Wartime Mattie :3

this past weekend i was talking to my japanese fruk dj artist pal about how i really want to (still) make a dj chronicling my fr headcanons of his differing stances towards reform vs revolution but if we’re being honest it’s because i want to talk about louis-philippe for 50 pages, GOD i want to talk about louis-philippe for 50 pages

F-the French!

3rd Person POV

Alexander Hamilton was ranting about the French soldiers being so prideful, disrespectful, egotistical, and so French to his older twin sister (by 30 seconds), Olivia, in their shared tent. “You know what! F-the French!”

Speaking of Olivia, she earned the French soldier’s respect from her performance on the battlefield. Though, she hated the fact that they talked bad about General Washington, whom she considered as a father and often called him ‘Papa’. So she agreed with her brother, “Yeah! F-the French!”

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The next morning, Olivia and Alexander were in their tent once more, doing their paperwork. Or more like Olivia helping Alexander with his paperwork because she didn’t have any and was very bored. While doing their work (Alexander’s), they were talking about the French, again.

“Hey, Xander, guess who I hooked up with last night?” The second Olivia finished her question, Alexander jumped from his seat and yelled, “WHO?!” Olivia, used to hearing her brother yell from a near distance, wasn't bothered at all about the loud yell, but oh Lord help those who were in a 3-mile radius because they were temporarily deaf.

Olivia took out a hat and put it on her red hair, “Marquis de Lafayette,” she stated proudly. Her twin, however, was shocked, to say the least, and now was picturing her and Lafayette doi-stop it, Alexander. “WHAT?!” he asked (yelled). The older twin was now confused, “You said f-the French-oh you didn’t mean literally…” she now realized.

Alexander’s face was now the same shade as their hair, fiery and vibrant from embarrassment, anger, and the mental pictures. “No! I didn’t mean literally,” he finally said, his voice now full of exasperation.

Little does he know that Olivia didn’t regret it, not one bit, and neither did Lafayette, who was willing to oblige to Olivia’s wishes last night. Better not tell Alexander.

My mixed houses

Pre-battle tensions.

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Drawn for my art trade with my lovely friend and coworker tapiocadraws! I haven’t drawn Hetalia in 3 years now, so doing this piece has been both nostalgic and a lot of fun! English and Canadian history has always fascinated me the most, so of course they are my favourite characters on the show! x

“ Since Britain still shows no sign of willingness to come to an agreement in spite of her hopeless military situation, I have decided to prepare and, if necessary carry out, a landing operation against England.” 

Operation Sea Lion (Unternehmen Seelöwe) , Hitler’s planned offensive against Britain, which would bear him triumphantly to London, was set for September 15, 1940.

Commission info here.

We Just Won A Victory, Then This Hanging Happened (Benlivia)

‘Twas was a heavy rainy day later that evening when Colonel Bradford and Sargent Hickey were sent to the gallows to be hanged. They had won the Battle of Monmouth hours earlier against the British.

 “Now we know that you’ve received upwards of 100 pounds from Mr. Mathews, the so-called mayor of New York.” they were inside a wood house in camp with Ben interrogating the two assassins, Caleb off to the side; ready to jump in at any given moment, Olivia keeping one eye on her two childhood friends and the other eye at the traitors, and General Washington’s hiding in the shadows; watching it all go down.

“And Governor Tryon. Your pulse beats high in the Torie’s game, gentlemen.” Caleb chimes in. “Now, tell me, who else in this camp is under British pay?” the Major asked, getting the task back at hand.

 Bradford indirectly answers the question, “So there are others.” Ben concludes. 

 The drums keep bringing Ben back from the flashbacks from the moments before. 

 Caleb is the executioner, he wears a full black uniform, complete with a black mask that covers his face. He quickly adjusts the rope and moves on to Bradford, who was talking to Worthington.

