izzie's muffins ;;

copied straight from the notepad document. xD includes my asides and notes.

s u n d a y

WCS AMERICANA

When Matthew wakes up, Alfred is stroking his cheek. First he tries to go back to sleep. He doesn't have work today and he's still too morning-drowsy to process anything. He keeps his eyes closed and drifts off again, but Alfred's thumb gradually shifts to run up and down his jawline, and when Alfred starts pressing kisses to Matthew's neck, he sighs and moves to snuggle into the contours of Al's body next to him.

"Hey," he mumbles. "You okay?"

Alfred's breath ghosts over his collarbone. "I'm great," he says, and he tucks his head under Matthew's chin. And this is where Alfred gets complicated. He can't be great when his country is a mess, but he can, because he's with Matthew.

(He has a lot of allies, different ones for different times, but Matthew is his favorite. Matthew will always be there to make things great.)

"You're so pretty," Alfred says, burying his face into Matthew's shoulder, "God, you're so pretty, Matt." Always. He's pretty covered in dirt and blood, he's pretty when he's near-frostbitten from the snow. He's beautiful with half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. Matthew's frowns make Alfred want to make it all better, his wry grins force Alfred to grin back, and when he smiles, wide and bright like the winter sun, Alfred would do anything, anything for him.

He can't do much for him, with the radiation spreading over the coast and the Soviets breathing down his back. People are getting sick. The government is in disarray. Alfred isn't entirely the fool he appears; he knows it's only a matter of time before it all falls apart.

Matthew kisses his forehead, cups Alfred's face in his hands. He doesn't flinch away when he touches the burns, and when their lips meet, he whispers, "You're prettier."

---

m o n d a y

ALFRED AND MAELYS, WWII

Maelys Bonnefoy has Arthur's dark blonde hair, but the rest of her, Alfred understands, is something very different. Her eyes are a stormy gray instead of Arthur's deep green, she's several inches shorter than he is (and, a little surprisingly, several inches taller than most of the female nations Alfred has met), and not so surprisingly, her eyebrows are comparatively well-groomed. When she speaks English, she sounds sort of like Emrys.

She meets him at the edge of the American lines with a small group of Resistance fighters, part of her old uniform unbuttoned to show the tattoo of a black ermine spot under her collarbone. "Trugarez deoc'h," she says, and shakes his hand.

Her language doesn't sound like Francis' at all.

She rides with him through the terrain, pointing out paths and valleys and telling him where Ludwig's men are most likely to be. She asks after Guernsey and Jersey, after Matthew, and after Arthur, and she takes all the news in stride. War brings out in her the remnants of the days when she was independent, the days when she was one of the most successful duchies in Europe and the only people able to resist the Franks. The rifle slung over her shoulder looks disturbingly natural resting there.

When Maelys speaks about Ludwig and Gilbert, it's with the venom of betrayal and a flood of foul language that earns her the loyalty of Alfred's men. She says that once Francis is finished liberating Paris, the first thing she's going to do is smack him upside the head, and the second thing she's going to do is shove her tongue as far down his throat as it'll go.

To the amusement of the troops, Maelys Bonnefoy is a woman who keeps her promises. She cuffs Francis on the head when they finally meet in Paris, then theatrically hooks him by the collar and drags him in for a long kiss.

But sometimes Alfred wonders if he's the only one who noticed how tight her lips would get at the mention of Choiseul or the sight of the barbed-wire-enclosed Drancy complex. He wonders if anyone else saw her clasp Arthur's hands and speak a "digarez" for not being able to help him during the London Blitz. And he wonders if no one else knows that sometimes, she recites a poem to herself in the darkness.

"In the silent forest," she whispers as they march, "the night has not yet come and the storm of sadness has not yet injured the leaves."

When he asks her who wrote it, she tells him the man's name was Max Jacob. And her stormy gray eyes well up with tears.

He doesn't see her often anymore. Alfred was born after the age of Maelys Morgan, and Maelys Bonnefoy doesn't attend meetings. She promises she will, one day, and that it's just a matter of making Francis so sick of her he'll beg her to get out of his country. Knowing Maelys, she might actually have a plan there. But until that day, Alfred remembers a woman with dark blonde hair and an ermine spot tattoo, who swears like a sailor and cries over poetry.

(In the silent forest, from which the Dryads have fled, the Dryads will never return.)


notes:
-- Trugarez deoc'h is "thank you" in Breton, digarez is "I'm sorry."
-- The Americans were in charge of liberating Brittany. Paris was itself liberated by the French Resistance (FFI), while the British and Canadians went north from Normandy into Belgium and so on.
-- Breton nationalists at first attempted to gain independence from France with the help of the Nazis. The Nazis used this desire for independence to help them gain control of France (the Phony War) and promptly stopped paying attention to the nationalist demands after their goal had been achieved.
-- Choiseul was a concentration camp in Brittany. Drancy was a transit camp in Paris, probably one of the most infamous camps of Vichy France.
-- Max Jacob was a French-Jewish poet born in Quimper, Brittany. He died in Drancy in 1944.

---

t u e s d a y

Surfed youtube. Watched Brodyquest, a Regina Spektor Live in London marathon, and the Total Eclipse of the Heart Literal Version.

textsfrombrennenburg.tumblr.com This is beautiful.

