#but like fruk is good too

[cowboy-robooty]

no guys you dont get it itager isnt sweet and tender in the domestic gay lovey dovey way theyre sweet and tender in the BRO way

[novuit]

Sorry I'm aliveeeee. I spent too much time thinking and not enough drawing :')

[breitzbachbea]

turgre for the ask game? i know your thoughts but i want to hear more >:)

:) *vibrates*

Send me a ship and I'll grade it

A+: OTP. I love it, no notes, they're the only ship tag I have favourited on Ao3. Read fanfic that reduced me to literal tears and heaving. They're not perfect for basic vanilla domestic stuff, but anything even a little spicier goes. I have written drabbles, fanfics, essays about these motherfuckers, trying to summarize my feelings is impossible. I love it when two people are so obsessed with each other it is literally to the detriment of everyone around them and ESPECIALLY their own.

Also, just, Herakles as the always out of reach object of desire and Sadık as a man who wants to own the world is such a good combination. No one will ever love Herakles as madly as Sadık does and Hera KNOWS, and no one's love will ever be as precious to Sadık as Hera's and HE KNOWS, too.

[fireandspiceland]

Teacher au with teacher Switzerland and parent Austria would work too. He just knows Basch has been crushing on him since the first teachers-parents meeting and if he has to take advantage of it to make his son pass the Swiss' boring class, he will.

Switzerland would act all stern and horrified at first, probably threatening to report the situation to the principal or the police but we all know he's been (begrudgingly) dreaming of this since the beginning of the year.

I don't even ship it but somehow I had this scenario playing in my mind 🙈

I FEEL YOU ABOUT THIS I also don't really ship it but honestly?? Yes?? It works and I love it for them.

Switzerland: Do you want me to report this?! I'm going to do it!

Austria: Okay? Then do it (coward).

Switzerland: *continues to find excuses why he doesn't report it right away*

[stirringwinds]

While I feel that hws France is hard to portray I do wonder what headcanons you have for him. Care to tell a few that come to mind?

a lot of my headcanons of francis/françois are from the british imperial + sea/east asian perspective, so with that in mind, these are some thoughts i've had:

a. françois' strengths are that he can be very charming and good at putting people at ease. he is somebody, if you ran into him somewhere, just comes off as a really interesting person. he can talk for ages about his passion for philosophy, art, literature, science and cooking without it getting boring to the listener.

b. he can be a really good lover too and is that sort of person who considers it a point of pride to make his partners enjoy his company. the sort of person who will make dinner and probably also a good breakfast for you. but one of his flaws is that he can also be pretty self-centred at times, and sometimes he uses his charisma to get out of things or simply dodge issues in his personal relationships.

c. françois, much like arthur, is in the Bad Parent club vis a vis matthew in the 17—18th centuries. where they differ however, is i feel that arthur was controlling but more...present, whereas françois was more...dismissive. matthew would get letters from arthur instructing him to do this and that, which for matthew at least acknowledged him, whereas françois might just not even write to him much at all, especially after matthew came under arthur's control.

d. françois really clicked with alfred during the revolutionary war. it helped that alfred was punching arthur in the dick, but i think that françois for all his flaws, genuinely possesses a somewhat more idealistic streak (than say, arthur imo) so that gelled well with alfred spouting all kinds of enlightenment thoughts (especially since he was also reading french writers like Montesquieu).

e. françois and lien (vietnam) have a complicated (to say the least) relationship due to the history of french imperialism over vietnam; i see francis being much younger than her (she and yao are peers in age!), so lien fitted him very much into her prior experience as an older female nation being forced to deal with 'boys playing at being empires'. lien probably shot him in the face at least once during the first indochina war, that tried to re-establish colonial rule over vietnam in the 1950s. however, i do think they can talk more cordially in more recent decades, with normalisation of ties. cooking is perhaps one topic that is a common interest—vietnamese banh mi is a kind of sandwich originating from french baguettes that incorporates local ingredients, and it's a really tasty and popular streetfood. there's also a big french-vietnamese population in paris today.

f. kiku was absolutely not impressed by monet's la japonaise, nor 'madame chrysanthème', the wildly racist and orientalist mess that Madame Butterfly was based on. it was exoticising, not flattering to him—he was however, more amenable to those of françois' artists that incorporated japanese artistic techniques in more genuine ways, or with françois' own view of aesthetics and his knowledge and interest in engineering.

g. yao, much like kiku later, was someone françois was very interested in culturally—as seen from the boom in chinoiserie when trade with china began back in the 17th century. i think french is probably one of the first european languages yao learns (besides portuguese). it's a fairly functional trading relationship—until of course, french imperialist interests began expanding in yao's sphere of influence and the opium wars.

h. i'm a fruk fan so naturally i think his love-hate relationship with arthur is one of his most significant r/ships—arthur has been a neighbour, friend, enemy, lover and everything in between. but! scotfra is another very, very long-term relationship important to him (auld alliance!). also on an EU level well, there's him and ludwig too.

i. naturally, he's also fairly fashionable, and i feel like he'll always eye himself critically even if he's going out casually, compared to way i can see arthur being fairly chill about strolling out in that questionable, ill-fitting acid green christmas sweater alfred sent him as a joke once. i also think françois probably smokes a fair bit, compared to how arthur's gotten a kick in the arse to cut back after WWII. and nowadays, he'll often just be relaxing with a cigarette on the balcony of his apartment with a book, or enjoying a day out in one of his museums.

[ego-meliorem-esse]

Okay but why do François and Arthur keep separating if they are the only ones who understand each other that well? It's their arrogant personality? Their vicious habits and need to be correct? Bc I actually see françois more aggressive and Arthur more permissive in the end which seems to be contradictory to what I see people writing in the fruk shippers. I don't get it, no hate

Nah nah all good valid question and i do agree actually on most of what you say.

They dont separate in the traditional and common way we associate humans and human relationships with. Not fully.

Lets say they spend a vacation together. They go to the beach and drink and find bars and terorrize supermarkets during their stay. They are happy and content and a destrucrive power couple. But they are still nations and nations have more responsibilities than two moddle aged human men could ever have. So they clash on a thing or two. One takes a stab at an old phychologial wound thought healed. The other gets irritated but doesnt express it (cus emotional repression is legal apparently) and he takes a jab at the other at their weak spot. And they are irritated at each other and start to bicker bc both are too hardheaded to apologize or talk like people who didnt grow up during the middle ages. Now any small mishap irritates the other. A big fight then separation. They dont see eath other for a longer period of time after that. They might hit it off again with an old friend/enemy/lover and its fine. The problem is that François knows exactly what to say and what nerve to pick and get on it to get Arthur to react as he wants. And Arthur is too much of a sarcastic person and generally a man who enjoys a good challege which he might not get from everyone he interacts with. At least not precisely the way he likes. Like Alfred, Arthur gets bored seemingly quickly with a person. Also his affection can be missinterpreted as belittlement or even a jibe or taunt. He portrays himself as polite and appropriate but in truth he is a hard man to get along with. And few people know how to deal and distinguish his comments.

