#my lil Roman history lover or whatever

[hoosiersfluffypinksweatpants]

“ The only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead. „

[mercurygray]

@wexhappyxfew asked:

hi merc! i saw you were doing that OC thing and was just finishing up lunch and wanted to stop on by and send in one of my OCs! (you can probably figure who lol!) i’ll write a lil description, some fun facts, the works!

Natia Filipska (otherwise known as Agent Fidel by Easy Company mostly), is a Polish SOE Agent who is featured in my Band of Brothers fic entitled “Landslide”. Even though Natia virtually comes across as numb and reckless, she’s extremely observant, she knows her place more often than not, and she will do whatever she needs to for the people she cares about. She’s always calculating, always questioning and configuring, always working with the idea and will to have an escape plan, and she ALWAYS makes sure that everything she says or does has highly valid reasoning behind the matter. She’s also very loyal to what side she takes on situations, especially the side of her people (the citizens of Poland). She’s passionate and driven for a simple want to end the war and also a driven leader (though many people don’t quite discover this at first because she keeps up so many walls).

Ahh, the famous agent Fidel. She sounds like a handful, and I didn't want to cut her description down too much, so I'm putting the whole thing at the end of the post under a cut!

I feel like there are a lot of Girl Gang members who are very similar in temperament to Natia - there's a lot of 'takes too much responsibility' and a LOT of 'angers easily' and many, many strong personalities.

But I get the sense that Natia and Molly would get along pretty well. Molly's best friend is Billie, who is pretty hard-headed herself, so she knows a little bit about prickly personalities, and while she cares a lot about people, she's not above letting other people look out for her. And she's an archeologist and ancient history student, so she and Natia will have lots to talk about!

You can read Landslide on archiveofourown and wattpad

Natia is a Capricorn, as well as an ISTJ, and quite literally lives up to that in many ways. She’s one of my most complex OCs I feel, between her harsh history throughout the war and some of her mentor ship with which she experienced as a protégé under the watchful eye of Agent Mortem, she has built up quite the resume during the time of the war I’ll say!

Even though she virtually comes across as numb and reckless, she’s extremely observant, she knows her place more often than not, and she will do whatever she needs to for the people she cares about. She’s always calculating, always questioning and configuring, always working with the idea and will to have an escape plan, and she ALWAYS makes sure that everything she says or does has highly valid reasoning behind the matter. She’s also very loyal to what side she takes on situations, especially the side of her people (the citizens of Poland). She’s passionate and driven for a simple want to end the war and also a driven leader (though many people don’t quite discover this at first because she keeps up so many walls).

Every fault taken on the men or her people, she takes as her own, which in return, is a flaw of her kind, where she beats herself too much up for it and eventually makes her fall back into her ways of numbing herself and building up her walls and bridges of trust again. It’s a cycle that she tries to get better with throughout the fic, but she does it to protect herself simply because of the fact she’s been alone for so long in this war, she’s almost forgotten what it’s like to have people that care.

She tends to get better with people who are ultimately complete opposites of her — George Luz for example and her hit it off quite well while someone like Joe Liebgott and her became quick enemies with a mere shove of the shoulder. People who are hot-headed and have a strong personality, she tends to have issues with more simply because she does not like being silenced or questioned (something Agent Mortem did in the past and it got to her head a bit mentally).

But if anything, she’s a Roman History nerd (this comes out in conversation with Ronald Speirs), she’s a huge dog lover (you can thank Tab for finding her soft spot), and she’s sentimental (let’s just say she keeps the front pocket of her ODs filled with stuff people give her).

[creativenicocorner]

5, 10, 19?

Aaay! Thank you so much!! @dreamcrow

5. What’s a crackship you love?

As a crack ship gfdkgsd oh man, my heart is set on Blinky/Strickler on that one ahaha. I already adore whatever dynamics they have together on screen - or even when referencing one another!! And honestly I think they’d make great friends!! Heck they could bond on Roman pennies, and mechanical engineering (seeing as Blinky helped build Jim’s Vespa, and Strickler made a super accurate replica of Merlin’s amulet) and don’e get me started on the quick witted beautiful back and forth they’d have

Once tried writing a Good Omens AU with all this in mind, but never quite had the energy to finish it. Let’s face is the two of them have great Aziraphale / Crowley energy haha  

10. Mutual pining or enemies to friends to lovers?

Oh man oh man, mutual pining. It leaves so much potential open!! Heck even the enemies to friends to lovers could happen within the umbrella of mutual pining (especially if one of the two isn’t ready to admit to their pining -wink- ) 

That and I’m just a sucker for two people being so equally into one another but just, not quite having the confidence to learn how the other feels. It’s so juicy and can be played oh so deliciously in so many fun ways!

19. What’s your favorite character head canon?

Weeeell there’s certainly one HC I’ve been hinting at for quite some time and have been meaning to make a proper post about - but here is what I’d like to call the Meat and Potatoes (super lean edition) of the Etruscan Strickler HC ヽ(o♡o)/

(please keep in mind I’m not a qualified historian, or anthropologist, or archeologist - but an avid lover of history )

So the Etruscans and the peoples of Etruria have been around for a loooong time, in fact there are some who believe the Etruscan language is one of the building blocks of many italic languages. And for a good amount of centuries they thrived! 

