#and Francoise Bonnefoy

[tournesoleil13]

If feet could raise the middle toe they would))

[hetalia-club]

Fight Club World Meetings

Original Here

[blutpop]

enemies to lovers except ur enemy is super milfcore

[digital999placebo]

sketch inbetween studies .

[sole-soul-survivor]

I've only been thinking about the Boys lately.

Allen gives me Grunge Guy on Pinterest vibes, don’t ask me why, he just does. But he turned out SO pretty so I’m happy abt this concept.

I gave Matt my nose because I felt like it. (also bc it’s my family's nose and I found out recently my great grandpa was from the Blood tribe in Canada so there’s that too- try to fight me on it I dare you.)

Feel free to uh, let me know how you guys feel abt their designs, I might add to the family if you know what I mean ;)

[shiogisu]

帘幕揭开之时，遇到了历史/未来。

The time the curtains open,HISTOIRE and FUTUR meet each other.

[nadohunter]

Listen I just really like drawing FrUk Lesbians okay

[mirrorange]

Girls

[ask-hetalia-fruk]

Can we see some nyo france pls??? And do you (mun) have any headcanons?

Gosh I couldn’t have been happier to get an ask like this because I loooooove Nyo!France - fittingly to the second part of your ask, generally when *I* write / draw fruk, I use nyo!France > Francis!

Perhaps a little more headcanony than preference though.. I always have pictured France having a scar all the way around his neck, to represent the use of the guillotine during the French Revolution!

[xhetaloidxchroniclesx]

Surprise update about a week after my last one! I was almost anticipating not having anything to show. I probably was able to put this one together faster due to the sheer fact that it’s more dialogue heavy than dynamic posing and what not.  But I had fun regardless. Especially playing with the new character Francoise or in other words, Genderbend/Nyotalia France. What a lovely model she is. 

Now then, earlier today I mentioned that I would be replacing the England model with a newer one. Keeping that in mind, this is the last strip we should be seeing with Kanaha’s England model. I loved the model to death, we have a lot of memories but I guess since this is a reboot to a series, giving our “hero” Arthur Morgan Kirkland a makeover would not be unheard of. 

Now as I leave this here, as per usual, hopefully I will have more content to share within another two weeks. For anybody who is actually stopping in and reading this I thank you. This comic is all for therapeutic fun for me but I’m happy to share it and actually see other people enjoying it too. 

P.S.:

I do not actually own any of the models. Please remember that. There are talented model makers out there who were nice enough to share their work and I’m just borrowing it for story. Thanks to all your hardwork!

[hetalia-2p-central]

who considers marching band a sport and who doesn't? OR who was the band/color gaurd geek? please and thank

Splitting this into three categories!

Who considers marching band a sport: Oliver, James, Lutz

Neutral: Kuro, Viktor, Francoise, Gilen

Who doesn’t: Allen, Xiao, Luciano

[tournesoleil13]

Cw: nudity

Uncensored undercut

[hetalia-club]

Hetalia Beautiful World English Dub: OVA 5 Overwhelmed by Heroines

(ᶦⁿᵗʳᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵘᵗʳᵒ ᶜᵘᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ) Hetalia World Stars Complete Episode List

Episode Description: We get transported into Estonia's wet dream...that's it...that's all.

Episode List (Will update with hyper link as I post them) Episode 1 Episode 2 Episode 3 Episode 4 Episode 5 Episode 6 Episode 7 Episode 8 Episode 9 Episode 10 Episode 11 Episode 12 Episode 13 Episode 14 Episode 15 Episode 16 Episode 17 Episode 18 Episode 19 Episode 20 OVA 1- Valentines Day Pt. 1 OVA 2- Valentines Day Pt. 2 OVA 3- America’s 100th Birthday OVA 4- Switzerland & Lichtenstein OVA 5- Overwhelmed by Heroines

[blutpop]

i’ll probablyyy colour this soon

[hetawrite]

No way as a couple!! Lol. I meant separately. I guess a little scenario with them meeting someone for the first time please if it anything. Like a way to show off a little taste what they are like as people before making a friend?

These two don’t seem to make friends unless it’s in some shady spot, but I wanted a lighter air to it. So I thought the only optimistic situation, and they all evolve around 2p!Nyo!England. Also, never heard these versions of names. I like America’s. Thanks for the ask!

2p!Nyo!America: Charlotte:

“This is (F/n)!” It was another one of Olivia’s pointless ‘parties’. Or what she thought was a party. It is really a get together with cupcakes and tea, and a board game if it got crazy enough. Charlotte just went for the free food. Most people went for the free food. But here you are. Olivia made new friends every month, and it seems you’re her newest conquest. “–and would you believe it, we only live two streets apart! I can’t believe we’ve never run into each other.” You laugh at that, and Charlotte cocks a brow. You seem to be genuinely enjoying yourself, which seems weird as not a lot of people could put up with Olivia. “And this is Charlotte! Why don’t you two chat while I greet other guests.” Olivia didn’t even give them time to reply as she already whizzes away. Charlotte looks down at you, raising a brow again. You seem normal enough. Then again, she thought that originally about most of her friends…

“Ah, I’m thirsty. I wonder what Livvy made.”

“Made?” You blink curiously, looking over to the food table. Surely enough there’s a table with punch bowels on it. “Olivia makes the drinks? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, all that store brought crap is too sugar or filled with God-knows-what.” Charlotte begins to make her way towards the table. You follow, unsure of what you’re doing. She seems cool enough. She looks edgy, a thick black choker around her neck and a tank top and ripped skinny jeans. Plus she has a cute brunet bob. You smile, basically tailing after her. Once you reach the table, reach over and grab two see-through cups. You hand one to her absentmindedly and look at the different drinks. There’s no fizzy in sight, just three bowls of drinks. They all have fruit floating in the top, pale pastel colours. Ones pink, slices of granny smith floating. One is yellow, lemon circle floating and the last green, limes sitting on the top. You hum lightly. Charlotte looks at you, blinking as she takes the cup you offered. Her lip curls up, reaching over for the ladle. She notices your expression, thinking. Charlotte takes in a deep breath through her nose. You hadn’t done anything to annoy her. You even handed her a cup, and she didn’t want to be in your debt. She bites her bottom lip as she spoons some mint concoction into her cup. Then into yours. You fumble upon the sudden weight in your hand and look over to Charlotte with wide eyes, watching as she fills up the ladle a second time to top off your drink. You smile, thanking her as you try some. Fresh. Charlotte screws up her face and shrug, drinking down hers. You hadn’t done anything for her to not like you. But she didn’t owe you anything, so she wandered off to go find her sister.

2p!Nyo!France: Alex:

“Are you sure I can come in?” You pop your head in through the door as you follow Olivia into her house.

“Aww, don’t fret. My girlfriend is normally upstairs at this time.” Olivia waves her hand at your dismissively as she enters the house, heading towards the kitchen. “I’ll pop into the loo, meet me in the kitchen.” You purse your lips. You hadn’t really had the chance to explore Olivia’s house the last time you came here. You look up the stairs, but divert your way to the left and into the lounge. Picture frames decorate above the mantel, and embroid pillows sit upon the two sofas. You look to see an open archway for the kitchen. You walk towards it, looking at all the magnets and papers littering the fridge before you turn. You wouldn’t even notice the other person if it wasn’t for them lifting up their wine glass. You look off to the clock, it reading 1:38. At least they did it past 12. You smile towards them, trying to not seem hostile. Or like you just broke in. But the women ignores you, staring off into the distance. Her hair is pulled up into a lazy bun, a large jumper falling off her shoulder and black leggings. Her pale blue nails are chipped, and she sighs, lulling her head to the side. She pulls off mid-life-crisis well.

“Hi.” You give a small awkward wave. She slowly turns to look at you, squinting her eyes as she eyes you over. She sighs, before walking out of the room.

“Alex, have you met-, no? Okay then. See you for dinner!” You can hear Olivia’s voice echoes around the house before she appears, a bright smile splattered across her face like nothing has happened. Then she continues her conversation.

[sole-soul-survivor]

2p! Hetalia x Male! Reader Inserts: 1. 2p!France

Word Count: ~1.5k

(hey guys! I’m accepting prompts/requests for this series here and in the comments of my wattpad, you can find the book for update notifications on my:

Wattpad

Also, the translations come from Google, I am not going to pretend I know how to speak/write any language other than English!)

Pre-warning note: 

This story contains dark, toxic, and severe aspects of relationships, characters, and events. Please read at your own risk, there will be mentions of many triggering topics such as gang violence, kidnapping, murder, gore, mutilation, and toxic relationships. Before each chapter, I will tag the trigger objects, I.e., guns, heavy mutilation, drugs, murder, and suicide. 

It’s important to note that I do not support these relationships or any actions that the characters perform if they are harmful to another person or themselves in any way. 

This is a warning, don’t take it lightly.

2P!France x Male!Reader–Codependency

Third Person POV: 

The sun had nearly set, and Oliver was still here. He wasn’t usually, most times the lively brit would stop by for a bit of tea and a couple of minutes of François’ time. Sometimes (Y/n) was invited, most times he wasn’t. Not because Oliver didn’t want him there, but because (Y/n) was very aware of the things Oliver had said to his boyfriend François. Whispered lies that François was trying to manipulate him, and abuse him verbally and mentally. 

But that simply wasn’t true. (Y/n) knew that François loved him. Why else would he get rid of all the people in his life that were poisoning his thoughts? The ones that were trying to convince him his boyfriend wasn’t the reason he was literally breathing right now. François let (Y/n) stay in their home all day long and even limited his social media intake to keep him away from the people who just wouldn’t believe the love the two carried for one another. 

(Y/n) could hear the two men talking downstairs in the kitchen. Could hear Oliver’s giggles and friendly remarks, and François’ muffled grunts of reply to the brit’s chatter. He had been listening to the two converse for the past three hours. He knew he wasn’t allowed downstairs, if he went down Oliver would simply be tempted to try and steal (Y/n) away, as François had said once. (Y/n) knew how François reacted to those remarks, he knew all too well how the Frenchman would often drink himself into a stupor of upset emotions and become insecure that (Y/n) would leave him for the strawberry blonde still giggling away downstairs. No matter how hard he tried, (Y/n) was never able to calm the other man down from these episodes, and often would allow himself to be placed under lock and key to show François that he was still very loyal to him. 

So (Y/n) stayed in their bedroom, his stomach gently growled with hunger, however, he stayed. He was a good boyfriend, he didn’t want François to deal with the burden of the brit’s cruel words. When the kitchen grew quiet, the other was tempted to tip-toe down to eat dinner, but he hadn’t heard the door open or close. So Oliver was still in the house. 

(Y/n) could hear the downstairs bathroom door open and close, one of them must have just gone to the bathroom. With a sigh, (Y/n) turned to lay on his side and shut his eyes, if he slept, he wouldn’t have to deal with his hunger until tomorrow. 

There were footsteps creaking up the stairs slowly, softly. 

(Y/n)’s POV

Those definitely weren’t François’ footsteps. Which meant that Oliver must be coming up the stairs. If François was using the bathroom downstairs, then maybe Oliver also had to use the bathroom? The only other bathroom in the house was across the hall from your room. This explains why the footsteps trailed to right in front of your door. You held your breath, being sure not to make a sound. He couldn’t know that you were here. You had to be a good boyfriend for François. 

“Poppet?” Came the whispered voice of Oliver along with the soft rattling of the doorknob on the door. Your heart hammered in your chest. Was he looking for you? What would happen if François saw him up here with you? You stayed quiet, hoping that he wouldn’t come in, maybe if he didn’t hear your breathing– 

“(Y/n)? Are you here?” The door was open, casting a beam of light from the hallway into the darkroom and across your form on the bed. Your back was to the door, but you could see the brit’s shadow lurking in the doorway. Your heart was still trying to escape your ribcage, but you still weren’t breathing. 