So after a randevouz with Portugal whom he hasnt seen in a while, he is once again sitting at home by himself pondering what takeout to get bc who has time to cook these days. He is still annoyed with francois but doesnt think too much of it. So after a while something happens and he wants to talk to someone about it, so having all but forgotten their little feud he picks up the phone and dials the french phone number. François picks up and you can hear the irritation in the "I thought the lord is still pissed at me. What a surprise." To which Arthur responds with "Oh do shut up. Now listen I've recetly got word that......" because who can be as stubborn as mules yet forgetful as fish at the same time? These two.

I do think to a certain degree Arthur is more permissive. Especially as he got older and saw his empire sink into that ocean he loved so much. François has more of a need to prove that he is still on top of the game so he does tend to be more assertive in some situations and discussions.

Even if they dont speak to eachother for multiple years at a time, something will come that hauls them back to one another. Be it shared history, mutual understanding or good gossip.

In short, small things break them apart and smaller things bring them together.

[olympeline]

FrUK FACE family Parent Trap AU, part 7! Part 1

So, Alfred and Matthew made a successful switcheroo and are now living with their other respective dads. The first few days for both of them just pass in a whirlwind of new experiences: new sights, new sounds, new smells, new surroundings. Alfred and Mattie struggle to take it all in, but in a good way. And, of course, at the centre of it all is Francis and Arthur. It’s tricky being around them because the twins want to get to know them so badly but they can’t act like it because that would be weird. Alfred in particular has to dash out of the house to go run around with Mr. Kumajiro a couple of times because the need was getting too much. Francis notices “Mattie” has become more energetic, but accepts Alfred’s excuse that he got really into sports at camp. It’s not such a stretch since Matthew has always been outdoorsy anyway and Francis puts it down to his little boy growing up. Wine, misty eyes, and a long purusing of their family photo album once Alfred has gone to bed that night. Francis may be a suburban dad now with a mortgage and PTA meetings, but he sees no point in life if one can’t be dramatic every once in a while ;)

Then, Summer is over, and the twins have to go back to school. Alfred to Matthew’s fancy private school, and Matthew to Alfred’s normal NYC public school. Alfred puts on his uniform (urgh, monkey suit! Didn’t his dad used to wear something like this?) and is surprised when Francis drives him to school rather than let him walk or get the bus. The school is pretty close, but Francis does it anyway. He’s chill about things like Alfred’s earring, but then pivots and is overprotective about stuff like Matthew getting to school alone. Weird. Meanwhile, Mattie braces himself for the journey on the subway. Arthur is generally stricter than Francis, but he trusts “Alfred” to make his own way to school right through the heart of New York? Weird.

School for both of them goes about as well as it could. Alfred has a lot of friends and Mattie is immediately swept up in their hustle and bustle. Acting up in class pains him, but he has to do it to maintain the illusion. Alfred isn’t a bad kid, but he is a loud and energetic one. Matthew does his best (cringing inside) but his teachers still comment on his good behaviour. Mattie is worried…until he goes home and sees how pleased Arthur is. The teacher messaged him and Arthur couldn’t be prouder “Alfred” is taking school more seriously. Mattie can’t feel too bad about it then. Not after seeing his dad smile. Until Arthur bakes them some cakes to celebrate.

It’s a curse, Mattie thinks to himself as he struggles to chew through the charcoal without his eyes watering. A satanic curse. It must be, eh?

Meanwhile, Alfred does his best to keep up his Mattie act in his new “ooh, la, la” (his words) private school environment. Matthew is a model student, behaviour wise, and warned Alfred that he can’t get in trouble even a little or people will suspect. This is not easy for Alfred. Even less because Matthew is also a loner, so he has noone to help distract him from the boredom. It’s not that the other kids dislike Matthew, rather they just don’t seem to notice him. The teachers appreciate how well behaved he is but they also tend to forget he exists. Again, extremely not easy for extroverted, vivacious Alfred. He can’t keep his exuberance fully under control and it’s a shocker moment for the class when their geography teacher has to tell Matthew Bonnefoy to pay attention for the first time ever(!) Haha, oops. At least they didn’t call Francis. Yet.

The twins have kept in contact and message each other frequently for hints and tips, and (in Alfred’s case) reminders about French vocabulary. They have a long talk about school after the first week and Mattie is irritated and stung when Alfred thoughtlessly comments on his lack of friends. Matthew snipes back about how happy Arthur was when the teacher complimented “Alfred” on his behaviour. Something which gets to Alfred more than he likes to admit. The boys end their talk early that night and both go to bed feeling ruffled.

The next morning when Matthew wakes up, he comes down to breakfast (🥲) as usual. Only to freeze in the kitchen doorway when he sees who’s making it. Arthur is sitting at the table, reading the paper news he still refuses to trade in for an app. At the stove, cooking omlettes that actually smell good, is:

“Buenos días, Al! You want two eggs or three?”

Mattie recognizes the handsone spaniard from the pictures Alfred showed him. His work trip done, Tony is back.

(Life has been busy so here’s a shorter update. Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for part 8 (´ε｀ )♡)

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Can I get a 20- this is all your fault? I feel fruk in this but would love to see what delicious ideas you have for anyone!

I am so gone. I don't know if this makes sense, but I TRIED. It's been so long since I wrote fruk, and what comes out? fluffy banter-filled Proto-smut. Not full frontal but definitely making out and intent. Rated F for the French (European, affectionate). Warnings for smut, victorian britain fake-prudery, some light dicking about. On ao3 here.

1840s, England

Arthur awoke not to sound but to its absence. The wind seemed to be dying; it no longer howled down the chimney with the force it had when he'd dosed off. He curled into Francis' back for a moment but made himself rise. He got out of bed, pulled on a dressing gown, shoved his feet into his slippers, took up the lamp, and lit it with much swearing. Francis huffed into the pillow and rolled over, looking harassed.

"Rosbif–" He said his voice thickening with irritation. "It is too early!"

"How would you know? You laze about until noon," Arthur shot back. Lately, Francis had been in one of his hedonistic moods, dressing like a dandy, painting strange art and drinking absinthe at all hours. One had to drink quite a lot of absinthe and rather a lot more whiskey to tolerate the philosophy of the continent. Francis stirred again, and his helix curls shone in the lamplight. Francis looked rather a grumpy, flustered state, and Arthur softened just a bit. There was always something so very endearing about Francis when he wasn't terribly sleek and polished. He let the ghost of a laugh whisper out of his mouth as he swooped to kiss the man on his mussed hairline.

