#thedisappointedidealist12

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

DO YOU KNOW ANY GOOD HETAALIA BLOGS THAT ARE ACTIVE!?!?!? 😭😭😭

This was a hard list to make. Especially since the Hetalia fandom is a weird mix of alive and very much not.

So I decided to do all the ones that I follow, including inactive ones.

ACTIVE

@hetalia-angel

@headingalaxys-spicy

@massivebadonker

@ask-p2-germany

@2p-hcmaker

@alfredosauce50

@aeternitas-cvau

@ceriseroyale

@hetascanlations

@shini--chan

@augustus-scaevola

HIATUS/NO LONGER ACTIVE

@hetaliareaction2p

@thedisappointedidealist12

@2p-haven

@just-give-me-headcanons

@ask-2p-pups

@2pheadcanons-blog

@ladyfingersandmetal

@val-taire

@bearcide

@whimpering-hearts

There are probably a lot more good ones out there that I have yet to find. Both on-going and finished blogs are fun to visit. It makes me wish that Tumblr had an oldest first button or a random post-selection button to pull up a random post. It would be a nice way to find some of the oldest and forgotten works from this fandom. Or even people with cool blogs that gave Hetalia just one moment of attention.

(I'll edit this list from time to time, maybe I'll make a fan-fic one too.)

[oumaheroes]

Fatigue

For frukweek: Day 4  Reminiscing about old times / WWII (I did old times and then fell into WWI)

Also dedicated to @thedisappointedidealist12 who helped to inspire the setting of this story <3

Summary: This war is different. France and England know this more than most

----

‘What are you doing?’

Against the moonlight through the open stable door, France saw England stiffen in surprise.

‘Go to sleep.’ He said in a whisper. Carefully, so as to make as little sound as possible, he pulled the door to and slid the bolt across, cloaking them all in darkness once more.

Belatedly, France realised that he had caught him coming in, not going out. He stepped towards him and impatiently willed his eyes to readjust so that he could get a decent read of England’s face.

‘Where have you been?’

England looked pointedly over France’s shoulder at the sleeping humans around them- English and French soldiers they were trying to move to a new position down the front line where they’d be lost in seconds- and tried to move past him.

France caught him by the elbow, noting the night air coolness of his clothes, and lowered his voice to a low whisper, ‘You were not supposed to be on watch tonight.’

‘I wanted a walk.’

‘You’re supposed to be sleeping.’

‘You’re supposed to be sleeping.’

A man a few feet away grunted. England and France fell silent, watching him adjust his sleeping position and fall still and quiet once more.

France let go but did not step away. England didn’t move either, merely watched him with guarded, sunken eyes as if waiting to see what France would do.

‘How about we both sleep, hmm?’ France said after a moment of stalemate, ‘You’ll only be more irritated with me tomorrow if you’re tired.’

‘I’m always irritated with you.’

‘You are always tired.’

England snorted but quickly recovered, mouth a tight line once more. There was a rigidity to him, made only the more visible now that there was nothing left for him to do to hide it away. Without work or movement, England stood as if expectant of something, tense and awkward like a puppet without purpose. In the dark, all there was left to see of him were the absences.

France nudged his arm with the back of his hand and indicated further into the stables for England to follow. Wordlessly, England gave up the argument and did so, past their mixture of men to a stable box right at the back that they had both initially claimed upon arrival. As soon as he lay down, France’s body grew heavier, his limbs easing into the hay as the overwhelming need to sleep caught hold of him once more. He’d only awoken because he’d been cold alone and, without England there to remedy that fact and only serving to add more worry that France did not need, he’d reluctantly pulled himself up to go looking.

England came to sit beside him, his back against hay stacked along the wall.

‘You won’t sleep like that,’ France told him helpfully.

England made a low noise in the back of his throat and rested an arm loosely on a knee brought to his chest.

There was a small open window high on the wall behind them, split across their bay and the one next door. It gave enough light to outline them both in silver and France watched the way England’s fingers worried the material of his trousers and the controlled way that he breathed.

