxiety in France's voice, now. England wasn't sure what to make of it. "He doesn't like to associate with us as much. Where do you think he goes?"
"I…suppose he's getting drunk and picking fights, as usual--"
"Is that a fitting pastime for a nation?" France demanded. He turned in his chair to face England, his arms folded before him.
"--You're asking me?"
France flicked his fingers through the air. "You still do other things, Angleterre…occasionally," he allowed. "That is what it means to be a nation, no? We set trends, liaise with our leaders, attend conferences and meetings--"
"So many meetings…" England exhaled.
"--Take part in the occasional war, when there is nothing better to do…would you really be content to spend every day at the pub?" He overenunciated that last word.
England thought about it. It…didn't sound so bad, honestly, but he thought somewhere in there he could see France's point.
"Prussia, Romano, the others like them…I pity them," France finished. "And what if they become too like their fellow states? When there is nothing left for them to represent? How long will it be, do you think, before we look around and realize that no one has seen Prussia in decades? And that none of us any longer expect to?"
That sat between them for a little while. England chewed on his lip. France's fingers twitched on his napkin.
England chuffed. "You know, it used to be that the only danger of inconsequentiality we ever faced would come from war--civil war, or conquest. But you propose that all this peace may make us obsolete."
France looked down at the table, at his perfect fingernails. His hair fell before his eyes. "It was from fighting each other that we first defined ourselves," he observed.
England twitched him a tiny smile that went unseen. "So it was. But surely you don't prescribe more war?"
"Of course not." France sniffed and looked up, waggled his hand carelessly. "After the last one, I think we've all learned our lesson."
"Well, then…"
"I just wonder how much longer I will be France, and you will be England." A quiet, guarded glance. "Or how long who we are will even matter."
England watched himself as he reached out and patted France's hand. "You're an existential bastard, aren't you," he sighed.
A wince of a smile. "You'll have to indulge me, mon ami." His fingers steepled and laced into England's.
England studied their interwoven hands and said slowly, "I should think…that so long as you care who you are, and how active you are in that role, then things will stay the way they are." France didn't relax, but he watched England without objection. England knew them, all of France's little tells of anxiety: from his eyes, to his mouth, to his hands. England had learned to read France's hands before England had learned to read. "The very fact that our cultural independence is important to us, protects us from relinquishing it."
"But, if this is inevitable…" France tightened their fingers together.
England smiled. "Well, perhaps I'll just have to learn to cook at last."
France gave a soft laugh, but said, "I'm serious."
"I know you are, and you really do worry about the damndest things, but…so am I. After all, if we were all like Prussia and Romano…that wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it? We might finally have time to--to get to know each other, I suppose--"
"I think we all know each other more than well enough--" France started.
"--Not…just getting to know each other for how we might use it against one another, I mean…purely for enjoyment. That is, without the--concern of protecting our interests, simply…simply because we have an interest…in how..." England stopped, flushed, tugged to get his hand away, and muttered, "Bloody hell, would you listen to me go on…"
France held firm, and his smile finally crept into his eyes. "I am, Angleterre. …Thank you."
England rubbed his eyes. "If you repeat one sodding word of this…"
France laughed and raised England's hand to his lips, kissed it. It only made England flush deeper, damn them both. "I promise. And what's more: if a united world ever does free up a great deal of time for both of us--I promise I will try to teach you how to cook. Try," he repeated.
"Well," England managed, and he had pinkened to the tips of his ears, but it wasn't…altogether terrible. He cleared his throat. "Well. Are we quite finished with this metaphysical waste of time, then? Because--"
"I know." France let him go. "You have a meeting with the prime minister at noon. You'd best go and prepare."
"Quite, yes." England tossed his napkin onto the table and stood. Their eyes met for a moment.
Perhaps one day, we won't always be rushing off like this.
Neither of them said it, but they both betrayed an involuntary little smile.
England snorted. "As if I'd ever become indistinguishable from the likes of you."
"I don't know why I even thought of it," France chuckled, and picked up his magazine. "Not even the inexorable pressure of history could turn a lump of coal like you into a diamond." He tossed back his hair.
"Coal is actually useful," England informed him. "All diamonds do is sparkle about doing nothing."
"But doing it beautifully, cheri."