"Come back to bed," Francis muttered, leaning in, reaching out, eyes heavy and dark with want and sleep. A slow, sleepy shag before breakfast was clearly on his mind. Francis made one of a number of his French noises, this one horny and perhaps a bit cold.

"I'm only off to the loo," Arthur lied. He fully intended to start his day. Francis muttered something about how he didn't fancy freezing to death in frozen rainy little England alone. Arthur pecked the foolish fop again and shut the bed hangings behind him. The velvet still rustled as he stepped into the dark hall and began his day.

____________

Well after sunrise, François appeared for breakfast in only his shirt and kissed him. Arthur turned his chin away, intent on drinking his tea.

“The English!” He cried. “You are so cold!”

Lifting his class like a beer bottle, he swung it as if to toast the King's good health. “Hence the lovely tea."

François made his offended noises.

“The English, honestly, you'd leave your mothers to die for a cup of Earl Grey!”

"Oh, do turn down the histrionics,” Arthur sighed. “Sit down, you fool. Let me have my tea and wake up properly before you renew your assaults on the dignity of England,"

François snorted and sat down. "My dear, there's no dignity to assault."

François, never content to sit and eat with anything so lowly as propriety, brought his seat to the same side of the table. He slid his arm around Arthur, his hand pulling along his jacket seam. Mediterranean warmth followed, and Arthur shuddered as François drew his fingers down, trailing the buttons ensuring a snug fit at the back of his waistcoat, and found his way to a sensitive spot along his spine at the small of his back. Arthur put down the tea. He picked it back up, looked left to ensure none of the children or servants were about, and leaned his head in for a quick kiss. A morning peck, that was all. But François' other arm looped around him and kissed his mouth open, gently deepening and pushing.

“For heaven's sake,” Arthur gasped into his jaw. “The children are about to. Have that custard you insist on calling chocolate and keep your hands to yourself.”

“Then let's go somewhere more private,” François whispered, punctuating it with another kiss.

“Not now,” Arthur pulled away. “I’ve things to do.”

“Do it later.”

“I can do you later,”

“You can do me now. And later. The children will still be there tomorrow!"

“Francis,”

“Has Mother England grown soft with her brood?” François teased good-naturedly, reaching down where England was certainly not soft. “You are frumpy now."

“I am quite happy with my—”

“Three year old suit,”

“Its new,” And, ah, there was the indignation, the spike of prideful lust François had been waiting for.

“Perhaps in England,” François sighed.

"It's more than serviceable,”

“For tending to your overly full nursery, mayhap,”

"It's Saville Row, quite bespoke.”

“For playing cricket with toddlers, perhaps.”

"It is so unbecoming, I must–

"For Christ's sake, my best colour is green. If you aren't pleased with this—”

“It is so unbecoming I must take it off you.”

“Ah, well, in that case. I cannot permit myself to offend any further.”

He drew Arthur closer, his fists in his collar. They were then standing, moving, kissing against the wall, back against the panelling, hands scrambling for a grip on the buffet. Arthur gripped his hair; they pushed from the furniture and began the entwined waltz up the stairs back to the privacy of the bedroom. He was practically biting at Arthur’s jaw when he heard footsteps, tiny tapping ones, the click of a small child’s shoes, a gasp, more footsteps, and silence. How had they gotten upstairs? No matter. The bedroom door clicked behind them. They stood in a beam of light. Arthur’s eyes were lit. His finest features always looked elegant in green, especially green wool with warm brown threads woven into it. The smirking English bastard knew it, too, taking him by the jaw and kissing him again.

“What were you saying about my suit?”

“It’s horrendous, and it is entirely your own fault I must rip it from you.”

“Please do."

[spinyfruit]

Request for something domestic with fruk please? Thank you for opening your requests!

I started with your request because FrUK is so relaxing to write and I am feeling so rusty. Thank you for asking, anon!

This is actually pre-relationship, so you have permission to request a continuation if this frustrates you (*nervous laughter*).

—

Request #1 - FrUK, domestic, pre-relationship

Word Count: 3088

—

Arthur was tired, cold, and damp. Worst of all, he only had himself to blame for all of it. Because it was his fault that his thesis had to be revised over a dozen times—each version forcing himself awake for another hour and adding an extra mug to his overcrowded desk. 

It was also his fault that when he did complete the final draft in the early hours of the morning, he was so strung out from sleeplessness that he pulled on his least favorite green jumper, forgot to put on a coat, and walked into the autumn day just like that. He didn’t remember taking the bus to the university campus. He could only somewhat recall falling down the steps on the way to the main building, but only because he had a bloody stain on the knee of his trousers to remind him.

Anyway, he did it. Arthur turned in his final paper, received an approving nod from his tutor, and found the queue for the bus home. It should have been smooth sailing from there. All he had to do was get back to his small flat, clean up the mess he made, and…get ready for work. Which was fine. Arthur was used to it.

Except that he was in such a rush to leave his goddamn apartment and get to the fucking university to turn in the bloody essay that he didn’t take his shitty umbrella. So when he got off the bus, he had to walk in the rain all the way back home.

“Finally,” he muttered, seeing the outrageous blue color of the house come into view. It was divided in two, and Arthur shared the bottom floor with one other person.

Arthur picked up his pace and closed the rest of the distance as quickly as he could. When he reached the small, dry haven under the roof of the house, he reached into the pocket of his trousers for the keys. Nothing. 

“Of course,” he grumbled and swung off his book bag. His hands swept over the interior but he heard no metal jingling. The small front pocket was empty too. “No, no, no.” Arthur pressed his head against the door.

He was such a wreck this morning that he forgot his keys. And all he wanted to do was get inside. 

By some small miracle, Arthur did remember to take his shitty old phone. He dried his hands as best he could on the wet fabric of his jumper and unlocked it. His finger didn’t hesitate over the contact this time.

The phone rang.

“Francis, you better pick up the goddamn phone or I will wring you by the neck,” Arthur swore under his breath. He was so cold. How on earth could a day go so wrong and it was barely even noon?

While the phone kept ringing, he continued knocking on the door.

“Francis, come on,” Arthur said again.

The ringing stopped, and a smooth voice floated through the phone.

“Good morning, Arthur,” Francis greeted, “Are we doing midday calls now?”

“No,” Arthur replied automatically even as a warm feeling spread underneath his skin. His flamboyant flatmate always did that to him. “You better be in the house. Please tell me you’re still in the kitchen with your bloody coffee and baking supplies and—”

“Yes, I’m here,” Francis laughed. There was some clatter like he set something down. “That reminds me—do you know what I found in the sink this morning?”

