#and fruk fans

[prismatixxkhaos]

Fuck you Hetalia AU in 2024 and it’s a mecha AU

BASIC PREMISE IS: This takes place in the far future and fuck ass aliens are trying to take over Earth and the leaders of the world decide “hey we have immortal beings over here with combat experience! PUT THEM TO WORK!” And so they do. The mechs in this world are called Atlases

Rn I only have America and Japan’s Atlases designed, but I’m gonna design some more hopefully!

Side note: These aren’t all the characters for this AU, I’m working on everyone else including the aliens (who have their own nation personifications on the front lines!)

[crepegosette]

yaoi des vieillards

[coeur-de-fruk]

what the fuck is a kilometer

[liphoe]

that one scene in my style

[floralcrematorium]

We'll love again, we'll laugh again, we'll cry again, and we'll dance again...

Happy 20th birthday to "Sweet Cheers For Sweet Revenge"

You know I had to use my favorite tragic lovers... after all, like a bed of roses, there's a dozen reasons in this gun

[secret-sageent]

Current mood: trying to figure out if FrUK from Hetalia or LonelyEyes from The Magnus Archives would win in a Most Divorces competition.

POINTS TO CONSIDER

France and England have had literal centuries to get married and then divorced again and harbor more hate than a toxic Christian at a pride parade

However, Elias Bouchard is Like That

[t00thpasteface]

as a matter of fact YES i really DO have a lot of fun waltzing right into the middle of an ongoing ship war and pulling some random fucking third option out of my back pocket. i've done it before. i'm doing it currently. and aphrodite is my witness i'll do it again

[ifindus]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Thanks, Rae!! 🥰 I rarely write fics now, but it was fun to look back on what I've manage to produce in the last 10 years 😅 the quality I fear varies greatly

The Sky Pirates Ship: FrUK Words: 61 802 Published: 13. May 2018 Summary: Francis finds himself a prisoner of a group of sky pirates. He's forced to join their adventures and the people he meets along the way change how he looks at the world. It requires teamwork to get out of it alive, but Francis manages to make a mistake that will cost him dearly.

Change Ship: SuNor (unfortunately not very shippy tbh) Words: 2 515 Published: 23. December 2023 Summary: Norway is not happy with being traded around like a piece of property and he is certainly not happy with his new "boss" ; Sweden. Over the years, his opinion does not change, but their personal relationship just might.

All you have to do is ask Ship: ScotNor Words: 3 468 Published: 30. December 2022 Summary: Sigurd keeps inviting all his friends to a café just befoe the holidays. Why has he become so sociable all of a sudden? Must be the excellent coffee and nothing to do with the handsome barista.

What Love? Ship: FrUK Words: 32 296 Published: 25. July 2016 Summary: France and England have had a thing going on for quite a while, but never talked to each other about it. However, their thoughts keep nagging them and somehow they end up as neither of them could have foreseen.

Love Burns Ship: ScotNor Words: 2 649 Published: 15. October 2020 Summary: The second world war has begun and Norway had to flee his country with the Royal family. While they now are safe in England, he has taken the trip up to stay with Scotland as there is little he can do in London. Still, he longs to be back with his own people.

[kopifurann]

i thought FrUK were popular in the fandom yet strangely i found so little new FrUK fic in Ao3? Or is it cause i only put the 'problematic' tag on? lol

[spicetea-andtoast]

I’ve always been a fan of both FrUK and USUK but when I was younger I more so favored the latter. I thought, when it came to canon, their dynamic made more sense

…

…..

Rewatching this as an adult, sorry, Francis and Arthur are definitely fucking

[olympeline]

I've definitely been bitten by the writing bug for Hetalia. I just started a FrUK superhero AU fic based on a certain mid-00s movie. Going well, but I'd still love to have a beta look over it. Especially since I've been out of the fandom for so long and am rusty on details. My usual beta isn't into Hetalia so she can't help me, which is a bummer

So yeah, if you're a beta who's available and might be interested in taking a look over this fic, maybe get in touch? I'd be super grateful!

If not, please just enjoy some FrUK fun :>

Mr. & Mr. Bonnefoy-Kirkland

He was going to be late.

