England/France with past France/Jeanne d'Arc
anonymous
June 18 2009, 14:04:19 UTC
England wakes up in the middle of the night (at France's house) to find Jeanne d'Arc, pulling a Grandpa Rome, next to him to see how her country has fared during the last few hundred years.
I want want some bittersweet conversation between these two and with it leading to both showing concern for France. Whether or not France wakes up during the thing is up to you anon!
Bonus: Arthur struggling with his French to communicate with her and Jeanne teasing him about it.
Dear France, how have you been? [2/3]
anonymous
June 20 2009, 00:25:28 UTC
"Ah, look! Wrinkles!" She gasped, her eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "I told him that would happen! He just does not listen!" She huffed, her cheeks puffing out childishly. She pulled her hand back and looked at Arthur, who stared back, and she smiled at him
( ... )
Dear France, how have you been? [3/3]
anonymous
June 20 2009, 00:45:24 UTC
She was speaking too quickly, and Arthur could barely understand her words other than 'Britannia', the rest was just a ramble of french. She stood up and brushed her long nightgown, as she had been sitting on dirt.
"I must be going now you see." She mumbled, looking down at him. Arthur stared up at the clock, it read 11:59. "I could not stay very long, no matter how much I begged God himself, you see." She murmured, brushing burn scars against her forearms.
"Ah, but Jeanne... " Arthur could only whisper. She smiled at him, and took a remorseful glance at the Frenchmen, oblivious to the situation happening before him.
"Do continue watch him... " She said, a smile never leaving her lips.
"Jeanne--!" He managed to cry, before she gave him a kiss to the forehead.
"Vive le France," She whispered quietly. " et, Vive le Brittania." She smiled at him one more time, before she started to fade again. "I forgive you
( ... )
Re: Dear France, how have you been? [3/3]
anonymous
June 20 2009, 02:34:10 UTC
'~' Writer!anon, this is truly awesome! Their interaction was slightly sad, but sweet at the same time.
Ahaha~ France and Turkey... *snicker* Ahem, nonetheless, beautiful piece you wrote. ;A; I especially like the part with Francis dealing with Jeanne's memories, only now being able to speak of her name. Job well done!
With ghosted past visiting [1/?]
anonymous
July 14 2009, 02:55:09 UTC
This is the second anon who wanted to do this. Sorry for the huge wait, I wanted to finish it before I posted D:
Also, canadianon fails at french past a few select phrases so she used an online translator *shame*. It seemed correct from what I could remember from french class lol.It was 4:11 am if France's bedside clock gave any indication. The Frenchman himself lay asleep under cotton sheets and coverlets, breathing peacefully and even in the early morning air. Yet England, as the other occupant of the queen sized bed, lay awake in a groggy state. Head tucked into the arms resting around his knees, blankets pooled around his waist, he let out a shaky breathe and willed his eyes to remain open only for a while longer. While more sane nations would have been found asleep at this time of day, England was forcing himself awake with heavy anticipation. It was under his best suspicion that… something was amiss. And while that damn frog next to him might be counted as dead for how deep his slumber was, there was no way that England could
( ... )
Re: With ghosted past visiting [2/?]
anonymous
July 14 2009, 02:58:10 UTC
France laughed and made some perverted comment about him finding out later on if he did or didn't in fact slip something in. England just couldn't forget the ghostly white of a woman's hand.
It happened repeatedly throughout the day, which was most definitely not a date England assured himself, even if France was for once, acting the perfect gentleman asking him where he wanted to go next instead of gallivanting across the streets of Paris, dragging the other European nation along. It changed it's forms, England noticed. A transparent arm trailing up the Frenchman's back. A pale wrist that mirrored Frances motions, even as he made to grab for the pink rose he offered to the lovely lady who's toddler had run face first into his knees while chasing a dog. Walking across a bridge England's eye was caught by the swishing of fabric and the movement of feet that faded past the ankles following silently behind the other nation. He nearly had a heart attack when he turned towards a window not long after during their dinner and spotted the
( ... )
With ghosted past visiting [3/?]
anonymous
July 14 2009, 03:01:54 UTC
She had blonde hair, short and riddled with soft curls near her shoulders and a tough build masked by her feminine motions. He gasped as she drifted a hand towards the face of France and forgetting the laws of the supernatural extended his own hand to grab at her wrist. His hand went straight through and he shivered at the chilly tingling left over
( ... )
With ghosted past visiting [4/?]
anonymous
July 14 2009, 03:06:33 UTC
"France, he…" Watching as he descended slowly into agonizing madness, lashing out, shutting himself away. Ignoring his wants, his needs to focus on the people. Killing his leaders, hearing the screams from across the channel along with cries of Freedom, Equality, Vive la Revolution!