Too controlled. Too forced.

‘Arthur,’ France heaved himself up to sit level besides him, ‘What is it.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

France took hold of his free hand, running his thumb across the dry, calloused skin of his palm. The silence of the unsaid between them grew thicker, balanced on the knife’s edge of breaking.

England let out a held breath through his nose.

‘I am thinking about how strange this all is,’ he said, voice a barely more than a murmur, ‘how mixed and messy. Not only this battle but-‘

He waved his free hand outwards towards the world beyond, ‘Everything. Military knowledge of every century pressed together and then buried under something new. Guns and gas with swords and horses.’

France stayed silent.

‘We’re here. Right now, we’re here in the middle of it all but I can’t tell. The field outside and the farmhouse and the barns- it’s quiet, as though we’re not in a war at all. As though we’ve woken from a nightmare and realising that nothing has changed.’

There were more of their men outside, far too many to fit inside the stables and the barns or the farmhouse- the terrified owners only placated by France himself promising them no trouble. France imagined England walking through their men in the fields under moonlight, a weary soldier of old wars stepping silently amongst children of the new.

England lifted their joined hands and twisted them over, regarding his cracked and broken nails with a blank expression. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. Guns, that is. The distance they give.’

‘You preferred to kill and be killed up close?’

‘Yes,’ England replied immediately, ‘Yes, I do. I prefer to see the life I am taking. It’s not real otherwise.’

‘Ever the sadist, hmm? To enjoy watching an end that you have caused.’

‘To know that I have done it. To make it real, otherwise we’re hardly any better than the Kings and generals who ordered the damn thing, sitting far away from it all in comfort and completely unaware of the reality they’re causing.’

‘This is hardly comfort.’

‘You know what I mean. There is no skill in this sort of warfare, no honour. Just hold the trigger down and watch children die in hundreds. You can no longer improve your chances of survival by training with a weapon. You cannot prepare for this, cannot defend against it. If you live then it is luck and if you die then that is expected but none of it feels real because you can’t even see what’s killing you.’

He took a deep breath, shaky on its way out and shook his head sadly, ‘Before, I could feel the physical toll. Now, I can almost pretend that I’ve not killed anyone at all.’

France said nothing, a hollow apathy preventing him from connecting to what England was saying. He agreed, logically. The sentiment was there, the understanding that he too felt what England was clumsily trying to say- that killing could be justified if it was equal somehow, could be pretended to be fair. To win because you are better skilled in a sword, to lose because you’re not as deft with handling a bow.

There was no pretending with this, there was no illusion of honour or greatness, or right. There was only death, mindless and nameless, and luck granted out blindly to not be stood in the path of a bullet meant for any man it caught. He knew this, but France did not feel it. He felt as though part of him were locked away, stored behind thick glass and forced to watch.

‘There has never been honour in war,’ he said eventually, listening to England breathing softly beside him, ‘Men kill and they die. The only ones who have honour are the fools who believe in it, and they rarely live long enough for it to matter.’

‘There was more honour than this.’ England closed his eyes, tipping his head back to expose the length of his neck, ‘And to think, this is all that our young ones will know. This to them is war.’

France ran the pad of his thumb over England’s thumbnail, his knuckle. Thought about all of the different things they both had done, how many more horrors they’d still do. He was long past being surprised by this war, that part of himself long lost and churned into the bloody fields of Loos and Verdun and Ardennes.

‘Speaking of young ones, I came across Mathieu a few months ago.’

England’s head did not move but his eyes opened to focus intently on the rafters above them.

‘He asked me how we can all do this so much. War, fighting, all of it, I suppose. I told him that this sort is new.’

‘He and Alfred at least know the ways that it used to be. It’s Jack and Alex and the rest I worry about…’ A squeeze of France’s hand, emotion slipping free, ‘But thinking about it does nothing.’

‘Thinking about it might be the only thing left to make it real.’

England shut his eyes again. He let go of France’s hand, ‘Don’t make this philosophical.’

France huffed without any real irritation, ‘You wouldn’t let me sleep. This is your punishment.’

‘Excuse me-‘

‘You’re excused.’

England wore fear like fatigue, sleepless nights and a racing mind that carved bags under his eyes. Something heavy and inconvenient that could be fixed if he only tried hard enough, if he only thought about all the ways to rub out the emotion with words and action.

England shook his head, his expression unreadable, and France knew that the moment- that brief and rare flicker of mortality and innocence between them- had passed. The feeling of something unsaid was still there between them, settled in the lines of England’s face and in the shaking of his hands.

France knew.

France knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to address it.

‘Stop talking,’ England lay on his side turned away from France, his arms tight across his chest, ‘And go to sleep.’

‘Stop making things so difficult then,’ France followed suit and came to lay pressed against him. He draped an arm over England’s waist, last there perhaps together in his comfortable Parisian flat, maybe England’s London townhouse, and pressed a kiss to the back of England’s neck.

England half lifted his head to look back at him. France knew that he wanted to say something and he waited for it, feeling Arthur searching his face for something perhaps Francis no longer had.

England said nothing. He lay his head down and that was that.

-----

@aphfrukweek

[ashafox]

what’s ur favorite hetalia artist

I'll just list some of my faves!!

@stirringwinds @kan-be @poxtra @baby-morrison @digital999placebo @ggoddammitt @crepegosette @ellmovy @frukmerunning @ironic-orange @owlyjules @tomato-bird @year81 @the-gremlins-hotel @sunnylolli @senditothemoonn @skyeee @schmitskatz @uk4yy @ershebet @roszabell @thedisappointedidealist12

(Sorry if you don't like being tagged)

[hws-anthology]

🌍 FEATURED ARTIST ✈️

☆ Sometimes you have to take your fandom experience into your own hands, and we're so glad @thedisappointedidealist12 did! Please give a warm welcome to our next featured contributor!! ☆

Stay tuned for more news from Hetalia☆World Stars: A 10 Year Celebration!!!

[hwsforeignrelations]

for the ask meme mwahahahah >:3C 1, 2, 28, england 47, america 32

Do you relate to your favorite character(s)?

Absolutely i do, with the exception of his sceince knowledge lol idk shittttee. He's loud, very much the YOLO type, wears glasses, and I think we'd both enjoy a lot of the same hobbies like funky art, cooking w/o recipes, reading adventure books and comics, appreciating how leather smells (and tastes), jazz and country, the freedom of nature and roads, ect. :D

2.Who are your favorite Hetalia artists? Why?

ur embarassing meeeeee >.<

ok. #1 is @/sully-s. literally would not have joined hetalia or developed an artistic style w/o them. I cannot properly express my appreciation for what they do!!! @historihet (deactivated) was so kind and wicked smart, really pushed my desire to create historical hetalia content and independently study history in general. @/rebelsandtherest hella amazing, especially combined with their work (western fic so good!). @/bougietalia OMG LITERALLY AMAZING symbolism soooooo good lots of snarky england and just the COLORS ugggg SO LUSH @/thedisappointedidealist12 has FANTASTIC stylization and storytelling. and of course. @/stirringwinds. SSMARTEST MOST AWESOME AND AMAZING. @poxtra LOVE their content. @cidersketch is the OG rusame LOTs of Good (tm stuff). Thats just a few off the top of my head but YEAH. I have many feelings!!!!

28. DILFS and MILFS and NILFS?

I can't pick!

(Hungary and Russia)

47. [Insert character]'s guilty pleasure?

Who?

Canada LOVES growing all the weed strains he can find lmaoo

32. Describe (one of) [insert character]'s homes.

ENORMUS Manhattan penhouse used for hosting parties and events

[liemurienn]

you always put such good fruk and france/england solo content on my dash... ilysm 💘

i really appreciate you taking the time to express that 💜 last reblogged post is from @thedisappointedidealist12 and i think you might like their content… well they aren’t active rn but their art is fantastic

[gummyytears]

Experimenting/practicing digital art. Hot topic! France belongs to @thedisappointedidealist12

[bananonymity]

oh dear a hetalia university au

THE PROFESSORS

Alfred Jones - Film Studies

-Specializes in genre film, especially film comedy

-Class participation points is if you livetweet your observations and thoughts on a film that you watch in class with the hashtag #JonesJokes1100 (1100 is the course number)

-If you go to him for office hours he will spend half of the time recommending cult films to you

-Will find any excuse to screen at least one (1) Fast and Furious film in any of his class

-Hides snack food in the (public) classrooms he teaches in, will share with the class if a student finds it first

-thinks jean-luc godard is a punk bitch who weighs 20 pounds soaking wet

Arthur Kirkland -  Literature

-Children’s Literature and Fantasy specialization

-that one professor who bumbles into class in sweater vests and an entire teapot 

-”Hi everyone, class is canceled today. I couldn’t find a fucking parking spot.”

-Bring up in his class that Lord of the Rings is an allegory of WWII. I dare you.

-YouTube autoplay defeats him every time

-”IT’S. IN. THE. BLOODY. SYLLABUS.”

Ludwig Beilschmidt - Advisor

-Poor man is responsible for arranging the schedules and eventual graduation of 18,000 students who eat spaghetti out of a shoe when they run out of plates

-Takes every panicked and not necessarily sober student’s frantic emails about a major change with weary stride

-Definitely drinks in the office

-Brings his dogs to campus for therapy dog Thursdays. Then proceeds to pet the dogs himself for two hours

Francis Bonnefoy- Studio Art (all credit for characterization goes to @thedisappointedidealist12 )

-A tortured contemporary artist who needs to teach millennials/gen Z students to appreciate and critique modern art

-makes it a goal in life to baffle and infuriate his students, but once in a blue moon would make a really good point in his lessons that blows everyone’s minds

-Forces students to go to gallery openings and art exhibits with him for extra credit so that he can talk to death about what he thinks about every piece to them

-will fail anyone who said ‘I could have painted that.”

-bonus: argues with Alfred all the time about the merits of French new wave cinema

Gilbert Beilschmidt - Political Science/History

-Leadership class to study famous leaders in history, how they exercised and spread their influence to the people.(is it just me or does Frederick the Great take up a lot more of the syllabus than the other topics?)

-Seemingly easy-going and a human disaster but once add-drop period is over your nose is on the grindstone and you realize that this man actually knows his shit plus some and also you might fail but hey, you’ll have fun doing it

-if his class survives the semester he will take them to the bar and buy them all shots

-”Dear Professor Beilschmidt, This is Xiao Mei from your Political Psychology class. Would it still be okay for me to take the final tomorrow at 12PM? Thank you for your time! Regards, Xiao Mei.” “whatever -- Sent From iPhone”

Elizaveta Hedervary- Gender Studies

-on one hand, she’s the professor who will invite students to her home to spend the holidays if they cannot go home for break

-on the other hand, there is a reason why No Other Faculty dares to take her parking spot

-she and Gilbert use the same class room back to back, which has led to petty territorial rivalries and pranks

-Will publicly drag you and your unfounded opinions in class in the gentlest, most ruthless manner

-You can skip the test if you beat her in arm wrestling in front of the class (spoiler alert: you can’t)

Lovino Vargas- Dining Hall Manager

-Makes it his life goal to change the campus’ perception of the dining hall food by working hard and cooking delicious food

-WILL complain with every breath about budget, quality of groceries, poor pay, and college students who think putting spaghetti-os on a piece of bread is a meal

-on the flip side, very attentive to the students, especially female students, and keeps an eye out for any sign of unhealthy or eating disorder and encourages them to eat wholesome meals. if he catches a student skipping meals because of workload, he will shove a bruschetta in their hands and glare at them until they eat

-a bit too scared to go on strike over pay, although Francis encourages it wholeheartedly

Antonio Carriedo- Librarian

-In the past, he and Arthur were rivals to graduate summa cum laude in their programs. now, Antonio is taking it easy

-Still unironically uses nineties style catalogue cards because it relaxes him, also his computer mysteriously malfunctions every time he tries to use it to locate a book for someone

-if you ask him for a book he will somehow have you sharing your life story right at the help desk for a good fifteen minutes. he WILL forget what book you were asking for

Yao Wang - Business

-Uses memes to stay relevant with the youth (“Don’t forget to YEET”)

-Often invites students to a group lunch after class is over and remembers all his old students’ names

-Don’t even think about trying to leave class early. He may not call you out but expect a threatening Office jpg to airdrop into your phone

-loves it when students bring their children to class, will hold the baby while lecturing

THE STUDENTS

Emil Steilsson - First Year Undecided Student

-Freshman from Iceland, first time leaving his home and struggles to put himself out there to make friends or meet new people

-Raised in a large and close household but because he’s quite a bit younger than his brothers, doesn’t always feels like he belongs

-Also, his first time being away from his brothers, which gives him an anxiety that he will never admit

Leon Wang - First Year Film Studies Student

-Freshman from Hong Kong and Emil’s roommate

-Professor Wang’s kid brother; Yao Wang will bring him tupperware of home cooked Chinese meals every Thursday which Leon will not admit to deeply appreciating

-He will share all his food with you, but he will also eat all your food in return

-A bit of an age gap between him and his brother, and he was raised mostly in boarding schools in England growing up, so he doesn’t get to see his parents often and therefore unconsciously deals with a complex of feeling unwanted or shuffled around

-If he wasn’t such a nice kid Emil would probably have a nervous breakdown having Leon as a roommate (their tidiness levels are Very Different)

Michelle - Second Year Art Student

-Sophomore from Seychelles and fast friends of the boys

-Has a work study job at Professor Bonnefoy’s department

-She has trouble fitting in with the other students and often feels a bit left out from her peer group, despite her friendly efforts

-Because she pursues art, she often worries about her future job prospects, and lacks much confidence in her skills in any other field

[fosteen]

@thedisappointedidealist12 thank you SO MUCH for this au, i'm in love

(I hope you don't mind the fanart!)

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

good evening!! it's like 8:10am here and i am Not A Morning Person i want a NAP

also no your reply wasn't incoherent i could understand it!!

oh yay a winter break sounds very valid and good!! though i am sorry for past you's loss.

and yes when i think about how my childhood friends and i met it was in the most random ways lmao children are just like that i guess

i think indus might be a Slipper Mom but inside she's also very resigned to the fact that her kid is a ball of chaos... but she has to Try regardless you know? like maybe her child might get better as he grows up if he has the environment to influence him (she hopes)

also NO YOUR INDRAN HEADCANON IS BETTER YES that thing about how children often just quietly resolve disputes they have!! yes exactly and there seems to be little to no geninue resentment left behind after it's resolved in that way which is yet another reason why children > adults i guess. but lmao at iran being like "he's a bitch" yes he is

;-; our school system is designed to bring suffering. like every other nation i've heard of including china, home of terrifying national level exams like the gaokao doesn't have tests at the primary school level!! i don't see WHY we should >:( but there are some educational reforms coming up however they don't really affect the best schools and the elite who can buy their way into them through enrichment classes etc that much so eh. terrible

yao's guardian sounds so LENIENT lmaoo it's a dream but also??? with a kid like him idk if it's a very good idea. also wow bringing a dead pigeon in with his bare hands... so powerful but of course he would do that. also agree on yao's backstory not being tragic it's very annoying how many tragic orphan stories there are! also that short story sounds cool do you still remember the title? i'd like to read it

OOf rip I stay in bed till like 9 if I can help it so that sounds painful. And thank you (ig)! As long as I don’t get into my head that it’s lny and that I can drop everything it’s usually fine lol

Also ikr? Children are just >>>> adults. Just vibing with life and doing your own thing. Infinitely better than whatever the over 18 world is like

Ooh yes Tired Slipper Mom created and activated. She hears about Yao and asks India to bring him to her (ostensibly “invite him to our house so I can meet your new friend” but actually it’s a litmus test to see how much Trouble with a capital T he is, and how much of a bad influence he is) because she can tell they’re going to get along well and badly at the same time. Suspicions are confirmed when they do something stupid regarding a neighbor’s dog that Yao has a vendetta against and she smiles tightly at him when he goes out and then proceeds to give India an afternoon’s worth of lecturing about choosing your friends wisely. He gets lots of extra homework for a week as punishment (maybe some extra stuff but I’m unsure what exactly)

YES children just tend to settle scores right then and there. “Fite me (ง'̀-'́)ง” “ok! I hate you too let’s go” while adults just seethe quietly and have baggage for the rest of their life rip. I think we should be able to let out unrestrained anger in a brawl every now and then, you know. Also india + iran is two bitches together but India is just a little more unhinged about it lmao

Good luck with the educational reforms!! rooting with y’all to kick out the rich bitch loopholes

The short story is called A Likely Place by Paula Fox! I tried searching up a pdf version online but I’m not sure if there are any :| I can send you pictures of it tho (I have a “textbook” that’s just a collection of short stories, it happens to be in it) also yes Yao is feral and Unafraid of bird flu, and generally Unafraid lol. And yea I don’t feel like having another Pitiful orphan thing especially because Yao probably wouldn’t think he himself is pitiful so! nah. Also yes I was thinking for his guardian to just kind of be there, make sure he gets 3 meals a day and good grades, and whatever else he gets up to isn’t really their business lol (I’m also entertaining the possibility of his caretaker/guardian being nyo! china who is just Vibing and minding her own business o-o but also being kind of a bad disciplinarian for Yao who really needs some good adult examples in his life... but idk yet)

[oumaheroes]

Pushed to The Limit

Day 27 of Whumptober

Muffled screams/ Stumbling/ Magical Exhaustion

Characters: England, America, France

Context: From the FrUK Chosen Consequence/ Cardverse Chronicals AU with the incredibly talented and lovely @thedisappointedidealist12

Day 26

------

'No more drinks thank you, we're fi-'

'Sure! Get me a beer.'

Arthur was completely thrown. Alfred shot him a quick flash of a grin, likely to try and reassure him. It didn't work, Arthur felt the furthest thing from reassured.

'Arthur's right, this conversation should be had privately.’ Alfred turned back to a stony faced Francis, ‘Where can we go to talk?'

'Alfred, what-'

'Like I said,' Alfred spoke over him, raising his voice, 'it's clear you've got something to say and like Artie here I don't believe in letting things sit. I wanna go somewhere where we can have the talk that you seem to have so stuck up your ass.'

He was too angry. Alfred was far, far too angry. Something that Francis had said or done had got to Alfred more than it should have done and this was dangerous. Both Kings had drunk at least one drink, both of them were angry and Arthur trusted neither of them to be rational, including Francis. Especially Francis.

Arthur didn’t know him at all anymore.

Arthur shot a look to Vash, who seemed to have transcended past the point of exhausted to reach a whole new plane of stressed, and Lily, who seemed on the verge of tears.

He thought about his promise to Francis not to practise any more magic whilst in Diamonds and quickly buried it in the back of his mind to think about guiltily later. What Francis didn't know wouldn't hurt him and he'd promised Arthur many, many things that were now untrue. Arthur no longer had a home in Diamonds, Arthur was unlikely to be asked back to the beach house by the sea, and it was painfully clear, growing more so with each passing second, that the Francis who had sworn to be his until they died was not the one stood before him.

Arthur had to let the Francis he had once known go and not let any lingering attachment to his memory affect his life now, or his future.

He took a deep breath. Feeling the magic within him catch at his request, Arthur expanded his awareness out to cover the room, feeling each and every person and thing within it. It swept over the space like a wave, lapping against the walls and resting there thick and icy.