Francis rolled back the silk sleeve of his costume and checked his watch. Night had fallen outside the dingy warehouse where he and his allies were waiting, but on the ceiling a light blinked weakly. Providing just enough illumination for Francis to see the numbers on the face of his rolex. Scratch that, he was already late. Arthur would not be pleased, and Francis’s husband was never one to be shy about sharing his displeasure. Especially recently. Francis wasn’t foolish enough to have his phone on him at times like this but, if he had, he knew it would soon be blowing up with texts from his rightfully irritated spouse.

They’d quarreled about Francis’s lateness just last night when he’d come in long after dark. Francis’s excuse was work as always. Arthur hadn’t been in the mood to hear it.

“Too many nights in a row, Francis! For God’s sake, tell someone else to do it!”

“I can’t, cher. We are just so busy with the new line. They need me.”

“You’re telling me there’s not a single designer at Saint Bonnefoy who can fill in for you for one sodding night?” Arthur’s angry tone was laced with disbelief. “What the bloody hell did you hire them for, then?!”

“Forgive me, mon amour. This is too important. I will try to be home sooner tomorrow.”

Arthur had glared at him, eyes narrowed to green slits. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but had stomped back to the kitchen to stress bake instead. A plate of charcoal scones for his dinner was a fitting punishment, Francis supposed. He also supposed that Arthur might not have let Francis off the hook so easily if not for the fact he often worked late himself.

“Sorry, love. Had to look over Lovino’s latest before leaving. Needed a lot of revisions.”

“Of course, lapin. I understand.”

Francis was a fashion designer with his own label and a permanent slot on the roster of every catwalk in the world. Arthur worked as a journalist for the French branch of a world renowned London newspaper. Both of them put in long hours and had done so ever since they’d met. They each knew the demands of the other’s career and Arthur, like Francis, usually showed a lot of understanding. Usually. His patience had frayed recently from night after night spent alone in their apartment. Missed dates, dinners, and outings galore. Guilt gnawed at Francis along with deep seated irritation and regret that he couldn’t just explain his constant absences. His other life had been making great demands on his time as of late.

What was Francis’s other life? An outsider might have guessed an affair but Francis would never. No, no, nothing so gauche as cheating. The truth was that Francis Bonnefoy-Kirkland was a supervillain. A deviant with an alter-ego known and feared throughout Paris and beyond. By day, he was Francis: the gorgeous, chic, undisputed king of couture. By night, he was Rose Noir; florakinetic, thief, and - before he met Arthur - gentleman seducer extraordinaire. Sometimes he worked alone, sometimes as one third of Night’s Europa: a villainous trio composed of himself, Matador, and the Teutonic Knight. Or Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and Gilbert Beilschmidt to their friends.

For three years Francis had balanced his marriage, his job, and his heists with the practiced ease of a multi-tasking, metropolitan CEO. Recently, this had changed and Francis suddenly had far less time to devote to Saint Bonnefoy and, more importantly, Arthur. Antonio and Gilbert were in the same boat and often brought gloomy tidings of the diminishing harmony in their respective personal lives. 

All thanks to the man who had become the default leader of Night’s Europa for the last half a year: General Winter. The villain that all members of the trio now had to listen to whether they liked it or not.

And Francis most certainly did not.

Neither did Antonio or Gilbert but unfortunately there was nothing they could do. Not if they wanted to go on living. Life had been so much sweeter when they were a simple team of three out for riches. Then one day Matador walked into their hideout with a strange, tight expression that Rose Noir and the Teutonic Knight could see even through his mask. He told them he’d been approached by Killer Frost (one of the General’s subordinates) with a “request” from the big boss: an alliance between the Blizzard gang and Night’s Europa.

From a tactical standpoint it made sense. Many villains had migrated to Paris in recent years, which in turn led to a surge in heroes arriving to try and control them. Once heavy hitters like Freedom’s Eagle and the Jade Dragon arrived and started throwing villains in jail left and right, the writing was on the wall: making friends was a good idea if you wanted to stay free. Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert all wanted to refuse the alliance even so, but they couldn’t. Everyone - hero, villain, or civilian - knew what happened to those foolish enough to cross General Winter. Even Freedom’s Eagle, the world’s current no.1 hero, struggled when up against the General. Feared him too, if villainous scuttlebutt was to be believed.

Saying “no” was off the table. So the three villains reluctantly sent their acquiescence back with Killer Frost, and Night’s Europa entered an uneasy alliance with the Blizzard gang. They met with them soon after in the dockside warehouse that the four Eastern Europeans used as their base.

“I am very glad you all are agreeing.”