 “The offer is that you hang for counterfeiting, not for treason,” Ben says to Bradford. Hickey intervenes saying that he wants to be hanged for the latter, “To mutiny against you traitors in an act of honor,” was his explanation. The head of intelligence slaps him and explains that his family would be safe if he would be hanged as a forger, if it was for the attempt on Washington’s life, then he can’t-” We aren’t going to hang. You’re going to trade us-” 

 Olivia speaks of the first time, interrupting him, “And why is that?” she scoffed at Bradford, “If you think that we are bluffing, then you are wrong.” The man looked at the Madame General in the eye, “-For Culper,” finishing his sentence.

 The last name alias of Abraham Woodhull hung in the air. Dread filled Ben’s stomach. “Where did you hear that name?” Caleb asked. When Bradford didn’t answer, he settled for violence, harshly pulling the former Colonel by the braid, “Where did you hear that name?!” Olivia didn’t intervene, despite the fact that it was technically her job to keep the two in line.

 Washington stepped out of the shadows, suggesting that Hickey must have overheard it when he was standing guard outside his tent. “The first man to tell me the real name of our Agent Culper will be traded to safety on Saturday. The other man will hang tomorrow,” was the million-dollar question.

 But neither man answered, “They don’t know.” Washington concluded. “A hanging then, I’ll inform everyone,” Olivia told the room, “Since the two of you didn’t answer, tomorrow turned into today.” She pointed at the traitors.

 “The accused...Colonel William Bradford and Sergeant Thomas Hickey having being found guilty on the charge of attempting to pass counterfeit bills-

 “-My aim was to kill Washington, Putman, and other-” Hickey didn’t get to finish his sentence because he was pushed off by Caleb, along with Bradford. His head was quickly decapitated. Bradford’s head was, thankfully not severed, but he struggled against the rope around his neck. 

 Gasps rang everywhere, but a heart-wrenching scream caused Ben to look at his left. Olivia Hamilton. He quickly hugged her and held the Madam General tightly. The Head of Intelligence heard Worthington yell at Caleb and could hear them fighting, but he paid no mind. He then looked at Washington, who signaled an officer to shoot Bradford, ending his life.

 The Major could feel the younger Hamilton and the Marquis’ gaze at him like they wanted to burn a hole in his skull with their eyes. The former wanted to protect his twin sister at all costs, even though it’s supposed to be the other way around. Olivia had expressed this one too many times, about Alexander fighting with the new recruits when they looked at her the wrong way. Ben knew that Lafayette harbored a romantic love for Olivia, he too had one, but it was not one-sided. He knew that the two had to make their relationship a secret because the young aristocrat had a wife in France, it would cause a huge scandal that could cause the American-French alliance to dissipate. Because of this, Ben was determined to make his love for Olivia, a platonic one.

 The Major put the elder Hamilton down on his cot and quickly stripped her down to her smallclothes. He looked at the knife wound Olivia had gotten when someone tried to assassinate their Commander in Chief during the discussion of the Battle of Monmouth. Olivia had quickly pulled Washington out of the assassin’s way and took the knife meant for him. General Arnold knocked him out and Henry Key was hanged the next day.

 “You are not sleeping on the floor, Benji.” Olivia said, loud and clear, “That is a direct order from your General.” With burning cheeks, Ben laid down next to the woman he had first loved.

someone recently commented on my France sketches and it got me wondering… why haven’t I drawn him properly with short hair yet?

well, this is the result. I hadn’t been able to make a clean artwork in a while so it was quite refreshing. I also wanted to draw a France with the proper WW2 uniform colors. As for his hair - it’s a headcanon of mine that he cut it shortly after the occupation, either symbolically or just out of necessity. Either way he’s still fabulous like that (and he knows it).

Another thing I like to imagine is that despite the catastrophic beginning of the war, France doesn’t become dispirited or pessimistic. He’s an old nation and though this is the first time his head has been so close to the water, he’s used to toughing it out. So I imagine him retaining his calm and being his usual suave self in the face of adversity.

Imagine Alfred joining the War Effort in WW2, just to see Arthur whip out bow and arrow because “It’s stealthier” which, admittedly, it is.

He is beauty, he is grace.