Freeze

A crushing, intense pressure. It felt as though Arthur was lifting the world up in his mind, holding back time with his very soul and he was. Everything in the room was still, everything unmoving and Arthur used one more burst of energy to slam the doors to the foyer shut, preventing anyone else from walking in.

With monumental effort, he reached out with a heavy deadened arm to grab hold of Alfred, closing off his mind to not drain him. He didn't have long.

Alfred came crashing to life in a sharp gasp, blinking about before turning to Arthur in horror as he recognised what was happening, 'Arthur, what the fuc-'

'Are you sure about this?' Arthur cut in quickly, shaking his arm, and Alfred closed his mouth with a small click of teeth, 'You need to calm the fuck down. If you’re going to talk with just your emotions and not your head you need to stop and remember what we're working towards-'

'Yeah dude, okay I get it you can stop this now,' Alfred was looking at him in panic, 'please, Arthur, let it go, you can't hold this! Remember last time-'

'Don't do anything rash!'

'I know, I won't, I'll be calm- Arthur, let go!'

Alfred twisted his arm out of Arthur's grip without breaking their contact to close fast about his shoulders, holding him steady. By Suit this hurt. It felt like he was drowning in sand, the weight of the world and time filling his lungs and pushing against him- a small pebble holding back the tide. What would it feel like, to hold it all still? Was it possible?

'Arthur!'

'I know,' Arthur sluggishly, haltingly, stood up straight and moved to stand as he was before he cast the spell before prodding Alfred, who was still gripping one of his arms, 'turn to him as you were.'

Reluctantly, Alfred stood further away and turned his face to Francis, letting go of Arthur at the last moment. As soon as Arthur felt Alfred still, felt him become another living entity he was holding in place, it hit him as another enormous weight on his chest, another life pressing and protesting against him. He closed his eyes and breathed out, dropping his mental barriers and releasing the foyer back to join the rest of time. It flew from him in a tidal rush, pulling him in every direction and causing him to stagger and grip Alfred's arm to hold him upright.

'Woah there!' Alfred's voice, far too bright and false, came to him through a muffled fog. Arthur felt an arm come to curl around his waist and hold him up, 'The drink finally hit you, huh, Art? Or one of your headaches again?'

Arthur shook his head, trying to clear it. His heart was fluttering far too quickly, too shallow, and his lungs couldn't take in enough air.

'Yes, my head,' He forced himself to speak, 'my apologies, I'm not sure what's come over me all of a sudden.'

'Maybe you should go back to our Chambers for a bit; me and Francis can have our chat alone somewhere, eh Franny?'

Day 28

Full Masterlist

[ameriden]

Commission from thedisappointedidealist12  ♡(´▽｀)

[sketchytea]

tagged by the lovely @neioo, ty for the tag! ❤ last song: the opening for 哪吒传奇, i was going down a nostalgia rabbit hole and it has no right still being such a bop years later

3 ships: uhh oh god. pruliet, lietpol, and...nedpan? that whole windmill thing single-handedly converted me

currently reading: still chipping away at the nature of middle earth by tolkien

last movie: just watched dungeons & dragons: honour among thieves in theatres. 10/10 would recommend

craving: a big bowl of kimchi ramyeon

tags: @oumaheroes, @thedisappointedidealist12, @lithugraph, @kyuhu if you’d like!

[needcake]

Do you have frain bromance or romance hcs to share (hoping this will electrocute my brain into being able to write them)? If not, what are ur feelings on fruk cuz I realized I haven’t asked that either (〃ω〃)

Hi! (￣▽￣)ノ

I do indeed! haha

This got a bit big??? So I'm putting in a cut haha (also there's a bit of a nsfw language by the end of it :) )

There was a post sometime ago from @thedisappointedidealist12 about feral child Francis, and op made a joke about there being feral Gaul!Francis who liked to own shiny things and feral Roman!Francis who liked dunking Arthur on a river for getting dirt on his clothes, and I kept that post in my drafts ever since because that got me thinking a lot.