"He…" Rising as the most formidable empire, taking, staking claim. Pride, victory, then defeat once again. Waterloo, England would always remember Waterloo.
Canada had once been his. Both of theirs, he remembers. As had America.
"We…" There were bars separating them, even as he grasped out, pleading, screaming Bloody well damn it, Marry me! We can save you - just accept a marriage! France stared at him from his slouched form against the wall, only to glance down and chuckle. Angleterre, it really must be the greatest war if even we are getting alongEngland furrowed his eyebrows and stared down at his pajama clad knees. He unclenched his fingers from around the fabric and let them trail down to his sides to wrap around his feet
( ... )
I want want some bittersweet conversation between these two and with it leading to both showing concern for France. Whether or not France wakes up during the thing is up to you anon!
Bonus: Arthur struggling with his French to communicate with her and Jeanne teasing him about it.
Reply
Reply
Oh please do continue soon!!! This fic is already putting a smile on me.
Reply
Nice intro, a huge grin is already forming on my face. <3 <3 <3
Waiting patiently for the next parts :>
Reply
Reply
"I must be going now you see." She mumbled, looking down at him. Arthur stared up at the clock, it read 11:59. "I could not stay very long, no matter how much I begged God himself, you see." She murmured, brushing burn scars against her forearms.
"Ah, but Jeanne... " Arthur could only whisper. She smiled at him, and took a remorseful glance at the Frenchmen, oblivious to the situation happening before him.
"Do continue watch him... " She said, a smile never leaving her lips.
"Jeanne--!" He managed to cry, before she gave him a kiss to the forehead.
"Vive le France," She whispered quietly. " et, Vive le Brittania." She smiled at him one more time, before she started to fade again. "I forgive you ( ... )
Reply
Ahaha~ France and Turkey... *snicker* Ahem, nonetheless, beautiful piece you wrote. ;A; I especially like the part with Francis dealing with Jeanne's memories, only now being able to speak of her name. Job well done!
Not OP... ^^
Reply
Reply
Reply
My heartstrings were tugged throughout the whole fic.
France's and Jeanne's devotion to each other is what really got me T_T
Thank you so much for filling this!
Reply
I just noticed a couple errors after I posted it.
I'm just so glad that you enjoyed it. =v=
Reply
Also, canadianon fails at french past a few select phrases so she used an online translator *shame*. It seemed correct from what I could remember from french class lol.It was 4:11 am if France's bedside clock gave any indication. The Frenchman himself lay asleep under cotton sheets and coverlets, breathing peacefully and even in the early morning air. Yet England, as the other occupant of the queen sized bed, lay awake in a groggy state. Head tucked into the arms resting around his knees, blankets pooled around his waist, he let out a shaky breathe and willed his eyes to remain open only for a while longer. While more sane nations would have been found asleep at this time of day, England was forcing himself awake with heavy anticipation. It was under his best suspicion that… something was amiss. And while that damn frog next to him might be counted as dead for how deep his slumber was, there was no way that England could ( ... )
Reply
It happened repeatedly throughout the day, which was most definitely not a date England assured himself, even if France was for once, acting the perfect gentleman asking him where he wanted to go next instead of gallivanting across the streets of Paris, dragging the other European nation along. It changed it's forms, England noticed. A transparent arm trailing up the Frenchman's back. A pale wrist that mirrored Frances motions, even as he made to grab for the pink rose he offered to the lovely lady who's toddler had run face first into his knees while chasing a dog. Walking across a bridge England's eye was caught by the swishing of fabric and the movement of feet that faded past the ankles following silently behind the other nation. He nearly had a heart attack when he turned towards a window not long after during their dinner and spotted the ( ... )
Reply
Reply
"He…" Rising as the most formidable empire, taking, staking claim. Pride, victory, then defeat once again. Waterloo, England would always remember Waterloo.
Canada had once been his. Both of theirs, he remembers. As had America.
"We…" There were bars separating them, even as he grasped out, pleading, screaming Bloody well damn it, Marry me! We can save you - just accept a marriage! France stared at him from his slouched form against the wall, only to glance down and chuckle. Angleterre, it really must be the greatest war if even we are getting alongEngland furrowed his eyebrows and stared down at his pajama clad knees. He unclenched his fingers from around the fabric and let them trail down to his sides to wrap around his feet ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment