This is Germania and Prussia

I posted the below on my Facebook. I am secretly trying to head things off at the pass. Every time people see pictures of me out and about, they think I have been magically cured or my health status has improved. And I know going to Florida is going to give people that impression.

But also, I just wish a few of my relatives could understand my situation better. And why I didn't come to Christmas. And why I might try to come to Christmas now.

I guess I'll see how this goes.

-----------------------------------

One of the biggest struggles I've had my entire adult life is explaining why I appear fine whenever people see me. I say I am very sick and bed-bound and then they see me and I am out of bed and talking and joking and... a normal healthy person.

What many don't realize is I am making a choice.

A choice to get sick.

I can use up all my energy in a short time frame to accomplish a difficult chore or entertain a friend or go to a doctor, but that is going to have a consequence.

The more I do, the more severe the consequence.

In the ME/CFS world this is called "post-exertional malaise." (for those interested, you can read more about it here: https://rthm.com/art.../what-is-post-exertional-malaise-pem/ )

Imagine every time you wanted to do something, you were *choosing* to get the flu.

Take a walk, get the flu.

Exercise, get the flu.

Spend a night out with friends, get the flu.

And you might be thinking, "Okay, it can't be as bad as the flu. I've had the flu and the flu sucks. No one would choose that."

I may not get the nasty respiratory symptoms, but everything else is pretty much the same. Crippling fatigue, horrible aches, and the loss of the will to do much of anything. Sometimes it is much worse than the flu. Some people don't know how much being this exhausted can hurt. They have never used up enough energy that their body is unable to power itself properly. I usually say it is like every cell in my body is starving and screaming for energy. I feel it in every inch of my body—and not just on the surface... through and through. So, like... cubic inches.

Sometimes I don't even have the energy to power my legs. Trying to stand feels exactly the same as trying to lift a barbell with way more weight than you can lift. I can't get upstairs or even walk to the kitchen. It's a concentrated misery that defies description, despite my constant attempts to try.

Sometimes I get lucky and this flu lasts for a day or two. But the more active I am, the longer it can last. And the severity increases as well. There is also a cumulative version of this—where if I do a bunch of little things over a longer period of time, eventually it will catch up to me and I may be stuck in bed for a few weeks.

And when I say "stuck in bed" I mean stuck in bed.

Short trips to the bathroom and a few minutes in the kitchen to make food. If I spend too much time upright, my legs will literally give out and I will be stuck on the floor until I recharge enough energy to get up again. It would be like every time you needed to get up, you had to hold your breath. Not to mention, the more I do, the longer the recovery will take.

For a long time I chose to never get the flu. I stayed in bed and did just enough to avoid the worst of PEM. I skipped family get-togethers. I didn't see my friends. And I lived my life inside the computer. Some may find that sad, but I actually found a way to make this work. I ran a successful blog that was seen by millions of people and I met my two best friends who I now consider my new family.

One thing that allowed me to choose not to get the flu was my parents. I fear some thought they were spoiling me. They did my laundry. They helped clean my room. They got my groceries. They cooked my food. They took on any chore they could so I could avoid the flu and live some semblance of a life on my computer. There is a lot of guilt wrapped up in that. I didn't ask them to do that. They just sort of... did. And I am so grateful to them.

To be fair, they would have to do these chores for themselves anyway, and tacking on my stuff wasn't a huge deal. But I know it caused them a little extra pain and a few post exertional consequences of their own. So I appreciated that sacrifice more than I can put into words.

But then they both got very sick. And not only could they not help me with my stuff, I had to help them with their stuff. And this was a difficult transition. I had to choose to get the flu to take care of my parents, but then if I got the flu, and I couldn't take care of my parents. I believe this is called a catch-22.

My initial solution was to just not take care of myself. At all. My health and mental well-being was set aside and I just gave all of my energy to them. I didn't shower. I forgot to take important medicines. I didn't do a single thing that brought me joy. And I'm reminded of that analogy of the airplane emergency where the oxygen masks drop. You put on your mask first before you put one on your child. Your instinct is to save them first at all costs. But if you pass out, they are screwed.

So I kept getting that cumulative version of the flu. I'd help them as much as I could for a week or a month and then I'd be useless to them for just as long. Living in the basement did not help. Stairs were very hard for me and constantly going up and down was a huge waste of energy.

And I'm sad to say, the level of care I gave to my mom was not great. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't understand how to balance my needs with hers. And it led to costly mistakes. She had several preventable falls that caused injuries. At one point she spent hours on the floor because I fell asleep and did not check on her. When you know someone needs regular supervision, you need to synchronize sleepy time.

Thankfully I learned from all of these lessons. Maybe not as quickly as I would have liked, but I did figure it out. I just wish I had learned them before my mom passed. I just wasn't able to give her the help she needed.

And you can tell me "you did your best" all you like, but this isn't a guilt I am choosing. It's just there and I feel it no matter what anyone says. In time I am hoping it will get lighter, but I'm afraid it cannot be wiped away with a well-intentioned platitude.

But with my dad, I decided to move upstairs. That was something I should have done much sooner. But I liked having my personal space and that was hard to give up. When he slept, I slept. When he spent 4 hours at dialysis 3x per week, I would make sure to take care of any personal needs. I would do chores a tiny bit at a time. 5 minutes here, 5 minutes there. And then I would lay on the couch in between and regain my strength. I did everything possible to not get the flu. And I got my flu shots so I wouldn't get the actual flu. (Get your flu shot! 50K die from it every year!) The only hitch in my plan was when I got a kidney stone at the same time my dad was in rehab. I have no idea how I got us through that.

I was very proud of the care I was able to give my dad. And I'm so grateful I was able to pay back just a tiny bit of what my parents did to help me. And the care I gave my father is the only thing that helps me feel better about my failures with my mom.

But now I am entering a new chapter of my life. And I find myself choosing to get the flu more often. I have decided sometimes it is worth the consequences. Part of that is because I am more used to it after dealing with it for 20 years. I have coping mechanisms and procedures and techniques to manage the symptoms. It doesn't make them suck any less, but it definitely makes it more manageable. It's akin to people with chronic pain who still feel the pain just as profoundly as when it was new, but they get so used to it that they forget that isn't how they are supposed to feel.

I approached this scientifically. I did tests. I went to the movies. I tried once a week and that was too much. Then I scaled it back and that was more manageable. Then I realized I had movies at home and decided to end that experiment.

I started to put my energy into something I enjoyed more. My photography. So I have been finding new ways to take pictures again. More experiments. I'm designing a simpler studio that requires much less energy. I'm creating a little product photography workstation where I don't have to set up everything each time I want to take a cool picture of an object. It will just be "turn on the lights" and "take the pictures."

Figuring all of this out made me realize how much I missed photography. And since I have been shooting test pictures here and there, my mental health has been noticeably better. And once I get this all figured out and set up, I am hoping some of you will let me take your photo. Or a photo of your kid. Or a pet. Whatever you have that needs photographing, I'm game.

I'm not going to charge. It's not going to be a business. I do not have the energy to "hustle." And asking people for money just sucked all of the fun out of my beloved art form. It corrupted it. I just love taking pictures and if you need a photo, I'd like to do that for you. I also restore old photos for fun. I'll talk about all of this more in another post when I am ready to start.

And then my grand experiment is coming next week.

I am going to travel.

I am going to see my best friend in Florida for two days. Two days of travel and two days of visiting. This is a scary choice. I know the aftermath is going to be difficult. But I need to get out of this house. I need to see my chosen family in person. And I have never been on a plane and I love the perspective from high places. I know people hate air travel, but for me, looking out that viewport is stunning television that cannot be matched.

Purposely making myself sick sounds like a bad idea. But it isn't life threatening. I have the free time to recover as long as I need to. And I can always choose not to get sick for a while if it gets too hard.

I just ask that people not see this as going from a worse life to a better one. I was really proud of the life I was able to create for myself while staying in bed. That took a long time to figure out. I met some of my favorite people. And I accomplished things I couldn't imagine in my wildest dreams. Please do not shit on that life and think it was sad or meaningless. I was given that life as a gift from my parents and it kept me alive. It has always been a huge insult when people pitied that precious gift they gave me.

This is not a better life that I am trying to figure out. It is just better for me right now. My needs have changed. I have changed. So I am trying to adapt. I just ask that people understand when I go out and do something, please remember the choice I am making.

You may be tempted to say, "You are doing so much better!" I am not any better than I was 10 years ago. Actually, my health has degraded. It's just that before I didn't think getting the flu every time I did something was worth it. And I would hope everyone would understand that was a valid choice.

And now I am inviting those consequences.

On purpose.

Give me the flu, I guess.

Hallo!! I have had this stuck in my brain for so long but I just love the idea of a reader who knits or crochets as a hobby and them making little Christmas gifts for the 141? Like a bright green crocheted version of Prices hat or a knitted mask for ghost. I just think they deserve hand made gifts so they know they're cared for 😌

A/N: I love a good holiday drabble

Soap

"What's this then?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe. It was early in the morning and you were lucky enough to get holiday leave. You just had to deliver everyone's presents. Soap's room was next to yours so he was first.

He held the clumsily wrapped package with an amused smile.

"Open it."

"It's not Christmas yet." He said, shrugging.

"Soap. Just open the damn thing." You wanted to see his reaction. He tore at the paper, and his smile grew as he revealed his gift. A knitted scarf made to look like the Scottish Flag.

"I'm never taking it off," he said, wrapping it around his neck. "Did you make this?"

"Yeah, I just had some free-" You were interrupted by him hugging you around the waist and lifting you up into the air.

"I love it." He said, spinning the two of you in a circle.

Gaz

Gaz was the next stop. You found him eating breakfast in the mess. You slide into the seat next to him.

"Mornin'." You said, stealing a piece of toast from him.

"Morning to you too, little thief." He said, jokingly slapping your hand away. "You leaving today?"

"In a couple hours but I had to do some things first."

"What are these things?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Delivering this." You handed him a tissue paper-wrapped bundle.

"Fuck, I didn't get you anything." He said rubbing a hand over his head. "You gotta warn me about these things."

"You don't have to get me anything. Just open it now."

He smiled and shook his head as he unwrapped it. It was a pair of mittens, knitted with dark maroon wool.

"You're always complaining how cold your hands are." He slipped them on and cupped your face.

"I'm still getting you something when you get back." He kissed your forehead. "You're making me look bad.

Captain John Price

You knocked on his office door, a light blue bag covered in snowflakes in your hand.

"Come in." He called. You went in. "Aren't you supposed to be home?"

"Trying to get rid of me?"

"You being home means I have one less person to worry about." He leaned back in his chair. He was looking at the bag.

"This is for you." You were shyer about this one than the previous two. You set the bag on his desk. He smirked and took the bag. He laughed as he pulled out the tissue paper. It was a green bucket hat, maybe a little more feminine than you had intended but it was too late to make changes. He took off his hat and replaced it with your handmade one.

"How do I look?" He smiled.

"You look good." You giggled.

"Thank you, dear." He reached into his desk and pulled out a candy bar with a red ribbon tied around it. He tossed it to you. "Have a good holiday."

Ghost

You were afraid you wouldn't be able to find him in time. You had to loop back to the other three and only Soap had the vaguest idea of where he could be.

"Try the roof?" He shrugged, offering to pass the gift on if you couldn't find him in time. No, it had to be in person. You were anxious. He had never been cruel or even outright mean to you but he was intimidating, to say the least. He was also who you knew the least.

Soap was right. He was on the roof. A cup of black coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other. You close the door just loud enough that he could hear and have time to pull his mask down.

"Thought you were gone."

"I have to leave right after this, actually." You approached slowly. Your gifting hand outstretched like how'd you let a dog sniff you before going to pet it.

"After this?" He turned to look at you. He paused when he saw the gift. 'Don't bite me, please' you thought.

"For you." You handed him the little wrapped package. He set his coffee down and gave you his cigarette to hold. He was the most gentle with the wrapping, slowly undoing the knotted bow. He pulled against the tape, careful not to rip the paper. It was simple. Just a plain black balaclava.

"Most of yours are polyester and this is cotton so it won't be as harsh on your face." You explained quickly. He was flipping it over in his hands.

"Did you make this?" He asked, standing.

"Yeah." You resisted the urge to ask if he liked it. He pulled you into a one-arm hug.

"Thanks, kid." He clapped your shoulder. "Now get out of here."

He took the cigarette back and sat back down. You hurried away, taking one look back before slipping back inside. He had the balaclava in his hand, just staring at it. You got a quick glimpse of him living his mask over his chin to rub the cotton against it before the door slammed shut.

Pairing: Erwin Smith x F!Reader (Modern AU) Word Count: 5.4K Warnings: anxiety, swearing, alcohol, work stress, secret relationship, teacher-student relationship, age difference, explicit sexual content, nudity, fingering, desk sex, a little possessiveness, size difference, talk of marriage and having kids, drunk Nile, mention of a sex dungeon, lots of romance, marriage, pregnancy/children A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift for the lovely @lady-lauren. 😊❤️ Merry Christmas, Lauren! (Also: To anyone else reading this, IF YOU ARE A MINOR, DO NOT INTERACT!)

FIRST CHRISTMAS

You really should have known things wouldn’t go according to plan when your plane nearly slid off the icy runway. But you were trying to be optimistic.

And you are in desperate need of a vacation.

Even now, as you stand at the edge of a group of fellow travelers, waiting to find out if your flight is just delayed or outright canceled, your phone keeps buzzing in your bag.

You know you turned off Teams notifications. But apparently, your office group chat — or at least part of it — has migrated to a group text.

With a sigh, you glance down at your lock screen, a familiar anxiety settling in the pit of your stomach. You feel guilty enough as it is, taking a week off to escape what already feels like an endless winter. But it felt like it was meant to be when you spotted an all-inclusive vacation deal at a Hawaiian resort.

The last thing you need, on top of a very untimely blizzard, is workplace drama and news that your boss has fired his third secretary in as many months.

As you swipe the notifications away, an airline employee confirms the news you’ve been dreading: Your connecting flight is canceled, and the soonest you can fly out is tomorrow morning — Christmas Day.

Nearly twelve hours from now.

And that’s only if the weather decides to cooperate.

Fucking fuck.

Luckily, it’s still early enough that all the shops and restaurants are still open. You leave a group of agitated businessmen to gripe over the situation and make a beeline for the nearest place with half-decent drinks.

To be honest, an airport Applebee’s usually isn’t your first choice. But as they say, desperate times…

It’s only once you’re seated at the bar, waiting for a “Tipsy Reindeer” with what you hope is a generous pour of vodka, that you notice the man seated to your right, with one empty stool between you.

He’s looking up at the flatscreen mounted on the wall, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watches the massive winter storm move across the weather radar. His phone is out, open to what looks like a text conversation. There’s a suitcase near his feet, along with a leather briefcase.

When he takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath, he notices you. 

Caught staring, you consider looking away and pretending nothing happened. The last thing you need is banal conversation shared over six-dollar “Sleigh Bell Sips.”

But something keeps you from doing that. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s clearly a kindred spirit, another traveler stranded here because of the snow. Maybe it’s the printed copy of the Georgetown Law Journal resting underneath his phone.

Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s ridiculously handsome.

It’s even worse when he smiles at you, his blue eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. With his glasses now slipping down his aquiline nose just a little, paired with the knit sweater he’s wearing under his wool coat, he’s like a blond version of Clark Kent crossed with a J. Crew model. And maybe a smidge of Old Hollywood movie star.

“I was going to ask if you’re stuck here, too,” he says, his voice deep and warm. “But I think it’s safe to assume everyone is.”

You huff out a laugh and thank the bartender as he hands you your oversized drink. “Guess it’ll be a white Christmas after all.”

His smile widens a little. “Are you heading home, to see family?”

“Nope.” You take a large sip of your cocktail, and yes, there’s the vodka. “I’m being terrible and skipping out on the festivities this year. Mostly because it’s the only time I could take off work without my boss losing his shit.”

“Sounds like my workplace,” he quips, lifting a glass of what looks like scotch on the rocks. “Here’s to escaping for a little while. Or at least trying to.”