Footsteps made their way over to you and you jumped when a hand was placed on your shoulder. 

“Thank goodness you’re alive.” He turned your form over and you stared up at him, mortified. What was he doing? Why was he in your room? Where was François? Was he going to take you away? “Come, quickly, we have to leave before–” 

“François!” You screamed, shoving the other’s hand away and backing up to the far edge of the bed. 

“No! No please, you don’t understand, you’re not safe here!” The brit whisper-shouted, panic was written all over his face. You prepared your lungs to scream once more, but before you could get out even a syllable a piercing noise shot through the air and caused you to flinch and cover your ears. 

A warm wet substance coated your face, Oliver stood before you for a second longer. The panicked expression still coated his face until blood trickled between his eyes all the way down to the collar of his shirt from the gaping bullet hole burrowed between his eyebrows. His limp form melted into the floor like the puddle of blood pooling from the gruesome wound. In his place stood François, his gun still raised, his gaze set in a deathly level stare directly into your (e/c) irises. You didn’t realize when you were on your feet, or when you nearly tripped over the brit’s body, not until you were embraced by a warm pair of arms. A large hand resting on your back as you were held in a deathly grip, the cool metal of the pistol in your boyfriend’s hand brushed your skin through your clothes like a refreshing and cool sip of water. 

“Shh, tout va bien, tu es maintenant en sécurité.” His warm hand was rubbing circles on your back. And his grip was so tight you felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” You managed through a choked sob. “He saw me, I don’t know why he came up here, I tried so hard to stay quiet.” You were trembling, waiting for the other to tell you you had been loud, to explain why you were bad and why you caused this. It’s what you needed him to do, because why else would Oliver have come upstairs? When thinking of the brit, you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at his limp body. Warm fingers took your chin rather gently, far gentler than you’ve ever been handled by François before. It was like a jolt of electricity when the other cupped your (s/t) cheeks, wiping away the blood slowly cooling on your face. 

“You did nothing wrong tonight, (Y/n).” You could see it, the ghost of a smile playing at the edge of your boyfriend’s deep violet eyes. You always felt as though the Frenchman’s eyes were enchanting, you could always be sucked right in. However, a sudden harsh grip on your face broke the spell and your heart thudded to a stop at your boyfriend’s next words. 

“Unless you were planning on following him out? You didn’t hesitate, did you? What did he say? How long was he here before you finally called for me?” His gruff voice was a low growl. His fingertips dug into your jaw muscles painfully and you gently grabbed at his wrist to hopefully alleviate some of his nerves. 

“N-nothing! He was only here for a few seconds, I promise!” Your voice was quivering, you were trying hard to reassure François. But you worried it would not be enough. 

“And what now? You’re going to try and leave after this, aren’t you?” He growled, the cold barrel of his pistole was being pressed against your chest, right over your heart. 

“F-François! No, no I want to stay with you, I love you.” You pleaded with him, panic rising in your chest. If you died, you’d never see him again. To you, that would truly be hell. “I-I’m glad that Oliver is dead, now you don’t have to deal with him trying to steal me.” You reasoned, hoping desperately that your words would reach the other. 

The barrel of the gun lowered, and with it your panic. When the gun was pointing to the floor, and François’ grip loosened just slightly, you dared to look back into those murky pools of violet. 

“Je t’aime, (Y/n).” He whispered, he trailed his bloody thumb over your lips gently, smearing the coppery taste delicately before his lips crashed into yours roughly. The taste of your beloved boyfriend and the sickening tang of Oliver’s blood filled your senses. But none of it mattered, not when François finally said he loved you.

(translations: “ tout va bien, tu es maintenant en sécurité.” it’s alright, you’re safe now.

“Je t’aime,” I love you.)