Then Rome happened, which was perhaps inevitable seeing as they were on the same peninsula - and because of that the size of Etruria changed depending on which century map you’re looking at. And although at some point Etruria spanned from Umbria to just grazing into the region of Lazio - its biggest consistent chunk existed in what we know today as modern Tuscany.

Because of this I should perhaps make it clear that I believe Strickler came out through the fetch after 32BCE during the already decline of the Etruscan language (in which Etruria is already absorbed and occupied by the Roman Empire). In fact by then only a select few, unless they were Etruscan, knew the language Marcus Terentius Varro for example, the Roman Emperor Claudius (though he probably learned it from his first wife, Plautia Urgulanilla who is believed to be Etruscan).

Now I hear what you’re probably thinking: But his/ his familiar’s name is Waltolomew Strickler? That’s not very Latin sounding for a name. 

 And you’re absolutely right!

However, Etruscans (despite occupation and absorption into the Roman Empire - and more so before) were known to be seafaring, trade was very important from Egypt to what we know today as the Greek islands and to the northern coast. Import and export was important and (as well as fighting pirates, but that’s a very fun wiki rabbit hole to fall through another time haha), and with trade comes awesome exposure to other cultures and other peoples from that culture! 

Case in point the vague similarities and non similarities between certain deities between the Roman Greek and Etruscan Pantheon! Of course each pantheon has its own variants and deities that don’t exist in another pantheon, as well as different takes on certain heroes i.e the Greek Heracles, and the Etruscan Hercle -which through a lot of found art, is perceived to be a very popular hero for a number of reasons. 

I could also go into the account of Etruscan soothsayers being well praised even by Cicero - but that’s another rabbit hole for another time - as well as a reason I like to indulge in the fact that Strickler can come across as rather superstitious at times! 

But I’m getting off topic XP TRADE we’re talking about trade, and it was important be it Egypt to the Balkans 

And with that in mind it isn’t impossible for a Northern Germanic man to fall in love with an Etruscan woman.  

1) women were treated far better in Etruria, as opposed to Rome and Athens. In fact Romans thought they were more promiscuous because of how freely and equally they were treated. 

 2) Germanic tribes treated their woman on a similar level of equality. 

 3)   As a culture of partnership, heck we are still discovering more and more about the Etruscans but we can make educated guesses through their sarcophagus covers (the reclining lovers and so on). This celebration of life lived even in the face of death. 

Very on brand Strickler imo, and if we from history can see how they treated marriage in death we can assume how marriage was treated in life. As loving and equal as possible. In short Strickler grew up with that respecting women juice (at least compared to Roman and Athenian standards) 

So name wise, Waltolomew Strickler can come from the Norther Father’s name. Vel for short, as names beginning with ‘w’ aren’t very common in Latin, Etruscan, or Italian. In fact if you go to Italy today and introduce yourself as idk, William -  there’s a good chance they’ll pronounce William as [Vee-lee-am]. 

However in Latin the use of ‘v’ often replaces the ‘w’ and ‘u’ sounds. u = v and a double u = vv (aaay get it?) And just like that a VValtolomevv is named haha

Enter the name Vel slowly over time becoming Walt over time. I could go on for paragraphs, but I know I explained the whole congnomen thing in Terpsichore, I’d have to re-check and I fear this is already getting…ah…crazy long so I’ll try and wrap it up ^^’’

Initially the real Waltolomew was supposed to be left in the woods to die at the mercy of nature because it didn’t look like the infant wouldn’t survive anyways, but when they went back to check in the woods to find who we know as Strickler the host family Strickler saw it nothing short than an auspicious miracle of the gods, or that their child managed to strike a deal with Vanth (a death god), there’s a lot of theories between the family members to try and explain how Walter’s survival is possible - but all the same Waltolomew is raised in a rather loving family!  

There’s the quiet and slightly distant Northern Father (who is occasionally homesick) and mainly tends to the olive grove. The Mother that settles the finances. The Uncle that runs shipptrades and sells the family olive oil. And, of course, The Grandmother who is very proud of living Etruria thank you very much, openly mocking romans, quick with an opinion, morally gray, with a sparkle of mischief - and someone who pretty much elbowed her way into the very serious child Waltolomew’s heart in such a way the changeling wasn’t sure if she knew his secret or even cared! 

Eventually Roman payments became too steep, the Northern Father racked up a bit of debt and was sent into the army…the Northern Father never returns presumed dead in action. The resentment of Romans grows even more in the Strickler household because of this. 

Which is one of the reasons why later in life Stricklander chooses to occasionally pass as ‘British’ aka one of the peoples the Romans couldn’t occupy and conquer, as opposed to siding with a people who absorbed the population of his home peninsula that would later be known as Italy.

 In fact I believe after being forced to work at Hadrian’s wall (which was a laughable failure, although as a Cesare Hadrian was well praised), and returning to find his host family home repossessed by Romans Walter would flee to Gaul (another location where Romans couldn’t conquer).

It wouldn’t be long until the Romans called on a 13 ½ year old Waltolomew to enter into the military just in time for the Hadrian’s Wall debacle. Where Waltolomew grows a respect for the peoples of the British isles for being able to hold off Rome for so long and so much. Afterwards he returns to the peninsula to find his home repossessed by Romans, his grandmother having passed, and his mother and uncle closer to the port and not doing so hot. This spurns Strickler’s dislike for Romans more, an incident occurs, and Waltolomew flees to Gaul (another area famous for being able to hold off the Romans), but this time to join the Gumm-Gumms 

More on that another time cause ooo boy this is a long response XP I’m sorry this got so out of hand!! 