Your glass is comically large compared to his, but you lift it anyway. Another sip, and you twirl your straw around, thinking you spot a Santa gummy floating somewhere near the bottom.

“Do you work in law?” 

When he looks surprised by your question, you nod towards the journal now pinned under his elbow.

“Oh! Yes. I’m a professor at Georgetown Law.”

You visibly perk up. You’ve always been interested in law, to the point where you were, for a time, thinking about going to law school. But you have what often feels like an incurable case of imposter syndrome, so you have yet to do much research, let alone take the LSAT.

“What kind of work do you do?”

His question only reminds you of the unread texts still piling up in your inbox, and you sigh, hard enough to elicit a look of concern from the man.

“Sorry. It’s a marketing job.” You take a larger gulp of your drink and explain, “I don’t mind the work, but I know it’s not something I want to do forever. And honestly? All the drama is exhausting.”

Now he looks intrigued, turning to face you as he rests his chin on his hand. “Would it help to talk about it?”

You laugh. “You’re already stuck overnight in an airport, and you want a stranger to bore you to death?”

He grins. “I somehow doubt you’ll accomplish that.”

“We’ll see.” 

Between what you suspect truly was an extra shot of vodka and the fact that you haven’t eaten in hours, you’re already feeling more relaxed.

Or maybe it’s just him.

Pushing that thought away, because nope, you are not allowing yourself to crush on a total stranger in the middle of an airport Applebee’s, you fix him with a considering stare.

“At least tell me what name I should have them put on your headstone when I succeed.”

Your dark humor seems to delight him as he extends a large hand for you to shake. “Erwin Smith.”

By the time you’ve regaled him with the most memorable pieces of workplace hot gossip — including your boss’s suspected affairs, a manager’s very inappropriate purchases billed to the company card while attending a conference, and several coworkers’ attempts to commit fraud — you’ve both finished your drinks, along with a shared plate of nachos.

“I don’t know how you deal with it all,” Erwin says, rolling his suitcase beside him as the two of you step out into the terminal. He’s tucked his reading glasses into the pocket of his coat, which is now draped over his arm.

You wonder if his sweater is as soft as it looks, admiring the way it fits across his broad shoulders. It’s blue, like his eyes — but no, a different shade entirely, like the ocean at dusk.

Too much vodka. Focus.

“Yeah, it’s, uh… interesting. Wine helps, though.”

Erwin laughs. “I can imagine.”

“On top of all the work I do — which is probably too much, since we’re understaffed — it’s stupidly tiring. Not physically, of course, but mentally, emotionally…”

As the two of you walk past a Sunglass Hut, a Brookstone, and then, of all things, a Spanx boutique, he considers what you’ve said.

“Have you thought about quitting?”

“Only every day.” You try to say it jokingly, but it comes out flat and deadpan. “I just don’t know what else I would do. And, you know, having money is nice…”

You’ve debated disclosing your true ambitions, your growing desire to go to law school and pursue a career in that field. Initially, you didn’t want him to think you were only talking to him because of that.

But after a few hours spent together, you get the sense that, if anything, he’ll be curious to hear more. He’s an information sponge, soaking up every detail you’ve given him, no matter how mundane or salacious.

“I’ve been thinking about going to law school.”

He stops walking, his briefcase swinging at his side. “Really?” There’s a pleased smile on his face. “I think that’s an excellent idea — but I’ll admit, I’m biased.”

“Did you always know that was what you wanted to do?”

“No.” He glances away, watching a couple exiting the travel convenience store with neck pillows and blankets, no doubt preparing for a night of restless sleep.

“I was an English major in college.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m surprised, but also… not really.”

He chuckles. “At one point, I could recite a good number of Shakespeare’s sonnets from memory. I wanted to reach high school language arts.”

“What changed your mind?”

The two of you continue walking, exiting one concourse and heading for another. “My father started having some health issues, so I took some time off after my junior year, to be there for him, take him to appointments…”

His expression is unreadable. “It gave me a lot of time to think. Mostly about how we were going to pay off his medical debt.” He looks at you, explaining, “He’s a teacher, too — well, he was. He’s retired now.”

You nod, listening carefully, even as you pass a Starbucks whose cheerful Christmas music is blaring at full volume.

“Two of my friends were going into law, so I decided to give it a go. And I ended up working at their firm for a while before taking the job at Georgetown.”

“It seems that you liked it well enough to keep going.”

It’s his turn to nod. “I paid off my father’s debt, but I also fell in love with law. It’s fascinating. And as someone always looking for a challenge, it never fails on that front, even as a professor.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you for a few moments before you tell him, “I’m really happy for you. That’s the dream, right? To find your life’s purpose?”

He hums a little, tilting his head as he thinks. “I wouldn’t say it’s my purpose. It’s something I enjoy, but at the end of the day, it’s still work. It’s part of who I am, but not all of me.”

Looking somewhat abashed, he asks, “Does that make sense? I suppose… after watching my father give up so many years to his work — even give up his marriage — I’m more interested in making the time I have count. There’s so much more to life, isn’t there?”

In that moment, perhaps because of his earnestness, or the way he unknowingly speaks directly to some of your deepest worries and insecurities, you realize there’s no use in trying to avoid falling for him.

It’s too late. It’s already happened.

SECOND CHRISTMAS

“You do realize it’s Christmas Eve, right?”

Erwin blinks, looking up from his laptop for what feels like the first time in hours. In fact, it probably is. The coffee he brewed late in the afternoon has gone cold in his mug, as if the stiffness in his neck weren’t telling enough.

You’re standing in the doorway, wearing one of his Georgetown sweatshirts. It’s so large on you, the sleeves hide your hands, and he can’t tell what you’re wearing underneath it, if anything.

What a tantalizing thought…

With a sigh, he leans back in his chair and takes off his glasses, setting them on his desk. “I’m sorry. It’s this damn presentation.”

You saunter into the room, a disappointed little huff escaping you. “It can wait. You’re on break. We both are.” Slowly, you reach across his desk and push his laptop closed. “So take a break.”

He can’t deny that you make a good point. You’ve been done with classes since early December, but exams had consumed weeks of both your lives and made it difficult to see one another. Now that grades have been submitted and the holidays are here, his focus should be on making up that time you were forced to spend apart.

It’s a precarious balancing act, dating a first-year law student. Upon your acceptance to Georgetown, the two of you agreed to certain rules that helped to make things easier. You wouldn’t take any of his classes. He would only give you as much help as he would any other student coming to his office hours. He would show you no favoritism, nor pull any strings to make things easier for you. 

And, most importantly, neither of you would tell anyone about your relationship.

That last rule had been inadvertently broken when Miche and Nile decided to stop by his apartment unannounced one evening — and proceeded to use a spare key to come in when he didn’t answer the door.

“We needed to make sure you weren’t dead,” Miche had explained while Erwin frantically pulled on a pair of pants and you hid under the covers, mortified.

“Yeah, you could’ve slipped in the shower,” Nile chimed in, smirking. “Or thrown out your old man back.”

“We’re the same age,” Erwin snapped.

“She’s most definitely not.” Miche was very clearly amused, wiggling his fingers in a wave when you poked your head out to glare at him.

Needless to say, it wasn’t an ideal way for you to meet his closest and oldest friends. But since then, they’ve made an effort to atone for their behavior. It’s not unusual for the four of you to have dinner together, often joined by their wives, Nanaba and Marie.

Other than that small, trusted group, no one knows that Professor Erwin is smitten with a student. And oh, how smitten he is…

He knew he was in trouble from the moment you met, both miserably spending your Christmas Eve stuck at the airport. You struck him as intelligent, funny, and tremendously kind, and if anything, his admiration of you has only grown over the past year.

When you decided to apply to several law schools, he had privately hoped you would choose Georgetown. And when you received your acceptance letter, he opened a bottle of champagne and cooked dinner for you both before congratulating you in ways that involved far less clothing.

He is, put simply, enamored. Your mind fascinates him, your wit and determination impress him, and your body —

“Erwin? Are you even listening?”

He startles when your hand waves back and forth in front of his face, and when you give an exasperated sigh, he smiles. “I’m getting distracted in my old age,” he dryly jokes, which makes you crack a smile.

“You’re ridiculous…” Throwing one bare leg over him, you settle yourself on his lap, and his hands instinctively move to rest on your hips.

“You’re forty, not eighty.”

“Some days, I’m not so sure.”

“Oh, please.” But you’re smiling at him as you run your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead.

He makes a small, pleasurable sound, leaning into your touch. Although he typically uses pomade on the days he teaches, he tends to forgo it otherwise. He can’t deny that this is one of the reasons why.

“If you really were an old man,” you muse, your voice light and playful, “you wouldn’t be getting hard so fast, just from me sitting in your lap...”

When you sink down a little lower, the outline of his cock pressing against you through his thin, cotton pajama pants, he groans. “I can’t help it. You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?”

He grasps the sweatshirt and tugs on it, just enough to reveal a little more of your bare thighs. You smile sweetly in response and simply tell him, “I thought I might have to persuade you to stop working.”

“Consider me very persuaded,” he murmurs, hooking his thumbs under the hem and pulling it nearly to your waist. Fuck, he was right. You’re wearing nothing at all. And he can see that you’re already wet.

“Have you been thinking about this for a while? Seducing me in my office?” His voice is lower now, his focus entirely on you as one hand slowly slips between your legs.

You open your mouth to answer, but all that comes out is a strangled gasp as he touches you, his thumb just barely brushing against your clit before he begins to slide two fingers inside you.

“I didn’t catch that,” he says, enjoying the way you brace your hands on his shoulders as he pushes in deeper and deeper. “Tell me, sweetheart… Have you been aching at the thought of me fucking you in my office?”

“Yes,” you finally answer, the word more of a breathless sigh than anything else. And it only makes him harder, the way you roll your hips forward, desperate for him in a way that’s utterly intoxicating.

He fingers you until you’re begging for his cock, your skin hot to the touch, your eyes hazy with desire as you clumsily strip off your borrowed sweatshirt.

While you fumble with the waistband of his pants, tugging it down far enough to reach into his boxers, he lowers his head and mouths at your breast, one hand pressed flat against your back as his tongue teases against your nipple.

He realizes it, not for the first time, when he has you sprawled across his desk, your legs pushed up as he fucks you deep and hard, his soft grunts overlapping with your lovely moans. It’s when you look at him, your hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, your back arching as you near your release.

You’re so beautiful like this, in every way, always. And he loves you.

He loves you so much, it feels overwhelming, in a way that’s both exhilarating and frightening.

He wants to possess you. Consume you. Worship you. Protect you. He wants to tell everyone you’re his, but also no one at all, because how could anyone else possibly understand?

As he rubs your clit in tight, little circles, kissing you, swallowing every needy whine and gasp of his name, he knows he’ll never want anyone else. It’s only been a year since you first met, but it doesn’t matter.

He loves you. And he’ll happily spend the rest of his life proving it.

THIRD CHRISTMAS

Although this is, first and foremost, Nile and Marie’s Christmas party, Erwin seems determined to strongarm the guests into celebrating your recent graduation. You quickly lose count of how many people congratulate you, and the seemingly endless refills of sparkling wine leave you feeling giddy.

It’s hard to believe it’s all over. But thanks to summer classes, along with a rigorous internship at Zacharias and Dok — earned entirely on your own merit — and too many late nights to even begin to count, you’ve graduated early.

Erwin has been glowing with pride for weeks now, ever since your commencement. No longer caring about hiding your relationship of three years, he showed up with an enormous bouquet of roses and practically swept you off your feet the moment he saw you.

It made sense. You were no longer a student, not that you had ever been his student. That was a rule you luckily managed never to break. But even so, many of your classmates had been shocked by the public display of affection. Others, however, cheered and wolf-whistled.

It’s been strange, pulling back the curtain and ditching the secrecy you’ve held tight to for the past two years. But it’s also been incredibly freeing.

You sometimes think about how miserable you were at your old job, always wondering if things would ever get better. And now here you are, with a brand new career ahead of you, along with a boyfriend who adores you so completely, it still blows your mind.

How did I get so lucky?

“I think the cookies are just about done.”

You’re startled out of your thoughts by Marie’s soft voice, and you turn to find her putting on cat-patterned oven mitts over her manicured hands. She’s wearing a red velvet dress that hugs her stomach, and you wonder if she should be bending over so much at seven months pregnant.

But when you offer to help, she shoos you away. “I’m fine, I promise.” And she proves it, pulling out the baking sheets with ease and setting them on top of the stove. “Trust me, this is a breeze compared to the twins.”

“Are they at your parents’ house tonight?”

She nods, picking up a spatula and impatiently poking at one of the chocolate chip cookies. “They’re a godsend. We’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

“Nile texted Erwin and said if the girls made him watch Elf one more time, his brain might actually melt.”

Marie laughs at that, leaning back against the counter. “He’s just annoyed that they didn’t want to make a gingerbread house with him this year.”

You dramatically gasp. “Now that’s heartbreaking.”

“Poor guy.” Marie shakes her head, then fixes you with a curious look. “Have you and Erwin talked about it at all? Marriage, kids…?”

Taking another sip of your drink, you consider her question. Truthfully, you have. It only makes sense to double-check with a partner that you’re on the same page when it comes to Big Life Events.

But it’s not something you’ve discussed lately. You’ve wanted to, there’s no doubt about that. However, between his hectic schedule this semester and your scramble to finish everything you needed to before graduation, it never seemed like the right time.

Seeming to sense your answer before you can give it, Marie offers you a kind smile. “I’m not trying to pressure you, I swear. I was just curious.”

“No, it’s fine,” you assure her, your voice a little too cheerful to compensate for your tangled thoughts. “It makes sense. It’s not like we’re getting any younger.”

Erwin turned forty-two this year. Does he really still want kids? And now that you’re living together, practically a married couple in every other way except legally, is it something that’s still on his mind?

Marie frowns and opens her mouth to reply when Nile stumbles in, clearly trying his best to walk straight despite his obvious inebriation. 

He steals a cookie, stuffing it into his mouth, before asking Marie, “Haff oo seen Hange ‘n Mulblit?”

Marie tuts at him. “Chew before you choke, and no, I haven’t.”

“They left early,” Miche interjects, ducking into the kitchen to grab another bag of ice for the bar they’ve set up in the living room.

Nile looks aghast, quickly finishing his cookie before demanding, “Why?”

Miche shrugs, and Erwin appears behind him, leaning in the doorway. Unlike his friends, he seems sober. Almost too sober, considering how many times he’s encouraged partygoers to toast your accomplishments. 

He catches your eye and smiles warmly. He’s wearing a sweater you bought for him last Christmas, and although his hair is still mostly slicked back, it looks softer than usual, like he’s been running his hands through it.

Is he nervous about something?

The thought promptly leaves your head when Miche continues, “I’ve stopped asking shit like that, ever since Hange went into explicit detail about what they keep in their sex dungeon.”

Nile nearly trips over his own feet, and Marie snorts as she moves the cookies to a cooling rack. “They have a sex dungeon?”

“I’ve said too much,” Miche gravely states, turning on his heel and leaving the room. Nile follows behind him, while Erwin shakes his head, moving to join you at the kitchen island.

“It’s almost midnight,” he murmurs, placing a hand at the small of your back. His thumb moves up and down in a familiar, soothing motion, and you relax into him, resting your head on his shoulder for a brief moment.

“Time to take me home? Before I turn into a pumpkin?”

He laughs softly and noses against the crown of your head. “Exactly. Your carriage awaits.”

After saying goodbye to Marie and accepting a hastily-packed to-go container of cookies, you follow Erwin to the car and make small talk on the way back to his apartment. He tells you about the drinking game Nile was playing with some of Marie’s coworkers, Levi’s newest café on the other side of town, and Petra and Oluo’s adorable mishap under the mistletoe.

By the time he’s unlocking the door, you’re feeling a little sleepy and more than content with the idea of throwing on your coziest pajamas and climbing into bed. You’re so distracted, it takes you a minute to realize exactly what you’re looking at.