England took his leave, and France did not see him to the door. But England allowed himself to look back, once, and he saw France's smile still lingering around the edges. He wished he had time to go back and kiss it--even if that meant kissing the pretentious git it was attached to.
One day.
Perhaps.
Originally posted: Here, for
ghostofthemotif for her reverse request post. Thanks to lilichen for bravely providing me with some French profanity. *grins*Length: 2500 words.
Characters/Pairings: England/France.
Premise: Here's the prompt - "England/France. The two nations discuss whether or not they believe a 'united world without borders' would result in their deaths, or if they'd be freed from their responsibilities and able to lead a normal life. Wishes for their future, fears for their countries, and grudgingly comforting words would be nice inserts." I did my best!
Time period: Modern.
Smuttiness: 1/10
Funnyness: 3/10
Wrist slashiness: 2/10
Lolhistoryness: 2/10
Violence: 0/10
Would I like it?: It's basically a rambly, philosophical conversation between a couple of cranky old married people. It's also my first time writing for this pairing--I hope I did all right.
---
He didn't know how a thousand years of war with France had turned into more than a century of cooperation--or how a century of cooperation had turned into knowing how he liked his sodding eggs for breakfast.
"Sit down, Angleterre, before you break something." France swept him away from the counter to a sunlit corner of the room laid out already with honey, tea and crumpets.
France liked his eggs 'not prepared by England.'
England huffed and folded himself down at the sunwarmed breakfast table.
"Such a rude child," France went on. England watched as France took over his station at the stove, changed the temperature for the gas burner, and sloshed England's half-finished attempt at eggs machiavellian into the sink. "I'm sure it's all your influence. Do you know what he said to me, at the G8? That he was looking forward to when, in his words, 'this whole EU thing really goes official,'" France's upper lip curled, "And he only had to deal with one of us."
"What do you mean, my influence?" England protested. "The only one I'm rude to is you." He picked up a crumpet, warm and spongy and crisp on top, and flexed it a little in his hand. He always made sure to bring these, when he stayed at France's house. Otherwise, it'd be croissants and brie for breakfast every morning, or something, and England would rather die.
"Only in your opinion," France replied. Their eyes met briefly over the counter, and neither of them smiled, because neither of them had to. He went on, "He said we're all 'too much to keep track of,' 'he's busy, you know'--he said we're not much different from his states, and it would be so convenient if he could 'deal with us all at once.'"
"America's iron grip on the nuances of foreign policy has always been his most salient virtue." England reached for the honey.
"I said to him, yes, just like your states, aside from the thousands of years of history which make us distinct and separate us--"
"Still not separated far enough," England added.
"I reminded him of that, too; how you don't even think of yourself as European."
"Yes? And what did he say?"
"He said 'if you can fly there in an hour from Paris, it's Europe.'" France flipped something steaming in the pan onto a plate, tossed his hair, and came out from the wide and well-appointed kitchen to join England at the breakfast table. England didn't even recognize what he was eating, and he was far too proud to ask to try it. And France would make him ask.
He took a bite from his crumpet with great deliberation. "You should have reminded him that there are parts of his country from which one can fly in an hour to Russia, if that's all it takes to be culturally interchangeable."
"I should," France agreed, "If I did not bruise so easily."
A little pause while they both imagined one of America's face-heel turns, from 'I'm trying to be diplomatic, honest' to someone getting laid out with a mouthful of broken teeth.
France shrugged it away. "You could do it, Angleterre; no one would notice if your teeth were made any worse. And a pretty bruise might even improve your general appearance."
England swatted France's hand away and claimed the table salt. "Oh, sod off."
---
"You know, it does get me thinking." England stretched back in his chair once they finished their meal. France glanced up from perusing some gossip magazine. "Our politicians do like to talk about 'a united world without borders;' do you think anything will ever come of it?"
France looked blank for a few seconds. "Oh…this is about that thing America said?"
"Mm. I can't imagine someone like us ever emerging to represent the EU, but…"
"Neither can I," France murmured. "Although, perhaps I wouldn't mind; fewer tedious meetings I would have to attend."
"It's not as if it's unprecedented," England reflected, "Established nations banding together and giving way to some overarching entity. Just last month I had a lovely chat with United Arab Emirates. Have you seen the plans for that new tower he's building?"
"Perhaps, but consider your brothers." France flicked his magazine onto the table. "You've represented all of them for years, and you all persist just the same as you always have."