I wanted to add my thoughts as to why and how I came to the conclusion of this HC but like I said this response is crazy long already so I’ll keep it short (for now) to: That classic ‘Roman Nose profile’ of his, the pale olive skin tone, the vague roman/greek helmet he has in his office, how his Italian VA did not do an English accent in the dub, and - uh, well, I like the idea of it haha

Oh! And here’s a picture of a supermarket outside of Sarteano named ‘Etrusco’ Look at that lil face! It probably doesn’t mean much, but it does spark joy haha

Thank you so much for your questions!! I deeply appreciate it!!♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ) 

[bvdbone]

(  jon bernthal, cis male, he/him  )  ——  hey! isn’t that  HARVEY “GRIZZ” BOURNE ? i heard they’re  THIRTY SEVEN  and work as an  ENFORCER FOR THE MONGREL MC . they live on the  SOUTH  side and everyone says they remind them of bruised & bloody knuckles clad in biker rings, a worn leather kutte decorated with mc patches, and the roar of a motorcycle on the highway. i wonder where they were when those kids died? their secrets will be revealed soon enough. (  cj, ast, she/her, 25  ).

howdy folks!! my name’s cj, 25, and living it up in the ast part of the world wooo. i have to admit immediately that i....borrowed days gone’s mc bc i love the logo and name so much sdifghkjs anyway if you’d like to plot / chat / whatever, feel free to slide into my dms here bc i’m not a fan of discord oop. i’m super stoked to be here and i can’t wait to begin writing with y’all! now onto the fella you’re here to read about; my Born 2B Wild biker son, harvey.

( &&. GENERAL INFORMATION )

full name: harvey edward bourne

nicknames: harv, grizz, bourne

current age: thirty seven

preferred pronouns: he/him

gender identity: cis male

orientation: heterosexual

marital status: single

zodiac sign: scorpio

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

language(s) spoken: english, spanish

occupation: mongrel motorcycle club enforcer

current residence: old bungalow in the south side of fraiser creek

( &&. PHYSICAL APPEARANCE )

looks like: jon bernthal

height: 5′11″

weight: 185 lbs

hair color: dark brown

eye color: dark brown

tattoo(s): 'overcome’ written along his knuckles, mongrel’s logo on his back, his mother’s birthdate written in roman numerals over his left pec, barbed wire wrapped around left bicep, grizzly bear piece across right arm/shoulder & pec, cross on his inner right wrist 

scar(s): several small scars over his face, hands, arms, etc.

dominant hand: right handed

distinguishing features: muscular physique, broken nose

( &&. PERSONALITY )

positive traits: resilient, truehearted, venturesome

negative traits: truculent, brusque, enigmatic

dominant or submissive?: dominant

emotional, logical or both: both

book smart or street smart: street smart

introvert or extrovert: in between, a little more extrovert

optimist or pessimist: both

spontaneous or structured: spontaneous

instinctual or logical: instinctual

expensive or inexpensive: inexpensive

generous or stingy: generous

polite or rude: polite … but initially comes off rude bc he’s blunt af

day or night: both

( &&. BACKGROUND )

homeboy is a mess. 

that’s it that’s his bg

jk but uh he’s lived in fraiser creek his entire ass life

he was a little punk as a kid, always getting into shit with the neighbours bc he ruined their gardens while playing with his dog, he tore through the streets like a madman with his pals on their bicycles, he lit bags of dog poo and left them on his neighbours’ front steps, and he threw rocks at girls’ windows but instead of it being romantic like intended he literally shattered their windows lmao

he got mixed up with a couple of Real Bad kids in high school and got into some hardcore drug usage that resulted in poor harv’s agonizing addiction that lasted the better part of his young adult life

his dad was on the verge of disowning harvey ( a super religious man with no room for Sinners in his life amen ) but his mom was his saving grace; she refused to give up on harvey, paying for rehab and doing whatever she could to help him overcome his addiction

as a reward to himself for sobering up, harvey purchased his very own chopper. brand new. that motorcycle is his baby and he’ll fuq up anyone who so much as scratches it

he’s got a temper so in order to like......regulate that / put it to good use, harv joined a gym and has a trainer teaching him how to box like a got damn pro

the mongrel mc was founded by one of his buddies or one of his buddies’ brothers ( depends on if someone takes up the wc sdfahiugf ), and he was 100% committed from the get go; a pack of supportive people who shared the same values and similar history was exactly what he needed

harvey ( known as ‘grizz’ in the club ) has held his title as enforcer for ten years. basically he makes sure that the club laws and rules are followed by all members, he protects all of the patch holders and protects the club’s reputation in any type of conflict, and he assists all members of the club in combat of any sort ( including any type of weapons or fist fights woO how rowdy )

( &&. WANTED CONNECTIONS )

ex with benefits  cameryn rhodes

mongrel mc crew  ( see wanted connection on main )

a gal he fooled around with during a “break” from cam ( could have been reoccurring or a one night stand type deal )

folks he grew up with / around!!! whether they were friends or enemies or lovers ( he’s lived in fraiser creek his whole life sO )

some good buddies outside of his mc life ( good influence or bad influence )

people he boxes with / against, fellow gym rats

police officer(s) he deals with on a regular basis, can be civil or friendly or not

former drug dealer he used to hit up ( he was 17-25, so....anytime around then dsfhigfg )

some people he’s constantly butting heads with pls

fellas he possibly got into a scuffle with?? whether it was a one time thing ( maybe some dumb drunk bs at a bar ) or they’re known to throw fists whenever they see each other

cousins??? he has no siblings but cousins would be cool for a lil familia touch

[magiclaud]

I hate this place (USUK)

Pairing: USUK, RUSENG, GERITA. 