The living room has been filled with candles. They illuminate the space with a gentle, golden glow, and you catch the faint scent of something sweet in the air. Small votives are lined up on the faux wood floor, marking out a path. And Erwin has followed it, walking ahead of you to stand in the middle of the room, his expression caught somewhere between excitement and nervousness.

“W-what… Erwin, what is this?”

Distantly, you realize it’s a ridiculous question. You know what this is. You know. But you need to hear him say it.

As you slowly walk towards him, Erwin clears his throat. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, but it took some time to decide how. Luckily, Hange and Moblit agreed to help while we were at the party.”

You feel much more awake now, processing his words. Your friends did all of this. Because he asked them to. Because he’s been planning this, for who knows how long.

Erwin shifts from one foot to the other, then quietly says, “When I was eight years old, I asked my father why he fell in love with my mother. His answer seemed frustratingly simple at the time. ‘She was like a dream — something I never knew I wanted, but once I did know, I could never let her go.’

“And when I was thirteen years old, I asked him why she left. He said, ‘Because I took her for granted. I thought the dream would never end.’”

He reaches into his right pocket. “I promise I will never take you for granted. I promise to make you happy, to always put you first, to give you all of me, always.”

By the time he sinks down to one knee, you’ve begun to cry, pressing your lips together to keep quiet even as you wipe at your tear-stained cheeks.

“I love you. I think I always have, from the moment I laid eyes on you.” His smile turns somewhat shy. “It sounds clichéd, I know… But I can’t help it. Not when it comes to you.”

When he holds out his hand, revealing a small, black box, you press your hand to your mouth, and he takes a shaky breath, overcome with emotion.

“I want you by my side for as long as you’ll have me. I want to have a family together, grow old together… I can’t imagine anyone more perfect for me than you.”

He opens the box, revealing a ring it seems he plucked from your errant daydreams, whenever you’ve wondered about what your future might hold. It always astounds you, how he knows you so well and manages to make it seem effortless.

“Will you marry me?”

The answer is obvious. There’s no doubt in your mind. Because just as he believes you’re perfect for him, he is perfect for you.

You love how he rambles when he’s passionate about something, the way he’s patient with you when you cook a meal together, especially a new recipe. You love when he dozes off on the couch with a book lying on his chest, the way he holds your hand and tucks it into his coat pocket when you take a walk after classes are done for the day.

You love that he hums in the shower, that he cries during heart-wrenching movies, that he’s a happy, lovable drunk, that he wants to try bird-watching and pottery, that he can fuck you so good, you nearly forget your own name. 

And you love how he gazes up at you, tears glimmering in his eyes, when you finally manage to answer his question.

“Yes.”

FOURTH CHRISTMAS

You’ve just finished loading the dishwasher when you wonder where your husband has gone. After drying your hands on a towel, you can smell pine and cinnamon as you turn the corner and allow yourself to admire the Christmas tree tucked into the corner of the living room.

You love many things about your house, purchased right after your wedding. But one of your favorites is how much space you have. Erwin’s apartment was so full of bookshelves and furniture, he had settled for a four-foot-tall artificial tree that usually went undecorated until you came along.

But this year, he was the one who bought a much bigger version, along with colorful strands of lights, yards of garland, glittering ornaments, and even a tree skirt. He did it all in one day, surprising you when you came home from work.

Blowing out the candle sitting on the small table beside his usual reading chair, you think you hear his voice upstairs. And when you reach the second-floor landing, you smile, knowing exactly where he is.

You slowly push open the door, not wanting to interrupt. But your chest tightens at the sight of him sitting in the rocking chair — a gift from his father, who’s taken up carpentry during his retirement.

Your seven-month-old daughter is nestled against him, paying rapt attention as he reads to her from a board book called “You’re My Little Christmas Cookie.”

He’s wearing his reading glasses, and as usual, they’re making a slow descent down his nose. He dresses more casually these days, since he’s on sabbatical to both work on writing a book and be a stay-at-home dad.

It was something you both agreed upon, but he made it clear that if you ever needed a break from your work at Miche and Nile’s firm, he had no problem returning to the classroom — or even the courtroom — while you stayed home.

Your daughter grabs onto his forest green henley with one fist, babbling a little as he reaches the last page.

“That’s an excellent point,” he says, as if responding to a colleague, and your laugh gives you away, drawing his attention for a brief moment.

He smiles at you before setting the book aside and lifting your daughter up into his arms. She’s wearing one of the many Christmas onesies your friends have gifted you. After you’ve both kissed her goodnight and placed her in her crib, he follows you into the hallway, already opening the monitoring app on his phone.

“She’s learning to pull herself up and stand by the railing,” he says, pointing at the screen. “I’m worried she’s going to fall back and bonk her little head.”

“Nile instilled that fear in you, didn’t he?”

Erwin looks sheepish, but his smile turns softer when you stand on your toes and kiss his cheek. 

“She’s already so big,” he murmurs, watching as your baby girl begins to doze off. 

“You always say that.”

“What, you never think that?”

“Of course I do.” You playfully shove at him as he leads you into the bedroom, setting his phone aside.

In retaliation, he wraps his arms around you and hauls you onto the bed, trying to shush your laughter as he leans over you.

“You’ll wake her up.”

“And it’ll be all your fault.”

He grins. “I suppose that’s true.”

Realizing you’re still wearing your office attire, you sigh and reach up to begin unbuttoning your blouse. “But I really do think that, all the time. She was so little, and now she’s not, and it’s just going to keep happening, and…”

Erwin gently nudges your fingers aside, taking his time undressing you. “That’s how it goes, sweetheart. All we can do is enjoy it as much as we can.”

You watch him as he focuses on removing your clothes, your eyes flitting from his stubbled jaw line to the faintest hint of gray coming in at his temples. He looks tired, as do you, you have no doubt. But you can tell he’s happy — more relaxed than he ever was while teaching.

You’re distracted from your idle thoughts when he lowers his mouth to the swell of your breast, his hand sliding over the satin fabric of your bra.

“What happened to ‘you’ll wake her up’?” you ask, even as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer.

Erwin lifts his head just enough to look at you, his eyes bright with mischief — and love. Always so much love.

“You’ll just have to be quiet, sweetheart… Think you can manage that?”

inspiration saturday

Hiiiiiii long time no me participating in tag games (long story will be under the cut 😅 if you want it), so here I am with a two parter - an inspiration AND a tidbit

First, I can't get this song, and in particular this version of the song out of my head

(Apologies for Pierce Brosnan's singing, I just really really love the moment Meryl Streep joins in on "but dignified")

I mean listen to this

Clear-headed and open-eyed With nothing left untried Standing calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run There's no hurry anymore when all is said and done

That's everything I want for Buddie post Tommy, knowing themselves, knowing each other, all they need is to take this new path together, and there is no rush, because they are sure and ready.

So if anyone wanted to make my entire year and make an edit?🙏😘

And now a TIDBIT 😊

This is from the very beginning of my heart’s over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance by fleetinghearts, have some Eddie picking up Chris after a field trip 😍

because heart-eyes! Eddie isn't making heart-eyes just as Buck, he's also making them at his son 😍😍😍

tags and all under the cut

Thank you everyone who's kept tagging me in various games and when you posted something new even when I didn't have capacity to tag you back ❤️❤️❤️❤️

I'm going to go through my mentions and tag as many people as I can but i feel like half of my dash has changed their urls recently so if I forget anyone I'd normally tag and you want to be tagged 1) lmk and 2) please consider yourself tagged (and now I've typed "tag" waaaay too many times and it has lost all meaning) (also lmk if you wanna be removed ofc)

@shitouttabuck ❤️❤️❤️❤️, @tizniz, @diazsdimples, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @lover-of-mine,

@try-set-me-on-fire, @acountrygirlsfun, @aroeddiediaz,

@wikiangela, @bucksbignaturals, @buckleyobsessed,

@mistmarauder, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @daffi-990,

@exhuastedpigeon, @glorious-spoon, @rainbow-nerdss,

@devirnis, @renecdote, @thewolvesof1998

@rewritetheending, @chronicowboy, @suavecitodiaz

@eddiediaz420, @captain-hen , @sunshinediaz, @neverevan

So basically what happened here at house of El was a prime example of if you don't give your body a break it will make you take one - after running himself ragged since basically October my husband stepped wrong and broke a bone in his foot and has been stuck on the couch for the last 3 weeks. So for the time being I'm the one doing all the school drop-offs/pick-ups and grocery runs and after-school activities (and most of chores, though to be fair my house has been overrun by kinetic sand since christmas 😅), but also (crucially) it means no editting/recording time for me, because no. I'm trying to edit on my work ipad but it's no audacity, so it's sloooooow going 😅 anyway. How have you all been doing apart from vibrating out of your skins about S07?

Jumping on the Spewart × Roy train(?)!

I personally view Spewart and Roy as a QPR, considering how brotherly Roy is to Spewart. However, I was... Inspired to write some fanfic (which is below the cut). My little autistic brain is bouncing around with glee. Hope yall like it!

[ Colouring style inspired by @nrcy-d0 . AU belongs to @thekoopalingsandstuffs . ]

Dear Dieter

He drew a breath of the bitter air as his eyes settled on the brick walls of the alleyway. This was the place where it all happened. It felt so long ago... The thought of it didn't seem nearly as disturbing compared to back then, though he wasn't sure why he felt the need to come here. Closure, he assumed. His mind could rid of that rotter known as... Ha! For a moment, he forgot his name. Dieter. He only remembered because of that Other version... Not that it was a bad thing, but he didn't neccesarily want nor care to remember any Dieter at all.

Two months ago was chaos broke loose. This very alley was where it happened. And he was whom was affected. And Ludwig, of course, but Ludwig didn't exactly have the issue of concealing his feelings from everyone he cared about. Did he? Was he overthinking again? Maybe.

He only told one other person about everything. Well, not everything. He conviniently kept out the part about watching Dieter die... Not even Twila knew, to currently date. He only told Rango, though that also came as a surprise to him once he thought about it. It felt so strange that... Rango, of all people, was the one he told. However, that comment he made back when they first adopted Bun and Boomerang... It echoed in his mind. "He must've done something real messed up to have you acting like that." It was small, and of course Rango being Rango, was oblivious to the hint in his response. But at least he cared enough to notice he wasn't okay... Meanwhile Hariet kept persisting of Dieter's return and Topper celebrated his loss of virginity...

He wiped his nose, unable to tell if it was running because of the harsh cold or if he was due to cry again. He was supposed to be going for a walk, or so that's what he told Hariet in order to avoid the noise that came with their recent company... The Koopalings were at their home, and they were all supposed to be making Christmas cookies, to celebrate the upcoming holiday. Alas, he got overstimulated... And now he was here, face to face with the demon of his mind. This alley. He could feel Dieter's presence, oddly enough...

"Spewa-a-arrrrrt!"

He turned with a gasp, his heart jumped... Roy's figure was made more clear as he slipped on the icy pavement to run over. He calmed his breath. "You scared me," he muttered with a small cloud of frozen breath.

"Ah, sorry... But you scared me too. You've been gone for like... An hour?" Roy stuck his hands in his coat and gave a shudder. "This ain't the weather to be running off in..." "I'm sorry... " He didn't mean to make anyone concerned. Honestly, he didn't think anyone cared... Roy shook his head and smiled. "Nah, just... I don't want you to get hurt out here! Or freeze, or... something! It's way, way too cold..."

Spewart nodded. "How did you know I was out here though?" He paused for a moment and lowered his head... Spewart thought he could see his eyes behind his sunglasses. "Ludwig..." he began. "Luds told me... About you, about Dieter, about...-" "So you know." "... Yes."

A long moment of silence passed before he sighed and lowered his head. "I'm sorry." "What for?" "For worrying you. Let's just go back to the house." Roy blinked before slowly nodding, and the two began walking in the direction of Spewart's home before he slowly stopped again. His head hurt. His presence was strong. "Roy?" "Hm?" "Give me a second, please." "Of course." He turned around, facing the alleyway before breathing in deeply.

Dear Dieter, he began. I moved on. You need to as well. I don't like you, I never did... But I'm sorry you're dead. Please, move on. It's okay to move on.

Roy patiently waited, and soon enough, Spewart rejoined him. "What was that about?" "Making peace," he softly muttered.

Roy nodded and the two resumed walking before Roy turned to him. "Heard a new café opened. Wanna grab something before we go back?" He thought a bit and smiled. "Yeah, just not anything with a lot of dairy. I don't wanna throw up suddenly..." "Oh? Why would-... Oh yeah, CVS." Spewart nodded, still smiling. Roy couldn't tell, but Spewart's chest felt much lighter. His head felt more clear. They both moved on.

international kpop fans not understanding why the first snow has been receiving so much attention in korea the past few winters is mostly due to the fact that they don't read korean comments and because they joined kpop in 2018 or later

the first snow, the xoxo album and even love me right receive so much attention by k-audiences because that period of exo is very nostalgic too many ppl.

many ppl who stream the song now, 10 years after release, were in middle or high school when it was first released. the song reminds them of a different time, when they were younger.

in that 2013-2015 period there was 1 super popular boygroup (among the young bgs) who got most of the attention, exo. (at the time exo's "competition" were the big seniors, not the ppl who debuted around the same time they did.)

(2016/2017 was the hight of EBS (exo, bangtan and seventeen).

if you read korean comments about the first snow, the xoxo album or love me right, you'll find many koreans who say "exo, my youth" and other things of that nature. the love that old and ex-exols in korea have for peter pan and don't go, is a love that doesn't exist to that degree among international exols (at least not for peter pan. international exols didn't speak too much about don't go in the first few years until it was performed with choreo during the exoluxion concert in 2015).

people newer to kpop love to joke that "exols are stuck in 2013" but trust me, it's old casual and ex kfans who keep that period of exo's career relevant. in the case of many international exols xoxo isn't even in their top 3 of exo albums.

exo at this point in their career also has quite a few fans who don't even know that period of exo.

the people streaming the first snow are a bunch of people who are very nostalgic.

the first snow isn't even in the top 5 of best winter songs exo has.

a few exo winter songs you should stream (in no particular order):

falling for you (it is such a happy sounding song, for life mini)

december 2014 (real music)

on the snow (another happy sounding song, bbh's head during the first live performance of it, chen has solo version of it on his channel, sing for you mini)

the entire universe album (the album sounds sad)

my turn to cry (the bridge and outro, so good; this is one of their best songs in general, miracles in december mini)

what i want for christmas (they were singing on this song, for life mini)

Do you have any Christmas headcanon’s for the Amaelia verse

Idk why but I honestly hadn't thought about it until you asked!! I think I just don't really think about Christmas in general because I never have a good time during the holidays. So this might be super express headcanons, but:

Since Amaelia started dancing ballet, it becomes a tradition that Aemond will take her to the theater to see a production of The Nutcracker every year.

In fact, I think Amaelia prefers to listen to the music of The Nutcracker while decorating the house, rather than Christmas carols.

However, if a Christmas carol gets stuck in her head, she'll be singing it ALL DAY, 24/7 annoying EVERYONE in the vicinity. Even Aemond, who's rarely ever annoyed at anything his daughter does. It becomes even more annoying when uncle Aegon joins her singing.

On the subject of decorating, she absolutely adores that the ornaments of the trees will be somehow linked to The Nutcracker, and her favorite ornament is a pink, glass ballerina that Aemond specifically had made for her. She hangs it right at the very center of the tree. And when she's playing around the Christmas tree, she mostly imagines stories around her ballerina.

She gets a little overwhelmed if the whole family is present at Christmas dinner (counting Rhaenyra's side of the family as she isn't the fondest of them) so weirdly enough, she'll stick to Aegon the whole time. He's her favorite uncle, and his laidback attitude just amuses her and makes her feel more at ease. You'd think she'd be glued at the hip to Aemond, but, his tension in those situations easily transfers to her and it doesn't help.

Aegon will also see that as his opening to evade the rest and just play around the Christmas tree with her.

She also plays around with his cousins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera!

Her favorite time to spend Christmas though, is with mom and dad and the dogs, all cuddled up watching Christmas movies and drinking hot chocolate.