“I don’t care! Do you hear me knocking at the door? Just get over here and—”

“I found a pair of keys buried underneath five Earl Grey tea bags,” Francis finished. He made a tutting sound. “How many times has this happened now?”

Arthur reddened, but he did not stop pounding the door. “I am going to count to ten and if you do not let me in by then I promise that I will take all of your precious dry-clean only, stuff it in the wash, and put it on the fastest setting. One, two—“

The door swung open, and Arthur saw Francis standing on the other side with a Cheshire grin on his face. 

“Well, what do we have here?” he snorted. “You look like a wet cat.”

Arthur gritted his teeth and pushed past Francis’s shoulder. “I was clearly caught in the rain. No need to point out the obvious.”

Clean, eat, work. That was what Arthur had to do. He stomped into his bedroom and tossed off his book bag. The precarious city of dirty mugs glared at him from the corner of the room, as well as the pile of laundry and overflowing trashcan. 

“God, what a day,” Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“And you say I’m the dramatic one,” Francis scoffed.

Arthur swung so fast his vision swam. But he managed to remain upright—or so he felt.

“Shouldn’t you be making macarons?” he snapped.

Francis raised one arched brow. He wasn’t in pajamas like he normally was at this hour. He was wearing a white button-down shirt that was not completely buttoned and a pair of dark trousers. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which he did when he was in the house. 

Arthur and Francis didn’t actually see much of each other. Arthur was a graduate student with a part-time job, and Francis was a “very popular” bartender downtown. It was Antonio who recommended Arthur move in with him. 

And not one night has gone by that Arthur didn’t regret the decision.

“It’s quite a mess in here. Even worse than the last time you opened the door to your cave,” Francis commented before sliding into the room. 

Arthur watched him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“These are my mugs, Arthur,” Francis said as he collected one stack into his arms.“I don’t want the collecting mold in here.”

Arthur inhaled sharply. “Excuse me? My room is not some dungeon.”

“It’s just a joke,” Francis smiled. “Come on, now. Where’s your quick wit? It’s no fun if you can’t keep up.”

“I…I’m sorry,” Arthur sighed. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. Get a grip. “I don’t think I slept a wink last night. My head feels like it’s underwater.”

Francis hummed as he slipped out of the room, mugs cradled in his arms.

It felt a little unreal to admit that to Francis. They weren’t exactly close, but also, Arthur was more than a little uncomfortable with how disorderly he was. 

He looked down and noticed that he was still wearing his ugly damp sweater and the pants that he stained when he fell on the steps. As if Francis didn’t already have a bad enough impression of him when he was at his best.

Arthur pushed away those insecure thoughts and the encroaching sleepiness. He literally had no time for it. So with the rest of his energy, he began piling the rest of the mugs and dishes into his arms. Damn, how did Francis do this? He made it look so easy to carry the whole kitchen.

And Arthur was so lightheaded. A nap sounded so nice. He heard soft French music playing from the kitchen and the radiator made his room so enticingly warm.

“And I will take that.”

Arthur must have spaced out for a moment because when he looked to the side, Francis was taking away the few mugs he grabbed, as well as everything else that was stacked on Arthur’s desk. 

“Wait a…” Arthur blinked, trying to catch his bearings. Francis was already gliding out of the room. “Wait a minute, you’re not my housekeeper! Francis!”

God, Arthur loathed being doted upon. Granted, it rarely happened. He was the eldest of four siblings and not exactly a “dotable” character. But living with Francis just confirmed what he never actually experienced. Arthur didn’t like it. 

Frustrated and a little winded, Arthur wrapped up the trash bag and carried it out of his room. Francis was whistling to the tune of whatever song was playing as he cleaned the dishes. He didn’t seem bothered by this at all.

Somehow, that made all of this even more embarrassing. So, Arthur kept his mouth shut and exited through the patio door to toss his trash in the bin. It was still raining so he ended up getting more wet. Arthur supposed it made no difference at this point.

He walked back inside the house and briefly caught Francis’s blue eyes watching him.

“What is it?” he asked, pushing away the damp locks clinging to his forehead.

Francis shook his head. “Oh, nothing.”

Arthur pursed his lips and glanced at the growing pile of clean dishes. “You’re being oddly helpful today.”

“Hm, well I have nothing else to do.”

“You? Please. You always have some appointment to brag about.”

“Not today. Maybe it’s the rain.”

“Oh yes, the rain,” Arthur grumbled. He was reminded about how he had to leave for work in a couple of hours. It wasn’t a long walk, but in the rain, it would feel long. Would he even be able to stay awake through his shift? Best not to think about it.

“So how did the thesis go?” Francis prompted in a light voice.

Arthur stared at his back. “How do you know about that?”

“It’s the only thing you’ve been talking about for weeks,” Francis chuckled.

“And you listened?”

“My beautiful ears are more than just decoration.”

“God, never mind,” Arthur said, tossing his hands up. “It’s done. Let’s leave it. I need to focus on getting ready for work.” Sure, several hours playing good sales associate was just what he needed. But Arthur had to do it.

He managed just one step before Francis called after him.

“Work? You’re going into the store today?”

Arthur peered over his shoulder. “Considering it’s a workday and it’s how I pay for rent—yes, Francis. I am.”

Francis just looked at him with an unreadable expression. The silence broke when he scratched at the blond stubble on his chin. “You know, I think Toni said the shop was closed today.”

“What?” Arthur’s brain was working so slowly. He retreated further into the kitchen just to make sure that he heard right. “The shop is closed? He didn’t say so to me.”

“Well, you know how he is. Day is night and night is day to him,” Francis laughed. He dried his soapy hands on a towel. “I’m sure he meant to tell you. I’ll text him now to check.” He began tapping away at his phone before Arthur could even form a response.

Oh, well. If he didn’t have to go to work…that certainly changed things. Arthur wouldn’t mind staying at home. Just for a little bit. It’s been such a long week, after all. Maybe it would be okay to take a nap at least.

“Toni said the shop is closed,” Francis added after a minute. He turned his phone around to show Arthur the text. “So I’m afraid the townie gardeners will have to do without your expertise in succulents and…basil.”

Arthur stared at the screen unseeingly. The letters were all jumbled together so he supposed he was just going to have to trust Francis on this one. After a jerky nod, Francis collected his phone again.

“I don’t have to go to work,” Arthur repeated under his breath. “Well, okay. Then, I suppose I will do laundry.” Which meant more walking. More work. Why couldn’t Arthur just sit down? Could the Earth just stop turning for a day?