Summary: The neighbours of the  building decide to spend the dinner of Christmas Eve’s together to bond with each other. However, they do it too little… or too much. They say where there’s smoke, there is fire, although on their world of smoke and mirrors Alfred, the building’s porter, doesn’t feel sure about anything anymore. 

Translation of my submission to the USUK’s Spanish christmas event. The prompt was: “Introducing your boyfriend in a Christmas dinner.” The fanfiction was inspired on the show “Aquí no hay quién viva” ( “I hate this place”)

a/n: Oh my god what a self-indulging fic, ha ha! All right, all right, soap opera plots are my guilty pleasure, especially if they are accompanied by holiday drama! Merry Christmas everyone! 

*

It was so early when the building’s porter woke up that the sun hadn’t woken up yet. The cars had thin layers of ice, and Alfred couldn’t help to blow hot air into his hands to warm himself up. He wasn’t wearing much apart from his grey uniform and his belt, in which he had the door’s keys. Alfred was cleaning the porter’s floor when he sensed someone walking to his side.

“Good morning,” the man seemed Asian. Even hunched, Alfred noted he was the tallest of the too.

“I haven’t seen you before,” Alfred said. Avenue H was pretty calm, so any person who crossed the sidewalk received the attention of the neighbours. Also, the buildings were small: the one Alfred worked on barely had three floors, as well as the attic where dusty objects were stored as part of the history of the place.

“They’ve contracted me in that restaurant of the corner,” said the man. He must’ve been twenty-something, as well as Alfred. “My name’s Kiku, by the way,” Alfred smiled at him and introduced himself, although their conversation was interrupted when another man entered the building.

“Good morning, Mr. Braginsky,” said Alfred. The man dragged his dirty boots over the part of the portal that had been mopped up by Alfred.

“Always good days to those who do nothing. Just look at how you have the portal…” he complained, gritting his teeth.

“Hey, how about a lil enthusiasm? It’s almost Christmas Eve” the other man didn’t seem to pay attention. His violet eyes focused on Alfred’s, who sensed tension build on his body. After a deathly silence, the man finally smiled lightly, without breaking the eye contact. His expression contrasted abruptly with his smile, which made the situation more eerie.

“I hope we see each other in the president’s reunion, yankee,” Braginsky said his words with latent disdain. As he walked away, Alfred and Kiku exhaled a breath they didn’t know they’d been holding. As time went by, Alfred spoke again, although his voice was quieter this time.

“That’s Ivan Braginsky, from 2nd A. He’s the creep of the building, ‘has a lot of money that no one knows where he gets, that sorta thing. He’s supposed to live with his mother, although I believe he’s pulled a psycho, if you know what I mean,” as he saw Kiku’s face, Alfred proceeded to calm him down. “Hey, don’t worry, not everyone’s like that. Also, a porter’s work consists in accepting weirdos with a smile, and I’m the fucking best at it. I could me an actor, you know?”

Afterward, someone seemed to walk down the stairs, and they both went quiet. A young man, with blue eyes and golden hair walked through the porter. He wore an angel-like smile, and his scarf was adorably bigger than his coat.

“Good morning,” his voice was lively, and Alfred and Kiku replied instantly. The man smiled at them again and walked in direction to the subway, as they both looked at him with their minds boggled.

“Who was that ?” Kiku had turned red. Alfred had to laugh at that.

“His name’s Tino, but don’t get excited; he’s married,” he said. “Although his husband is in a business trip.”

“Then is he leaving alone?” Alfred clicked his tongue and tilted his head.

“No, he felt lonely and he began living with my father and Arthur Kirkland.”

“Wait,” Kiku looked confused. “Does your father live here?”

Alfred smiled cheekly. “Yeah, kind of. When my parents broke up my father went to live with Arthur. He wanted me to live with them too, but I wanted to be on my own. More… independent, you know,” Kiku was looking at him understandingly, “so I became  a porter. It’s pretty nice; they give me a salary but I can sleep in the porter’s lodge.”

“Yes, and I suppose your father and his lover are grateful for it in the end, aren’t they?” Alfred laughed again, and moved his hands frantically.

“No, no, dude! Arthur’s not my father’s boyfriend! Ugh, Arthur’s like —I don’t know, like your ugly friend that pretends he’s so mighty because he’s not hot, that kind of guy,” as he said it, Alfred felt someone punch his back, and he turned to face Arthur Kirkland staring at him with an unpleasant look. “Eh, yes, Arthur Doyle. Of course, Kiku, I was talking about Arthur Doyle, not— Oh, Arthur, I hope you have a good day!”

“Fuck you!” Arthur pushed him to go through the portal, but Alfred grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Hey, don’t go too far; the president’s reunion is in half an hour.”

“Oh, shit! It was today!” Arthur kicked the floor when, for a second, he seemed to lose his balance and fell into the floor. Alfred and Kiku tried to look at him with a serious expression, although their eyes must’ve let Arthur see their funny looks because he looked even more angry. “Oh, fuck off!”

