#because fruk is here

[kopifurann]

what that horsecock can do, King?

I know i said i would be busy doing my work, but i feel bad to ignore this last ask. (totally not trying to procrastinate by drawing Arthur and Gil's tits.)

[breitzbachbea]

France is so beautiful to hide the ugliness inside. honhonhon It's a pety bitch and we love him

Motherfucker made a deal with the devil for sure ... Though now I am wondering if that is a thing in French culture/folklore, like, do we have some prominent devil deal story over there? Getting sidetracked.

But YES, we love him for being petty! He is capable of both being a genuine romantic and kind soul and also the MOST MASSIVE BITCH EVER who wants to see the world BURN for his entertainment and ego. Love that for him. I mean, look at this poll for my latest AU FrUK subplot. Card-carrying messy bitch who lives for drama.

But I will seriously say that he is not uniquely ugly on the inside, most Hetalia characters (and indeed most characters period) are super sucky in some ways and genuinely cool people in others. I am as francophobic as the next person, but his beauty is not hiding more uglyness than Turkey's or Spain's beauty - or any of the Nordic's or Russia's or China's, depends on who is your type.

I mean, in the AU scenario I linked alone, there are like. At least three major cases of Everyone Sucks Here. Yes, François' prioritizing drama over his best friend's future, bc all the pettyness got her basically fiancé to sleep with someone for blackmail and he is not doing shit to stop HIS future husband from making another friend's life hell for the petty bullshit. But Gavin MacAllister being hellbent on not letting François marry an Englishman that Fran clearly doesn't seem to abhor, seems determined to have a fun marriage with, is also just. Ugly as fuck behaviour-wise. And Arthur trying to make everyone else pay more than hell for bothering him... Honestly, if he hadn't pissed off Gavin and my Irish boys before François based on snobbish reasons, Arthur would be the least of an asshole, because Gavin's being an entitled prick and François is encouraging it. He is not uniquely terrible, really not, so ... not that much beauty required, really. Hima just hates me specifically by making a Frenchman this heavenly handsome.

[the-heaminator]

@aphfrukweek

sorry for being late! Day 1: War and peace. Ie, me fucking rambling. Also war and peace as in the book comes up bc idk why not apparently. Fluff, lots of it

This was most certainly a scene, not that there was anything in particular happening, which was the odd thing, this is England and France we are talking about here, Arthur and Francis, even when they were on good terms they bickered often, more often than not they were most certainly not on good terms, then blood was usually drawn by either, or both sides.

This, this was bloody surreal, Rhys had seen a lot of odd things with his brothers involving Francis, somehow that man managed to get so deeply into both Arthur and Alisdair's mind, so fucking long ago, that he just sort of stayed there, it was a little fucking odd for someone to see two of his brothers, neither of which were particularly soft or loving in most meanings of either word, currently Arthur had gotten into Francis' good books, or the other way round, he wasn't sure, no one ever was, likely not even them.

Usually they were doing something, Arthur had a near inability to just sit still and relax, always wound tighter than a spring and just as ready to strike as one, but right now he was, wait, wait, was he fucking asleep???

That. That was sorcery, Arthur had genuinely fallen asleep, on Francis' shoulder no less.

Arthur, asleep as he was, did not notice Rhys walking in on that fucking scene of odd domestic affection, when he did sleep he slept hard and long, probably something built up from centuries of the most godawful sleep schedules, Francis did though, he was holding up an egregiously thick hardcover, the type that really looked like it could cause a concussion if used in the right (wrong?) way, Arthur had grabbed onto him in a way that even if he wanted to Francis couldn't move, and something told Rhys that it was unlikely that he wanted to do so anyways.

Francis noticed him loitering about the doorway "Come, sit down, you know as well as I that he wouldn't wake up if bombs were dropping overhead in this state."

He did have a point, and he sat down, Arthur was warm to the touch for once, and hey, that was his jumper, bloody jumper-stealing gremlin, he had his own! I mean if the jumpers didn't belong to them no one would notice the difference, frumpy, bobbled, faded and whatnot they all were, very clearly worn for a longass time, at least the one Artur was sleeping in right now did not smell like month-old buckfast and Scotland vomit.

This was a little awkward, he dimly registered that Francis was wearing one of Arthur's downright crustiest jumpers, a thing old enough to have a midlife crisis of its own, an utterly atrocious shade of green that somehow managed to be all the worst of green, brown and yellow all at once, but it was still one of the softest jumpers he owned, it was big on him, and for how large he appeared, Francis was not that much taller than Arthur, barely an inch, if that.

It was a little adorable he did have to admit, seeing Arthur almost nuzzle into Francis' chest as he lay asleep, how he so many centuries ago would react, probably even decades ago would react to this would be a mystery for all, but it was fun to imagine, they had always rutted like animals yes, but never just so, like this. Domestic was the only goddamn word for it, and domestic is not a word that i assure you that Rhys usually used for Francis or Arthur, let alone the both of them together.

He didn't comment on that though, and instead scanned the cover of the book that Francis was reading, War and Peace, sure he had read it before but jesus that book was a beast, clearly Arthurs copy by how dog eared the pages were, much to literally fucking everyone's chagrin.

"War and peace huh. You like it?"

"Eh, it's getting there, I've never actually read it before, it is certainly a rather dense book I do say."

That was certainly a nice way to put it, if he were to put weight labels on books, War and Peace would be considered quite morbidly obese, that shit was huge, Francis took off his glasses for a moment, he had glasses, most nations did nowadays, too long in the dark had fucked with their vision, and a lot of them weren't exactly as young as they once were, Arthur had been going grey slowly for nearly a century prior, Francis had started somewhat after that, vain bastard probably covered it up for a while but right now it seemed that he really couldn't give a shit.

It was fun to see Arthur go grey before he did, the way nations aged was odd, and while Arthur was the youngest of them nation-wise, excluding North of course, he was the oldest physically and he hadn't ever exactly taken the best care of himself ever and it fucking showed.

Anyhow that whole thing aside, Francis put down the book onto the table on the side of the sofa, it made quite a loud thunk, Arthur did not wake up because of course he didn't, put his glasses atop it, and slowly glided his fingers through Arthur's hair.

To Rhys, it seemed odd but in the best way possible, he had sem them at each others throats for what was literally nearly a fucking millennia, and if they weren't they usually had something else highly questionable going on, he had seen them fighting with knives, swords, muskets, guns, what all and whatnot, brawling in the mud when drunk, often till either or both were properly bruised and battered, how times changed huh.

Oh, now he just sounded old and cheesy, fuck this.

He rose from his seat and left those two to whatever it was that they were doing, it was a little too good to last, he knew it wouldn't, it was natural for them never to really stay still, but for now let them have their fun and cuddling, no one else would do it to Arthur, let alone willingly, probably the same for Francis (well save for Alisdair) so this was good for the both of them, so bad for anyone else that they had to be with each other.

He left the room with a sigh, Arthur still had his favourite bloody jumper, he would raid his cupboard in retribution. Hmpf, bastard.

[jikimo-world]

[Summary of the prologue of "Guigemar", lay of Marie de France, mediaeval writer]

One day Guigemar, a young man incapable of loving, finds a doe and her fawn in the forest. The animal is completely white with stag’s antlers. The knight, not bothered by the fact that the creature is a mother, fires his bow and struck the animal in the forehead. The doe falls immediately, but the arrow ricochets and penetrates Guigemar's thigh. He falls down beside the suffering animal, who suddenly speaks and curses the man for inflicting fatal injuries on her: "May you never find a cure…until you are cured by a woman's love. You will suffer for her and she will suffer as much for you"

"Dad, why didn't you tell us that mom was mortal?"

"I'm sorry, my deer"

[oumaheroes]

[8] + fruk? idk, it sounds like something they'd hardly tell each other but I figured it's a challenge you could enjoy solving. :) i love your writing btw. Thank you for sharing it with the world. <3

[8] 'I love you'

Both of these asks are so so old but I enjoy a challenge, Anons! Took me a while but I got there in the end. Hope you like!

Characters: France, England, FrUK

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Love Is...

'You're not entirely intolerable.'

England says this to him in warm candlelight, yellows and orange hues dancing gently on his cheek and across his nose. On his back, no less, looking up at France with wine soft eyes amongst expensive coverlets and pillows of a borrowed palace bed.

France's hands are busy, one supporting him, one not, and thus he knows there is some bias to England’s words.

If it were darker, less candlelight and more masking cover, maybe they would be more true. England had always been gentler in the shadows, safer when he feels he can't be seen.

'Shame the same cannot be said for you.' France says in reply, and bites him hard on the shoulder.

-------------

'You can be useful.'

France sounds surprised.

England clenches his jaw. 'Fuck you.'

'I'm serious.' France twirls the pointed end of his share knife into England thick wooden table. 'There may yet be hope in regards to you being anything of value.'

It is France's own knife, at least, that he is blunting. Gilded- overly so, so it's almost more decorative than usable. Almost. France does so like to find those lines and tease them.

The remains of a meal are pushed aside, a map open and curling long between them instead like a dried up sea. England wants to grab the knife out of France’s hand and jab it in his eye but he doesn’t. He needs France, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, needs his help sweet talking the French nobility and keeping his King in check and so refrains from lunging across the table. Swallows bitterness down and looks from the maimed table to the map.

The French coastline looks alien upside-down but England doesn’t ask France to turn it around.

‘So.’ France’s voice is silky and low, ‘Can you deliver on your end?’

England thinks of his own King, thinks of his endless envy that is great enough to engulf his nation’s pride. He nods.

France clicks his tongue, ‘What a surprise.’

-------------

‘Where have you been?’ A nation who will one day be England pouts and crosses his arms across his chest, ‘I’ve been waiting here for hours’.

‘It wasn’t hours.’ A nation who will one day be France looks about the bank of the tree where England is sat in distain, ‘The ground is wet.’

‘You’re late.’ England insists, ‘You said you would be here by noon. And wet ground is better to write in.’

‘It’s still noon. Couldn’t you have picked somewhere sunnier? The ground hasn’t dried here; where will I sit.’

‘Are you stupid?’ England holds out an arm and gestures to the shadow it makes upon the floor with another. It is slightly longer than noon would provide, ‘Does that look like noon?’

‘Do you want me to help, or not.’

‘No.’

France sighs, ‘Fine. Do you want me to do this the easy way or the hard way.’

England kicks at a small stone and it bumps a little ways down the small pathway along the edge of the wheat field he’s been biding his time in. This France knows, because there’s chaff caught in his hair and dusting amongst the mud of the dampened hem of his cloak.

‘I already know how to write letters,’ England grumbles, ‘Rome made me learn his, and they’re exactly the same as your ones. Why do I have to do this all again.’

‘Because after Rome, you learnt some barbarian ones, and now I want to make you presentable. These are things any decent, proper nation should know.’ France dusts down England’s hair, ‘And it’s very hard to bring you up to par when you keep avoiding my visits and moving from castle to castle.’

England shakes his head and looks away.

‘You should stay with the King,’ France says pointedly, ‘Not move about the strongholds like a vagabond. You shouldn’t show your earls too much favour.’

France sees England hold himself back from speaking. He knows what England wants to say and is relieved when he keeps the several possible and difficult arguments to himself. An improvement, but maybe only because there’s no one else to hear.

‘Move.’ England says suddenly. He picks up a stick that France had failed to notice, propped up ready to go against a thick root, and waves him out of the way and off the flat dirt road. He begins scrawling in the ground in rigid, sharp strokes. ‘If I write “go fuck yourself” in Latin, Norman, and French, will you do so?’

-------------

‘I don't always hate you.’

France says this so quietly that England almost didn’t hear him. He wouldn’t have done, if he didn’t know France’s voice and his habits so well. He halts, the quiet palace yawning open unseen down the darkened passage ahead.

From the corner of his eye, England sees France shift where he leans in the archway. He was so still that England hadn’t noticed him as he walked, his dark shape held like a statue in shadows. Now that he knows he’s there, England can almost see the glint of silver threads in the moonlight, fine clothes on a man made just as much from the dirt as he.

A shift of fabric as France moves again. England stares ahead and does not look at him.

‘You may not believe that, but it’s true.’ France offers quietly. ‘I don’t like to think that you believe otherwise.’

‘I don’t like that you make me believe so.’

A pause. England can hear the sounds of the evening: distant footsteps on flagstones, the rustle of trees in the orchard beyond the stone courtyard walls. The smells of thousands of past summers on the warm breeze, blurring the edges of the era and turning the night endless.

The moment stretches, full and expectant. Then, a sigh.

It passes.

France does not reply, and England walks away.

-------------

‘Are you coming with me?’

France snorts. ‘I am offended that you would ever think that I would.’

‘Oh fuck off. Come on.’ England’s eyes are dangerously captivating, ‘You’re just as bored as I am.’

‘Unlike yourself, I am able to find joy in the finer things.’

‘Francis, this is the worst fucking ball we’ve been to in centuries.’

France winces, ‘Yes, but the food is at least good. And the people here are-‘

‘All over fifty.’

‘We are over fifty. And they’re-’

‘Boring.’

‘Important.’ France corrects, ‘They are important, my dear.’

England scoffs and looks across the lacklustre and lethargic dancefloor, couples with outdated clothes and dour expressions stiffly moving in their formations. He swirls his wine in his glass and points with it shamelessly, ‘Important for what, exactly.’

‘To be seen by. To talk politics with. To encourage away from silly decisions that will ruin my skin for the next decade.’

‘And the younger important people? Or heaven forbid, any fun ones? Where are they?’

France shrugs with one shoulder helplessly, ‘The Viscount is... particular.’

England raises and eyebrow and France shrugs, ‘Fine. It is dull. He is dull, and these are all his dull friends. What do you want me to say, the money is here but the life is gone. I’m not blind, Arthur.’

England adjusts the lace of France’s collar, straightening it from where a point has curled under itself, ‘Well, I’m going to the inn on Perry street. That’s where the kitchen boy told me-‘

‘The one with the hair, or the one with the funny leg?’

‘The one with the teeth.’

France shakes his head, ‘Poor boy. Sugar is a terrible thing, I wonder when people will pick up on that.’

England rolls his eyes and downs his wine. France winces, ‘That was expensive.’

‘Good. I’m off.’ England kisses his cheek quickly, the powdered hairs of his wig tickling France’s neck, ‘Have fun somehow being the most interesting thing in the room for a change.’

‘Ha ha.’

France watches England carelessly drop his very expensive glass onto a passing waiter’s tray and tuts at him, ‘You’re too over-dressed for a common inn, you’ll get mugged.’

‘I’ll manage.’

‘I’m sure you will. When I find your naked corpse in a hedge tomorrow, don’t tell me I didn’t tell you so.’

‘I tell you your make-up makes you look like sun bleached fish every day, and yet you still wear it.’

France huffs and turns away. He hears the clip of England’s shoes as he slips behind a curtain until his steps soften, sights fixed on the dancers. The crowds in the edges of the hall, in the dark corners where candles cannot find them, have a low murmuring buzz that heaves itself above the orchestra enough to give life to the odd word of two. None of them give France any hope.

Once he is sure no one noticed England leave, France downs his own wine and pushes himself away from the wall to join him.

------------

‘Be careful.’

England blinks, confused.

It is dark, moonlight all they have to go by, and they are watching British soldiers pour out from and over French beaches into hungry, waiting boats. Months of planning, countless sleepless nights and hours held stressed and tense in the wait for scraps of coded information has lead them here, to this. To men running through waves, to home so close and yet so far, and a flight through the dark to get stranded soldiers home before France falls.

England feels hollow. His chest feels concaved, an empty feeling of something like relief rotting and curdling there at the thought that this momentous victory is in the grand scheme of things, nothing at all. A huge success merely only for how difficult any small victory is. And still a failure because... because-

France’s hand brushes his. England swallows and entwines their fingers together.

‘You’re the one who should be careful.’ He says.

France squeezes his fingers. ‘If-‘

‘Don’t.’

‘-If.’ France’s grip tightens, ‘If, Arthur. Just be careful. I’ll be fine. It’s you who-‘

France breaks off.

‘I won’t.’ England says. He takes a deep breath in. ‘Not me. Not yet.’

‘I would be deeply embarrassed for you, if you do. It’s shameful. To a child, and one raised by Gilbert, no less.’

England snorts and smooths his thumb over France’s knuckle before he breaks them apart. He tugs down his uniform, wishing for gold trimming and a deep red coat, and smooth wood of a longbow.

D-Day unfolds in the muddied, darkened shallows of Dunkirk beach, and two empires watch the world turn over and into something new.

------------

‘Move over.’

France wakes to a knee in the small of his back. ‘A.. Arthur?’

‘Francis, move.’

Bewildered, France obediently shuffles over and there’s a gasp of cold air as England lifts the covers to climb inside. ‘What are...?’

‘Shh!’

France hears the heavy drapes around his bed being rearranged, then gets another knee in his back as England burrows down next to him.

France turns over. In the darkened room and behind thick curtains, England is nothing more than a source of warmth and the feeling of being watched. ‘What are you doing here.’

‘This is my castle, isn’t it?’

‘It’s one of your King’s castles, yes.’

‘Well then.’

‘But you weren’t here.’ France whispers, When we arrived. ‘He is very upset. He says you shame him.’

‘He shames me.’ England’s cool hands find themselves under France’s back, ‘The grandson of a usurper has nothing to do with me.’

‘Arthur.’ France cautions, but then stops. It is not the time, nor place. Nor, he knows, his place, really, to say anything at all. He places his hand on the cool skin of England’s arm and squeezes it, ‘I’m happy you’re here now. Apart from all the dirt you’ve likely tracked into the bed.’

‘I haven’t.’

‘I can smell it. You smell like outside.’

‘Outside doesn't have a smell.’

It does. Brought in to a human space where it doesn’t belong, the night air that clings to England’s hair and skin is earthy and cool. Fresh and foreign amongst wood fires and the fresh thresh on the floors.

‘I changed.’ England insists, seemingly having taken France’s lack of answer as an argument, ‘I do have nightclothes, you know. I’m not a savage.’

‘Hmm.’

England wriggles his fingers under France’s back to the soft parts of his sides and France can’t help but yelp as they tickle.

‘I was in York but heard you were leaving.’ England says, ‘Did you want to go riding before you go?’

‘We go Tuesday.’ France whispers, conscious of the servants littered about the room asleep. How England crept past them all or even got into the castle so quietly in the first place, he’ll never know. ‘We’re almost ready.’

‘So, do you want to go riding, or not.’

It is Sunday. There will be a lot to do before he goes back to his own lands, lots of packing and planning and then talking to people and France is exhausted just thinking about how much of it he will be needed for, let alone the voyage back across likely windy seas.

‘I don’t want to share. I want my own horse.’

‘Fine.’

------------

‘Here.’

England looks up from his laptop to find a cup of what might be soup held aloft before him.

France waggles it, evidently deeming England too slow on the uptake, ‘Take it.’

England does, cautiously, and moves his laptop aside to safety. ‘What’s this for.’

‘You.’

‘I could infer that.’

‘Could you? I never want to assume.’ Before England can tell him not to, France settles himself in the seat opposite. The booth England has hidden himself in has a wide table down the middle which takes up most of the room, but France moves himself into the tight space far more dramatically than is needed.

The soup is hot. England pops the lid off- carrot and coriander. His stomach clenches at the smell, he hadn’t realised how hungry he was. ‘Where on earth did you get it? They stopped serving dinner hours ago.’

‘I know. You missed it.’ France shoots him a pointed look, ‘I went to a café down the road.’

England looks down and swirls the soup around the Styrofoam. It’s thick, good quality. ‘I’m not paying you for it.’

‘Ah yes, because that is why I went.’

England glances at his laptop. France shuts it. ‘Now, whilst you’re eating, listen to me. I have a story for you.’

England takes the spoon that France offers and stirs. He wonders if France has any chocolates in his pockets, ‘Is it about the look Antonio gave-‘

‘Yes.’ France leans forwards eagerly, ‘But shut up. Let me talk.’

-------------

‘It’s... it’s large.’ The scientist at the front of the room looks shrunken, weighed down and wizened. He runs a hand through his hair, glasses glinting in sterile, overheads lights. ‘It’s large.’

France looks up and catches England’s eye. He looks tired, old.

Scared.

Question lights flash on around the room, every national and political delegation with something to say or ask. The scientist seems to freeze, overwhelmed by where or who to turn to first, and then people start shouting all over each other, nations and their politicians alike.

‘What the fuck is this?’ France’s president holds her hands to her mouth and shakes her head slowly from side to side, ‘This cannot be happening.’

‘There is nothing we can do!’ France hears the scientist say over the braying clamour, ‘It’s too late, it’s-‘

‘Francis.’ England is there, at his shoulder. ‘Come on.’

-------------

‘What the fuck have you done to yourself?’

France sniffs and turns away, ‘That’s none of your business.’

England snorts and hangs his hat and coat on the stand, ‘You look like you’ve fallen off a horse.’

‘You look like an unkempt vagabond.’

England looks down at his finely pressed suit and trousers and then back to France. He is on his sofa, studiously reading a book and not looking at England making himself comfortable in France’s livingroom. His leg is before him on a padded stool, swollen at least twice the size, and there is a purple bruise blossoming upon one cheek.

England comes around the back of him and brushes soft golden hair away from France’s shoulder. ‘I could do better.’ he says, gently thumbing the fragile scabbing of France’s bottom lip.

France swats at him, ‘Go away. I don’t want you here.’

‘Wrong place wrong time? Or did you try to speak sense again to someone who actually has some.’

