Idk Y But I Keep Coming Back To Them 

Don’t do drugs kids!!

He might be living in Scandinavia for the most part, but there’s no denying that he’s just as much a UK brother as the rest of the lot is. It’s hard to miss

—From Albion's Seed: Four British Folkways in America, pg. 306.

If you've ever wondered where my characterization of Arthur and Alfred comes from lol

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Aren’t we all blessed hws America got the old English human name ‘Alfred’ even though it was kind of a rare name at the time and not something stupid from his Puritan days like Thou-Shall-Not-Commit-Adultery Jones or Sorry-for-sin or Fly-fornication yo these sepratists really be insane while naming their kids.

face

I am very funny

One.. ...,.,.,..,

fic premise meme time! alfred, shortly after the revolution, visiting francis at versailles as a means to thank his monarchs (marie antoinette and louis xvi 👀), but alfred is *incredibly* thrown off by the lavish lifestyle of versailles and francis doesn’t exactly seem like himself (perhaps he feels ashamed of the sheer amount of over-indulgence around him? hmmmm) (anyway, this is just an excuse for someone to write versailles!francis hehe)

oooh Versailles francis would be super interesting to write! he would definitely be put off by it. I also headcanon that nations have a sixth-sense kind of gut feeling and he just knows that this is his ticket to disaster. he doesn’t know why but he just knows. also if you don’t mind me adding - I like to think that despite his discomfort he enjoys it to an extent because, well, it feels like he’s caught up to someone. He remembers the lavish palaces of the Roman empire whose boot he lived under and seeing himself reach this level of opulence feels like he’s finally proved himself as, if not superior, then at least equal to old man Romulus

(btw poor Al, his puritan heart won’t be able to take that trip)

I also can’t help but mention what an amazing job @rebelsandtherest did with a similar premise of America visiting France after the revolution in her fic Amity which I highly recommend

Frater Familias

Words: 5,719

Summary: Churchill lies, Singapore falls, an empire abandons his children in a sea of wolves. When their brother finds out, there will be hell to pay.In early 1942, Alfred Jones travels across the globe to save his baby brother and sister from the betrayal of their father. When Arthur Kirkland returns at long last, his eldest is waiting for him, ready to spill blood.

Warnings: Language, mentions of death and bodily injury.

Author’s Note: I kept things very vague to make it easier for myself, but this takes place not too long after the Battle of Coral Sea in May 1942.

You can also read on Ao3 if you prefer

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Alfred Jones hadn’t wanted to kill his father this badly since 1781. Come to think of it, Alfred wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to kill his father as much as he did now.

Sure, he hadn’t been pleased that President Roosevelt acquiesced to Britain’s insistence on a Germany-first strategy. The scar of Pearl Harbor was still fresh and livid, and he was spoiling for a chance to hunt Kiko down personally. Even so, he’d kept his mouth diplomatically shut and had taken heart when Churchill assured him that British forces in the pacific would hold, that the ANZACs would have plenty of reinforcements to hold allied territories there.

That, as it turned out, had been a massive lie. Gargantuan. Colossal. Titanic, in fact. His father might as well have designed the ship himself, stuck his two youngest on board without lifeboats bound straight for an ice field, and stayed cozy in Belfast while Alfred broke his back feeding coal to the Carpathia in a blind, unplanned panic. Churchill fiddled while Singapore fell, and Father fiddled along with him.

“Where is he?” Alfred demanded, ignoring the guard at the entrance who was trying to slow him down.“

“I’m sorry?” Asked the startled British soldier stationed at the war room door.

“Arthur Kirkland. Where is he?”

The soldier took a few tries to say, “General Kirkland hasn’t yet arrived, sir.”

“Fine. Which room will be his?”

“Sir, I’m so sorry, can I get your name, I’ll need to ask–”

“Where?” Alfred demanded, and there was something in his too-perfect voice, his too-blue eyes, that made the soldier startle and point immediately down the hall.

“End of the hall, on the left.”

Alfred stormed in that direction without a word. The soldier blinked a few times. A deer released from headlights, it took him a moment to get his bearings.

“Wait,” he called after Alfred, quickly jogging after him. “Wait sir, you’re not allowed to-” but Alfred was already inside, going around to sit in the officer’s chair behind the empty letter desk. “Sir, the General won’t be here for another five, six hours.”

“Fine,” Alfred said, and had this young Australian known him better, he would have known to be frightened by his stoic, collected anger. Facial expression unchanging, the American wheeled back in the chair and propped his feet on the desk. “I’ll wait.”

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