“Come on, Art, let’s go to the president’s house,” Alfred made a motion to pat his back, and Arthur tensed like a cat.

“I’m not even the owner…” he lamented, although Alfred was ignoring him.

“Kiku, man, come with us, I’m sure you’ll love it!” he circled them with his arms and the three men walked towards the  1st A flat.

*

The living  room of the 1st A was big, although old-fashioned, and the wall was merely dominated by paintings. However, most of the neighbours seemed more interested in taking a seat for the reunion that was about to begin.

“Feli, how are ya?” Alfred sat next to Feliciano, one of the Vargas’ sons. The young man was looking down, and shrugged as he looked at his hands. Feliciano opened his mouth to answer, but Gilbert Beilschdmidt sat between them.

“Feliciano, amico! That how you say it? I don’t care, honestly… You’re the man I was looking for…” the man had a special look in his eyes, and Feliciano nodded as if he understood what it meant. He made a motion of apology to Alfred and then both men started to exchange whispers, so Alfred opted to keep talking to Kiku.

“Gilbert Beilschmidt, his brother’s the president of the neighbour association. Feliciano Vargas is from the flat 1st B. Some people say he is having an affair with the president, although there’s nothing confirmed.”

“You know a lot about gossips,” said Kiku. Alfred laughed.

“A good porter has to be a good source of information,” Alfred recited, as if he had learnt it from a manual. Someone banged the table and everyone went quiet so the president could speak. Ludwig Beilschmidt spoke this time, and quickly looked at Roman, the Vargas’ godfather, who got up and looked at the neighbours.

“The truth is that I was the one to call the reunion,” he said. “We’ve thought that, in these dates, it could be a good occasion to the community to solve its differences, so I wanted to invite you all to the Christmas’ dinner in our house.”

“Let me state that I believe this would be a great initiative for this, our community,” said Ludwig.

“Definitely better than the invisible friend from last year,” Antonio, from the 1stA, murmured. Gilbert barked a laughter.

“Hey, mes amis, I actually think it is a beautiful idea,” spoke Francis, Alfred’s father, with the manners that his son seemed to lack of in front of everyone. “I mean, for the rest of you. I have plans…”

“Said the playboy,” Gilbert snickered. Everyone started to talk again, and Ludwig’s face appeared to contort.

“If no one has anything useful to say,” he glared at his brother, “I believe we should close the session. Merry Christmas, everyone, or whatever.”

“Thank god it’s over,” Arthur Kirkland left the room murmuring something about a job. Alfred was about to leave as well, but Ludwig restrained him from doing so.

“Alfred, why haven’t you put the Christmas lights yet? We’re almost in Christmas Eve. And you better help Roman with whatever he needs for the dinner, I don’t want to hear that you’ve been lacking off.”

“Yes, sir,” said Alfred. Then he groaned. They didn’t pay him enough for his job.

*

Arthur arrived to the building in a sourer mood than how he had left. He was sick of it. Sick of being almost forty years old without no stability. Sick of being exploited by manager’s younger than him, and sick of prostituting his knowledge of languages to phony kids from the upper side of town for a nefarious salary. He only wished to get home and make himself a bath, without caring about anything. He walked through the stairs creeping his feet and he let out a curse as he searched for his keys.

“Bloody hell,” he started to bang the door until he convinced himself his flatmates weren’t home.  His body seemed heavier as he went to the portal, finding Alfred putting a plastic Christmas tree while talking in the phone. Arthur crossed his arms, and waited until Alfred hung up and tilted his head to look at him.

“What the fuck is that?”

“The building needs a little more Christmas spirit,” Alfred replied. “And it isn’t the only one, scrooge.”

Arthur inhaled through his nostrils. Arguing with this brat would take too much time, so he simply resigned and asked:

“Were you talking to your father? Did he told you when he’ll come back?”

“No, though I suppose he’ll be here in a couple of hours, as always. Is something the matter?”

Arthur groaned. He remembered the humiliation from the morning, and thought about going to the closest bar to wait until Francis would come home while he explored the special Christmas drink. It wasn’t a bad plan, but judging from the swollen vein in his front, he’d need something more effective to relax.

“I left my key. I need you to open the door.”

Alfred made a face and searched through his belt. “Shit,” he murmured. Arthur frowned.

“What?”

“You forgot the please” Alfred smirked at his reaction.

“Go to hell, bloody yankee. You open my damn door.”

“I’m going, I’m going—” they stood before the door. As soon as it was opened, Alfred smiled again. “Something to say?”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, “for doing your fucking job late,” however, as soon as he completed the sentence Alfred blocked his way through the door. “What the fuck do you want now?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. I understand you’re a bitter man but in no way that is a pass to mistreat others, especially when they are helping you,” Alfred was serious, and had mimicked Arthur by crossing his arms too. Arthur didn’t hesitate.

“You’re not helping me! You do this because it is your duty. If Ludwig would’ve left his keys, you’d open his door too,” after he spoke, he pushed Alfred and managed to enter in his flat, although the porter seemed to follow him.

“What are you talking about, Arthur?” Arthur marched through his refrigerator, and grabbed two beers. After an internal debate, he passed one to Alfred, and they both drank while their breaths were the only things heard in the room.