‘Arthur, stop.’ France catches England’s wrist and kisses the inside, ‘You’re too unsympathetic to understand.’

‘Hmm.’ England kneads at France’s shoulder and then heads to the kitchen, ‘Would it help you to know I’m planning on telling everyone you fell ice skating?’

France lets out a bark of laughter, ‘Oh? And who on earth would you tell.’

‘Anyone who will listen.’ He collects a glass and a bottle of wine, along with some bread and some of the expensive cheese that he knows France always squirrels away in his pantry whenever he can, and takes them back to the living room.

-------------

‘If you could be anywhere, where would you be.’

Soft music from a Spanish restaurant down the road, warm ocean breeze. Anywhere and everywhere, all at once.

Besides him, England sips warm ale from a can he smuggled through customs and shrugs, ‘Home.’

‘That’s a boring answer.’

‘That’s the truest answer.’

‘And where again would Arthur go, if he could leave England behind.’ Francis watches Arthur from the corner of his eye, sees the fragments of him outside of all else that they always are.

‘I can’t leave England behind.’ England says, ‘So there’s not much point entertaining it.’

‘I’m trying to have a serious conversation.’

‘Then don’t ask a hypothetical question.’

Francis sighs, and retreats. He takes a deep drag of his cigarette and watches the smoke drift away into the dark.

‘But if you’re asking time.’ England tilts his head, considering. Behind them on the seafront, students between bright club front lights in loud, drunken clusters, ‘Now, I think. Maybe a hundred years ago, at most.’

‘Really?’ France is surprised, ‘I would have thought-‘

‘Boring answer,’ Arthur says, and the rest remains unfinished.

-------------

‘Don’t you fucking die on me.’

Of all the places England expected to die, this was actually what he’d considered the least likely. In Calais, oft contested, right by the sea, and entirely calm. No war or battle to take him, no disease or crop failure to push him along. He can see Dover in the distance, his white cliffs so close he can almost feel them in the bones they represent.

But above them, burning and close, the sky roils.

France lies in his lap on the grass of his garden, eyes wet and smiling. ‘That’s not fair, you can’t say that to me. That’s what I was going to say to you.’

‘I’m serious.’ England swallows down something bitter and painful in his throat, and brushes the hair from France’s face, ‘You’re not allowed to go first unless I’m given that honour. Keep yourself awake.’

France freezes, eyes wide, ‘What-‘

‘I know you too well,’ England says, and dips his head to kiss him. There is a golden chain around France’s neck, old and reliable. On it hangs a much-used pendant, once again filled and ready. Still full, he hopes.

England fiddles with it in the hollow of France’s neck and sees the burning heavens reflected in his eyes. ‘We’ll go together.’

-------------

‘I love you.’

On a nameless bit of a terraformed Earth that might have once been a small kingdom in the northern sea, a man called Francis pauses at the hydro sink, half washed cup in his hands. A man called Arthur stands next to him with a dish cloth and when Francis turns to him, Arthur stares back, face inscrutable.

Arthur does not mince words. He has always spoken his mind frankly, regardless of how offensive or tactless his thoughts may be. He has never tailored himself to a situation, never presented himself as anything he is not. But softness and open vulnerability is not a texture he can wear upon himself. Not because he doesn’t have any, Francis knows, but because he expects that Arthur doesn’t know how. Some core part of his personality that gets lost from his heart to his tongue, or given spikes along the way.

Maybe that was what caught Francis’ attention in the first place, all those years ago on the transport ship to Earth. The parts Arthur kept to himself more than the parts he did not. Arthur spoke kindness and care in actions, not words, and words were what Francis had heard far too much of.

Francis looks away and makes sure to keep his face just as blank, just as unconcerned.

‘I love you too.’

[vanessalocke]

UkFr or FrUk gives me the icks because it looks like a relationship that begun when they were kids and France tried something on England because it felt good but England felt abused and discarded so he just did worse to France and they never stopped hurting each other and basically want to destroy the other while hating everything ... Awful dynamic here. How could it break? They don't even have anything in favour

*sigh

I'm asking you if you see Dover based on official Hetalia, or your headcanon?

If it's your headcanon, I have nothing to say. Everyone has their own perspective and I don't want to change anyone's mind.

If you're referring to official Hetalia, then I'll give you evidence to refute your argument. Please note that I don't like official Hetalia, when I make my headcanon, I keep the details I like from official and leave out the details I don't like. But since you messaged me, I'll go over their childhood a little. There are 3 pieces of evidence that show the abuse you're talking about is wrong, at least in official:

England fell asleep while France cut England's hair.

Would you let someone you don't trust touch your hair? Would you sleep in front of someone you don't trust? Would a person do all of those things to someone who abused her/him/them?

England agreed to stay with France when he thought the end of the world was coming.

France thought of England first when he knew he was going to die. England had no intention of escaping France's embrace when he knew he was going to die.

England was very mean-mouthed when standing with France and France always smiled, or had a very calm attitude.

I'll say it straight out that England was spoiled by France. No abused child would be comfortable enough to speak freely like this.

Although the early APH period was a really horrible mess and I hated it, as far as I can remember, even then Himaruya didn't portray the bad things in their childhood.

Let's put the abuse aside for now and talk about your "basically want to destroy the other while hating everything" line. Did you know that Dover isn't just a normal "enemies to lovers" couple?

Their relationship is more complicated than "enemies to lovers". They are a combination of "childhood friends", "closest friends", "rivals", "soulmate", "old married couple". I agree that there are times when their relationship is terrible. However, while they are against each other, they also have a soft side for each other. They are very soft on each other when they see each other sad. They show concern for each other many times when they see each other hurt, if you actually watch the anime.

They were just two stupid kids playing stupidly together throughout their childhood. And they maintained that stupidity with each other throughout their lives. One thing was clear, they were comfortable and happy in each other's presence.

You really think this is the atmosphere of a perpetrator and an abuse victim?

[checkpointcherry]

i want to try to do full body renders of all my furry designs so here’s fruk and the kids! you can’t see their left hands in most drawings but arthur and francis are married here too. because of course.

[liemurienn]

i don't know if i just dreamt it but did you delete a comic youve drawn before? i remember it specifically because i think you drew an ame in the background of it and ive been half living off of that to see ame in your style... if not its fine if yes its fine also 🙏 hope this isnt too intrusive

🙏 sorryyyyy i kept this ask for so long

you’re right!!!!! i deleted a fruk comic not too long ago 🥲 the artstyle made me cringe a little so i got rid of it. i rarely draw america because i struggle drawing big strong bois in general, but here’s a caname i drew two months ago :)

[olympeline]

Love love love the omega verse fruk content! But, what do we think about omega Arthur accidentally getting pregnant in the 16th century and voila, FACE fam is born… something something “nation people don’t get pregnant even if they’re presenting omega and going through heat” but then new land is discover and “oops” turns out there is a reason why nation people have reproductive cycles

Oh nonny, do not unleash these thoughts on me! I tell you they will take root 🥺

See? Now I’m posting about it. I hope you’re happy! 😩

If this happened, I’m guessing it would be because of a very specific sets of circumstances. Otherwise nation-people don’t reproduce like humans do. When a new land is discovered, a successful settler population is established, with the main bulk of the settlers coming from an omega nation, and a significant portion coming from their alpha partner. And it had to be part of the New World, maybe? Like the clue is in the name. Just something about the Old World that makes it so no new nation-people are born the human way there any more. They used to be but it happened so long ago, when the Old World was new, that now not even China remembers. It’s become like an old wives’ tale to the nation folk. Anyway, all these boxes have to be ticked otherwise the new colony/nation-person comes into being the “normal” way and just appears one day. I kinda like this idea actually. Like a/b/o nations can have kids but such rare situations have to arise that they almost never do? And reproductive knowledge is still a loooot of guesswork back then too, so.