“Laundry? Oh, no. I’m afraid I put my towels in for a wash,” Francis said with a sly smile. “You’ll have to wait til tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Arthur repeated.

“Well, I have a lot of towels,” Francis laughed, waving one hand in the air emphatically. “And bathrobes, of course.”

Arthur just nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Mm, Arthur? Are you still with me?” Francis asked. Suddenly there were fingers, slender, some wrapped in rings, snapping in front of Arthur’s vision.

He blinked several times. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate. And there was that thing pushing into the forefront of Arthur’s head—the very thing he didn’t want to think about.

“Arthur? Earth to Arthur? Have you actually managed to mute me in real life?” Francis joked.

Well, it was probably a joke. But he wasn’t laughing as normal. Perhaps, he was waiting for Arthur to actually react.

It required a long breath into his tired lungs. “Right, sorry. Uh,” he looked around the kitchen for something to do. “So, the shop is closed. As you said,” Arthur confirmed. “And I can’t do laundry…then what else am I supposed to do?”

Francis’s eyes were large. They were already quite big and almond-shaped, but when they widened they seemed especially blue and all-seeing. And there was that thing he did with his lips. Not quite a smile, but they curved at the corners like he was holding something back. Oh, it irritated Arthur to no end.

“Maybe you should go to bed,” he suggested with a soft laugh.

“To bed,” Arthur repeated, hoping he sounded more dismissive than excited. “Right. As if there’s any time for that. It’s bloody noon.”

“Arthur, what exactly are you staying up for?” Francis asked. This time his look was long and so deep that Arthur felt it go straight through his skull and sink into his bones.

“I’m not sure exactly,” he breathed. “I think I’ve been up for so long that I have to keep going.”

Francis approached. He collected Arthur’s elbow under his arm and guided him forward. “You finished your paper, you have no work, and the chores are done. You know, I’m fairly certain that you can actually take an afternoon off.”

Arthur was following him. He was actually obeying Francis’s lead and copying his path down the hallway and into his bedroom. The lights were switched off.

“Wait a minute—are you being nice to me?” Arthur murmured with narrowed eyes. 

“You’ve been wearing those damp clothes for a while. Why don’t you change?” Francis prompted.

Arthur felt heat sweep over his cheeks. “I will change, but I do not need your assistance with this!” He turned his back and pulled off his jumper. At last, he was released from its itchy clutches. He pulled one of the first shirts from his dresser and tossed it on. It felt weird to remove his pants in front of Francis, but he supposed it wasn’t any worse than Francis had seen him already today. So, he stepped out of the pants one leg at a time and replaced them with a pair of fresh sweatpants. 

He did feel a whole lot better.

“You should take a nap,” Francis said with a gentle nudge at Arthur’s shoulder.

That one soft touch sent electricity down Arthur’s spine. He jumped into his bed as fast as he could just to escape it (don't think about it, please no). The old sheets and familiar comforter were much safer. He pulled them across his body with a long and heavy sigh.

“You feel much better don’t you?” Francis chuckled.

“I don’t need your sass,” Arthur commented with closed eyes. “You can go away.”

No, wait. Don’t. Arthur didn’t mean it. But why did he say it?

“Right, of course,” Francis said smoothly. He always spoke so easily. “Try to rest then.”

Arthur covered his face with his arm. It was easier to talk this way. Cloaked in darkness, blind to Francis’s infernal smile and tip-worthy charms. 

“I think I failed my degree,” he admitted in a soft undertone.

The floorboards creaked like Francis shifted his weight. “Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur sighed. His eyelids were so heavy. But he didn’t want Francis to go, and he also couldn’t say that. “My tutor…well, the last time I talked it over with him, he gave me so many suggestions. I tried to edit. But I don’t know…Everything seemed so damned confusing by the end. I don’t know what I wrote.”

“It was probably all poetry, wasn’t it?”

“No—bloody hell—I’m trying to get a master's in journalism. Do you know anything about me at all?”

“Probably not,” Francis said with a laugh. “I know nothing at all about Mr. Arthur Kirkland with three younger brothers, a master's student with a part-time job, and a penchant for dark beer.”

Arthur flushed, but at least his arm hid it. “Anyone who’s ever had contact with me would know those things. You’re not special.”

“Of course,” Francis replied. The floor creaked again, and the doorknob squeaked. Did Francis leave? No. Because his voice coated Arthur’s ears again. “But you know, I read the extra copy you printed of your thesis and I thought it was quite good. You’re a very talented writer, you know.”

The what?

Arthur’s arm flew off his face in an instant. As soon as he did, his eyes darted in Francis’s direction accusingly. Like he stole something from Arthur’s mind. “You read what? My thesis? But how?”

Francis lay against the door frame as he rolled his eyes. “You printed eleven copies of your paper. I think you may have gotten a little too excited with pressing 'one,' huh?” He winked and pushed a lock of blond hair behind his ear. “But yes, I did read it. And it was excellent. You’re a wonderful writer. You have nothing to worry about.”

Arthur stared. He waited for the punchline, but none ever came. So Francis must have been serious. He was actually complimenting Arthur. 

“I—well—thank you,” he coughed. It became unbearable to be under Francis’s gaze, so he turned onto his side. “Thank you for that.”

Francis hummed again. “You aren’t complimented enough. We’re quite opposites in that way.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Francis.”

“Sweet dreams,” Francis said sweetly. The door closed slowly, and then Arthur was alone. In the dark. Surrounded by warmth.

Arthur had the strangest urge to say “I love you,” but fortunately he had better sense than to utter such a thing. He was tired from a hell of a long day and the acts of kindness were getting to him. He and Francis were flatmates—there was no reason to get so emotional about it.

But as he drifted off into sleep, a secret part of him couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually have someone like that maybe laying close beside him, offering those same comforts over and over. But that would never happen. 

He and Francis were just flatmates.

Arthur told himself that. And he fell asleep.

[floralcrematorium]

How did Alfred handle Matt growing up taller than him?

I think in the end, Alfred doesn’t care.

He’s pretty tall himself! I see him personally being or just being shy of 6’0” (ballpark 5’10”-5’11”) whereas Mattie’s a good 6’2” probably. These boys are trees.

There might’ve been slight insecurity when they were hitting The Growth Spurt Years, but nowadays Alfred handles being shorter like a comedy skit. It’s fun to ask Matt to reach something on a top shelf for him when Alfred is perfectly capable of reaching it himself. Ultimately Al aims to pester and irritate but not harm. He causes confusion and delay.

If he goes too far Matthew won’t hesitate to get him back. Firm believer that while Matt doesn’t often pick fights, he sure as hell finishes them every time.

I do think Alfred hit his growth spurts first and would be a bit rude about it.