The General’s voice was high-pitched for a man of such huge stature. His blank, white mask hid his face completely, but Francis could hear the smile in his voice.

“I am thinking we will be very good together, da?”

Francis, Antonio and Gilbert nodded in silence. Da.

Everything had changed after that. The alliance between the Blizzard gang and Night’s Europa was supposed to be an equilateral one. General Winter had promised that they would decide on the details of each heist democratically. Technically, he had told the truth: they did vote. The reality was that Killer Frost, Snow Warning, and Ice Winder all voted however General Winter did. Not out of loyalty, but because they were simply too terrified of their leader to do otherwise. They’d seen his brutality up close.

Night’s Europa had that pleasure not long after the first meeting. A bank job interrupted by a naive, suicidally stupid, young hero trying to punch far above his weight. Heroes were enemies and Rose Noir took pleasure running rings around them, then leaving them bruised and humiliated. That didn’t mean Francis would ever forget the look in the young man’s eyes as he died. The sounds of his screams as the General slowly broke and tore him apart, inch by inch.

“You are very naughty boy,” the General cooed over all the pleading and sobbing. “Very naughty. Naughty children must be-” a wrench, a snap, a shriek of agony. “-taught.”

By the time the hero was dead, the white of the General’s costume had been dyed a deep red all the way up past his elbows.

They’d been forced to watch the entire sadistic spectacle. Afterwards, once alone, Francis had staggered to the nearest alleyway, pulled up his mask, vomited everything in his stomach, and kept retching long after that. Then he went home and clung to Arthur all night. As a supervillain, Francis was certainly no angel, but this was something else. This was evil. This was sick.

“Don’t,” Killer Frost said when Matador and the Teutonic Knight had confronted him after that first murder. “I know what you’re going to say. Just don’t. Please…just do what he says. Just obey him.”

“Why stay with the psycho?” Gilbert demanded. “You saw what he did! He’s fucking insane!”

“I know,” Killer Frost replied in an accent Francis guessed was Lithuanian or close. “I know that. How could you think I don’t?”

“Then why listen to him? Why not fight back? It’s three against one!”

“Six with all of us,” Antonio put in.

“Ja, totally! Come on, freezer burn, we could take him!”

But Killer Frost just silently shook his head and would not be moved. Neither would Snow Warning or Ice Winder. Without their support, what could be done? Francis wasn’t confident they could take on the General even with their help. Without, it was suicide.

“If you try to leave over this, he’ll kill you,” Frost said dully. “It’s you or them. And if he can’t get to you, he’ll get to someone you love.”

“He doesn’t know who we are,” Francis argued.

“He’ll find out. Trust me, he’ll find out somehow. And then…”

Killer Frost’s breath hitched.

“Just…don’t make trouble, Rose. Please. Please just don’t.”

Francis wanted to brush off Frost’s words, but they had sparked a sickening fear in him in spite of himself. Francis thought of Arthur. Winter getting to him may have been an empty threat, but could Francis really afford to take that risk? He pictured coming home and finding their apartment wrecked, the General waiting for him in the rubble, his costume once again soaked with blood.

Blood staining the carpets. Blood splattered on familiar furniture. A body on the floor. Blond hair turned scarlet hanging limp over a caved in skull. Green eyes open but seeing nothing.

The terror was too much. Francis decided to behave himself. Antonio and Gilbert must have felt the same fear because they didn’t raise any more objections. Just kept quiet and pretended not to see or hear what they could never hope to forget.

What bitter irony that the man who called himself their ally was giving Francis more turmoil and sleepless nights than his nemesis ever had.

Francis heard the metallic creak of the door opening and pulled himself free of bleak thoughts.

“We are here! And look: I bring someone for a visit.”

The General was back at last. Back and dragging another unfortunate victim. A very familiar looking victim. Francis did a double take.

Speak of the devil.

The man General Winter dragged was a hero. One that Rose Noir knew well; from the white plume on his hat, down to the hem of his famous red coat:

The Pirate Gentleman.

One of Europe’s premier superheroes and a member of the international J7 team led by Freedom’s Eagle. Famous in equal parts for his aquakinetic powers, his checkered past as an ex-supervillain, and his hot temper complete with salty mouth and angry tirades that would put the most ornery sailor to shame. He also happened to be Rose Noir’s arch enemy.

“Though not a very nice guest, I am fearing. So rude. Very uncooperative, also.”