"Unfortunately," England sighed.
"It takes more to make one of us than the legal fact of a country. They need that…ah, how did you put it, once? That touch of destiny."
"But it does happen," England repeated.
France threw away a lazy smile and shrugged away a lock of hair. "Don't tell me you're worried about waking up some morning as part of some--how do you imagine it, cheri? Some monster out of America's terrible movies, stitched together from various parts of all of us? Perhaps Germany's volume, Italy's good sense, Austria's efficiency, Spain's resolve, your appalling fashion sense…my God, suddenly I see why you might be worried--"
"Very droll," England grumbled. "And what part would you play in this Frankenstein?"
"I will not participate," France demurred. "But I will be happy to offer it advice on how it could improve itself."
"Oh, do we just get to opt out? In that case, I'll keep my fashion sense, and your monster can go about naked, for all I care."
"I'm sure all the others feel the same. So I wouldn't worry."
England made a vague sound in the back of his throat and sipped at his tea. France looked out the window. England watched France's profile over his teacup while France's attention was away. Ten o'clock sunlight fell across him and bathed him in a soft luster. It was…greasy, really; not a glow at all--France just needed a shower. And a shave; and the way the first two buttons on his shirt hung open was certainly no way to present oneself when there were guests in the house, and--
"Like what you see, Angleterre?" France smiled, his chin propped in his hand, still gazing out over the garden.
"Certainly not." England crossed his legs.
He suspected for a while that France was only concentrating on looking photogenic in the sunlight, but then the other nation let out a little sigh and suggested, "It would take a very long time."
"--Sorry?" England's eyes flickered up from the triangle of radiant skin exposed below France's collar.
"For our people to forget us--and think of themselves as something else." He folded his arm down on the table.
"…I'm sorry, I don't follow…"
"Your 'united world without borders.'" France glanced his way. "We would have to become very nearly culturally indistinguishable, don't you think? My people are French. They have been French for as long as there have been nations in Europe."
"Likewise." England scratched the side of his nose. "That is, English, but--"
"There are so many things that make us distinct. History, prejudice, culture…"
"Good taste," England added. "Notions of decency."
"--Language…your language really does make a horrible sound, rosbif--"
"Yes, yes…"
"Compared to French, you know, in which you can say va te faire foutre, enculé or ma saucisse est dans la bouche de ta maman and make it sound like poetry--"
"I beg your pardon--"
"And cuisine; French cuisine is, after all, the best in the world, while yours," he sighed. "What you do to food is a crime. I mean it. It is a crime, and you should be punished."
"Did you just say your sausage was in my mother's--"
"I would say you should be sent to prison, but there you might actually find the cuisine to be an improvement. Maybe shot--"
England finally noticed the edge in France's voice. He peered at him. "Is this something you've worried about?"
"My people are French," he repeated.
A thin grey tension stretched the air between them. England extended his legs before him and laced his fingers in his lap. France propped his chin up again and looked determinedly out the window.
"I'm sure I would never have brought it up, if I'd known it was a real concern," he said at last.
France shrugged. "You aren't as involved in the EU as I am. It's impossible not to think about it, when you can see this unification, drawing us closer every day. Those boundaries between us blurring..."
"So all of these laws of yours, to, ah, protect your language and culture from outside--"
"I'm not the only one with those laws." That a touch sharply. "There are many of us concerned about safeguarding our identities."
"I thought you were just being petty," England mused. France flashed him a grimace of a smile and rubbed the side of his jaw against his shoulder. "But…come now. Even if the nations of Europe should be, as you say, drawn together--or the nations of the whole world, for that matter--there's nothing so very disastrous in that, is there? Falling under the auspices of some wider state? Moving into Germany's basement seems to have had no effect on Prussia other than to free up more time for him to be wanker--"
"But you see less and less of him lately." There was no mistaking the anxiety in France's voice, now. England wasn't sure what to make of it. "He doesn't like to associate with us as much. Where do you think he goes?"
"I…suppose he's getting drunk and picking fights, as usual--"
"Is that a fitting pastime for a nation?" France demanded. He turned in his chair to face England, his arms folded before him.
"--You're asking me?"
France flicked his fingers through the air. "You still do other things, Angleterre…occasionally," he allowed. "That is what it means to be a nation, no? We set trends, liaise with our leaders, attend conferences and meetings--"
"So many meetings…" England exhaled.