In FACE situations I think Fran and Arthur look at their sons like… Where Did They Get Their Height From (I think canonically FrUK are both 5’9” and I’m not opposed to that. Arthur appears shorter because he’s got terrible posture sometimes but I honestly like them the same height).

I accounted for Arthur’s slouch here lol (I think Arthur tries to have good posture and is better about it when he has to be. However man is chronically doomed to slouching).

[oumaheroes]

Now I have to send this answer back to you! Do you feel you have changed the way you write England (and France!) since the beginning? In what ways do you think you have improved when writing them?

Oh GOD yes!

On England:

I used to write him more as per old fandom norms: stereotypically tsundere, grumpy, quick to react, and emotionally a bit all over the place in regards to how he came to certain conclusions. All from the anime, of course, which definitely flavoured how the fandom wrote and portrayed him as a whole

But mostly, he's unchanged. Most of those traits didn't last too long for me. As soon as I tried writing him in a long form story he rigidly rebelled haha. He's always had a very strong and set personality in my head and my Arthur from 2011 is the same guy he is for me today, just with a few more bells and whistles that I've since chipped off

The main ways he's changed I think is just through me improving as a writer and being able to better understand and portray nuance. I think he's a very complciated person, very layered and confusing even to himself, and whilst on the surface he might be contrary or stubborn the reasons he has for his behaviour make sense to him. I wasn't very good at showing this when I started out writing and my early Arthur is clearly written by a less mature writer and person. As I've grown, he's grown with me

On France

Boy, my old France got the short end of the fandom stick whacked at him. Unlike Arthur, who has always been himself with me for the most part, my old Francis personality was much more fandom incarnate from the early twenty tens. Bit of a sexual leech, a nudist, a party animal... a bit of a silly show piece with not too much thought into him. Dramatic for no reason

I think my old France is probably still recognisible as the character I write today for the most part, but I've since taken away all of the old silly fandom traits he was given and matured him up to make him more complicated. As the fandom has aged I feel we've all moved further and further away from the old anime portrayals, and I loved reading stories of Francis as this hyper intelligent cruel and vulnerable guy. I love giving him that capacity now, along with Arthur, and layering him up like a pretty lil onion

FrUK together

Honestly, I have said this before somewhere but as soon as I put the two of them in a scene that was it, they were the stars of the show. The first proper Hetalia fic I tried to write was USUK and Francis was supposed to be Arthur's childhood bestfriend and instantly they were the main characters. Instantly, their scenes together were my favourites, their dialogue my best, and they had more chemistry and intimacy than anything else. I converted myself to FrUK, I am the problem ahha

As soon as I wrote them together their relationship set solid and it's been unchanged ever since. It wasn't even planned, there was no room for growth- how they are now is how they were then. I abandoned that USUK fic and shifted to Reset and welp, been here with them arguing in my head ever since

The only way I write them differently is maybe how easy they are together? I used to write England more reluctant with affection and France more forceful, and they've softened with age as I've smoothed out the old rigidities of their characters. It's the same now, just softer

[j-ellyfish]

I don't know if it's just me, but in World Stars also the ship content is limited compared to previous years, even Ludwig and Feliciano are not appearing together in the same chapter in a long time *sad noises*

And there are many other ships that haven't gotten their moments in a long time too, maybe one of the few exceptions is FrUk, you know Francis getting very worried for Arthur who is about to leave EU

Oh yeah you're right D: Gerita was still doing good in early World Stars but not anymore :( Maybe this is also why 'newer' fans seem generally less concerned about Gerita and how it is slowly slipping into "uncommon ship" state despite its absolute dominance in the early Hetalia scene, but like, not even just early, I feel like it was still pretty popular up until maybe 2014/2015-ish. It doesn't seem to me that UsUk and FrUk are encountering the same fate, at least not to the same extent. Sure they got less shippers than they did at Hetalia Fandom's peak, I guess, but the Gerita case is the most interesting one.

Especially because it's like Gerita is now living up to a sort of ghost legacy. If you ask most people, they'd say "oh yeah Gerita is so popular, so annoying I want to ship other stuff because Gerita is saturated with fans and content". But ... This is not true. Not in the 2020s. It's no longer true. And this, what I like to call the 'Gerita effect' (because I guess it's a phenomenon that can happen in any community and not just with ships), causes the perception of something to no longer match the real, current state of that something. We're used to say Gerita is popular and coddled, because that's definitely what it used to be, but if we take a moment to observe the reality around us today, without bias coming from a relatively distant past, we'll realize that it is no longer the case. Not in the fandom and, as you pointed out, not even in canon material. I think this is the reason why, surprisingly, Gerita Week didn't get a lot of attention last year (I think it was last year?). I joined it for some days but, I won't lie, my brain kept feeling in a safe net mindset that went "well it's not like they need me, Gerita Week definitely will get a lot of content regardless since it's Gerita, so I shouldn't sweat it like this". But no, in the end I realized I was falling for my own veteran perception, which is flawed and biased towards the past, how the ships scenario used to be like in this fandom.

Besides this, I think the (relative) downfall of Gerita's popularity was also caused by other factors. First of all, Feliciano became a controversial character. While Romano was always a popular character, in the early fandom most of the focus on him came from Spamano as a ship, or his relationship with Feliciano. As more and more people started to deem Spamano problematic, Romano needed a new place in the fandom's heart. This, I believe, was what marked Romerica's rise. And Romano's arc at Alfred's is often used as an argument to put the two Italian brothers against each other and fundamentally deem Feliciano as "the evil, preferred, spoiled brother" (obviously I'm not implying the opposite is true, both Italies are cool, traumatized and deserve love) to enhance Romano's worth and rights as a character of his own, away from Feliciano's orbit because it was Feliciano's orbit, in the early fandom, what was kind of overshadowing Romano (Spamano was often a clutch-ship in Gerita fics and art).

Let's admit it, humans generally likes what challenges the status quo. So, this new (not implying no one in early fandom might've had similar thoughts but it wasn't a fandom trend) interpretation of canon scratched the right itch in many fans who've never been head over heels for Feliciano and/or for Gerita to begin with, and possibly enjoyed less popular ships on average.

Meanwhile, in the late 2010s something else changed fandom spaces: Yaoi/BL experienced a growth in popularity and broke out of the "loud Internet niche" enclosure. This came with a huge luggage of controversies and debates over the nature of the seme/uke classification and an undeniable growth in popularity of ships with no rigid roles (seke/switches) and the assumptions of sexual role based on personality and physical appearance losing terrain. This had, as a result, a certain degree of demonization of ships that happened to fit perfectly in the "typical yaoi couple narrative".