General Winter shoved the Pirate Gentleman out in front of him and the smaller man staggered and then went down hard, unable to keep his footing. Francis saw blood matting the back of his hair. This and the way he moved suggested a concussion. The Pirate was bloody all over: battered and bruised like he’d been set on by a heavyweight boxer. Which wouldn’t be far from the truth if he’d been brawling with General Winter. Who was nearly as strong as Freedom’s Eagle on top of his infamous cryokinetic abilities.

“But then we talked,” the General suddenly giggled, high pitched and chilling. “Talked and talked and talked, yes, yes! YES!”

He drew back a steel tipped boot and slammed it into the Pirate Gentleman’s unguarded ribs. The hero choked, heaved and spat out a glob of blood mixed with saliva. Francis tried not to wince and risk drawing attention to himself. That kick had to have cracked a few bones. Those that weren’t cracked already.

These last four years, the Pirate Gentleman had been, if you’d excuse the irony, a real thorn in Rose Noir’s side. Ever since he’d left his native London to help combat the French capital’s rising supervillain problem. Prowling the streets looking for trouble, he’d soon bumped into Night’s Europa and, rather than wait for backup, jumped into the fray to take on all three himself.

“Fucking ballsy,” Gilbert said afterwards. “Gotta admit it. I’m gonna break every bone in the shitty limey’s body next time I see him, but still. Gotta say it like it is: guy’s got a pair on him!”

Francis and Gilbert had to grudgingly agree. Grudgingly because they’d just lost the night’s jewels to their pop-up foe and giving him any kind of compliment stung, however deserved. Such beautiful specimens of emerald. Much better to be adorning Rose Noir’s elegant hands than cooped up in some stuffy museum. Francis still might have forgiven the Pirate Gentleman and allowed him to slip down into the category of “easily ignored irritation” like most of Paris’s other heroes. If the foul mouthed rosbif hadn't had the bare faced nerve to insult Francis’s professional pride the next time they met.

“Didn’t realize I was still in the West End! Who designed your outfit, frog? Andrew Lloyd Webber?”

Francis’s jaw had dropped. Worse, he was so distracted by the hero’s appalling remark that he’d let his focus slip enough that the Pirate had almost pinned him. If not for Matador and the Teutonic Knight, Rose Noir would have ended the night in jail.

After that it was on. Oh, it was on.

Rose Noir’s gift gave him power over plants, including the ability to grow them fully from seed in seconds. Meanwhile, the Pirate Gentleman’s gift was controlling water. A substance in plentiful supply thanks to the pipes and canals that ran through the city. Butting heads, scuffling, and brawling, they soon found out they were evenly matched. All over Paris they’d played their game of cat and mouse and Francis lost many a treasure to the Pirate’s exasperating dogooder ways.

Even so, Francis would not have wished this on him. The man was a foul mouthed, uncultured, pest, but even he didn’t deserve what was surely coming to him. All he had left to hope for now was a quick death.

“But perhaps all is too hasty. Perhaps our friend has been thinking it over and now has a new perspective, hm?”

General Winter rolled his prey onto his back and pressed his boot down on those wounded ribs. The Gentleman Pirate gasped and wheezed, a line of blood bubbling and trickling from the corner of his mouth. He probably had a punctured lung.

“Perhaps he reconsiders the Blizzard gang’s kind offer? Perhaps he remembers his past and knows the leopard isn’t changing its spots so easily? Perhaps he sees friends of snow all stronger and better together, rather than sad and alone…?”

Ahh, so that was it. The General took pride in the fact that all the snow and ice based supervillains were part of the gang he’d founded. Making them part of his twisted family whether they wanted it or not. The Pirate Gentlemen’s power over water gave him some cryokinetic skills. He’d be a perfect addition to Winter’s little “collection.” General Winter must have approached him the way he did Night’s Europa, but the Pirate Gentleman would have turned him down flat. Everyone in the hero/villain community knew he was reformed, ferociously so. Too bad for him the General obviously hadn’t taken the rejection well.

The Pirate’s lips were moving. General Winter bent down and cupped a hand to his ear.

“Sorry? You are saying what?”

“F-f-fuck you…”

The General slammed his boot down. They all heard the sickening crack. The Pirate Gentleman jerked forward as much as he could while still pinned, mouth open in a silent scream. Then he fell back; twitching, jerking, and choking on red froth. Even Gilbert looked nauseated.