“What was that about?” Alfred repeated. Arthur regretted letting him in, but figured his day wouldn’t be worse for giving in his thoughts.

“I’m nothing, you’re right. Nothing but a bitter man,” Arthur said. “My God, the person with whom I’ve spoken most today is the building’s porter,” he bit his lip, and cuddled in the couch. Alfred seemed to hesitate, but joined him. Arthur concluded he must’ve enjoyed seeing him angry rather than depressed.

“It’s only been a bad day, Art.”

“At the end of a bad month,” Arthur sighed, and took another sip of his beer. “I work hard and then, once I am given a break, I get sad because I don’t have anyone to spend it with. I can’t even go to my relatives’ house because they always remind me of how alone I am,” when he looked up, he saw Alfred’s expression shift, and figured he must’ve been crying. Alfred seemed to find a certain comfort in his misery, because he began talking about himself too.

“They all think I am worth nothing. They think I’m inferior and they bark orders without even looking me in the face. I… I suppose I’ve taken it on you because I know you won’t tell Ludwig.”

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “You don’t deserve that.”

“You don’t either,” was Alfred’s reply. They stared at each other. Alfred looked as if he feared to blink and the magic would disappear when, suddenly, Arthur stepped on his lap. And, before any of them could fathom how, they were kissing, so intensely Arthur thought he’d pass out with how fast his heart was beating.

*

“Fuck,” Alfred sighed as he exited the ecstasy, and the intoxicating warmth Arthur gave him. Arthur didn’t say anything, although his efforts to catch his breath told Alfred everything he needed to know. Alfred was naked, but he didn’t felt the need to cover himself, and instead rolled until Arthur’s side to lick his neck.

“Oh, God, I’m in heaven…” Arthur sighed. Alfred smiled, although he felt a certain frustration of having to wait until they could do it again.

“You have a cigarette?”

“Uh? You’re not going to smoke in my  bed,” Arthur said, in a manner that had lost all the sweetness from before.

“Oh, come on. What’s with you, dude? You also smoke.”

“Because my life is awful. You still have hope, darling,” Alfred clicked his tongue, feeling how his state of calmness he’d managed to find with Arthur was slowly disappearing. Freaking Arthur Kirkland couldn’t hold a nice evening, it seemed. Alfred started to dress up.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Oh, well. Leave, I don’t care.”

“Then don’t ask,” Alfred was buttoning his uniform as fast as he could while he picked the garments left in the living room. Arthur followed him, covering himself with a bathrobe that unfortunately highlighted his figure. Alfred tried not to look at him.

“Don’t tell your father,” Arthur warned.  Alfred felt even worse, and gritted his teeth.

“Don’t worry; I don’t tend to talk to my father about who I fuck,” he said. “Although I’ve heard you’ve been nominated for the award of the Best Friend of the Year, haven’t you?”

“It was a moment of weakness. I’d let anyone fuck me.”

“Me too,” Alfred prepared to leave, although he stopped just before. He looked at Arthur from the corner of his eye, and found the Englishman bluntly staring at him. “Do you —Do you know how you’ll spend Christmas in the end?”

Arthur looked taken aback, but he ended up answering nonetheless.

“I might go to a party with Francis, if I ever leave my flat at all,” then again, the mention of his father made him anxious. Alfred was sure it was the same for Arthur too. Despite how everyone —including Arthur— often chose to speak in how different Alfred was from his father, he figured Arthur couldn’t help to notice their similarities now.

Once Alfred left, Arthur almost fell on his couch. He decided in fixing himself a cup of tea to control his nerves, when he heard a knock at the door. Arthur attended, cautiously, and the image of Ivan Braginsky at the other side of his room didn’t seem to calm him down.

“Hello, Arthur.”

“Ah, Ivan. How are you? Do you —erm, do you need something?”

“I only wanted to talk, Arthur. We talked a lot before. Do you remember when you used to teach me English?” Arthur nodded slightly. “I have to admit I chose you because I loved your voice. I’ve always loved it. But now I sense it husky. Now that —oh, Arthur, my poor friend— how could you stoop so low?” Arthur felt his blood freeze, and he gulped. It couldn’t be. Oh, dear lord, it couldn’t be…

“This building’s walls are very thin, Arthur,” said Ivan. “I admit that I was surprised in the beginning. After all, I took you for something more than a slave of your needs, but I should thank you: this twist of events has made things much more interesting. In the end, I don’t believe you’d like Mr. Bonnefoy to know how you’ve —oh, how I put it? Abused his trust?” the whole scene appeared to amuse his neighbour, which put Arthur at ease. They exchanged glances and, after some minutes, and decided to speak.

“Do you want a date? Is that it?” But Ivan’s hysterical laugh told him that wouldn’t be the answer.

“Oh, Arthur, no no. You don’t understand. If we do that, the game’s over. I don’t want your body, I’m not going to buy your silence. I thrive the power—and, quite frankly, having the control over you makes this so much more stimulant,” Ivan gave him a crooked smile, and Arthur suddenly lamented being alone in the hallway with him.

“What do you want, then?” Ivan went through his pockets, and took a brown collar with a bell. He handed it to Arthur.