Her favorite movie would be Barbie's version of The Nutcracker.

And also she goes a little crazy with her list for Santa Claus and asks for way too many things, and Aemond wants to BUY THEM ALL, SPOIL HIS KID to the max.

But reader is always the voice of reason and reigns him back. They don't get everything from the Christmas list, but make it up by leaving along little notes that help keep up the magic that Santa exists.

Notes with things like, "I'm a little old and X toy you wanted was too heavy for me and the reindeer, but! one of my elves told me that you would prefer this instead!" / "I hope you enjoy your presents even if we couldn't get through the whole list, but! here's a special treat that my elves baked just for you!"

Also, Aemond and reader have never been the kind to take those fancy couple's Christmas pictures in a studio and everything, but since Amaelia was born, they started doing it to keep a lovely record of how Amaelia grows up each year! And honestly I don't think they'd even go to a studio to take them, since reader is a filmmaker in this au.

The reader would set the studio in their home to take the pictures! and I'm laughing to myself thinking that they'd get Aegon to dress up as Santa for Amaelia's picture lmao!

—𝙊𝙪𝙧 𝙐𝙜𝙡𝙮 𝙂𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧!✨

► SYNOPSIS:

"Let's say I understand the idea behind this," Isaac says through gritted teeth, doing everything in his power not to throw a fit and make things worse, "DOES IT HAVE TO BE ON MY BIRTHDAY?"

▍isaac, comte, leonardo, arthur, theo, vincent, dazai, sebastian, jean, napoleon, mozart, shakespeare ▍rating: G ▍tags: Crack; Christmas Party; Birthday Party; Modern Era; Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Humor; Ugly Holiday Sweaters; Blackmail; Drunkenness; Alcohol; Singing; Exes; Napo's exes; Leonardo and Comte are dating; and arthur and theo def have something going on; Minor Violence ▍wordcount:  2,784

▍masterlist

▍a/n:  HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ISAAC! ... also, is it really Christmas if I don't think of at least one of the disaster ikemen friend groups™ having a disastrous party? Needless to say, I had TONS of fun writing this, and I hope you might do, too ❤ Merry Christmas! Regardless if you celebrate or not, I hope this makes you laugh! ✨🎅🏻✨

Written for mine and @voltage-vixen’s ‘Tis The Season For Love challenge! PROMPT: Starting with preparations way too early

This is ALSO an entry for @scummy-writes's Isaac Week 2022! Day Two: Birthday Wishes || Traditions

"Let's say I understand the idea behind this," Isaac says through gritted teeth, doing everything in his power not to throw a fit and make things worse, "DOES IT HAVE TO BE ON MY BIRTHDAY?"

Aaand so much for his attempts. It's rare of him to raise his voice, and Dazai emphases on that fact with an exaggerated scene of covering his ear. Maybe he isn't feigning being in pain. He is, surely, close enough to the screaming Isaac to get his eardrum busted. Even though being so close to him is something he did to himself.

"Not my fault that you have your birthday on Christmas day, Apple-kun. Rules are rules and we all agreed by them."

Now you decided to follow rules, Isaac thinks, still not having gulped down the fact that he's now practically tied to the clown in the room. They're stuck together in an oversized sweater which is by the way very ugly, even by his own standards. Not that he dresses up ugly or anything like that! It's just that he doesn’t mind wearing clothes that are regarded as being something that grandpas wear. At least that's what Arthur says all the time, finding more and more excuses to load his wardrobe with some of his own clothes that fit him. Speaking of Arthur, Isaac's sole reason to still be having some of his mind not lost to the absurdity of all that's happening on this Christmas-birthday party, is that Arthur is not doing any better than him. Is he a bad person for being happy about that? Probably yes. But he's currently atoning for it via this punishment, so he might as well indulge secretly in it.

The sweater in question is mimicking what those cut-outs for pictures do, by having a caricatured version of Santa and an elf in the front, Isaac and Dazai's heads respectively in the right place to complete the (cursed) picture.

Arthur and Theo are sharing a similarly ugly sweater, called the getalong Christmas sweater (much like the one currently worn by the duo Isaac + Dazai) or something like that. The design is simple yet screaming in the worst of ways; it reads "ON THE NAUGHY LIST" in comic sans, in a fashion that resembles what happens when you move a picture on Microsoft word. It's simply off-center, with a stamp of a Christmas tree barely fitting in the front of the shirt. It all might be a result of a mistake in the printing, or maybe there IS someone so vile out there designing those things on purpose.

Theo and Arthur laugh in sync at the sight of the next suffering victims of the friend group's new tradition, then stop, realize that they've been accidentally sharing an emotion for a mere second, and frown. Arthur's frown is smaller, though. He almost seemed too eager to get in the sweater with Theo earlier, though Isaac might have been imagining things. He's not so sure anymore. They've all already drank a lot.

As if by some strange miracle, neither the slutty writer nor the dumb writer are his center of annoyance tonight.

He's always regarded Mozart as someone who shares the same fate as him, having to deal with the rest of their friend group and their dumbassary.

Yet, why is he not sharing a sweater with anyone? He's never been an example of friendliness! It's so unfair. He feels betrayed.

Of course, the answer is very simple. With the amount of alcohol passed around, it was only a matter of time before someone got Mozart to drink, and the man has a nonexistent tolerance for the stuff. Instead of passing out or something like a normal person, of course he has to become a whole another person when drunk. Isaac feels bad for the possible blackmailing that can follow, with phones already drawn out and cameras capturing the rare event. On the other hand…what are they exactly going to blackmail him with? Being a good person for a change? Ooooh how very embarrassing. On a second thought, Isaac doesn't feel too bad with his cold feelings towards the musician. He might not be sharing an ugly sweater with anyone but he won't even remember it the next morning anyway!

Said musician is busy laughing and patting people on the back, enjoying everyone's company and pouring them more drinks. Which is very welcomed for the punished ones, because surely they can't coordinate themselves good enough to get the job done when even opening the bottle proves to be a difficult task when having one hand each.

"Leonardo, it seems like this idea of keeping anyone on good terms is working well. Let us have a toast about that." Comte raises his glass to his boyfriend, leaning slightly on him because of how tipsy he managed to get. Leonardo, who has crazy high tolerance on the other hand, has to remind him that he just raised a toast to him a second ago.

"Another one? Damn, ok, if you insist. You can thank me again for coming up with the getalong sweater idea."

"Excuse you?" Comte focus his gaze on the man, every trace of his previous bliss erased from his face. "It was clearly my idea, Leonardo."

"I remember that you gave me a kiss for it. I can still feel it." Leonardo smirks, confident in his version of the recent events, emphasizing on it by making kissy lips at Comte.

Comte keeps a cold gaze. He simply splashes the rest of his champagne on Leonardo.

"Hey! Now I need to change."

After some reminiscing about how tranquil his past birthdays used to be, before meeting all of those people, Isaac snaps out of his trance as he sees the hosts of the party, Leonardo and Comte, re-entering the room together, sporting an getalong sweater. Their design is even more eye-catching than the rest, mostly because it's so damn unintentional that it's hilarious. It's actually a good model, a cute pair of reindeers on the front with nothing off about their looks. But the text above seems to have suffered an awfully unfortunate lack of supervision, as evident by the typo, or typos made in it. It reads, "I'm he's," on Leonardo's tits, with an arrow to Comte, and then "He'm I's" on Comte's pecs, with an arrow to Leonardo. Isaac stops looking at their chests for the time being.

He didn't even realize they had a fight, mainly because of their already strong old-gay-couple energy and the fact that it was normal for them to have some quarrels from time to time and call them off pretty quickly. Interesting how they ended up sharing the same fate as the rest of the room.

Mozart is, once again, untouched in terms of punishment.

It's amazing that Isaac can glare at him, ignoring everything surrounding him, including Sebastian's poor attempt of putting himself on the naughty list by """accidentally""" knocking off someone's glass off the table. He proceeds excitingly repeating, "I'm a naughty little butler! I'm a naughty little butler!" followed by asking to be punished to be put in a sweater with someone else from the room. It seems like everyone could do, and poor Vincent is too much of an angel not to sacrifice himself. He lies that it was his glass that was knocked off, and in the next moment they're together in an abomination of a wool clothing. Vincent is unironically enjoying the sweater, which is depicting Edvard Munch's Scream, but with a Christmas hat on the screaming one's head. If the execution wasn't so bad, it would actually pass as an unique design.

"Ohh, it seems like it's time for the birthday boy to blow off the candles!"

Arthur's exclamation MIGHT have been just so Napoleon can stop drunk-singing already. Sorry, he's not drunk. That's what he insist, at least, but his little concert says otherwise. It's not a Christmas party without ABBA and other classics, that much everyone agrees upon, but Waterloo followed by Last Christmas I Gave you my hearttt but the very next daaay YOU GAVE IT AWAAAAY seems to be telling a story somewhere between the lines. It's a good time he was stopped before he can find an even sadder song to vent his feelings through.

It's impressive how Theo and Arthur are able to introduce the big cake into the room with one hand each, but their surprising sync is a story for another party. In an award event of Arthur trying to find his lighter in the pocket of his pants and Theo shouting something at him in the process where he touched in the wrong place, soon all the candles are lit and they all sing the so very familiar happy birthday tune.

 Isaac smiles a genuine smile and thinks of a wish. For the most of the evening, he wished Dazai would just pass out or something, so he doesn't have to deal with him anymore. Now he makes a more proper wish, and blows all the candles. Everyone starts clapping, and for a second, it turns wholesome. In the next second, Isaac feels a hand on the back of his head, shoving him down. He should've seen this happening.

*BANG*

Surely now, Isaac's face meeting the cake shouldn't make such a scary hitting sound.

That's when he remembers that he's conjoined with Dazai. Having his head pushed down would mean that Dazai was pushed down, too, meeting with the… table.

Arthur realizes that even before him, but his reaction is not the same as Isaac's. His eyes widen but then,

"Three times for good luck!"

BANG

BANG

Dazai doesn't stand back upwards this time. He might be dead, or at least has passed out.

Holy shit, I think my wish just came true, Isaac doesn't say out loud, features frozen in shock.

"Pft. Ahahaha! AHAHAHAHAHHAH"

The hearty laugher doesn't belong to Isaac, or Arthur, or anyone else in the room who hates the purple-haired freak, much to everyone's surprise. It's Mozart's. He seems to be very entertained from the show taking place in front of him, alcohol dulling his sense of what's morally right to laugh at, or maybe assuming that Dazai is playing dead. It wouldn't be the first time, after all.

This is Isaac's chance!

"Hey!" He points towards Mozart where noone dared say anything, "That's not very friendly of you!"

"Yeah."

"He has a point."

Isaac feels truly triumphal now. His birthday certainly started well, with justice coming to light, and with Dazai passed out.

Napoleon sobs from the side, moved from the scene. "I knew you'd call out evil when it happens, Isaac. That's why you're my good friend."

"Thank you, Napoleon."

"You deserve only nice things."

"Thanks, Napoleon."

"I hope noone breaks your heart EVER, Isaac."

"Uhh. Thanks?"

As his friend breaks down in real manly tears, Isaac scans over the room with a horrific realization: everyone else has a pair already. It's funny how they all ended up having to go through the getalong sweater punishment, even sweet Jean who is now in a sweater with Shakespeare. Their sweater is very, very bland, with a fuzzy string that is supposed to be a garland going from one sleeve to another, but looks more like a worm on a string attached to a random sweater. And the color is pretty ugly too. Thank god Jean's face is there to make things a little prettier. Oh, and Shakespere is there too, he guesses. But enough about these two. With all the possible candidates narrowed down to his dear friend Napoleon, Isaac feels karma weighing down on him.

Soon the crying Napoleon and the laughing Mozart are shoulder to shoulder, sporting an ugly getalong sweater. As noone predicted that many of them in use, the only one lying around is not even a christmas-themed one, brought on the pile by who-knows-who, and it has an among us illustration. Theo snaps a picture of the lovely disaster, just as he did with everyone that night, even if his camera roll is mostly taken by Vincent pics, because by his words, "he's the only one rocking it".

***

Much, much later in the night, Mozart starts feeling a familiar headache.

He hates himself for being tricked into drinking so much yet again. The person next to him who keeps wiping his tears in HIS sleeve is not helping with his overall state.

"Napoleon, that's enough. They don't deserve your tears and you know that."

Seeing that it had no effect, Mozart changes his strategy, wanting to give him a pat on the back along with what he says but then he remembers it's impossible because of the stupid sweater. How did they end up like this, anyway?

"Why don't you invite them here? Alexander loves drama, and Wellesley, well… I'm sure he'll find a way to have fun too."

Napoleon stops sobbing, letting out a weak laugh instead. "You know we can't. You remember what happened last time when we played uno."

That's true. The destructive aftermath of it was threatening the lives of many. They simply couldn't get along.

Mozart sighs, feeling his headache worsening.

"Look, let's at least throw that thing away." Having had his full of this sweater bullshit, he pulls it over his head until it hangs loosely on Napoleon. The latter gives no indication of wanting to part with it anytime soon, but that's alright, whatever makes him happy. Mozart stands up and finally gives him that encouraging pat on the back. "I'm going to get you water and some tissues, wait for me."

Well, at least he can be not an asshole. And he was going to go search for painkillers anyway.

Unsurprisingly, things don't work in his favor and he finds none in the kitchen, but in the process of searching for them he remembers the second cake. A second cake is another tradition of their friend group, seeing that many birthday parties result in somehow destroying the first one. He takes a plate and cuts a nice slice of it, bringing a small fork along.

In the corridor, he runs into the person he was searching for, for a chance.

"Hey Isaac."

The strawberry haired man stops on his tracks, visibly surprised. He holds a glass of water and what appears to be painkillers.

"Hangover too?"

"Ah, no, actually those are…for you. I figured, uh, that you might feel not so good after all that."

Mozart makes a surprised humming noise, thinking for a bit then sitting right there on the floor, leaning against the wall. It's unsanitary and pretty much against his  principles, but he's going to take a long and thorough bath when he goes home anyway. And he's afraid there is no available sitting area left where there are no weirdos.

Isaac follows suit, leaning his back on the opposite wall, handing Mozart the glass and the pills. He receives the slice of cake in return.

Before popping the pill in his mouth, Mozart nods towards the cake. "It's for you."

Isaac is surprised, almost embarrassed even. He didn’t expect that, and guilt is still heavy on his chest. He knows it must have been due to the alcohol that he held a temporary grudge against Mozart, he knows that the musician knows none of it too. But even after bringing him painkillers, he feels bad.

"You know, Wolf… I might be the reason why you ended up having to wear a getalong sweater with Napoleon. I'm sorry."

"Hmm?" Mozart mutters, finished emptying the contents of the glass. "Oh, that's fine. I'm glad it was him and not someone more annoying. Thank you."

Oh.

"You're not mad?"

"No? Why would I be. At the end of the night you're still the only one with a brain around here. Oh and hey, Happy Birthday, Isaac."

Isaac smiles, busying himself with the cake before he can do something more embarrassing, seeing that he's already blushing.

"Thank you."

"I can only imagine how it was being stuck all night with Dazai. My apologizes."

Isaac gulps down his bite, eager to say something. He also just now realizes that the cake is apple-flavored, and he's pleasantly distracted by that. As a whole, he needs to admit, his birthday actually has started very well. Sitting here on the floor eating cake in the company of Mozart, on this… a little unhinged Christmas-birthday party organized by his friends, he is thankful.

"Oh, don't worry about him. He hit his head thrice and passed out. You were there, do you remember?"

"No, I don't. Woah. That's amazing. Please tell me more about it."

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia2 @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @tiny-wooden-robot @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @atelieredux @cilokgoang let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

stealing this because the boops made me realize how much i miss tag games.

How many works do you have on AO3? A grand total of 14. I am not a prolific writer.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 63,880. Please see above answer.