"--Take part in the occasional war, when there is nothing better to do…would you really be content to spend every day at the pub?" He overenunciated that last word.
England thought about it. It…didn't sound so bad, honestly, but he thought somewhere in there he could see France's point.
"Prussia, Romano, the others like them…I pity them," France finished. "And what if they become too like their fellow states? When there is nothing left for them to represent? How long will it be, do you think, before we look around and realize that no one has seen Prussia in decades? And that none of us any longer expect to?"
That sat between them for a little while. England chewed on his lip. France's fingers twitched on his napkin.
England chuffed. "You know, it used to be that the only danger of inconsequentiality we ever faced would come from war--civil war, or conquest. But you propose that all this peace may make us obsolete."
France looked down at the table, at his perfect fingernails. His hair fell before his eyes. "It was from fighting each other that we first defined ourselves," he observed.
England twitched him a tiny smile that went unseen. "So it was. But surely you don't prescribe more war?"
"Of course not." France sniffed and looked up, waggled his hand carelessly. "After the last one, I think we've all learned our lesson."
"Well, then…"
"I just wonder how much longer I will be France, and you will be England." A quiet, guarded glance. "Or how long who we are will even matter."
England watched himself as he reached out and patted France's hand. "You're an existential bastard, aren't you," he sighed.
A wince of a smile. "You'll have to indulge me, mon ami." His fingers steepled and laced into England's.
England studied their interwoven hands and said slowly, "I should think…that so long as you care who you are, and how active you are in that role, then things will stay the way they are." France didn't relax, but he watched England without objection. England knew them, all of France's little tells of anxiety: from his eyes, to his mouth, to his hands. England had learned to read France's hands before England had learned to read. "The very fact that our cultural independence is important to us, protects us from relinquishing it."
"But, if this is inevitable…" France tightened their fingers together.
England smiled. "Well, perhaps I'll just have to learn to cook at last."
France gave a soft laugh, but said, "I'm serious."
"I know you are, and you really do worry about the damndest things, but…so am I. After all, if we were all like Prussia and Romano…that wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it? We might finally have time to--to get to know each other, I suppose--"
"I think we all know each other more than well enough--" France started.
"--Not…just getting to know each other for how we might use it against one another, I mean…purely for enjoyment. That is, without the--concern of protecting our interests, simply…simply because we have an interest…in how..." England stopped, flushed, tugged to get his hand away, and muttered, "Bloody hell, would you listen to me go on…"
France held firm, and his smile finally crept into his eyes. "I am, Angleterre. …Thank you."
England rubbed his eyes. "If you repeat one sodding word of this…"
France laughed and raised England's hand to his lips, kissed it. It only made England flush deeper, damn them both. "I promise. And what's more: if a united world ever does free up a great deal of time for both of us--I promise I will try to teach you how to cook. Try," he repeated.
"Well," England managed, and he had pinkened to the tips of his ears, but it wasn't…altogether terrible. He cleared his throat. "Well. Are we quite finished with this metaphysical waste of time, then? Because--"
"I know." France let him go. "You have a meeting with the prime minister at noon. You'd best go and prepare."
"Quite, yes." England tossed his napkin onto the table and stood. Their eyes met for a moment.
Perhaps one day, we won't always be rushing off like this.
Neither of them said it, but they both betrayed an involuntary little smile.
England snorted. "As if I'd ever become indistinguishable from the likes of you."
"I don't know why I even thought of it," France chuckled, and picked up his magazine. "Not even the inexorable pressure of history could turn a lump of coal like you into a diamond." He tossed back his hair.
"Coal is actually useful," England informed him. "All diamonds do is sparkle about doing nothing."
"But doing it beautifully, cheri."
England took his leave, and France did not see him to the door. But England allowed himself to look back, once, and he saw France's smile still lingering around the edges. He wished he had time to go back and kiss it--even if that meant kissing the pretentious git it was attached to.
One day.
Perhaps.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-31 03:27 pm (UTC)Anyways. Oh, England. Oh, France! They are so so spot on. It's really astounding how well you write these two. This pairing was already one of my favorites, but you...this...it's so good! France just flippantly reading a gossip rag, that's so canon, it hurts. And points for the amusing poking fun at America bits. Lots and lots of points.