“Firstly, I want you to wear this” he said. “It used to be of my dog, but I believe it will fit you just right. You’ll wear it all the time,” his tone turned more strict. “And you’ll come to the Vargas’ Christmas dinner. My mother, poor ill woman, seems to thing I need a girlfriend to accompany me to the party. But I’ll assure her I only need my dear British dog. Do you understand me?” Arthur nodded, fearing to say anything, and Ivan fondled his lip, pressing his nails so much Arthur thought he’d break the flesh. “Good night, Arthur.”

When Arthur entered his room again, he couldn’t stop thinking of how fucked he was. And, when he couldn’t remember a time he’d seen Ivan having a pet, he shuddered thinking of what was about to come.

*

Alfred couldn’t stop thinking about him.

It was strange, though foreseeable. Despite his looks, Alfred didn’t have much experience in the topics of seduction. After all, his job took most of his time, and he had considered the neighbours as untouchables until this moment. It was strange to think about it, especially when Arthur was involved. Casual sex shouldn’t have been so complicated, but Alfred knew he had already broke up all the rules related to it. You weren’t supposed to leave in the same building, and Alfred was sure it wasn’t supposed to involve one party knowing the other’s parent. Sex was complicated and Alfred felt that, as the night passed, he was going mad. But the worst part, that was, that Alfred didn’t even know if that had been a bad thing after all.

Finally, he got up and began cleaning the floors. Kiku came over and sighed tiredly, declaring he had been going on strike but that it hadn’t been effective at all. Alfred was about to explain him how strikes worked there but, as he saw the oldies from 1st flat A join their conversation he lost the energy. Feliciano Vargas was there, too, and looked as nervous as the day before, although a few whispers by Gilbert’s side appeared to comfort him. Alfred stood there, mopping the floor for his day while half-listening to their rambling, until he saw Arthur walking towards the portal. Alfred frowned, and thought about commenting on the fact that he hadn’t seen him leave, when he stopped and concluded Arthur probably would’ve avoided him. However, as Arthur came closer, Alfred rushed to the portal’s door, opening it before the other. As Arthur walked through the door, he looked at Alfred with his eyebrows raised.

“You’re one hell of a gentleman,” he finally said, after locking eyes for what appeared to be centuries. Alfred laughed, almost hysterically, and rubbed the back of his head while trying to gain his composure. He just wanted to apologise but he knew the others would be listening, and he felt frustration building upon his figure.

“Are you— I mean, after all— Are you coming to the Vargas’ dinner?” Arthur nodded, and turned to look at the others, who replied too. Within seconds, Alfred heard thumps coming from the stairs, and tilted his head to face Ivan Braginsky stepping to the lodge, in a lively pace.

“Arthur,” Ivan came to his side, and pulled Arthur in an embrace. Gilbert arched his eyebrows with an amused smile, while Antonio murmured something and Alfred bluntly stared at the scene before him. “I’m glad you liked the necklace,” his big hands tinkled the jingle bel while Arthur appeared to shudder because of the coldness of the hands. “It was a good gift: now I can always know when you’re close.”

“Arthur, is everything all right?” Alfred wished Arthur would say that no, it wasn’t right for Ivan to touch him so much, and that please, Alfred, be my hero, I love you, oh Alfred, let’s fuck like bunnies because we love each other and I can’t get pregnant, but instead he found Arthur nodding while looking in his direction.

“Don’t worry, Al. It’s fine. We’ll… see each other this night, in —in the dinner, I believe,” he said. He started to walk the stairs with that Russian creep following him. As they were out of sight and the conversation started again, Alfred’s stomach started to sink. The only reason why Braginsky had walked down the stairs in the first place had been to escort Arthur, or whatever the hell he had in mind.

*

“I want you to sniff my scarf as soon as Alfred walks into the room until I give it to you,” said Ivan, once he invited Arthur into his house. Arthur noticed the room was cold, and Ivan didn’t seem to make any motion to turn on the lights, which made the scene more strange. Ivan seemed to have grown familiar with barking orders, as he had already spent half of the day with his phone buzzing with ridiculous requests his neighbour had given him.

Arthur bit his lip. “Why do you hate him so much? We already agreed that I would help you with—” at that moment, Ivan covered Arthur’s mouth with his hands. Arthur tried to struggle, but it was useless. Ivan’s pupils looked dilated, and Arthur worried his own heart would escape his chest.

“Mother is close. You do not disturb her,” Ivan said, without letting him go. Arthur nodded frantically, and Ivan smiled as if he was flattered. Soon enough he let go, and his arm blocked the entrance of the flat.

Arthur feared if his teeth would begin clenching if he didn’t say something. “I just —ah, I said —I don’t think it’s necessary to involve Alfred in all this.”

“Alfred became involved in all this when he decided to put it in you,” Arthur couldn’t help to blush at Ivan’s words. Ivan gritted his teeth. “You won’t talk to Alfred for the rest of the day. Not the dinner, nor whatever perverted dream you might have. Am I clear?”

“I honestly don’t know why you hate Alfred so much,” Arthur said. By the look of Ivan’s eyes, he knew he shouldn’t have said that, but Ivan replied nonetheless.