What fandoms do you write for? Batman and Star Wars. I have a little bit of Supernatural fic posted on an alt account, and I've been turning over an idea for an OW fic in my head for a while, but it takes me a long time to figure out how to write in a fandom in a way that still captures the "vibes" of the source material (which is always one of my goals). So I rarely branch out.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? New Cornerstone (suitless!Vader AU from a million years ago), Brothers in Arms (Jon starts to get an inkling that his best friend has perhaps not had a normal childhood), Setting the Bone (Selina Kyle: reluctant parental figure), In This Twilight (Damian and Jason brotherly bonding, first batfam fic I ever wrote), and Try to Sweep the Darkness Out (batfam Christmas special that I've almost orphaned 10 times because I hate the writing choices I made in it so much). None of the fics I'm actually proud of are on this list. Tragic.

Do you respond to comments? Irregularly and unpredictably! I will if I feel like I have something to say and it catches me in the right mood.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Uh, that would be High Water Mark since it starts with a scene of Cody contemplating suicide and ends with the instant right before Order 66 kicks in.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably Problem Solving since it's the only fic I've ever written where I was actually trying to be light hearted.

Do you get hate on fics? Never, thankfully.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? If I thought I could do it successfully, I would. But I'm not, so I don't.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Basically never. There is a Doctor Who/Sherlock fic buried on my old FF.net account. There's also a Super Smash Bros fic on there that I wrote in 2009, which I suppose also counts.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? I can't imagine why anyone would.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, and I never would. I'm too much of a control freak about my writing. Writing, say, shared universe stuff might be fun, but actually co-authoring something would drive me nuts.

What’s your all time favorite ship? What a question. I come back to Jaime/Brienne a lot for reading, but I don't think I'd ever write it. I write a ton of BatCat, but rarely read it because I'm particular. I like Lois/Clark, but I almost never write OR read it. I'm honestly not very ship motivated. Most of the time I filter for a ship because I'm in the mood for its attendant tropes, and if the writing is good, you can sell me on just about anything.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Hmngh. New Cornerstone again. There's 20k of an expanded version of it on my hard drive that I haven't added to since probably 2017. There's something very fun about suitless!Vader as a character because he's such a sparking, destructive livewire of a person, but also I'm experienced enough now to realize how difficult doing justice to that premise is. Also, I'd have to rewatch TCW to get Ahsoka's voice down, and I just don't got time for that shit.

What are your writing strengths? Description and sense of place. Also pretty good at dialogue.

What are your writing weaknesses? Fucking. Long fic. Plot in general. I'm horrifically bad at it.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'm usually inclined to keep all my dialogue in English, but it would depend on the context and the effect I was going for.

First fandom you wrote for? Purposefully? Inuyasha. Without having any idea what fanfic was? I created an Artemis Fowl fairy OC and stuck her in Indiana Jones when I was 10 years old.

Favorite fic you’ve written? They Don't Sing Songs For Me. No contest. It's perfectly captures what I think is the ideal form of fanfic: two characters who have absolutely no business interacting with each other building a compelling relationship dynamic over the course of 9k words.

I will be tagging @panharmonium, @apostatefrog, @dead-ghost-walking, @ryehouses, @yellowocaballero, @lazuliquetzal. Also anyone else who wants to. I will bring back tag games by force of will, so help me God.

HELLO CARROT!

Given how apparently I’m immune to playing OW games without recording them now, you’ll audibly hear my thoughts within the next few weeks (I’m posting tomorrow because I’m an absolute maniac), BUT I WANNA SAY THINGS HERE BECAUSE APPRECIATION CAN’T WAIT THAT LONG!

Also Merry Christmas! It’s midnight when I’m writing this, so ‘tis the day of caroling and festivities and woah. Or happy holidays if you don’t celebrate!

Back to the Our Cinderella topic, I have only played Genzou’s route as of now (I’m sure that’s hardly surprising, he is my fav), but the others are next. Their time is coming. They cannot escape. SO SPOILERS FOR GENZOU’S ROUTE!

First off, I saw you included the little dancing in front of TV Iggy pose and the joy I felt seeing it was off the charts. I kept bringing it up, I was very happy. And seeing Iggy moving about was really cool in general, even without the novelty of seeing a suggestion I made exist in the game.

NEXT UP! Genzou drunk singing is an image I didn’t know I needed, thank you for the visual and the brain food. BUT ALSO I HAVE BEEN CONNECTING JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR SONGS TO OW FOR SO LONG AND HEARING THE MUSICAL BE MENTIONED BY GENZOU THREW ME FOR A LOOP. Great musical, very nice. Last Supper reminds me of Genzou and Orlam. Judas’s voice in general reminds me of Orlam. Musicals and OW can further connect in my brain hobby drawer.

The text interactions in general were really funny, actually. I liked the absolute chaos that was Iggy and Genzou’s text conversations, I was laughing while trying to read a lot of the time. I remember the aforementioned drunk singing conversation and the puddle one both got me pretty good while I was reading, and it was overall fun to see more lighthearted conversations from the characters, even if it’s in a different universe from the main canon.

To end things off, ‘cause again 1) I haven’t finished all the game’s routes yet, and 2) you’ll be able to hear my thoughts in the moment if you choose in future anyways, I wanna mention the version of Cinderella Bucks tells at the end? I can’t get it out of my head. When I was thinking about the game after having just played it, my mind kept flashing back to CinderJesus. It absolutely decimated my brain function, but in a very fun way. More slice-of-life Bucks, please, she’s peak comedy.

Very fun game, 10/10, very sad I couldn’t buy the Kirby in the first playthrough but it’s on my to-do list, aaaand yeah! Thank you for making this! I loved every minute of it, and I’m really excited to play the remaining routes once my irl festivities are over.

sob this is so sweet! 😭💕 i'm excited to watch your playthrough too -- things are a bit overwhelming in general for me right now as i'm still with my family and doing a bunch of things, but even if i'm unable to find time this week i will for sure watch once i'm back home next week. i'm really happy that you're enjoying it so much already tho ahhhh and that you're finding it so entertaining 🥺

i'm glad you liked the poses i had so much fun with them and also using some of the suggestions to add more! and LMAO JCS is a musical i grew up watching (my parents used to play the original album in the house lol) so i get the songs stuck in my head a lot, hence why it randomly worked its way into this (among many other random silly little references or inspirations from my own life hahaha). that is extremely funny to me 🤣

i'm glad you liked the convos they were the epitome of silly. and also bucks's part hahaha. i was half-worried it would end up being too ridiculous and random for people because it just got so weird in places hahaha

thank you so much for this lovely message and all of your thoughts and for playing the game! 🥺💕 i look forward to watching the playthrough so i can see all of your reactions in real-time lakjdfs

Important changes to my Backstory AU

TW: This post is going to be sorta long, so buckle up.

As you may know, there have been a lack of many new chapters to my story The Road To Success on AO3 these past several months. I've been trying my damn hardest to keep up with updates, but I don't always have the free time in order to write. I have to attend school, work a job, deal with family matters; those things take priority too. I don't have as much free time as I used to back in 2021.

That being said, I still hold a lot of passion for this story. I first got the idea for this story all the way back at the beginning of 2021. It started as just an insightful thought, a drabble I created inside my head. Overtime, I kept expanding on the idea, fleshing out the world, making this story the best it could possibly be. Now we're at the point where the story is over 120,000 words, and it's not even half of the way done yet! I never anticipated for this story to be this long, but here we are.

Now if you are thinking that this post is about me throwing The Road To Success in the can, I just want to clarify that this story IS NOT being cancelled. But the way the story is written and formatted is going to change from what you have seen up to this point.

Just so I am transperent with you guys, here is a list of all of the changes to The Road To Success, as well as the Backstory AU as a whole.

1. The main story, The Road To Success, will be significantly shorter than the original version. The OG version, the version that I have stuck to while initially writing this story, was planned to have 40-50 chapters. That is just not possible anymore, with how busy my life has become. This new version of the story will now have roughly 30-35 chapters. As of writing this, the exact number of chapters has not been decided yet; that will be determined by the end of the year (at the latest).

2. The new version of TRTS (Acronym for The Road To Success) will be more Yakko-centric. I originally wanted to insert a bunch of extra sideplots into the main story, specifically after the Warners become actors. Wakko and Dot were supposed to have their own friend groups, and we would get the chance to see their perspectives as well as Yakko's. However, these sideplots take away from the main story, which is overall more important in the longterm. That dosen't mean Wakko and Dot won't be given any time in the spotlight (they are gonna play some significant roles later on), but I don't want their misadventures to take too much time away from the main storyline.

3. Some of the lore (the details on how the world works in this universe, how certain characters act, family trees etc.) have been and are subject to being changed and altered. I'm very much a perfectionist when it comes to the little details; they're very important imo. Sometimes, I will change my mind about a certain detail and decide to change it on a whim. I will try to restrain these changes to the lore based on what I have already written/talked about publicly, in order to not create too much confusion going foward.

4. The Backstory AU will be expanded beyond The Road To Success. That's right, folks! TRTS is getting a companion story, in order to fill in those lore gaps to answer questions that have yet to be answered. This story will focus on the parents of the Warners, covering their childhood, as well as their inevitable downfall as members of society. More details regarding this companion Peice will be elaborated on in a later post. I'm also cooking up a Christmas story, which will serve as somewhat of a flashback to previous events in TRTS. This story will come out on (you guessed it) Christmas of this year.

5. So you may be wondering to yourself: What's gonna happen to the scrapped segments of TRTS? Well that's where my drabble collection comes in. A month ago, I created a drabble collection titled Splats Of Ink, a collection of oneshots featuring headcanons, future story ideas, and now scrapped segments of already established stories. I'm thinking about fleshing out these Alternate scenes of TRTS, to show you what could have been. Expect the first of these scrapped-segment-reimagined drabbles to come out this April.

So, that's a decent laundry list of all the updates that I have made to the Backstory AU as of late. Chapter 15 is in the works as we speak, and will most likely come out sometime in March. Then it will be smooth sailing into Chapter 16 and so on! There's lots of exciting things in the works, and I can't wait to share it all with you.

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read through the whole thing. Feel free to ask questions if you need me to elaborate further on these changes. Your patience and support is most appreciated.

Crack A Smile, Sir (Egon Spengler x OFC)

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Rating: General

Author’s Notes: As requested by @spenglerposting, this fic is inspired by Joy Again’s “Looking Out For You”. Barely proofread (I tried!), please bear with me.

This is a love song for a girl who will never know it's about her I know it's pretty stupid, but I'm much too shy to tell her She's beaming that smile, all the while I'm all choked up on my own throat, I guess there is no hope

Sweat running cold down the back of his neck, Egon Spengler found himself facing an empty firehouse, almost five minutes before midnight.

Panting, gasping, clutching his suitcase against his chest, he chastises himself inside his head. Peter after all did warn him that he will be coming home to a dark lab if he didn’t stand up from his usual spot in the library. He didn’t tell him, amidst all the racket Peter was making (gathering all the librarian’s negative attention towards him, as usual), that he was too busy hiding in the library on that one miserable Christmas Eve. 

He was hiding from you.

You may be a contractor bio analyst/technician for the now-famed “Ghostbusters”, more like the friendly neighborhood Paranormal Exterminators, but you’ve known Dr. Peter Venkman, Dr. Ray Stantz, and especially, Dr. Egon Spengler from your time at the Columbia University. You were some wide-eyed biotech graduate student who may have been initially dragged into Dr. Venkman’s psychic “experiments”, but thanks to the wit and grace of Dr. Stantz, you completely saw through Peter’s machinations. Despite being unable to coax you into his wiles, Venkman still became one of your good friends, allowing you to consult and work with Ray regarding your research on plasma biology.

It was Dr. Spengler who was actually hard to crack. Ray’s closest friend usually worked at the back of their office, hunched over some energy-measurement meter of some kind, with sparks from his solder being reflected on those round spectacles. Whenever you talked, consulted, exchanged notes with the jolly Dr. Stantz, you’d barely hear from the other academian, unless he had to interject with a correction or an obscure fact which Ray would just enthusiastically confirm and explore. Most of the time, he’d just stay quiet in his corner, shoving another piece of Cheez-it in his mouth.

You somehow got used to the three differing personalities in the Parapsychology department -- the flirty Venkman, the enthusiastic Stantz, and the ever-elusive Spengler. However, the word “elusive” took on a new meaning that night you offered him the last Twinkie in the box you brought in that one long night you agreed to help Stantz and Spengler with their ghost research. The ever coveted Twinkie almost fell into Peter’s conniving hands, but by some stroke of luck -- you were the last person who got ahold of it (and despite you being a usual fixture in their department, Peter wouldn’t steal it out of a guest’s hands -- a lady guest’s hand even) and instead of eating it, you stuck your hand out and offered it to the sulking scientist who regretted not getting to do the groceries the night before. 

Things were never the same after that, but you -- being the oblivious scientist yourself buried in her own work, barely noticed it.

First it was those helpful comments when you were building your own version of a P.K.E. meter to help Ray test his plasma subjects. The helpful comments were also accompanied by a few tweaks by his own hands here and there, and completely ignoring your exasperated “Please let me do it, Dr. Spengler!” noises behind him. 

Then there was the unopened box of crunch bars left at your station. And the spare notebook that was just handed out to you, without any hesitations, when you ran out of pages in the middle of an experiment. And the expensive Parker sign pen almost thrust in your nose when your pen ran out of ink. And that one evening when you woke up in the darkness of the lab, having fallen asleep beside the microscope. You found yourself covered in a thick blanket you’ve never seen before, but it wasn’t similar to what Ray often used (which he just often took out Venkman’s cabinet). But it wouldn’t have been Venkman (as he’s busy dating his current psychic assistant), nor could it have been Ray (as he left the lab five hours ago to chase a lead). You started getting ideas when you heard the crunch of a Cheez It coming from the other room.

You swore that you were so close to making Egon Spengler smile (a feat that most of his students wanted to do before their graduation day), and you did see the corner of his lip twitch upward when you correctly assumed the correct equation to the experiment they were doing before they ran off to the New York Public Library. Well, right after that they were expelled by the Dean and you had to go looking for another department to work with to finish your mini-thesis. And the rest was history.

It was barely six months when you were looking for a part-time internship to cover your requirements and you got that phonecall from Ray. Enthusiastic as ever, almost hollering on the phone, Dr. Stantz talked about their first catch and the need to have someone come in and help analyze the subjects. Maybe come in for a few days, provide the results, and then back out. It wasn’t a full time job, the pay wasn’t going to be as steady, but it had everything you needed to work on your CAPSTONE project. Ray didn’t even have to beg -- you immediately said yes.

You did it for your studies. You can say that. You do wanted to graduate on time -- somehow. But somehow, there was that tiny voice in your head wondering if you would ever get the chance to make Dr. Spengler smile before you graduate. Little did you know, it wasn’t really Ray’s idea to invite you to join their cause.

It was almost as quiet as your lab days in Columbia, but it was chaos the moment the fire alarm was rung. Then there would be some days when the plasma subjects would pile up and you would find yourself sleeping over, curled up on the single sofa in the middle of the lab. Somehow, there were nights when you’d wake up in that same comforter you recognize from Columbia, and you couldn’t help but peer around the corner as if waiting to hear a bag of Twinkie opening itself. 

There was that one night when you finished your work early, turned in the papers, and almost crashed into the boys who just arrived on their remodeled Cadillac.

“Going somewhere, Y/N?” You heard Spengler address you with your last name after you greeted Ray. This wasn’t the first time you saw him in the Ghostbuster jumpsuit, but there was something that made you step back when he towered over you. (Spengler on the other hand, wondered if you were startled with the smoking ghost trap hanging from a cord on his hand.) 

“She’s got a hot date!” Venkman called out behind him as he entered Hook & Ladder Company 8′s double doors.

You barely noticed the “Huh” that escaped Spengler’s mouth, nor the way Ray signaled to him, crossing his hands back and forth, trying to deny what Venkman just stated.

“It’s not a date!” You were used to Venkman being ridiculous that way. “I was going to return a senior’s book-bound thesis--”

“That’s how it starts!” Venkman’s voice now came from within the doors, causing Stantz to palm his face. Spengler, however, wasn’t listening. “Where will your dinner be?” He asked as if he wanted to take you there, swinging the ghost trap out of the way so he can step closer to you without driving you away again.