Soooo Francis and Arthur don’t bother with even the primitive precautions they had at the time. Why would they? The NA twins are the first new nation-people born this way in thousands of years, so the Dover pair had no idea they needed to be careful. Just carried on with their usual fooling around every time Arthur’s heat came, including on the shores of the New World. Like, literally on the shore, maybe? Francis is already there with the French colonists when he senses Arthur is near. Goes miles down the coastline close to where the English settlers are. Headcanon here that nation-people can travel much faster than normal humans so this doesn’t take him months, lol. Finds an English ship anchored and their personification alone on the beach. In heat and giving off an aura of STAY AWAY NORMAL HUMANS I LOVE YOU BUT FOR NO SPECIFIC REASON ENGLAND NEEDS SOME ALONE TIME WITH HIS FUTURE MATE ANCIENT ENEMY WHO HE STILL TOTALLY HATES SO GO INTO THE SETTLEMENT AND LEAVE YOUR MOTHERLAND BE UNTIL HE CALLS YOU, OKAY?

Arthur is all curled up in the sand like an overheated, grumpy merman. Scolds Francis for making him wait, then pulls him down and won’t even let Francis move them off the beach until they’ve done it a few times. Something about this heat has made it almost as bad as the first one and it started coming on halfway across the Atlantic. No amount of whining from Francis about sand in his hair or his new clothes getting ruined is going to make Arthur wait a moment longer for that knot. Even after Francis puts his foot down when the tide starts coming in and drags Arthur inland, they still keep at it. Marathon session that goes on and on until they’re both sore, sticky, and totally exhausted.

Francis: Needy this time weren’t we, mon lapin?

Arthur: Mmmm…*Sated omega sounds followed by three day sleep*

Francis stays by Arthur’s side and brings him food when he wakes up. He can’t explain why. He just…really wants to. Struts and sashays right into the English settlement, commandeers a kitchen and supplies, and just dares them to object, lmao. No one is that dumb! So Arthur gets a French feast when he wakes up. Then Francis keeps hanging around and staying close. Eventually a secretly pleased but outwardly embarrassed tsundere Arthur has to shoo him away back to his own lands. The food and aftercare are nice but people might start to talk and suspect, you know? They’re still supposed to be enemies.

Afterwards life carries on and things go back to normal. They get distracted by the day-to-day routine of being nations. So much so that Francis fails to notice when Arthur doesn’t call on him for help with his heats. It’s only when Arthur misses a third time that he starts to wonder. But then, Arthur was a late bloomer and their cycles are always a little wacky. Not so weird to skip a heat or two then have several close together. Francis isn’t too worried and neither is Arthur. Then he starts getting other weird symptoms. Often at hilariously inopportune times:

Arthur: *Mid Anglo-Spanish naval battle* Die, Catholic dog! You…

Antonio:….Yes?

Arthur:…One moment, please. *Dashes to the side of the ship to throw up*

Antonio:…Comida inglesa, ni siquiera una vez.

We’ve basically entered a pregnancy focused romantic comedy at this stage, lol. Not that anyone realises for a long time, Francis and Arthur included. It should be obvious: Arthur throwing up, not getting his heats, the alphas around him (even his enemies) suddenly not wanting to hurt him as much and pulling their punches when they fight, Francis wanting to stick around and be by his side, etc. It shouldn’t take a genius to work out what’s happening. But remember, hardly anyone knows Arthur is an omega at this point. Plus this kind of nation-person pregnancy is something that had passed into antiquity and become a myth. So everyone’s density is justfied.

In the end, it’s Alasdair who works it out first. He’s an alpha and Arthur’s older brother so his own protective instincts had to be going crazy. Which, on top of all the other changes Arthur is going through, the biggest telltale is his scent. Arthur’s brothers know him best out of everyone and, as the group’s sole alpha, Alasdair’s nose picks up what should be impossible. He thinks he’s wrong for months but the evidence keeps piling up. One morning he comes in to find Arthur slumped over with his head in a bucket as has become a common occurrence lately. Then, while Arthur’s good and distracted, Alasdair sneaks up to scent him. Then rips up his shirt and sees that barely there, slightly rounded middle. There’s no denying it then. Arthur’s omega nature and his “arrangement” with Francis was an open secret in the British Isles family. Arthur’s hastily put together potions and spells could disguise his scent enough to fool other nation-people, but not them. They all suspected but none of them, not even Alasdair, ever said anything out of respect for Arthur’s feelings. They knew what a blow it must have been for him. In spite of everything, they still care for the idiot, you know? He’s still their little brother.

Alasdair accuses Arthur in his ordinary, ultra blunt, Scottish way. Arthur brushes him off as being crazy. Alasdair leaves and comes back with Dylan and one of his books on the ancient history of their kind. Dylan is convinced, Arthur isn’t. You know how he is: denial all the way, baby! Dylan says Arthur is sick because the child needs to spend time in the New World where it will be born. Needs to soak up the energy of the land and the like. Otherwise…bad things, for both of them. Arthur says “you’re all crazy stop being crazy go away, crazy acting brothers of mine” but Alasdair says “right, then!” and just grabs Arthur up. Then, with Dylan’s help, they bundle their furious, spitting sibling onto a ship headed for Virginia. Alasdair goes with him. Meanwhile Dylan heads across the channel to tell Francis (“DYLAN DON’T YOU DARE DYLAN I WILL KILL YOU I SWEAR IF YOU SAY ONE WORD TO THE FROG-” - Arthur, probably). Francis is stunned by the news. Stunned and…cautiously ecstatic? I know he really wishes he could have a family in canon. Oh man, he would so want to believe this is real. But also be so afraid to get his hopes up because it sounds impossible. The drama! We love it. 🥺 Francis jumps on the fastest ship they have and sails to the English settlement to be reunited with Arthur. After a hilariously awkward conversation between the Auld Alliance duo (“…so, seems ye knocked up my little brother” “…oui, seems I did” “…aye, carry on, then” “merci”) Francis is allowed into the bedroom to see Arthur. Who’s still a Scottish prisoner, still in denial, and sulking like mad in a nest he made. Don’t ask him why he keeps wanting to make nests these days even though he hasn’t had a heat in ages. Well, you can ask but the only answer you will get is shut up and go away, dickhead. Arthur Bloody Kirkland is the face of the United Bloody Kingdom and he can make bloody nests if he bloody wants to! *Hissy tsundere noises*

Arthur tries to bluster at Francis to go away or better yet help him throttle Alasdair who’s obviously gone mental, but Francis doesn’t give him the chance. Just pounces and kisses Arthur, cheats shamelessly by using wicked lips and fingers on the omega spot on Arthur’s neck, making him go all loose and purry. Then Francis presses both their hands to Arthur’s stomach and they feel something move.