It inspired a 100-word Americana drabble featuring Amnesia:

Matthew really should have known better than to play Amnesia with Alfred. He should have known that Alfred would scream like a little girl at every flashback, soundtrack noise, and servant sighting. He also should have known that Alfred would insist on finishing the damn game, which culminated in him quaking in fear while Matthew threw Agrippa’s head into the portal. He should have known that Alfred would then sneak into Matthew’s bed at one A.M. with what looked suspiciously like a tinderbox in his hands.

(It was all worth it to get Alfred to cling to him like that.)

---

w e d n e s d a y

30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lmun6epiiW1qj49r7o1_400.png This sadly believable headcanon inspired the following conversational drabble.

"Uh, Alfred? Are you okay?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you crying--"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

"Heroes don't cry, Matt."

"Well, okay."

"..."

"..."

"H-how could Casey leave Brandon? Doesn't she know he would never cheat on her?"

"Oh God, what are you reading."

"He loves her, Matt! They are meant to be!"

"I am not related to you."

"And she can't go back to her ex, he's such a douche! It's just not fair..."

"...Okay, there, there. I'm sure Casey will come to her senses."

"Y-you think?"

"Al, it's a romance novel. Of course they're going to get back together."

"Don't spoil the ending!"

---

t h u r s d a y

COLD WAR RANDOMNESS

He thinks that Matthew is angry at him -- because of Vietnam, for some reason. Arthur isn't happy either, Francis is withdrawing from NATO, and they're all tired of nuclear war. But they don't understand, Alfred is always saying, they can't see that Russia wants to take them all, and Alfred is the only one standing in the way. Why don't they see?

Yao is going red too. All of his old allies are gone.

(It's ironic how Kiku, whom Alfred painted red with blood and explosions, is the one resisting Russia and his "union.")

Even his people are upset about Vietnam now. (One, two, three, four, they don't want his f-cking war.) And None of them understand, he thinks, why doesn't anyone realize that he's trying to protect them? He can't let them end up like Toris and Feliks and Katya. He wants to keep the world safe, he wants to show Russia that he can't have them.

So he'll keep funding nuclear weapons. He'll keep building bomb shelters and trying to lock Matthew inside them, to make sure he's safe when the warheads hit. He'll keep trying to pluck out those little red weeds in his own home soil, and he won't stop until he wins.

Maybe Alfred misses Arthur's approval, or the comforting brush of Matthew's hand against his shoulder.

But a hero can't let his feelings get in the way.

---

f r i d a y

World's most beautiful man: Adrien Brody. World's most beautiful woman: Regina Spektor. No, I don't think I have a type. And it is clearly not Eastern European Jewish people from the boroughs. Right? Yes. (It really doesn't help that Adrien Brody is from my dad's neighborhood. I find this so hilarious.)

Today I saw a license plate that said "KTHNXBAI" and it was magnificent.

Now I bring you a typical day on Brittany's phone:


"Hey. It's Duncan. Thought maybe yeh oughta know Fionn and Artie have been at each other's throats all night about Liam. They're makin' their rounds o' the family, tryin' to get support. Should be callin' yeh later today. Hope you an' Frenchie are all righ'."

"What's this I'm hearing about you bothering Fionn?"
"Maelys, I hope that you, too, realize that our brother is an arse."
"Which one?"
"Do you know any who aren't?"
"Touche."

"Mae, I've got to get out of this sh-thole. I really want some stargazy pie, but the wanker won't let me out of the basement. Evaluating escape plans. Call me."

"Hi Maelys, 's Emrys. We keep 'earing strange noises from the basement and I figured I'd call, see if you knew anythin'. If Cador's plotting again, can you try to talk 'im out of it? Thanks a lot. Say 'ello to the kids for me."

MAELYS MORGAN: you trying to dig another escape tunnel with a spoon?
CADOR MORGAN: no. f-cking up art's laundry
CADOR MORGAN: holding his favorite sock hostage until he lets me leave
MAELYS MORGAN: sounds reasonable.

"The bastard's at it again, I don't [unintelligible swearing]. All I did was tell him those shorts were bloody awful. Don't listen to a word 'e says, 'e's just [unintelligible swearing]. If you want t' go out fer a drink, I'm free this weekend."

FRANCIS BONNEFOY: lys, ma cherie, do you remember where i keep the olive oil?
MAELYS MORGAN: it's in the second cabinet on the pantry wall
MAELYS MORGAN: please do not tell me what you are using it for

"Alfred's coming over tonight."
"Mm?"
"I'm going to convince him to watch Amityville Horror."
"Oh, Matthew. I taught you well."

"Is everyone still alive up north?"
"Yeh, things are okay. Art's got his knickers in a twist about somethin', though... dunno what."
"So business as usual."
"Business as usual. Oh, a guy came callin' today. I forget his name, Al... Aleyn somethin'? Must o' been a salesman. I shut the door on him o' course. Looked a lot like Fionn, though."
"Huh. Weird."

CADOR MORGAN: arthur looking for sock. just as planned.

---

s a t u r d a y

i don't know what to write today
you are coming home tomorrow
yay!

i need someone to talk to who hasn't read the hunger games xD

we should write our own dystopian future novel omg

apparently according to aph-headcanons, canada is a voyeur. i can visualize this.

this is your present for today