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s just at the Galleria around the corner,” you gestured, making a face at Stantz, as if a plea for help to get out of the situation. “I’ll be back next week--”

He already had his back turned to you and Stantz when he looked over his shoulder and quietly asked, “Is the report on the Chinatown Ghost subject done?”

You blinked at him. “Yes,” you answered. “I left it on your desk.”

Ray wondered if you were that oblivious to see the sad glint behind Egon’s thick glasses. “Good,” he answered flatly. “See you next week.”

What you didn’t know was Egon actually hovered around Janine’s station the rest of the night, asking if there was any ghost incident call coming from the Galleria. Venkman left an off comment wondering if Spengler would like to haunt the restaurant himself.

It may have already seemed obvious to the boys, but it wasn’t that obvious to you. Or, you just didn’t want to recognize it, thinking that maybe Egon just thought of you as one of his good friends.

You start having doubts when you find a note underneath his microscope that read: 

If anything happens to us -- then this microscope set is yours. 

P.S. The black trunk beside the fridge is yours too. Take care of it. 

You’ve always noticed that black trunk beside the refrigerator, which you often piled the completed reports you have regarding the ghost cases. Pushing the wad of yellowing papers aside, you managed to clear the lid of the trunk and eventually unlocked it, only to discover dozens and dozens of petri dishes inside. The strong odor of molds filled your head.

“Huh,” you found yourself mimicking Egon during that night when you went to the Galleria. You wonder where the boys were. (There was a gaping hole in the roof that day you found the note, anyway.) The last thing you knew they were working on was an incident happening at a Manhattan High Rise in the Upper East Side, and about some Sumerian God named Gozer.

Luckily, they were back and hailed as heroes the next day. Of course, the work tripled, and the more testing and paperwork had to be done over the next few nights (with Janine now giving you an extra hand with all the chaos going on. You did help out with answering the phone too, after that Gozer incident.)

You never touched that black trunk again. But there was something in Dr. Spengler’s eyes when he saw you waiting at Hook and Ladder when they got back from that Manhattan high rise. For a moment, you thought you would be able to brag that you were able to see Egon Spengler’s pearly whites on Graduation Day.

Speaking of Graduation Day, it was getting closer. The more you had to focus on your culminating project, the more you started to miss appointments with the boys in Hook and Ladder 8. At one point, you felt bad talking on the payphone with Ray, telling him to find another analyst for the meantime as you had to focus on finishing your thesis.

“You mean to come back right, Y/N?” Ray sounded worried on the phone. It made you feel bad. “Someone’s gonna be upset if you can’t finish the numbers on the Granada Residence case.”

You found yourself chuckling. “Venkman hates that case. He’ll be fine.”

Silence was found on the other side of the line. “I wasn’t talking about Venkman.” That was the first day you started thinking about it. About him.

Towards Christmas, you were slowly pulling out your things from the Ghostbusters Firehouse, but these were mostly things you can fit in a box. You were a transient contractor after all. You were on the curbside waiting for a taxi when a tall figure almost bumped into you, carrying a giant brown box.

“Y/N?” The deep voice made you turn around, and you find yourself looking up at Egon who found himself staring at the brown paper box. “Y-You’re leaving?”

You smirked at him. “Didn’t Ray tell you, Dr. Spengler?” To your surprise, he only slowly nodded.

However, it was your turn to stare at the box in his arms. “Wait a minute--” you exclaimed. “Did you have the coffee maker fixed?”

Egon shrugged. That coffee maker has been broken ever since that incident with the containment unit. Luckily, you weren’t in that day the EPA stormed Hook and Ladder 8, but you were there when the repairs were being made. You had to work through a leaking ceiling and without coffee for days on end. You did get coffee from the deli around the corner, and you were kind enough to buy the boys their own cups of coffee during those days after the Manhattan High Rise incident.

“Yes,” there was some sort of glee in Egon’s voice. “And I’ve got a new bag of Arabica beans with a wonderful roast that I know you’re fond of--” He finds himself rambling amidst another taxi passing you by. “I was wondering if you’d like to have a cup of coffee with--” he clears his throat. “Us, before you go.”

It was weird. It was awkward. But it was Spengler. It was what made him Spengler. It suddenly felt something refreshing, almost rejuvenating.

“I can’t,” you wrinkled your nose at him as you looked at the nth taxi that passed you by. “I’ve got this report to present at the University.” 

Trying to ignore that crestfallen air forming about the man, you quickly muttered, “I will be back Christmas Eve though! I still have some more things to pick up.”

The “oh” that escaped Egon felt like a breath of fresh air. “On Christmas Eve?--”

You nodded. “I’ll be there,” you murmured as you tried flagging the yellow taxi that ignored you again. Fucking New York taxis. “Walker will be helping me carry the rest of the papers--”

You saw him blink behind those thick specs. “Walker?” Egon’s flat tone was returning. “The Guy from the Galleria?”

You shrugged at him. “Yeah, the classmate--” you corrected him. 

“Huh.”

You turned around to find him walking towards the Firehouse doors, his face obscured from you once more. “Let’s hope he doesn’t like coffee,” were the last words you heard from him before the door closed.

It was Christmas Eve. And that was the racket that Pete was making the library about. 

“Don’t be so silly Spengy--” he was exclaiming as he flopped on the chair beside the bespectacled, disgruntled scientist. “Those boxes will be out before midnight and you’ll never get to bug that girl about the mitochondria count on the plasmic sensor--”

“Venkman,” Egon said sternly.

“So what if Galleria Boy is there with her? What if he’s just there to hold her papers?” Venkman muttered while eating Spengler’s unfinished bar of chocolate to further aggravate him. “You fixed that coffee maker for what? A couple of dollars and not even one cup brewed--”

There was something that made Spengler look at the library’s Grandfather clock which was almost thirty minutes to twelve, causing him to grab all the books on the table and leave Venkman alone on his chair, who was starting to get the stink-eye from the library admin.

“Finally!” Venkman boomed before being swapped on the shoulder by the elderly librarian.

But now, it was already twelve. He got there a few minutes to Christmas and the Hook and Ladder 8 remained empty. He must have been too late.

Egon Spengler walked over to Janine’s empty reception desk and slumped on a guest chair in front of it, still hugging his suitcase. He almost kicked himself by not making it obvious. Venkman hated it whenever Egon took his comforter from his cabinet and draped it over you whenever you were sleeping. It became a habit for him to leave a small treat on your table whenever you left or weren’t looking, and he found joy when you looked around wondering from who it came from, before opening it and putting it in your mouth. He decided one day to have the coffee maker repaired after he saw you exhaustedly asking him if he wanted some too before you trudged miserably towards the deli. 

It was the small things. He frowned wondering if he shouldn’t have tried to hide it, and maybe for once you’d be smiling at him -- not at Venkman who made those stupid jokes, not at Ray who enthusiastically supported your ideas, not that Walker kid he had no idea about and probably slept in his class a long time ago. Him, who thought about leaving his spores and fungi collection to you in case Gozer got him and the guys.

Leaning back against the chair and sighing, Egon peered in the dark and tried to gain some resolve about the situation. I guess she’ll never know. I guess it’s best she doesn’t know.

That was when the Hook and Ladder door burst open.

Spengler was too consumed in his thoughts to recognize the small steps that wandered in, only coming to his senses when that person opened the lamp on Janine’s desk.

“Dr. Spengs???” You exclaimed, staring at the Ghostbuster whose glasses were misting with the cold. Or was it? “You’re still here?”

He stared at you, wondering if he was just imagining things.

“Didn’t expect to see you here -- on Christmas even -- all alone,” you said unbelievably, shaking your head at him.

“But--” he started, setting his suitcase down to fix his glasses. He couldn’t believe it was you. “But I thought--”

You placed a hand on your waist and sighed. “I was here,” you answered the question he couldn’t finish forming in his mouth. “I almost cleaned the place if I wasn’t your contractor,” you laughed, brandishing the firehouse key at him. “All those journals on ghost formations--”

“Any self-serving thief would go for the proton packs--”

You shook your head at him. “Eh, I’m a researcher--” you laughed. “I’d be going after your journals.”

Was that a shadow of a smile on his face or was it just your imagination? Is this really happening?

“And that Walker guy--” he started slowly, brown eyes slowly appraising your figure in front of him.

You shrugged. “Went home to celebrate Christmas with his family. Left me alone running after the journal I left--” You picked it out of the mess that is Janine’s papers. “Here.”

A cold breeze came through the door. Suddenly, for Egon, it really felt like Christmas.

“So, will you stay and have coffee with me?”

You couldn’t believe it.

You are definitely going to brag to your batchmates that Dr. Egon Spengler had the brightest smile you had ever seen.

A Cardboard Box Of Photos Of The Life We Made

Word Count: 6,913  words. (This might’ve gotten away from me a bit.) Notes: ~ Title from “Timeless” by Taylor Swift. ~ I was quite inspired by Timeless [Taylor’s Version, From The Vault] for this one. Clearly. And I already have a piece hidden in my files regarding photographs, Shelly’s grandparents and the video shoot for The Ghost Of You. So that song reminded me of that too. ~ While this is another of my “inspired by Taylor’s new music” pieces, this one isn’t really a continuation of the other two. Sometimes you’re just not inspired that way, and I am pretty mentally invested in Shelly’s MCR-U timeline at the moment. ~ I do have an almost complete list of the contents (it’ll make sense when you read it.) ~ There are parts of this that are actually gross (affectionate) - like, who gave them the right? ~ I am not totally happy with the ending but it works.