One of the NA twins - probably Alfred, I mean let’s be honest - waking up to say hello.

Even Arthur can’t deny it after that. Shocked and furious, he tries to rant at Francis (“WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO ME YOU FUCKING FROG! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! I’LL FUCKING SKIN YOU FOR THIS-!” - Arthur, definitely) but Francis is crying too hard to notice. Then he’s laughing and sobbing at the same time: hugging Arthur, professing his love, and kissing his lips off. Arthur’s shock and fear based rage stands no chance in the face of Francis’s thousand years plus heartfelt yearning for a family. He gives in and lets Francis have his moment of ecstasy. The kissing soon evolves into something else and Francis almost loses control and gives Arthur a mating bite, but pulls back at the last second. They’re not ready for that. Arthur noticed. Arthur didn’t say he did. Arthur is secretly grateful and feels his heart flutter even so.

Things go pretty smoothly after the big revelation, all things considered. High emotions settle and they start planning. Arthur stays in the New World and so does Francis. They have their people build a small cabin on the border between their territories so Arthur can have some peace away from curious human eyes. Alasdair goes back to Britain and takes over as leader of the UK for the time being. Dylan scrapes together every bit of knowledge about nation-person pregnancy he can (not much and not all of it useful) and brings it to the FrUK couple along with the usual books on human birth. They all decide to keep it secret from the rest of their kind. Otherwise everyone would want to come and see this miraculous anomaly. Arthur is stressed enough as it is even if he is starting to come round to the idea. No one wants him and the baby to become objects of curiosity. Then the time comes and Francis is with Arthur for it. Getting screamed at, getting his fingers crushed, taking promises that Arthur will FUCKING MURDER HIM FOR THIS-AAAAARRGGHHH!!! without complaint. It goes just like an ordinary human birth. The only surprise is two babies pop out instead of the one they expected. Arthur names the oldest Alfred, after his great king. Francis, when he finally stops sobbing, names the other Matthew. They know by instinct that their true names are America and Canada. When Francis nuzzles Arthur’s neck and kisses that special place with a soft whisper of “mon amour” Arthur knows he’s asking permission. He says “yes” and Francis bites him, leaving his mark as their new sons sleep between them.

Afterwards Arthur moans and complains that the bite was a stupid idea and now he has to wear a damn neckerchief or cravat even in the fucking tropics, but he doesn’t really mind. It’s him who orders a pair of gold rings for them to wear, hidden by gloves or else worn on chains under their shirts. ❤️ Yeah, they become mates much sooner in this version of events, heh. It’s still a secret though, even to their kids before their old enough not to accidentally reveal it to anyone else. Alfred belongs to America, so he lives in the English colonies. Matthew is of Canada, so Francis raises him until the British win the French Canadian territory and Matthew moves in with Arthur instead. They’re still national personifications and have to obey the politics of the day. So they can’t live together as a family as if they were human. Sad, but we know it turns out all right in the end. Peace comes eventually and they can be a family then. And that’s where I’ll leave this AU, I think. This post is already pretty long.

Hope you enjoyed reading! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[floralcrematorium]

have you seen the new fruk pics from the hetamusical??? notable!!!

YES THATS WHAT MADE ME SAY FRUK NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING

literally for the last week, week and a half? i have been utterly internally inconsolable just thinking about sweet and fluffy fruk. i know fruk isn’t too popular if they’re not out for each other’s throats since people really like the ENEMIES to lovers aspect BUT I DO NOT CARE. i’ve had enough i played with fruk enemies to lovers with emphasis on enemies in the past. I AM NOW HERE FOR THE LOVERS

sweet and doting fruk, they could never take you away from me. they could never take you away fro me. let them be silly. let them be so so sweet

fruk is ruining my life rn i get 4 hours of sleep at night because i’m either too busy yapping about them or too busy writing my WIPs

this is a desperate cry for help

[fumblingmusings]

Hello, I saw your post about FrUK. It is a year old post, but I wanted to say that I feel like Spain and France's rivalry pales in comparison to France and England's, you should give England more credit I feel 😭😭 the latter rivalry's impact was still huge on respective nations, even if it wasn't always as equal as Brits make it out to be

Oh gosh, I would never argue that France and UK aren't tangled together for sure, nor would I argue against anyone who thinks the UK and France are permanently sitting in each other's top three most influential partners.

I just think... So to explain why I'm always a bit 'well yes but no' for them I mean, is The Plantagenet conflicts were very much a dynastic bickering between two families and England inserting themselves into French business, rather than 'the Kingdom of England' trying to overthrow 'the Kingdom of France'.

I think it was very much a French Duke based around West France (who was coincidentally King of England) quarralling with a French king based in Central and Eastern France. Does that make sense? You can argue it was much more of an internal civil war with troops from England being shipped over to support one side, rather than the clear-cut 1v1 conflict.

Like, it's based around different French Kings trying desperately to boot the other family off any claim to the French throne and gain control of land that 'should' be theirs. No French king ever really wanted England. Plenty of English Kings have wanted France, but only insofar in that they were French themselves. Normandy, Aquitane, Gascony, and England were all lumped together. England was useful because he gave them the title of King compared to the French lands, which were merely Dukes. That's the only reason England mattered in many respects in the 13th century. The Hundred Years War was based around a slight where England was not enough in of himself, his Kings were greedy and wanted more. The Plantagenet wanted those French lands back, and did horrific things to France in the process.

BUT!!! This for sure changes with time. By the time of Agincourt, it was not a French Duke with a supplementary English title of King versus the actual French King: it was now framed as England v France. One of the first instances of the great time that is English nationalism.

Like here, the French offer of peace in 1396 - it's all about how England needs to back the fuck off because there are bigger problems for the French -

It reads very much like Francis grumbling for Arthur to get a grip. We should be mates dumbo! It's why the Tudors I see as being such a huge shift for Arthur. He is enough, on his own, but he could be more. He, throughout that century, grows increasingly disillusioned with the mainland. He loses Burgundy and Portugal to Spain, and he loses Flanders to France. Those were his friends, you know??? He didn't have that many to begin with! They were taken as part of a broader dick measuring contest between Captiens and Habsburgs. England really didn’t feature in that decision making. Instead, Spain and France used England like a ping pong ball in their game to undermine the other. Ergo, Arthur cannot trust Europe. So he looks elsewhere for power and control. Cue the Americas. All an extension of this European conflict.

It's something I think Hetalia actually gets sort of right in the dynamic writing- England being seen as small and lesser and just plain envious and France only ever really engaging with him to crow about how much better the French are than England.

I suppose I just think of FrUK as being a shifting dynamic, which is always centred around Arthur's need to be on equal footing to Francis, and it takes him a long time to get there. It's just for the first 500 years, Arthur himself wasn't even of consequence to the people he looked to in order to complete this task (i.e. his Kings who weren't named Edward I or Henry IV). He was useful for his name - that bloody title of KING - and not much more. By the time we get to the Tudors, particularly Liz I, Arthur gets to hear he is the centre of the world, a beacon for freedom for Protestant Europe. I imagine then, the conflict between him and Francis becomes much more personal, ironically with Arthur dropping any claims to the mainland.

Arthur's priority is to make sure there's no single power on top in Europe from about 1500 on. Once the French had well and truly kicked out any Plantagenet pretence to their land, France's goal is to be the dominant power in (Western) Europe. Arthur will always butt heads with Francis. Francis will not necessarily always butt heads with Arthur, since Arthur has no want of being number one in Europe.