Guess which ship fit perfectly there? Gerita, obviously. So, I believe many people ended up perceiving "traditional Gerita" as sort of weird, rooted in "old schemes" and not as alluring as it could've been for the average teen in early 2010s. Of course, this also caused Itager and less fluffy interpretations of Gerita (which have always been there but not fandom-wide trends) to rise in order to spice the old ship up.

So, as years went by, these trends continued, they piled up but eventually made Gerita lose a lot of terrain to other ships, ships that fit the "new image of the fandom" better. Perhaps the fact that Gerita was associated so strictly with the early fandom (and Germany being the focus on one of an7is' tone deaf takes on the series) also contributed to its current state, due to the internalized "sense of guilt" we as a fandom tend to have due to some bad apples that populated and populate our fandom like any other.

Huhhh okay I'm not sure how this ended up being a dissection on Gerita's popularity but I hope you don't mind. Also I didn't want to bring up any drama involving fans because I think a single fan cannot do as much harm to a ship as trends and natural human behavior does to a fandom as a whole, as every fandom is fundamentally a bite-sized society like a town or a Country.

Speaking of FrUk, I was really happy to see France's more chaotic side slipping out a little in the Brexit arc, although it made me miss old Hetalia even more </3

[senditothemoonn]

I'm so happy that someone else realises the potential of Scotcan. Dude I've been craving it for ages BC usually people pair Scot with Fran and I love it but damn the scotfra hits hard and both Fran and Arthur are so pissed about it. No no. The good child is balantly defying them right? Nah they're just in love and fruk want to fuck it all up but keep making them even more close and America is there watching like 'you idiots. They're just fine for each other' and they can't comprehend and get mad!! Besides America has worst affairs and he's pleased that they're too focused on Canada to bother him tbh no no imagine arthur complaining that scot keeps literally fucking any good thing he has in life and fran mildly jealous bc 'Scot's hot and that's my baby and me and Arthur are not nearly as well suited as they are what is this? Did Arthur play with his sorcery kit again?'

I'll stop rambling it's just too good to contain

Okay but have you considered scotcanfra? Mommy + daddy + babyboy their hot young boytoy??

I think this works SOO much better in my opinion and it’s just more fun? Or maybe I’m too much of a diehard scotfra shipper 😩

And if Arthur’s lonely, he can have Alfred 😌

I enjoy scotcan but honestly i kind of prefer it when Scotland is using Canada as a replacement for France 😳 like he can’t have Fran for whatever reason so he’ll settle for the boy who looks exactly like him.

[arthurianlegend144]

Time for another take about the Hetalia Fandom that I have

I randomly remembered a conversation I had in 2022 with my friend about how I didn't start to like France as a character until I started to read the few TurFra fanfics I found. I don't know what happened but the corner I was in the fandom until that moment didn't appreciate Francis at all.

Of course, I am a UsUk shipper, so maybe that's why, maybe I was focusing too much on those two, but I don't feel the same way about other characters. Even when I read fics about FrUk (in Portuguese, I just started reading fic in English just recently) I felt the fanfics I was reading didn't appreciate him either?? It was like he was just there to be shipped with England and I guess that's one of the reasons I ended up falling out of love for FrUk.

I remember that almost every time I read a fic about Francis he was just awful or annoying and I noticed this pattern in some fics in English too. I know he isn't the best in cannon, especially earlier on, but he has an interesting personality and character moments. I know Hetalia is about stereotypes, but for me it felt like unfortunately I just ended up reading about people who reduced Francis' character so much that he became unlikable unintentionally. Because Hetalia is about stereotypes, however the characters do feel like real people with personalities who contrast and are funny because of it.

I wish I did read more fanfics about how Francis feels, bringing more about his character and history. So much that I've started writing my fic partially because I wanted to give France some love that he deserves.

I don't know, is this just personal experience? Was I just unlucky that I didn't find good fanfiction about France or is this a pattern other people noticed too?

[olympeline]

FrUK FACE family Parent Trap AU, part 5! Part 1

Last time we left off with Alfred and Mattie going home with their other dad and Francis and Arthur none the wiser about the son switcheroo. Let’s see what happens on the Francis and Alfred side first:

During the drive to the Bonnefoy residence, Alfred has a hard time keeping a lid on his gregarious personality and playing his part as Mattie. Acting calm and sweet is so difficult when he’s desperate to talk and talk and talk and ask Francis a million questions and get to know him! It’s a struggle, I tell ya hwat. His French holds up well, though. Francis notices “Matthew” has picked up a bit of an accent, but chalks it up to his time spent at camp. Mr. Kumajiro barks all the way home until Alfred secretly feeds him some sticky jerky he got on the plane. Then Mr. Kumajiro calms down. This little pupper may be mysterious and not Mattie, but he seems alright even so. Alfred is delighted to have a dog. He’s always wanted one and now he gets to borrow Mr. Kumajiro. Lucky! Mr. Kumajiro doesn’t just get jerky but also plenty of pets on the way home.

As I mentioned earlier, the FACE family came to Quebec for an opportunity to grow Francis’s fashion business. And grow it did. Oh boy, didn’t it just! Alfred’s jaw hits the floor when he sees the size of Francis and Mattie’s house. The Kirklands aren’t poor - Arthur makes a good living as a journalist and from his books - but their apartment in NYC is nothing like this! This place is practically a mansion! And it’s not just the house but the land around it, too. There’s so much space, so much room to explore, run around with Mr. Kumajiro, and play sports! Alfred is in heaven.

He wants to go and check out the house and charge around the backyard there and then, but Francis asks him if he’d like to help him make dinner? Alfred says yes and is embarrassed at how shy he suddenly feels doing so. Alfred Kirkland is not used to feeling shy. It’s almost a foreign emotion for him and shaking it off isn’t easy. Alfred is annoyed to discover he feels shyer of Francis Bonnefoy than he ever has of anyone in his life. At least it helps in his Mattie impression, lol.

He follows Francis into their kitchen (wow! Super shiny and deluxe and no char marks! - thinks Alfred) and they chat as Francis prepares a meal and Alfred helps. He isn’t as culinarily crippled as Arthur but Francis is still surprised at how clumsily “Matthew” handles the prep. But he brushes it off. Camp was the first time Mattie was away from home longer than a few days. Being a little out of character is normal after an experience like that. They finish without major incident and sit down to eat. Alfred is distracted when he takes his first bite and oh maaaan! Instant food heaven! Bliss and angel choirs! Matthew told Alfred his (their! Their! :D) papa was a great cook, but Alfred sees now that was an understatement! Francis is obviously some kind of food superhero genius person! It’s all he can do not to wolf down the plate like a starving, well, wolf.