~#~ [Setting: During the massive tour for The Black Parade.] It was close to the time of the holidays - Thanksgiving had been a quiet, to themselves at home, kinda affair because they were just so tired and worn out. Especially after all of the dramatics of ProRev. And it looked like the break for Christmas might end up going the same way - they both loved touring; Gerard loved performing for the fans and Shelly loved watching her band come alive on stage while she worked in the background to make sure that everything went as smoothly as possible. She would also fully, readily, happily admit that she had loved watching them perform and having them sort of flirt with her while they were on stage - because they all did it. It didn’t matter if she was down in the ‘press pit’ or if she was watching from the side stage. She’d get winks and blown kisses and all kinds of flirty behaviours from all of them. They had been especially “bad” during the ProRev tour, especially flirty and suggestive. Then again, there had been a reason for that. She had tried to get them to tone it down a little but, when they had been so insistent, how was she supposed to stop them? Plus there was something just so… Extra swoon worthy about the way Gerard looked at her while he was a) on stage - because he wasn’t normally so obvious with his affection in public, and b) dressed up like that - all suited and booted and so damn delicious. He almost looked like he was glowing. Shelly knew that he flourished on stage, but she’d never seen him look like that before. It was insanely attractive though. Naturally, Gerard checked in with Shelly when it came to their plans for Christmas, and he was (maybe not so secretly) relieved when she, albeit shyly, admitted that she was kinda looking forward to some time without other people. “I’m tired Gee,” she said softly, snuggling against him as they cuddled on their couch. “I’m enjoying the tour but there’s so many people, all of the time.” “And so much travelling,” he added with a nod. “Mm, it might be nice to just keep our feet on the ground for a little bit before we have to do it all again later,” Shelly hummed happily as he pressed kisses to the top of her head. “Okay. We’ll stay home if that’s what you want.” Shelly moved away from him so she could look at him properly. “Babe, if you wanna go home and see family for the holidays, or whatever it is you want, you can do that. You don’t have to stay stuck to my side. We can do things apart.” Gerard hooked his fingers under her chin to draw her forward so he could press a kiss to her lips. He felt her smile as he kissed her and that just made him smile. “I know we’re not attached at the hip,” he said quietly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “I know that. But, I have spent almost every holiday of my life so far with my family. I would very much like to spend this one with you. Especially if it’s a quiet one in this otherwise really loud period of time.” “Are you sure?” Shelly whispered. He nodded. “Very sure, love. Very sure. We don’t even have to have a traditional holiday meal if you don’t want to.” Shelly tilted her head at him. “I mean, I’ll help you cook, obviously, I’m not gonna leave you to do anything alone, that’s not fair.” “Well,” she said with a slight grin. “Maybe you should leave me to do the cooking.” Gerard fake gasped. “Shelly, that’s rude!” She giggled and kissed him gently. “Might still need you to carry things and be all manly and stuff though.” “Hmn. I’m sure I can manage that. I think I can throw in some emotional support and maybe even some jar opening as a bonus.” She laughed, he grinned and they settled down to relax some more. ~#~ Not too long later, still during their ‘winter break,’ obviously, Gerard returned to the bedroom after showering to see Shelly already mostly dressed and ready for the day. “Shell, did you have plans for today?” “I have a few errands that I need to go out for,” Shelly checked her make-up in the mirror. “I did wonder why you were putting on make-up,” Gerard wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. “Not that you need it in the slightest.” “You’re so biased though,” she hummed and giggled, making him smile. “Nope. You don’t need it,” he leant his chin on her shoulder. “But I’m never going to stop you wearing it if that’s what you want. I don’t own you or control you, love.” Shelly hummed happily and almost purred at him as she leant back against him. “And I love you for that, really. But, I gotta be presentable in public.” “Do you want me to come with you?” Shelly twisted in his arms, leant hers on his shoulders and raised an eyebrow at him. “And have my tasks take twice as long because you get distracted, or because we get a little bit mobbed?” Gerard grinned guiltily. “Yeah, okay, fair point…” “Besides,” she leant up on her tiptoes to kiss him gently. “How am I supposed to look for your Christmas present when you’re with me?” “Babe,” he kissed her back, holding her tightly. “You don’t have to get me anything, you know that.” “Gerard,” she gave him A Look. “I’m going to buy you a gift. You can’t stop me.” He opened his mouth to try and counter that, only for her to continue. “More to the point, you won’t stop me, because you know that gift giving makes me happy. And you love seeing me happy.” “Hmm,” he nuzzled her and kissed her jaw. “That’s true. Seeing you happy is my favourite thing after all.” “Sap,” she mumbled, unable to keep the smile off of her face. “Did you need me to get anything for you while I’m out?” “Hmmm,” he held her a little tighter. “I don’t think so. I can always go out by myself tomorrow or something. Do you want me to do anything while you’re out?” Shelly thought about it before shaking her head. “I don’t think so.” “Okay. Well, you can text me if you think of something, and I can text you if I do too.” “Sure love,” Shelly unwound herself from him and went to finish getting ready to go out. He was on the couch when she left, not without first kissing him goodbye and whispering ‘I love you’ of course. And, naturally, he said it back. Not just because it was true, but because he knew that she always wanted those to be the last words she said to him, to anyone. If something bad were to happen while she was out. It was why she never went to sleep angry, it was why she never left a building in the middle of an argument. And he got it, really he did. The door shut behind her and he looked around the apartment. It wasn’t bad, it was fairly nice, actually. Just because they weren’t in it much while they were touring, didn’t mean it couldn’t be nice. It was enough for the pair of them, as they were. Obviously, if their relationship continued from strength to strength, and levelled up, he’d buy a house. Something on tv startled him out of his thoughts and he was reminded that yes, it was December. It was nearly Christmas. And the apartment didn’t have any decorations up. He was sure that they had some - not many, but some. He could do that while she was out, then he could maybe see about picking up anything they were missing when he next went out. He still had to find Shelly a Christmas present anyway, so he’d have to go out at some point. Not that he really knew what he wanted to get her, but he believed that he’d know when he saw it. Gerard finished his coffee and started hunting around for the boxes of Christmas decorations he swore they had. He initially thought he’d found them when he found a box of neatly coiled Christmas lights and tinsel - yup, Shelly had definitely put these away. He probably wouldn’t’ve taken the time to wind them that neatly. His moment of victory was brief because the box he pulled out after the tinsel and lights didn’t have decorations in it at all. Despite its size (just a little bit bigger than a shoebox, in fact, it might’ve been a shoebox in a previous life - or one that contained a pair or boots or something), Gerard had still been hopeful that it might’ve contained some smaller tree ornaments or something. Nope, nothing of the sort. It didn’t even have anything holiday related in it at all. Gerard knelt on the floor, carefully going through the box in front of him. The box was full of magazine clippings, newspaper articles, flyers, a copy of the ‘programme’ from the Helena video. Strange things - like a small bag of… Was that confetti? One of his dog collars from when he decided dressing as a priest was a good idea. (And, god, it really was.) Not so strange things, like guitar picks and a Revenge Era knuckleduster bracelet. And photos. So many photos. A couple of semi professional looking ones from performances but the majority of them were candids. Including one of her in the studio with them when they were recording Revenge. She had the softest expression on her face - full of sympathy but she also looked hurt, almost. He remembered that, actually. He hadn’t known that she was there until after he’d finished belting out Desert Song. He left the booth to join the others, to see what they thought and had come face to face with the tiny, cosily dressed blonde. And the others too, of course. She had looked at him like she had wanted to dash over and hug him, but seemed a little shy about it. (She did, later in fact, wrap him up in a tight hug when they found themselves alone and the conversation turned around to the music again. He swore that she had tears in her eyes when they broke apart.) He hadn’t been aware that someone had caught that look on her face on camera. Just like that second photo Frank had taken when they’d been doing the ‘soldier's wallet’ photos during the filming of The Ghost of You. The first photo of him with Shelly was them looking at the camera - he remembered Shelly rolling her eyes slightly before doing it. But the second was of them glancing at each other. God, had they always looked at each other like that? He knew he’d looked at her like that for ages - there was even video proof. From the Helena shoot, specifically; the camera focused on Tracey teaching a suited up (god that had been hot) Shelly a dance move or two, and then it had panned over to where he’d been watching them. Well. He’d been watching Shelly specifically. She’d worn a suit! A well fitted, incredibly hot, suit! How was he supposed to not look? Gerard shook his head and looked through the box a little more. More almost-professional photos, group shots of them from before they headed out to awards shows, because Shelly always liked to get one or two before they left, in the relative privacy of their hotel rooms or whatever. Plus it meant that they could get one or two with her in them as well. More candids of her with them - individually, or in groups. A few of just him, maybe a few of her helping him with his make-up. He still enjoyed that, actually. This box was an inevitable treasure trove of the band’s history, he thought as he looked through it for a little longer. And possibly the history of their relationship. He knew that she was sentimental but… This was special. She’d been collecting this stuff since even before they’d gotten together - this was more for the band, their relationship was just a bonus addition. She really had always been in it for the music, for them. He knelt on the floor, slowly looking through the box for a little bit longer, until his phone chirped in his pocket, startling him. He quickly (but still neatly) put the things back in the box and put it back before getting to his feet and pulling his phone out of his pocket. Apparently it wasn’t an important notification, which annoyed him, but, on the other hand, it meant he could stop looking through this box that he thought was supposed to be hidden, and he could go back to hunting for their decorations. Because he was still certain that they had some. Gerard found the decorations not too long later and felt incredibly pleased that he’d been right. Sure, it was only a small tree, nothing large and grand like he imagined they’d have when they got their house - you had to have a big tree for the kids, you know? Once he’d dug out the smaller tree, he found the rest of their minimal decorations and started putting them up, pausing to make a note in his phone to pick up more Christmas lights, because he knew Shelly liked them. She thought a room looked cosier when those were the only lights on, and having spent a Christmas with her family where this sort of thing happened, he agreed. Maybe he could see if he could get some that had warm, white lights instead of coloured bulbs. She’d look good under that kind of light. He left the box of tree decorations for her to help him with - he knew that was her favourite part. She’d never really told him, but he remembered seeing her help her family with the tree in the second sitting room, that they’d left undecorated just so she could help them when they knew she’d be returning home for Christmas that year. When she realised that they'd left that tree for her, her face had lit up brighter than the Christmas lights he'd helped them untangle. He knew that she’d want to help with these ornaments, even if the tree was their little one. And he definitely wanted her to be the one to put the tree topper on. Maybe one day he’d be lifting their kid up to do it, because she’d totally pass the duty on like that. Gerard hummed a little to himself as he finished up with the decorations before going to make himself a coffee, standing in the doorway with it to inspect his work. He hoped that he’d done a good enough job for her, that she’d approve and not want to move anything. She deserved the best after all, and he just wanted to give that to her. Once he decided that actually, he’d done a pretty decent job, he settled down and started to make a list of what he thought they were missing. He knew for certain that he wanted to get some warm white holiday/fairy lights for the bedroom - they’d be nice around the headboard and they could stay up all year. He had the feeling that she’d like that. He was relaxing when she got home, all stretched out on the couch, completely engrossed in whatever it was he was reading. Shelly stood in the doorway, watching him for a moment, a small smile on her face. She could kinda imagine a small child scampering up to snuggle up with him while he read. Maybe he could read to them like that - she used to love it when her family read to her as a child and it was especially lovely when she was able to curl up on her grandfather’s lap as he read to her. She definitely wanted that for her own kids. She was so distracted by him that it took her a little longer to realise that their Christmas decorations had been pulled out of the cupboard and put up. Everything except the ornaments for their small tree. That went straight to her heart, and she wondered if he remembered. “Hi,” she said softly after a minute. Gerard almost jumped a little, but quickly sat up and put his book aside. “Hey, love. Successful trip?” Shelly hummed and nodded. “I think so, yeah. I managed to get all my errands done at least, but I still haven’t managed to find you a gift yet.” He rolled his eyes and crossed the room to wrap his arms around her. “You still don’t need to get me anything.” “I know more of what I don’t want to get you than what I do,” she smiled as he nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers. “I’m still going to get you something.” “I don’t need anything,” Gerard kissed her forehead. “I have you, we have a home, we have our friends and family. We’re financially stable and I’m very happy. Are you?” “Of course I am,” Shelly replied without hesitation. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to buy you things. You know you’re not gonna win this.” “Hmm,” he squeezed her gently. “Yeah, that’s true. You are very stubborn.” “Hey, it helps me in my job, so it benefits you.” “It benefits all of us. You do such a good job at looking after us.” Shelly hummed again for a moment as she snuggled against his chest. “I see you’ve been busy while I’ve been out.” “Oh! Yes, I figured it might be a nice thing for you to come home to,” he leant his cheek on the top of her head and turned her so she could see the living room again. “I think we’re missing a few things - I either can’t find them or we just don’t have them.” “Probably don’t have them,” Shelly nodded against him. “How do you think I did?” Shelly unwound herself from him and wandered further into the room to have a look. “I figured I could pick up anything we didn’t have when I go out tomorrow,” he continued, watching her. “You did good babe,” Shelly stopped by their little tree. “But… What’s the deal with this?” Gerard hummed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I remember spending Christmas with your family. I remember how much you lit up when they showed you the undecorated tree in the back living room.” Shelly blinked rapidly, just looking at him. He swallowed and continued softly. “I know it’s not the biggest tree, but I know it’s kinda tradition for you and, even though you’re not at home right now, I didn’t want to take that away from you.” “I didn’t… I didn’t realise that you’d noticed that,” she said quietly, smiling at the memory. “How could I not? You shine when you’re with your family anyway, you’re completely in your element, but you were almost fluorescent when you realised what was going on.” She crossed the room very quickly, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. His hands found her waist pretty quickly and he kissed her back just as hard - why wouldn’t he? She was his woman and kissing her was his favourite thing. Okay. One of his favourite things. “Stop it,” she whispered. “Stop what?” He tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “Being so… So…” She waved a hand. “So perfect.” “Oh, Shelly, you know I’m not,” he let her go as she took a step back. “I’m nothing of the sort.” She gave him one of her looks and he grinned back at her. “You’re a flawed human being, just like the rest of us,” she said gently. “But that doesn’t stop you from being perfect for me, Gerard Way.” Gerard just stared at her until she kissed his cheek and made her way back into the hallway. “Stay there,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t follow me.” He did as he was told, even going to sit back on the couch and back to his book for a moment, which meant that he didn’t see Shelly taking bags from the front door to… Wherever she hid things when she had surprises tucked up her sleeve. “Okay,” she said a few minutes later, returning to him. “That’s all sorted and put away.” “Oh!” He put his book down and looked at her. “I wanted to ask you something actually.” Shelly frowned and sat down. “I don’t like the sound of that…” “It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he kissed her cheek and moved to his feet. “I’ll be back in a second. You can stay there.” “I was gonna,” she said with a grin. “My feet hurt a little bit.” Gerard laughed softly, retrieved the box and made his way back to the living room. “Um,” he said quietly as he sat next to her, putting the box on the table. “I was looking for the decorations and I found this…” Shelly looked from the box in his hands to his face as soon as he returned to the room. When it clicked what he was holding, her eyes widened and she looked a little worried. “Um,” she echoed softly. “Did you… Go through it?” “Yeah,” Gerard admitted. “I only opened it because I thought it was Christmas stuff.” “What made you go through it?” Shelly asked, reaching for the box to put it on her knees. “Curiosity,” he said, watching her open the box and start to go through it herself. “Are you mad at me?” “That depends,” she said quietly, looking at some of the photos. “On what?” He shifted his body to face her a bit more. “Whether you think it’s creepy and weird at all.” Her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear her. “Shell…” Gerard gently grabbed her chin to make her look at him. “Why would I think that?” She went a little bit pink. “Because it is kinda weird?” Gerard hummed, leant forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, his hand cupping her cheek and giving it a gentle, affectionate squeeze before he moved it back to his lap. “I don’t think it is. I don’t think any of the stuff you have in that box is weird.” “Y- you don’t?” She blinked rapidly and glanced back down inside the box. “Nope. It’s not like you’re keeping used tissues or old socks or anything.” Shelly pulled a face and he laughed, edging closer to wrap an arm around her waist. “No,” he continued. “All this stuff makes sense to me. And, it helps that I know that you’re a very sentimental little creature.” She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Creature?” “Part lion, part regular cat, part teeny tiny woman,” Gerard grinned down at her. “Frank would say part fox, and I’m inclined to agree.” Shelly went pink but she smiled. “He’s a flirt and I’m surprised Jaima lets him get away with it.” “She only does it because it doesn’t upset you,” he kissed the top of her head and watched her go through the box some more. “She’s a good woman and deserves some kinda award for putting up with Frank.” Gerard laughed and leant his cheek against her hair, before reaching into the box and pulling out the little bag of confetti. “I did wanna ask though, what’s this from?” “The video for Welcome,” Shelly tried not to giggle as he let out a ‘ohhhh!’ before he put it back. “I originally didn’t pick up that much, but I think we were all shedding it for a few hours afterwards, so I gathered that too.” “Why the confetti though?” “Because the video was huge!” She looked at him. “I knew the album was going to be Really Something Else.” “Like you knew that we would be?” Gerard said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. She nodded once. “Like I knew you guys would be. And I haven’t been wrong yet, have I?” He smiled. “No ma’am.” Shelly giggled and leant up to kiss him once. “You really don’t think it’s weird?” Gerard shook his head as they went back to looking through the box again. “No. No, I really don’t.” “I’m just so proud,” Shelly whispered as she picked up a photo of the band receiving a ‘Best Album’ award for Three Cheers. “I’m so proud of you guys I could burst. And I wanna remember it all.” “I love that about you,” he picked up a different photo; the one of her watching him sing Desert Song in the studio. “I love that you’ve always cared.” Shelly went pink as she looked at the photo he was holding. “Yeah, well, of course I have. It’s always meant something to me. I mean, look at my tattoo.” Gerard picked up a couple of newspaper clippings - one smaller one from much earlier in their career, and one larger one that was more recent. “The bigger we get, the bigger these clippings get.” “I know,” she beamed. “I love it.” “I love you,” he kissed the tip of her nose, making her giggle softly. “And I’d be just as proud even if we weren’t together,” she said. “Our relationship has nothing to do with any of that.” “I know. You were proud here,” he gestured to any of the photos of them receiving awards for Revenge. “And we weren’t together.” Shelly hummed in acknowledgement and smiled as she picked up one of her and Gerard sat close together at a table with his art stuff spread in front of him. She was clearly listening to him as he showed her something he’s been working on, and she was truly listening because he had her full attention. He had a smile on his face and he was obviously talking with his hands, so they must’ve been sitting there together for some time for him to get to that stage. “I think Mikey got that one,” Gerard said. “You’ve always listened like that.” “Especially to you when you’ve been willing to talk about your art,” Shelly almost snuggled against his side. “It’s a very special thing when a creative type wants to talk about their work with you.” “Now it’s your turn to stop it,” he muttered into her hair as she shuffled the box contents around for a moment. “Nope, shan’t,” she grinned up at him and smiled when he kissed her. “There’s one more thing?” “Mm?” She held up the priest collar, which upon further inspection now she’d turned it over, had a lipstick print on it - right where the white would’ve shown between the the two sides of his shirt collar. “You don’t think me keeping this is weird?” Gerard glanced at the lipstick mark and the memory of how it got there, or rather what happened afterwards, came back to him rather quickly. He must’ve blushed because Shelly giggled. “Absolutely not,” he grinned. “Hmn! I didn’t think so,” she put it back in the box and closed the lid. “Put that back for me? Unless you wanted to ask me about anything else in it?” He shook his head, picked up the box and went to put it away, returning to cuddle with her for a little bit afterwards. Not for long though, as soon Shelly was letting out a soft “oh!” before getting up and darting back into the hallway. Gerard watched the doorway with a raised eyebrow as she reappeared with something behind her back. She rocked on her feet slightly with a bright smile and giggled when she saw the look on his face. “What’ve you got there, sweetheart?” Shelly giggled again. “Well, it’s not exactly a Christmas gift. And it’s not technically just for you, but I bought them while I was thinking of you…” Gerard pushed himself to his feet and took a few steps towards her, stopping when she took a step back. “Oh? And what do you have there, pretty girl?” She smiled and moved the bag in front of her, standing holding onto it with both hands - like when she stood with her hands clasped in front of her. Gerard’s eyes followed her hands, then dropped to the logo on the bag. He recognised that logo - it belonged to one of her favourite lingerie stores. Personally, any lingerie store she chose to shop at was his favourite because she looked incredible in anything, but he recognised the logo from that one as he’d sometimes find her browsing their online store. Sometimes she’d even let him pick. “Well,” she lifted the bag up closer to her face, opening it and looking inside. “There’s a couple of things in here, so…” “Are you suggesting what I hope you’re suggesting?” He tried not to sound too optimistic - normally when she bought multiple pieces it meant that he got a fashion show. “Well that depends,” she closed the bag and looked at him. “On… What?” Shelly couldn’t prevent the grin from spreading across her face. “Did you bring home any of those feather boas?” ~#~ When the band reconverged to continue the tour, it didn’t take Gerard long to get everyone in the same room. Except Shelly - she was off doing whatever it was she did, working her magic powers, but that suited him just fine. “What’s the deal?” Mikey asked, settling in a spot next to Lux. “Yeah dude,” Frank settled in a chair. “Where’s the fire?” Gerard glanced around to make sure everyone was listening and that Shelly hadn’t snuck back. Once he was satisfied that it was safe, he exhaled slowly and started telling them about the box; the photos, the newspaper clippings, (he might’ve left out the fact that she kept one of his priest collars. They didn’t need to know that bit) - the confetti and the comment she’d made to him when she’d been explaining that - about how she knew that the album, the video was going to be Really Something - like she knew that they were going to be that too. The others got a bit choked up at that, actually. “Lux,” he said. “Did you know that she’s kept a pair of your broken drumsticks?” The other woman smiled and nodded. “Yeah, of course. She asked for them, so I gave them to her. She said she was proud that I’d played that hard.” “Did you also know that she kept the friendship bracelet you made her?” Gerard tilted his head. “It’s actually tied neatly around the drumsticks to keep them together.” Lux softened considerably at that. “I… Didn’t know that, no.” “I’m not sure why you’re surprised,” Ray said kindly. “We all know that she’s super sentimental.” “She’s still got the keyring from her first Band Mom day,” Mikey added. “I bet she still has the bear too,” Frank grinned, looking at Gerard - he’d been the one to get the bear after all. Gerard coughed slightly. “Yeah, she does. But, she’s also still got the preserved rose petals from that first Band Mom’s day too. Picks from you guys,” he nodded to the three guys. “From every time you changed the designs. She had a knuckle duster bracelet in there too.” “Is it the same one she wore to death?” Frank asked, his eyebrows raising as Gerard shook his head. “A new one? She could sell that for a fortune.” “She won’t,” Gerard continued. “She said she keeps gathering all this stuff because she wants to remember all of it, the band’s entire journey. She’s so fuckin’ proud of us.” “Yeah,” Frank swallowed the little lump in his throat. “Yeah, you can tell when she talks about us to others - you can even tell if you’re reading something she’s written about us.” “You can feel the pride coming off of her in waves,” Ray added with a nod. “She cares, she’s always cared.” Gerard nodded at his brother’s statement before continuing. “At the bottom of that box were a flyer and magazine clipping regarding the gig we first met her at. And her ticket.” “Her tattoo not enough?” Frank said with a grin. “Apparently not, but I don’t even have it in me to mind,” Gerard shook his head. “Where are you going with this?” Lux asked gently. Gerard hesitated for a moment, chewing his bottom lip. “I… I guess I never really realised just how much… How much she is, you know?” They looked at him, slightly confused. “How much she values the memories, how much she cares and has always cared, how much she truly believes in us. Even before we got together - she’s always felt like that.” “She fights for us,” Ray said. “She fights for what you believe in, even when you forget and need a reminder,” Lux grinned, gesturing to herself as she remembered what she’d been told about the conversation around the table when they’d been looking to hire a drummer. “How it’s never been for the paycheque,” Gerard continued, nodding to Lux. “Like, I knew, but it’s never really sunk in like this before.” The others nodded at that. “About the money thing…” Frank said slowly. “She told me once that she doesn’t really need it. She never has. It’s nice, but she doesn’t need it. She’s never shown me proof or anything but I’ve never asked her for it. I just believe her.” “She’s just so genuine, she’s so honest.” Gerard listened to the hums of approval before he cleared his throat softly. “Guys, I almost asked her to marry me over Christmas.” There was a few seconds of silence while that sentence sunk in for everyone, but as soon as it did he was hit with a wall of noise. “Dude!” “What?!” “What do you mean ‘almost'?!” “Seriously?” The vocalist chuckled nervously and took a step back from the onslaught. “Um! Well, let me explain!” Lux folded her arms and stared at the older man. “This better be good Gerard!” Gerard felt incredibly nervous under the drummer’s stare - she was incredibly protective of Shelly and he was pretty certain that she wouldn’t be afraid of punching him if his answer wasn’t adequate. It was a fair feeling on the drummer’s part - everyone was pretty protective of Shelly, just like she was protective of them too. But he was way more scared of the girl from Arizona than he was of any of the other guys. “Okay,” he started, addressing Lux more than the others, even though he knew the others were listening and judging him just as much as she was. “This whole situation with this… Memory box? Just really dug in how much I love her, how much I love every single part of her.” Lux raised an eyebrow at him and he swallowed. This was worse than being introduced to Shelly’s family as her boyfriend for the first time. “I mean! Obviously, she’s gorgeous! Look at her!” “I do, quite frequently,” Frank said with a grin, quickly shrinking back and almost ducking behind Ray as Lux glared at him. “But it’s more than that; I love every part of her personality,” Gerard glanced at Lux. “C’mon Lux, you know that I do. Don’t look at me like that.” She nodded. “Continue.” He sighed and shook his head slightly. “Going through that box just reminded me of a lot of things that I’d temporarily forgotten about, and it just… Cemented exactly how much I love her and…” The others looked at each other before looking back at him. “And how much she’s it for me now,” he continued softly. “I don’t want anything else with anyone else. It’s all with her or nothing. I wanna help her continue filling that box with all of those memories.” Mikey smiled a little to himself at his brother, but his smile turned into a grin when he saw Lux almost melting out of the corner of his eye. She was trying not to squeal, he could tell. “That doesn’t explain how you almost asked her to marry you though,” Frank pointed out. Lux blinked rapidly, almost having forgotten about that. “Oh! Yeah!” Gerard cleared his throat. “So, it was after this memory box thing, maybe about a week? I don’t know. But we were sitting on the couch in the evening, music playin’, the Christmas lights on, I think she was reading? I don’t really know, but she just looked so peaceful and so beautiful, and I kept thinking about that box and everything she’s done for us, all the things she’s handled -” Frank was about to make some kind of dirty comment, but a glare from Lux made him close his mouth again. “And I nearly just blurted it out!” Gerard continued, covering his face and huffing for a moment. “Just, sat in our apartment on a random evening in December, while she was wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt! She never would’ve forgiven me!” There was a collective snort. “Yeah, she would’ve,” Ray spoke first. “Because she’s so in love with you it’s disgusting,” Mikey continued. The others nodded in agreement. “That’s not the -” Gerard shook his head. “I only wanna do this once, you know? And, more to the point, Shelly deserves better than that. She deserves the best proposal I can manage - she deserves the whole show, you know? More than letting the question slip out with little preparation or thought. She deserves the world, and I wanna give it to her.” He huffed again softly as he looked around his band, looking over at Lux last. “Is that a good enough reason, Miss Lux?” “You’re damn right she deserves the world,” she rubbed the corner of her eye a little, brushing away a sneaky tear. “And yeah, she deserves a better proposal than that!” “Even though she wouldn’t mind, as long as it was heartfelt,” Frank added. “But still!” Lux continued. “Now you gotta do it properly!” “I know,” Gerard nodded. “Don’t screw it up!” “Believe me, I’m going to be doing everything in my power to get it right, but I -” A knock on the door cut him off and Frank gave permission for the person to enter. The door opened and Shelly returned to the room. “Shell, you don’t need to knock, let alone wait for permission,” Frank said with a frown. “You know that.” “I always knock and wait for permission,” she shrugged, crossing the room to be closer to them, to Gerard specifically. The singer automatically wrapped an arm around her waist, gently pulling her closer to him before he replied; “but it’s just us.” She snorted. “Even more reason to knock and wait. You could be up to mischief.” “I’m hurt and insulted,” Frank grinned at her. “Everything okay? All your spells cast and traps set?” “Traps?” Shelly looked at him innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.” “I think he’s referring to the fact that you always seem to get your way for us,” Mikey added. Shelly hummed. “Mm, no traps. I’m just very good at what I do.” Gerard tried not to blush too much, because his mind definitely didn’t keep that clean. Unfortunately, Frank noticed and grinned. “Gerard seems to agree with that statement.” Ray rolled his eyes, Mikey groaned and Lux threw a tied up Oreo wrapper at him. “Stop it,” she said. “Don’t be rude.” While this was happening, Shelly glanced up at Gerard who just smiled at her. She giggled, leant up a tiny bit and kissed his cheek before turning her attention back to the others. “Kittens,” Shelly said gently and affectionately, a mild warning tone creeping into her voice. Gerard glanced at Shelly when he heard the start of that ‘mom tone’ - it didn’t get used on him, oh no. She had a completely different tone of voice for him if or when he misbehaved… But hearing the ‘mom tone’ didn’t help him with trying to forget that he’d been thinking about them having kids a lot as of late. Lux stuck her tongue out at Frank, who did exactly the same back. “Children,” the tone in her voice was a bit more obvious now. “Behave yourselves.” “Frank started it, Shell,” Mikey said. Shelly hummed. “Don’t care, finish it yourselves or I’ll finish it for you.” “Yes mom,” Frank pouted, getting an eye roll (but also a smile) from Shelly. “Sorry Shell,” Lux said genuinely. “‘S alright,” she said, handing out some paperwork. “Just behave for a little bit, so I can get these details, then I can run off and you can go back to teasing each other. Or whatever mischief you were up to before I walked in.” “Why do you always assume that we’re up to something?” Frank asked, taking the sheets. “Because you normally are and I feel like this time is no different.” Gerard shuffled in his spot, still next to her while trying not to look at anything other than the papers in his hand. The others, meanwhile, shared looks. “Oh Shelly,” Frank said with a grin. “You have no idea.”