One of the things it got me thinking was Francis’ relationship with power. He loves it, he respects it, he admires those who have it, and somewhere between fighting against Rome and fighting for Rome, he began mistaking that admiration for love. He hated Rome for conquering him, but he also loved him. He loved being one of Rome's special children, he loved Rome's outreaching Empire, he loved him and he wanted Rome to love him too. He wanted to be like him as much as he wanted Rome to acknowledge and to love him for himself, and to do that he had to become as powerful and as feared as he was.

But Francis also loves the nicer things. Pretty fabrics and shiny jewels, good food and good sex. Power is not just raw strength, power can also be about politics and about who can hold the best cards and for how long.

Antonio, on the other hand (whether you split him into Castile and Spain like me, or see him as a single entity), goes through a similar process. He too resists Roman conquest, but once he's assimilated into the Empire he also becomes fascinated by his power. And once Rome brings all of his special children into his house, those two are the ones that bond the most over their shared admiration.

Port is the defiant one, always trying to run away and go back to his people, and Romania is the quiet one, the one everyone overlooks, but Antonio and Francis quickly become friends and Rome's most loyal and most faithful.

(I like to hc the different Italian states as separate beings and being a bit older then the rest of the romance kids in this period. If they're 10-12, then Venice, Florence and Genoa, for example, would be around 15-16)

Antonio, however, would always have a weak spot for Port, while Francis and Port's relationship would be more of a complicated mess of feelings, since Francis would perceive Port's defiance as him being ungrateful and undeserving of Rome's attention. It boils down not to Port and Rome's relationship per se, but to Francis' own insecurities and how he projects it onto others.

(on a side note: I don't actually hc Rome as being a bad father. A limited one for sure, but not objectively bad or abusive. Because infancy death rates were so high during the Roman period, children were very cherished by their families, and I think Rome, who maybe only ever truly loved the Italians, tried to give what he could to all the others in an effort to help them grow as a part of himself.

I like to think that child-nations sprout easily and organically and everywhere, but not all of them survive for long because either their tribes are conquered too soon or any number of things that lead a people not to form a nation, and so when Rome found these children (stole them) he actually saw them as precious - albeit dangerous to his own survival -, which is why he would go through all the effort of incorporating them into his house, teaching them his language, culture, and building them things. If everyone follows your rules and you have more of little yous to pass on your legacy, you never really die, is what I'm saying, but I digress).

Both Francis and Antonio tried to become the "one true power" of Europe in different points of history, so while they are friends, they are also competitors for the Roman legacy.

NOW

About fruk!

I like it more as a enemies -> lovers/friends -> best friends (with benefits). If you obsess about someone long enough, you'll end up knowing them inside out, including all the ugly sides and all the dirty secrets. And that's intimate.

Francis knows exactly where to hit to make Arthur hurt the most, but he also knows what to say to make him feel better, and vice-versa. There's a comradeship of being each other's worst enemy for centuries and not letting anyone else kill your enemy because they're yours, and only you are allowed to do it.

(tangent: @rainbowfruitpastilles has an amazing fic (Earthbound) where they meet without their memories of being countries, and to me that rang so incredibly sad, because they would be the perfect couple if only they hadn't spent most of their lives trying to destroy each other, and I can't say anything more because I don't want to spoil it for anyone who might read it haha)

But yeah, I like the bittersweetness of it. While engport to me is fiercely friends to lovers trope, with added drama for them being colossal idiots who need to get their shit together to stop being so stupid so they can finally realize they had a good thing in their hands all along, fruk is enemies to friends with both of them finding something about themselves and each other through their rivalry and healing from trauma with the help of the one person who gets it. (That's not to say I don't appreciate them fucking in the back of a bar at 3 am fast and dirty, but I also really like the quiet moments and the earned friendship between them)

[domesticlion]

The Little Prince’s rose... inspired by the Little Prince AU by @thedisappointedidealist12 !!

[paperbrain-kun]

Commission for @thedisappointedidealist12!!