This has been such a ramble. This is long and confusing, sorry. I don't mean to sell FrUK short at all!! It truly is a rivalry and love for the ages, like God I have written too much here. I just felt like the Spain France element is critically undervalued in the English speaking fandom when I first spoke of them. At least, from 1000-1500, it's Francis against differing parts of himself (one of which is using Arthur as a brutal destructive hurricane in a misdirected payback for Normandy) . 1500-1700 its Antonio always. But 1700-1850, oh yeah, it's Arthur and Francis all the way, baby.

Or at least, that's one way to frame them! I hope this all makes sense. That's how I read the early years. At least. It's one way to read it rather! Not the only way. Not the right way, either!

Tell you what, I was reading Brendan Simms 'Britain's Europe' the other month (it was a pre Brexit narrative written trying to argue that we have never not been deeply tied into the mainland) and it's so interesting to me, how frightened we were of the mainland. I would love a book in reverse however, what actions did European states make to preempt or respond to English actions.

To contradict myself from all that above that is: There's this one bit about how, just after Charles II came back after Cromwell died, that France was invading the lowlands and how there was a bunch of European thinkers bemoaning England's withdrawal from mainland politics. England was seen (accurately or not) as a land of liberty. France was not. I just think it's a great little bit of storytelling:

Europe frequently banked on England interfering in French ambitions. These two didn’t have the courtesy to make their bizarre rivalry between them. Half the HRE, Italy, and the Lowlands counted on England's ability to shove themselves in as a bulwark against France. It crops up again of course during the 18th Century, then again during Pax Britannia and finally again (this time against Germany) in WWII. England has a history of being prescribed 'last man standing' when it comes to Europe. That is not to say that Europe is necessarily happy with them having such a title though hahaha.

It's a good wee book! Quick read for sure.

Sorry, gone off topic as always...

[lemon-leviathan]

Would Anyone Be Interested In A FrUk Fanfic?

So A While Back I Was Doing A Roleplay With Someone On Amino, And While It Wasn’t Originally FrUK We Did Them As A Secondary Ship. The Roleplay Unfortunately Hasn’t Been Active For A While, BUt I Kinda Wanna Turn Out FrUk Bit Into An Actual Story. If I’ve Peaked Your Interest Here’s The Basic Plot.

Arthur And Francis Got Divorced But Ended Things On Good Terms. They Stayed Close By And Kept In Touch Quite Literally Living On The Same Street. One Day During A BTT Conversation, The Topic Of Their Divorce Comes Up And Francis Says They Simply Fell Out of Love And That He Didn’t Feel Like Talking About A Failed Marriage But Rather New Love (Prussia And Canada Were A Thing, Not Important) Anyway Prussia Asks How Failed Of A Marriage It Really Was If Arthur Still Wore His Wedding Ring. Francis Still Somewhat In Love With Arthur Invites Him Out To Dinner Desperate To See If What PrussiaHad Said About The Ring Was True.

From There It’s Basically Them Going On A Date And Getting Back Together. It’s Cute, It’s Fluffy, Kinda Sad Because Of Them Reminiscing About Their Past. They’re Idiots And They’re Still In Love.

[endlesscolddreams]

Why fruk? All they do is fight!!! That's exhausting and toxic

I know I took a long time to reply to this but I wanted to have time for it.

There are many reasons, from the usual rivals to lovers to the doomed lovers and gravitational forces that keep clashing to the lovely reason of face family (children), but I'll admit, I don't think face family is a thing. While I do love it, I don't think it's realistic at all in nation aus, they're too young and focused on ambitions and other matters; besides, they'd never join to raise the kids because France is not a parent, only when kids are older and interesting; England mellowed to kids with age, but he was a brat himself, America was the one pulling the strings like only a child does, tbh. 

I could give you many reasons, from their personalities to the fact that there's not a single soul that knows them better than the one who witnessed all your failures and victories, but I decided to address the point you make about it being exhausting.

It is, but at the same time, it's invigorating.

As someone who comes from a house of maniacs who always fought, I'll admit I don't understand it that well sometimes, but there's a point to be made here, and that is: love is not enough.

These two are really good to showcase this point because they do love and hate each other like no one else, and that's not enough. I think that's the main appeal of this ship tbh.

Their love is not enough to be together, not enough to be apart, not enough to ignore the other, and not enough to lower their guard and properly try. And isn't that the most humane and real fact? I do gravitate towards them in all the ways they're portrayed because of it. You can make them sweet, you can make them less proud, and you can make them human and fragile, but in the end, they're who they are and will always fight. But while they do fight a lot, they are used to it; they're desensitised to it, even if it looks toxic or abusive. They have a mutual understanding that no one—them included—can understand properly, but it works for them, which is enough to make them crave this push-pull relationship.

They are ancient, they are used to a certain level of cruelty, and their morals are flexible. Besides,  they have thick skin and don't care about certain words or violence. They are and always will be opposites, that's how they operate, their role in the world, and how they feel comfortable acting, because that's what built their identities up and carved their name in history.

(BTW if their hate was really deep and vicious, they would use Canada and America against each other, and the lack of shippers of frus and engcan tells me that maybe people do get that deep down they don't hate each other.)

They're also sadomasochistic in complementary ways. They both enjoy causing each other pain.

As I see it, France is more of an emotional sadomasochist; he finds real pleasure in humiliating people, and tears can be aphrodisiac in beautiful individuals, so it's a treat when he can't wrap someone in his fingers, and England doesn't give him that pleasure. He also enjoys feeling pain; he is that one individual who abides by the rule that the most pleasure can only be obtained with a certain amount of pain, and he does love teasing but can't handle it himself. Who else can fulfil his inner desires? Even those he will never admit he has? England will because he sees who he really is underneath his well-made web. England can make him feel his own poison, and as much as it's infuriating, it makes him addicted to more, and he won't deny himself that pleasure. (No pleasure goes to waste for that guy)

England craves something more physical and cathartic, so he enjoys when the other presses and doesn't give up when he doesn't give them the pleasure of showing his pain (he is too proud, really). He also has a sharp tongue that hurts people without his intent, so he needs someone who loves himself enough to not break with his vitriolic words (France loves himself too much to believe his words). England also enjoys hurting and being hurt; it can be relieving and usually clears his mind, as little does. Besides, it's a win-win situation because France also looks his best trying to contain his tears at his feet and is amazing at teasing England until he breaks down without taking advantage because he prides himself on being a good lover above all, even his own desires sometimes, which can be reassuring to someone as jaded as England.

There's also the fact that he does enjoy playing the game. England enjoys mental games, and this is pretty much an even one; sometimes he breaks, sometimes France breaks, which will never cease to be a motivator to keep it up despite that nasty fact that France enjoys reasons to do things, emotions, and all that crap. France is invested; he finds it fascinating in several ways and longs to be the one to really understand England or make him fall for him, whichever comes first (he lacks self-awareness sometimes for such a self-proclaimed wise nation). And England is, underneath all his bitterness, a little romantic, so he quite enjoys being pursued, so why not? At least the frog is one of the best-looking nations, despite his many flaws. (I will admit I don't really portray England as tsundere as the anime makes him but the fact still is that he will never be open about his desires, will never be dovey and sweet as France wished him to be but France kind of grew to like that part of him too, despite not being cute)

I could also add the fact that they're both dominant. That's another point of contempt but also complimentary; I'm simply in love with the idea that they switch up and France is that annoying dominant bottom who uses England as he wishes, not really realising that England quite likes being used like that (cough, cough, English vices). They never win with each other because they end up unwillingly giving each other reasons to keep up.