And the premise of this whole thing. The endless "What if's" and the horrifying thought that none of them know, and they just have to deal with things as they come. It's so deep. And so relevant! And...just, guh. I'm not a nation-tan, but I'm fairly sure that I'll spend some sleepless nights scratching my head over this. Oh, poor Prussia and Romano. I knew that Prussia is really useless at this point, and his existence is basically making Germany's life Hell, but Romano..? I didn't know that he was on the verge of fading, and of course whatever you say is True and automatically in my Head canon, and this makes me sad!
Anyway, yeah. Fantastic work. I'll stop rambling now...
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-31 06:05 pm (UTC)*points to icon*
I knew that Prussia is really useless at this point, and his existence is basically making Germany's life Hell, but Romano..?
Well, I don't think he's as in danger as Prussia is, but at this point, he's really just reflecting a historical national identity, and a lingering cultural distinction, rather than an actual, independent NATION. I think it helps that, like, I've always imagined both Romano and Feliciano taking part in the modern day Italian government (they're both kind of too flaky and useless to do a good job of it on their own), so it's not like Romano's just kicking around the crib all day, playing solitaire and drinking. Whereas I don't get the impression Germany needs Prussia's help with anything at all. Maybe he gives Prussia stuff to do sometimes, but...it's just busywork, and they both know it. =/
But yeah, I'd say Romano's in a pretty delicate situation. So are Ireland and Scotland and Wales, for that matter. And I think Canada is smart to always be like "I'm NOT AMERICA," because if Canada and America were in any way to become part of one legal entity, Canada would be in danger of fading fast. He's already pretty much culturally indistinguishable from his brother.
It kind of feels different to me from nations being taken over and forced to move in with someone else, you know? Like, Poland and Lithuania and Hungary and all of them during the Soviet era--they did have something important to do; they were fighting for their autonomy and independence. And I think occupied nations always have some of that cold, horrible feeling like they're slowly forgetting who they are, but it's a much slower process. But when it's voluntary, like with Prussia and Romano, you know, it's like, why fight?
It's just kind of interesting to think about, I think.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-31 07:17 pm (UTC)I see in the image of the hands an hidden and very powerful metaphor: two hands, laced together, are united but not melted, united but "conscious of their respective identity", if I can say this. I like the message that you have conveyed :-)
"French cuisine is, after all, the best in the world" sorry Francis, but italian cuisine IS the best!! XDXD
threadjack!
Date: 2009-07-31 10:51 pm (UTC)Anyway, it makes this fic so very relevant.
Also, I vote for Italian cuisine over French any time. o/ (Even though I'm sort of more in favour of the French in so many ways otherwise...)
Re: threadjack!
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-01 01:14 pm (UTC)When Francis said "My people are French" seems that he want to confirm something that he think is going to disappear in the future.
Definitely.
I see in the image of the hands an hidden and very powerful metaphor: two hands, laced together, are united but not melted
Oh, yay, I'm so happy this showed through! ♥♥ This is how I hope things will be.
"French cuisine is, after all, the best in the world" sorry Francis, but italian cuisine IS the best!! XDXD
Personally, I agree with you. XD
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-31 10:56 pm (UTC)This comment is going to be very inconsistent. Bear with me. orz
I love you making France so worried, because it's true that he IS worried and slightly panicky even? when it comes to losing his culture. I mean... I've noticed that in the French for years. I guess it might be a bit of that they sort of still would like to see themselves as a leading world power but are subconsciously realizing that they are having less and less influence on what's going on and when foreign cultures start to seriously invade theirs, they just panic.
Plus it might be just something about the French nature. xD;
Oh, of course it's something I think everybody worries about these days though. Somewhat at least.
I also loved the mention of how England reads France. It just clicked in my mind as a huge "YES".
Also, this fic sort of makes me want to ask for/write a sequel where they HAVE been retired. Though that might break the magic. I'm not sure. Though... in a way I thought that at that point they might really just enjoy it. Like many old people do when they finally retire.
Yeah and... basically what everybody else said. I read through the earlier comments and most of the time was just turning into a nodding doll. I'm too lazy to repeat everything so just... yeah. Liked it very much.