“You are very silly man,” General Winter said serenely.

He reached down and pinched the corner of the Pirate Gentleman’s mask between his forefinger and thumb. Francis’s eyebrows jumped up in shock. Surely, he wasn’t going to-?

“Silly, silly, silly. Let’s see the silly, silly face.”

The General tore off the Pirate mask in one fluid motion. Revealing the bloody and bruised face beneath.

Francis’s heart stopped.

Arthur.

Arthur. It was Arthur. Francis’s husband. The man he’d pledged his life to and promised to love till the end of his days. The Pirate Gentleman was Arthur. His Arthur.

He had been all this time. Every time they’d fought, it had been Arthur under that mask.

Francis couldn’t take it in. It was like he’d stumbled into a dream, it was-

General Winter’s hand was wrapped around Arthur’s throat. Francis had seen him snap necks like toothpicks many times.

“NO! STOP!”

[untouched-white-wolf]

This is semi old I did months ago.. France and England are always my favs! And personally only characters on the show that I ship ❤️✨ xD I never expected to be semi in the Hetalia Fandom again but thanks to a meme group igniting my love of the characters plus new ones ❤️❤️✨✨ I new to digital drawing and this was a doodle I did since I love these two idiots

Ps.. I never thought I’d be on tumblr again as well…

[aph-japan]

{J.P.N Fan-Made Horror roleplaying (rpg) Game} Hetalia Fox Tales ~ QUOTES + "PERSONIFICATIONS" vs. "HUMANS" + "DEATH" vs. "Disappearance"

"SO, I was thinking, {to BRING 'Gilbert' back...} - SPAIN

(Note: "Rufus" is a 'secret' spoiler character that shows up mid-game. Jia Long = H.K. {Yes others also Cameo if not have scenes}; others are human charas, other main charas etc.)

{Netherlands}

"The 'PERSONIFICATION' does not have to be 'KIKU HONDA' either."

(I'm coming back to this comment, but continue on...)

While the "lore" (and handling of H.W.S's) isn't perfect, all I'm saying here IS, if you like pondering the lore of what "personifications" means along with horror r.p.gs involving time-loops and mythological stuff and which basically acts as a (un-official - these are un-related fan-series) parallel to "HetaOni" except somewhat in reverse; (And Yet Not Completely!)

You all will probably be interested in watching "Hetalia Fox Tales", which is now fully and completely 'subbed'!

(And yes, the game itself, from 2k16, is 'completed'!)

Caps by @aph-japan Credit to DinoSlayer235 who Edited + Subbed from C.N. script {DO NOT re-post / claim as your own without Permission} (Please ASK to Use!) {The play-list is linked below - follow to direct link!}

Warning: It is still a HORROR R.P.G. There will be lots of eventual blood-splatters imagery; "Sound" of blood can also be heard often in later parts, notably well within even the first few parts.

Basic {Starting} Summary: The Nations are all visting (or planning to arrive at) {Kiku}'s location; {Not the 'main house', but Kiku's 'hosting'} Kiku seems to have also "invited" them for something. After a night of telling "scary stories", strange events begin happening. They all (+Kiku) tried retiring to their rooms, but... It would appear the "mansion" of ""Kiku""'s contains the "Spirit" that Kiku talked about from within Kiku's "Tale". Moreover, not much later on, "Romano" suddenly appears. He joins the group inside the mansion, after managing to find the way inside. "Antonio", who was trapped outside trying to join them as well, can't immediately get inside the mansion... (It uses graphics + a turn based battle system very similar to HetaOni. {Down to almost exact same 'attack names' in many cases} Thus, it might look a little outdated there; Please remember this is from around 2k16.)

(Check comments to see if I link to further references!)

[luzbie-art]

Summary:

“François,” he began, the words lingering on his lips before finding their way out. “You are an idiot.”

François let out a breathy laugh, still looking right ahead of him. That was such an Arthur thing to say.

***

Or, Arthur and François finally get together in the aftermath of WWI.

[liphoe]

[a-luran]

I have been keeping this in my head for a century and a half but: cardverse AU where Alfred is new to the monarchy of spades, lightly infatuated with his Queen, and older and harsher Arthur who only softens in the presence of their Master of War, Alasdair. Arthur himself as Queen serves as head of the scholars and the navy of their kingdom. A quick and brutal war breaks out which costs Alasdair his life and Arthur his heart.