ZoTash Fanfic OPLA fanmade version. Chapter 1

Under the cut to avoid cluttering the dash. PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG UNLESS YOU ASK ME FIRST.

It's Raining Somewhere Else

"Says a man who failed to get himself out of a hole on the first try". It's raining like the sky itself is weeping for a bond lost and this wasn't supposed to happen. On the opposite sides of the battlefield. One a pirate hunter turned pirate and the other a face from the past turned into a mere copycat marine.

They had met on the marine's day off. An unlucky coincidence. Star crossed in the worse sense. Could had been friends. Might had sailed as hunters of the unjust. Things don't always work out however. Some can never follow their dreams. They told his captain that all the time.

"What matters is that I got out. You wouldn't have lasted even one second in there glasses. And stop saying what she would had said!".

She probably would had gotten out on the first try thanks to the pure undulated rage that the marine was seething towards the pirate hunter. The only kind you could find in only a few men or women in her case. Kuina never was this vindictive but that's a given. Zoro himself never really did mock or belittle her like the marine in front of him. The pirate hunter blames her profession as being the soldiers of cruelty. A weak paper thin thing to make an excuse upon. Really? Stooping this low? Her pettiness was rubbing off on him and Zoro hates it.

"Me? Taking on a personality of others? You lying cad!! How dare you accuse me of stealing things. Pirate! I'm my own person, now and until I face my end at the sharp edge of a blade!"

Veins visible on his forehead appear on their own in a comical fashion, like they responded too honestly from his emotions that were spiking in intensity. Okay that did it. No more mister nice guy. Time to finish this fight once and for all. Her skill of drawing her blade much faster than himself was impressive but it was no match for his more experience in more brutal of fights. The marine's blade, which his captain had called 'Skiing' like the Straw Hat teen had also called his own sword 'something Itchy something Monkey' falls from her hand and onto the soaked ground below.

"Your loss. Now get out of here before I change my mind. Never show your face to me again Copycat".

Although, she can't really get away as he keeps her stuck between himself and the wall as the others in her squad look on in awe, like they are seeing something more risqué than just a battle being over. There's the scent of the faint smell of cherry blossoms coming off from the marine. Plus, the familiar one of steel that both have because of the ways of the samurai both had taken at an early age. Tashigi focuses on the closeness of the pirate hunter's earrings, finding more courage to say the line that might change them forever.

"Like I will you filthy liar! Cheater. If you feel that way, finish me. I don't deserve this blade or my life. Kill me and just get on with it.".

Those words. Spoken so long ago by Zoro himself to Kuina. Why is the marine parroting his words too now? It hurts his head and the pirate hunter doesn't want anything to do with this annoying woman who helped him not get the Wado Ichimonji sold for a cheap price to that crook in the sword shop. The way she smiled like a child on Christmas on holding it in her hands with loving care unlike the unworthy ones who just saw a tool to cut rather than someone's soul and chattering away about her interesting hobby of loving blades. Zoro even remembers the way his heart thumped in his chest when the pirate hunter saw the woman for the first time.

And no, it's not because she looked like Kuina. She was pretty in a traditional sort of way despite her awful taste in blouses. He's not sure how to feel about that, her. Any of this. Even her sword that she carried was, how did someone put it into words….cute? Gah! This is stupid. Luffy needed him right this second. No time for distractions. Can't, won't. Not on his dreams or in them. That one time when he got roped in with her schemes of getting him a job by working for the marines and moping the floors with three of them in hand because of said oxymoron situation, didn't happen. Nope. Not gonna remember that. Focus!

"No. You look too much like the one I made a promise to all those years ago. A friend who died. I can't do this, I won't do this and I am wasting time". It's simple and he leaves, letting the marine defend for herself, not looking back. Zoro has said too much. Not even his crew knew about his past. Sure he had a friend, however, Zoro didn't say who that was in passing. But unlike with Kuina, this woman doesn't let sleeping sharks lie. Oh no. This was quite the opposite.

The fury is not quelled, it's only ignited into the flames of hatred, shame, and vengeance. To chase the pirate hunter turned pirate to the ends of the earth. As the green haired swordsman runs away to help his captain, the words to meet again as bitter enemies to something more escape the lips of the defeat scorned not taken seriously woman with the bespectacled face says,

"I, Dracule Tashigi, promise to fight, train and kick your butt for as long as I live. Roronoa Zoro".

Somewhere in the distant Grand Line, a small miniscule sneeze can be heard, waking a man from his peaceful and relaxing slumber. Someone was talking about his last name, but who? The last person who dared say the words 'Dracule' was a mockery of the way of the sword. Estranged.

Someone who was only a memory. Before anyone called him the greatest swordsman. Only a babe when Gol D. Roger was executed. The one who foolishly believed his lie about the swords crying out and collecting them so that they would leave him alone for the day. Reason why he joined the warlords in the first place as marines had used blackmail of the worse kind on someone as powerful as him. A disgusting weakness.

"So you are still alive. The Grace with still no Power. My foolish stubborn daughter. Living in my shadow since forevermore. Tashigi".

Amelie & Other Marleys

Inspired by the wonderful @rom-e-o's post about how their OC would get along with the various versions of Scrooge- go check it out, it's wonderfully written!

Obviously, in my own AU/retelling of A Christmas Carol, Amelie Wilson is Jacob Marley's soulmate and greatest friend (besides Scrooge, of course). But would she be this way with any of the other Marleys from across the different Christmas Carol adaptations I've seen?

Also, just a quick heads-up- she's meeting all of them pre-death.

Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol (1962) version, played by Royal Dano: Well, he seems chill, but judging by that portrait of him we see in Scrooge's office at the beginning of the cartoon, he'd probably scare her away just by looking at her. No thank you. 0/10.

The Stingiest Man in Town (1978) version, played by Theodore Bikel: He isn't really the most attractive man, but at least he's not as scary as the Magoo version. He also has a good singing voice, and judging by his tone during the song, Amelie would probably offer a shoulder for him to cry on frequently. 7/10.

Mickey's Christmas Carol (1983) version, played by Goofy: He does constantly speak of "robbing widows and swindling the poor", but aside from that, Goofy's Marley seems to have had a soft side he'd reveal to only one person, and Amelie (who would also be an anthropomorphic dog- specifically a longhaired dachshund- in this version's universe) would certainly be the one for him to reveal it to. 9/10.

A Christmas Carol (1984) version, played by Frank Finlay: This version seems a little stuck-up, but not so much stuck-up as the 2022 version (more on him later). While Amelie wouldn't want to DATE him, she would probably enjoy sharing tidbits of advice with him. 4/10.

The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992) versions, played by Statler and Waldorf: Believe it or not, I actually think they'd be pretty high on the list for her. In the Present scene of my version, the Ghost actually does show Scrooge a vision where Marley and Amelie are cracking jokes about Scrooge just the way that Statler and Waldorf themselves would normally do, so I think Amelie's humor would click perfectly with them (again, she'd also be a Muppet herself in this version's universe). The only problem with them is: Which brother would she date, Jacob or Robert? Maybe both of them at once? 8/10.

A Christmas Carol: The Musical (2004) version, played by Jason Alexander: He's actually the one I got most of the inspiration for my own Marley from, from the talent for singing to the tendency to give massive hugs to those he loves/trusts the most. So of course she'd take to him right away! 10/10.

A Christmas Carol (2009) version, played by Gary Oldman: Hmm, we don't know a lot about what he was like before he died. He doesn't seem to be the guy who would have much of a soft side like Goofy's or Jason Alexander's version, though. She most likely would probably just want to be his friend, if anything. 4/10.

Scrooge: A Christmas Carol (2022) version, played by Jonathan Pryce: Unfortunately, he seems far too snobbish and sassy to want to even interact with a cheery, affectionate girl like her, and I think that feeling of not wanting to interact with each other would be mutual between him and Amelie. Literally the only thing that might even attract her to him is the fact that he's always got Boris, the handsome bulldog, at his side. (Because yes, Amelie loves animals.) 1/10.

So, here's the final ranking:

2004

Mickey's Christmas Carol

The Muppet Christmas Carol