Except that you're not actually my favourite author, I have to admit. I have way too many favourite authors in this fandom to decide on one. But you're on the list.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-01 01:18 pm (UTC)Hi! XD
I'm really glad you enjoyed the fic! I'd be pretty interested in a retired-nations fic, too, but I dunno if I'll write it; if I did, it probably wouldn't JUST be about England and France, but how everyone deals with it. That's an interesting idea, thank you!
Except that you're not actually my favourite author, I have to admit.
A-ah...? That's fine? XD It's not like I expect to be anybody's favorite. I'm just glad you enjoy the stories!
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-01 02:11 am (UTC)I just love how you write conversations between the nation characters. They're so vibrant, and so true to the nations themselves. And well-written fics centered around intelligent conversations, like this one here, further prove that these guys don't have to be crazed sex-fiends in order to make for a good read.
And this was one of the most thought-provoking Hetalia fics I've ever read too, and the interactions between France and England were just perfect. I look forward to reading more FRUK (or anything, for that matter) from you! <3~
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-01 01:21 pm (UTC)XD This is a nice thing to hear someone else say. I always feel so odd in fandom, 'cause I'm like "oh whatever, they're just going to have sex now; unless it's important, just skip ahead to the talky bits."
I'm so happy you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-01 05:31 am (UTC)I must say I love your dynamic in this. How England is so hard headed that the idea of being a non-country doesn't even phase him, where as France is the more thoughtful, deep thinker between the two and actually has worried about his continued place. It fits them wonderfully, and though England doesn't exactly see his concerns eye to eye, he knows very well what to say to make things better. At the same time France can understand that England also has a definite point to think about.
Its also interesting to me that England is the one that thinks perhaps having the time for one another would be nice. France is the flirt so despite the fact that he has that level of commitment with England, that in fact England is the one to say it. Its a bit of a reversal, but with England saying it, the whole statement seems to mean more.
Maybe they should just 'retire' and rent a cabin somewhere. The ensuing cooking classes would be very entertaining!
Did I mention I liked this? 8D
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-01 01:27 pm (UTC)Its a bit of a reversal, but with England saying it, the whole statement seems to mean more.
Oh, yay! That's sort of what I was hoping for. ~Romance talk~ from France really doesn't mean too much; he spreads that around everywhere.
Maybe they should just 'retire' and rent a cabin somewhere. The ensuing cooking classes would be very entertaining!
Oh man, there is such a lulzy fic in that. XD
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-01 07:28 pm (UTC)Story-wise, and writing quality: AWESOME AS ALWAYS! 8D (Psst--it was fantastic!)
Psychology-wise: I'll never be able to think about the EU, or things similar, without thinking far too hard, and inserting Hetalia. That's not bad by any means...my brain's just gonna be churning extra hard.
Once again, YOU RULE. :3
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 06:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-01 08:00 pm (UTC)You've pictured very well one of the fear of European countries on these days, and the different position of UK and France on the subject (UK doesn't get involved, and France gets all parano).
The relations between these two. And your serious Francis - I love your serious Francis (after all, this has been and is still a very serious business, his order and his langage :))
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 06:30 am (UTC)Thank you, I'm really glad you liked it! I kind of dig serious!France, to be honest. I feel like lulzy sex fiend France is adequately covered in other fics. XD And this really is something he takes seriously!
(no subject)
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Date: 2009-08-01 09:59 pm (UTC)Identities in the European Union are a matter of interests, and you caught perfectly well the problem at hand, the tensions, the lying prospects, and that's just wonderful. And you portrayed England and France with quite the right tone to them.
Apart from the theme you used, your prose is a 'régal'. It flows effortlessly, liquid and smooth, that's rare and precious!
Well, I'm just in awe. That's brilliant, and thank you for sharing.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 06:31 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 12:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 06:33 am (UTC)(as a tiny nitpick, though, I might have wished that you used other examples for "nations no more": both Prussia and Romano seem to be sticking around as equals-with-less-screen-time to Germany and Italy in the series.)
So far as I could think of, Romano and Prussia are the only former nations that have merged with present day nations with whom they are nearly culturally indistinguishable, and who are also canon characters. Who would you have preferred that I use? I don't think there were any other candidates.