Francis asks Alfred how the food was at camp? Alfred tells him it was okay but nothing like this. This is so good! Francis is a pleased but a little taken aback at Alfred’s enthusiasm. Mattie is used to Francis’s cooking so it doesn’t get such a big reaction from him, though he’s always polite. They get into a conversation about cooking and proper nutrition. At first, Francis is passionate and flamboyant but then he looks wistful. Just for a moment, just for a moment after Alfred talks about junk food vs. home cooked and Francis says anyone can cook if they take the time to practice. It’s just a matter of following a recipe and choosing quality ingredients. Anyone can do it if they just…practice.

A fleeting look. Just for a moment. Then it’s gone.

Alfred didn’t miss it. And it’s a look he’s seen before, many times, but not from Francis. Heart skipping, he asks Francis if that’s really true. Did he ever know anyone who couldn’t cook no matter how hard he - they - tried?

Francis pauses and gives him an odd look. Alfred is afraid he’s messed up and said too much, but then Francis just smiles and brushes it off again. He asks if Alfred wants his dessert now? Francis already made creme brulee that morning. Alfred sees his other dad dodge the question like a pro, but decides not to pursue it. He doesn’t want to make him suspicious and blow their cover.

It’s proved one thing, at least, thinks Alfred as he digs into the creme brulee like a starving man. Mattie was right: Francis hasn’t forgotten Arthur. Not even after all this time.

“Bon?” Asks Francis as he sees his son grin into his dessert. “I tweaked the recipe again. Changed the white and golden sugar ratios. You like it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alfred looks up with a big smile. “I really do!”

Francis is again pleased but a little taken aback at the level of enthusiasm. He’s not complaining, though. The entire point of sending his boy to camp was to help Mattie come out of his shell. Seems it worked out better than Francis hoped. Then Mattie’s “Uncle Gil” turns up unannounced (as he often does), bursts in and pounces on Alfred for a hug and a noogie. Gilbert Beilschmidt: ex-marine and local eccentric extraordinaire. Matthew told Alfred about Gilbert - who isn’t really his their uncle by blood, but rather one of Francis’s friends and Mattie has called him that since he was a baby - and Alfred couldn’t wait to meet him after some of Mattie’s stories. Crashing a parade float into a local swimming pool (don’t ask), running for mayor in assless chaps (don’t ask), building his own race cars with rockets and testing them out on the same route as the parade float (please, please don’t ask)? Guy sounds crazy awesome!

“Hey, kaulquappe! Welcome home!” Says uncle Gil as he almost scalps Alfred with his noogie. “How was camp? You show those yanky bastards who’s boss?”

“Yeah, sure!” Alfred laughs, ignoring the jibe. “You bet!”

“Haha, nice! Say…you look kinda different. Don’t you think, Fran?”

Alfred goes cold, but Francis smiles again and says:

“He’s had his hair cut. And his ear pierced. Tres chic!”

“Oh, yeaaah!” Says Gilbert. “Looks sick! Nice one, kid. Fight the power!”

Alfred hadn’t realised Francis noticed his earring already. He’s surprised that Francis seems totally cool with “Matthew’s” new look. A big contrast to Arthur, who scolded and nagged Alfred for a week when he came home with his new piercing. Then attacked Alfred’s ear with antiseptic swabs for two weeks. But Francis is obviously different. Very different.

Alfred likes Francis already. He watches him over Gilbert’s shoulder and feels joy and excitement bubble up in his belly.

He’s here now, and he has a once in a lifetime chance to get to know his papa better.

You better believe Alfred F. Kirkland is going to make the most of every minute!

(Stay tuned for part 6, where we’ll check in on Arthur and Mattie (´ε｀ )♡)

[hetalianfrog]

No no, it’s alright! Take your time! I was worried you wouldn’t reply actually 😭

I think you said “yandere” in one of your posts? I had to translate it since my French isn’t good, but I think I understood for the most part! /gen /nm

Idk I don’t get the whole interpretation of France, especially in FRUK, being so chill and easy going. Like to the point where he’ll cheat on his partner, and or isn’t bothered by his partner cheating (I don’t mean poly relationships). Like France? Of all people? NOT the jealous type?

People are free to characterize characters how they want, but if you look at some things in the manga 😭 he definitely seems like the type to be petty and or jealous. I’m unsure about the stereotype for French people tbh; there are many of course, but I feel France fits more of the petty stereotype rather than the pervert stereotype. Especially if he’s characterized as being Parisian (if we go off of stereotypes).

I know people interpret England as the jealous one, which I mean, he is, don’t get me wrong. However, I think France is also a jealous person to some degree; the way they both express it is what’s different. Sure, England is a little more on the overt side, and to can tell when he’s seething with envy at someone (especially if he isn’t trying to hide it). I feel like France would be a little more covert with jealousy, at least it depends on the severity of the jealousy he’s experiencing. As an example, I could see him wrapping his arm around England and pulling him as close to him as he can if he feels someone’s getting too touchy or flirtatious.

I don’t like him being jealous in a mean or abusive sort of way though. I like the thought of him being protective and maybe somewhat obsessive over England if that makes sense. England is the cat personality sort of jealous (I think he has such cat energy tbh). Like a “how could you starve me of attention all day >:(” in a fussy cat sorta way. But I think for France he’s more of a “this is my Brit, get your own” sorta way. I feel like the word “possessive” would make it sound negative, but I don’t know what other word to use. /lh /gen

Aaaaand now this ask is getting long so I’ll leave it here for now 💔 you can add or say whatever you want to this (it’s alright if your interpretation is different, I don’t mind hearing your thoughts!). If you want, I could probably DM you so I’m not rambling in your asks? Although, it’s alright if you’d rather I just send anon asks! /gen /nf /nm

- Arthur anon

Don't worry, it wasn't very long for me 🗿 (I read too much fanfic, my reading and writing skills have taken a huge leap compared to a few years ago...) 🥲

I also agree with your point of view. In my post on France, I wasn't really clear and it was written in haste, but I completely agree with you 😃 (in fact, my goal of the post was just to express how I love it when France makes those scary faces... Because I love scary things). So, I think that France is indeed quite jealous, like England, just not in the same way😇

I just took as a reference a chapter during England's Brexit where France says that Arthur will come to cry and beg France to bring him back into the EU, and at that moment, France made this face:

(it's literally my pfp)

So I thought that this passage was not jealousy, but rather yandere behavior (I don't know how to describe it, so abbreviate it with the word "yandere" lol). But it's really a little yandere behavior, France isn't really a yandere... 💀 (and above all, I almost resemble a detective who analyzes every feature of France's face, almost like a psychopath--- HUM SORRY)

I hope my explanations are clear enough.. I hesitated to write it in French, but as Google Translate is much less reliable with French, I wrote in English, haha 🥲