France calls it fate, England his curse. Either way, they'll always be connected by history, geography, and even humanity.

I rambled my way around the point, but the thing is, they enjoy this game, (It's their game) and yes, it can be tiresome.

Sometimes they really need to step out and give it a rest, but they're both confident enough to know it's temporary. They'll cool down when things get too bad and then call each other to gossip about something and find each other in the same bed in a single day, not really knowing how but thinking that yes, they actually missed that annoying guy.

Personally, I don't see them fighting all that much, but they do know where to poke to provoke, and France is usually the one poking because he needs drama in his life, and England gets bored easily, so he needs a push to keep lively, but they do know where to stop. (England goes along with it because it suits him and everything is boring; he keeps thinking too much, and this way he's engaged in something that's not self-destructive for once. France just lives for the movie life the drama queen)

So, they don't fight as much as you'd think; it's mostly for show because they need to be the antagonist force, and it's mostly about their differences in handling things and views that usually don't stray all that far, so it's reserved for their nationhood things. The fact that in Canon France demands to fight/argue with Germany also adds to my view, because who will counter him now? (He needs that voice of reason/oposition/ there; it's just unnatural to not have it there.)

So yeah, it can be tiresome, but in a comforting way. Is that a good reason to ship them? Maybe not, but there's no doubt they make a compelling case. Be it hate or love, they're not indifferent to each other, and that's a fact.

Sorry for the long rant but I've received like 3 questions about fruk and I joined most points here.

[sour-sailin]

Sorta random ask but do you have any favorite manga strip/moment in hetalia ? thank you for all the fruk art by the way :heart:

Gonna be so honest i havent read very far into the manga... i binge read chapters that include the characters i like maybe once a week but i dont remeber most of them LOL

having said that i do have some manga panels & chapters that I find particularly amusing... most of them are fruk/fruk adjacent, obviously. random pannels first... (cutting this post here because its kind of long... theres a pattern here of people asking me my favorites of something and i give them like 20 favorites. my bad lol)

arthur fantasizing about francis being in love with him. golden. more or this hima please.

Honestly any two panels where theyre fighting (im sick in the head)

all the moments they have in ganstertalia together... cute...very amusing to me... particularly arthur picking at francis and being kind of mean <3 i like seeing francis being thrown off his balance god aughh that pannel of him blushing at arthurs smile???? hello??? cries.

As for actual chapters...

that one run of chapters about brexit/post brexit where francis is just actively trying to make arthur suffer??? in retaliation??? listening to his agonized screams???? insane. crazy. love weird sadist francis. very fun...

also the blatant flirting. made my head explode. i mean like yes flirting with the goal to piss him off but flirting nonetheless.

ummmm also i like the chapters about canada's independence because a lot of the can-us-uk relations are on display there and that made me happy

those few chapters where portugal tied up spain and poured olive oil on him. yeah.

those are all the moments i can think of off the top of my head! in general though i find myself laughing & enjoying most hetalia comic strips so idk. v fun series (obviously, otherwise i wouldnt be here lol)

Sidenote translations for the mainline hws comic in this post are by hetascanlations here on tumblr and the gangstertalia translations are from twitter user verusmayaii!

and as always im glad to share my fruk art with tha world... happy to find others on here with the same fondness i have for this ship hehe (^_^)/

[hilaritas-helianthus]

Don't joke, please Hahaha yesterday I just cried because I saw a beautiful doujinshi about the end of the world and how Arthur and Francis said goodbye and remembered their experiences together… Just I cried like it's was no tomorrow TwT

Here I share with you this pice of art.

Warming: Sad very sad thingy, end of the wold topic, Fruk, sad music…

Credit to: Antonio Fernandez Carriedo who find out the doujinshi on and made out this video…

[vanessalocke]

do you think that Francis and Arthur trade their roles a little in the way that Francis is apparently the more masculine and stronger but actually feels more soft and feminine than Arthur while Arthur brings more of that patriarchal feeling? I don't know I think it's fun to play with those subjects and it fits several of their moments from the french being considerated effeminated to the English overtly gay

That's why I ship both FrUK and UKFr. Both are reasonable, Arthur and Francis can both take on top and bot roles with each other.

I have a headcanon that Francis is actually quite a patriarch. To be more precise, in his youth he was a very patriarchal person (more so than Arthur). I say this not only because the Salic code only allows male heirs, but also because French men are actually notoriously conservative. Yet as time has honed the harshness of his personality, he has become calmer and more peaceful.

However, Francis is a patriarch, but Francis does not hold too many stereotypes about women. He believes that men should lead the family and take the lead in politics, but that does not mean that he denies women's abilities. He will not encourage women to participate in politics (in the sense of participating in the state apparatus) because he feels the harshness of politics will erode women and he doesn't want that, but he will encourage women to develop themselves in the field of science and technology, and will not prevent women from contributing to culture, art and poetry.

France is the birthplace of many brave and outstanding women. Jeanne d'Arc is legendary. Besides Jeanne d'Arc, I quite like Louise Michel and Simone Weil, both of whom are known as the Red Virgin, they went to prison many times without fear, and they gave away all their wealth to the poor. France has Jeannette Guyot, one of the women who received the most medals in World War II. France also has Jacqueline Auriol, one of the first female pilots. She underwent 33 surgeries, set five world airspeed records, and was a member of the Académie de l'air et de l'espace. Ines de la Fressange is the most beautiful and gorgeous woman I have ever known. With the exception of Jeanne d'Arc and Fressange, these are women who (in my opinion) are underrated compared to the French women always mentioned in the media like Brigitte, Coco Chanel or Simone de Beauvoir.

Arthur is in the opposite situation. He is very partriarch (and has a lot of testosterone), but in the opposite direction compared to Francis. He has no problem with women holding power in the family and leadership in politics, provided that the woman proves she is capable of doing so. However, he always thinks that those women are "exceptions", and his view of women in general is that women are naive and incompetent creatures. Although he has many prejudices about women, his chivalry will cause him to sacrifice his life to protect them. And if you can prove to him that you are capable, he will recognize you fairly. He feels there was no problem with women having economic and political power, but he strongly dislikes the idea of ​​women fighting in force. Arthur would rather die than fight a woman. The queens of England are so famous that I won't list them here.

In the AUs where both Francis and Arthur are homosexual, they are both still patriarchal but very respectful and tend to protect women. They even love and protect women much more than some straight guys. I always thought they were very pampered and protected Belgium and Seychelles together (in HumanAU).

Both Arthur and Francis considered themselves responsible for providing for their families. Arthur did not cede that position of provider and protector to anyone. Francis in his youth would have been just like Arthur, but as he became older, he relaxed and felt it didn't matter who was on top/the head of the family. If his spouse wants to provide and protect him voluntarily, he will let that person do so (in case he finds them capable). This allows Arthur to satisfy his patriarchy when he is with Francis.

TL; DR: whether FrUK or UKFr, Arthur will still be the head of the family.