(no subject)
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Date: 2009-08-02 09:33 am (UTC)Also, no worries about having embarrassed me, I was just worried I'd get it wrong and end up embarrassing you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 11:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 09:47 am (UTC)And
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 11:46 pm (UTC)And [info]lilichen is rather helpful with her translations, isn't she. ♥
She was such a superhero about this, for real. It was all "Help! This bandit is mugging me! By which I mean I need French translated before I can post this otherwise-completed fic!" and she swooped down all "Fear not, good citizen!" and beat him up. Or something.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 08:45 pm (UTC)It’s safe to say I’d say that of any pairing you choose to write, because you’re amazing like thatHonestly just put us out of our misery and write more fruk, yes?It may be existential anguish, but damn I do love me some philosopher!France. Or any mature sort of France, really. A refreshing alternative from the perv on a rampage we know and love—sort of like, well, big scary rape truck Russia is all well and good, but after the first thirty thousand B.S.R.T. interpretations…
Writer’s ideas of changes for Nations and Nation deaths are so interesting! It’s so cool to delve into the fabric of what exactly all these people are, but it was really how France and England dealt with it together that made it great, I think. Their chemistry. They have their own concerns and issues. The image of their hands together is what really stuck. That sense of restrained longing. It’s great you can write this issue, and do it using real issues instead of just… I don’t know. Having some random hypothetical conversation :/
Coal and diamonds ♥
You should have reminded him that there are parts of his country from which one can fly in an hour to Russia AHAHAHAHA Oh England, you do go on XD I want to see America’s reaction to that… if only just for those few pre-violence seconds of watching his face as the mind cogs send it through. Especially if Russia were there in the room during the conversation.
I love the idea of France conscientiously trying to be photogenic. And very solemnly and rationally deciding England should be punished for his cuisine. Like no, I’m not kidding. I’m serious. You’re laughing, I’m not laughing. You should be shot.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 11:51 pm (UTC)Man, I am totally still working on that fic for our trade, but I got so swamped. But it's like, 80% finished. I swear to God. I just need to be able to sit down and work on it. But the next chapter of TCE is a solo post from me. So yeah. /delay, delay.
Anyway, I'm really glad you liked the fic. XD I love all this metaphysics of Hetalia stuff.
I want to see America’s reaction to that… if only just for those few pre-violence seconds of watching his face as the mind cogs send it through. Especially if Russia were there in the room during the conversation.
America goes all quiet and twitching for a few seconds, while he focuses all his attention on not saying "Yeah, I know, England; that's how we kept hooking up for one night stands all through the seventies without anybody noticing. I know the nightly rates for every out of the way hotel from Anchorage to Vladivostok."
I love the idea of France conscientiously trying to be photogenic.
You know he does.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 11:03 pm (UTC)No, really. You left me completely and utterly speechless here; the theme, the portrayal of the characters, the atmosphere you created, your writing in general--everything is just so damn perfect I cannot even find a proper way to
worship youexpress my appreciation.And good LORD, it was your first time writing the pairing!? *stares in awe and disbelief* Please have this FrUK-er's heart. *gives heart*
(...By the way, that *points* can also be translated to: please do write more FrUK, thank you. 83)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-02 11:44 pm (UTC)I would love to write more FrUK, but the thing is, I only tend to write things when they're requested--I have a hard time allowing myself to just write whatever I want when I know there's something specific that somebody else wants. And nobody's made any FrUK requests to me (fair enough, since I never wrote any before). =/ Does the FrUK comm have a prompt meme or anything like that?
(no subject)
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Date: 2009-08-03 12:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-04 02:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-04 06:15 am (UTC)This was absolutely beautiful.
It's hard to believe that this is your first time writing them, you captured both their particular personalities so perfectly. The ending (and I have to say, the hinted Francis&Gilbert) got me.
a;sldkjfskdfj lovelovelovethis 8D
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-05 12:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-04 08:31 am (UTC)That has to be my favorite sentence. Really describes US's foreign policy well!
And I loved that you talked about those two. (Honestly, I prefer FrUK much more than USUK...more historical issues between the two.) It was a very thought-provoking discussion between the two; I myself was wondering what would happen if the European nations would start to lose their "identity" by merging with others. Thank you for writing this! :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-05 12:36 pm (UTC)You know, I write so much of America from America's perspective, that it's kind of refreshing to describe him from an outside POV. XD America's all like "What do you mean? I'm totally reasonable!"
I'm really glad you liked it! It's a subject I've thought about a fair bit as well. =D