“Haven’t you seen this man? It is the filth of the building. He’s nothing, neither is he good at anything other than acting as if he’s entitled to anything. He walks over the lodge as if he owns the place, smiling and chuckling at everyone he crosses his path with. He is like a child; a selfish, spoiled child, and for some reason everyone seems to humour him. I used to watch him every day —mother said I shouldn’t do it, but I couldn’t be a good boy, I couldn’t— couldn’t stop looking at him,” Arthur was staring at him wide eyed, but dared not to move away. Ivan continued. “Then I saw you confronting him and I— oh, Arthur, I was so glad you did it. Me and mother chuckled our heads off that day,” Arthur opened his mouth to correct his expression, but decided to remain quiet in a better judgement. “I knew you’d understand me. But then he— he put his paws on you! Oh, you little lion, he played you and I— I felt like you failed me. But it doesn’t matter now, because I am the one deciding. I’ll make sure you stay out of this evil yankee way, Arthur, yes I will,” he paused again. He looked at Arthur from head to toe, and Arthur could swear he saw his eyes glow. “Wear that green sweater of yours tonight, and the tightest jeans you own,” he said, and silence struck the room. Arthur mumbled a reply, and found Ivan was still staring at him. Arthur couldn’t breath.

“Erm, I— I believe I have to water my plants. May I —May I go, Ivan?” he gestured Ivan’s arm that still blocked the way. Ivan slowly put his arm away.

“You can go,” he said. Before Arthur could leave, however, he heard Ivan say something else. “I believe you should bear in mind I will have a talk with the yankee if I don’t see you there. If you happen to get lost by watering the plants, that is,” Arthur gulped and, once he left the house, let the goosebumps roam through his body. HE didn’t want to stay in the building anymore, so he decided he’d take a walk before preparing himself for the dinner, with the intention of avoiding thinking about the matter for as long as he could, as well as his sudden urge to hold Alfred.  What was wrong with him? He was the one been threatened, blackmailed or— Arthur wasn’t sure he even wanted to know— and he was thinking of him, that —that man who had made it clear for him that he thought everything had been a mistake. It was ridiculous, more than that even. It was delusional.

*

“Oh, my god, oh my god. Tino, my friend, come here!” Francis spoke from the other flat. Tino marched toward him, and Francis let him look through the peephole.

“—That Arthur?”

“Yes!”

“Leaving…  Braginsky’s… house?” Tino looked puzzled. “What could he be there for? Does he— are we out of sugar or something?”

Francis stared at him blankly for a couple of seconds, until Tino’s expression changed.

“You don’t think he’s the one Arthur is—?”

“Oh, of course he is!” Francis jumped to the couch in an excited manner. “Those pants we found must’ve been from someone as tall as him, non? Oh and— and the colours, Tino! We knew that russkie was proud of his country, so proud that of course he would have underwear of the colours from his flag! I told you none of my lovers had left them here!” Tino nodded repeatedly, raising his arms so Francis would stop bouncing.

“I know, I know. I apologise, but what could I think? Arthur’s so— I can’t believe it, he and creepy Braginsky…”

“We always knew our cher Arthur had a bizarre taste for lovers,” Francis covered his face as he chuckled loudly. “You know what we are going to do. Don’t you, Tino?”

“Hmm?”

Francis turned to look at him: his eyes lit with both malice and amusement. “We’re going to the Vargas’ Christmas dinner, mon ami.”

*

Rudolph the red nose reindeer had a very shiny nose and if you ever saw it you would even say it glows…

“Shit, do we really need to listen to Christmas carols all the evening?” Gilbert complained stretching his hair. Antonio clicked his tongue.

“It’s Christmas, this shit’s time. Don’t make drama out of it.”

“Oh, you shut up. You’re so bitter since Lovi dumped you.”

“Hey, I was bitter before too,” he said, when Tino and Francis sat next to them. “Oh, you look at them. The good and the bad boy. Where’s the ugly?”

Francis smirked. “I take he’ll come soon. Oh, look, Tino! The seats are assigned!” he gestured the signs next to every chair, and proceeded to change Arthur’s.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Gilbert said as he saw Francis put the sign next to Ivan’s. Francis gave him a sardonic smile, and exchanged a look with Tino, who nodded briefly. When the couple of the night had arrived, Ivan smiled and pulled Arthur from his sleeve towards their sits. Alfred came in not much later.

“Alfred, cher, how are you?” his father kissed his cheeks, but Alfred’s eyes were focused on Arthur, at the opposite side of the table. Arthur seemed to ignore him awkwardly, which made Alfred stare at him with more intensity. Francis catched it up, although he didn’t seem to pick on Alfred’s real intentions. “Ah, you’ve seen it too. Our dear Arthur, as pure as Virgin Mary, has a boytoy. ‘s strange to think about it, isn’t it?”

“You’re making this up. Poor oldies are senile, you shouldn’t listen to them.”

“Oh, but we saw,” Tino hunched his body towards Alfred. “They entered Ivan’s flat really close, and then we saw Arthur leave more breathless than that time he thought there was a ghost in the house,” the pair snickered. “Oh, yes! And they were whispering —like two lovers, arranging their next “secret” meeting. And Gil says he saw Ivan giving Arthur this necklace that he’s wearing now.”

Alfred didn’t even want to look. He felt sick, and just wanted to take Arthur from Ivan’s sight. Was he being selfish? Alfred knew he was, especially the more he thought about his attitude the day before. Alfred sighed: he’d been wanting to apologise to him and his guilt seemed to burn his insides.

And now they were there, and Alfred couldn’t help to think that Arthur was wearing that sweater that hightlighted his figure so much, exposing it at whatever things Ivan Braginsky was thinking on doing to him.

“Hello, where is Ludwig?” Feli interrupted his thoughts. He sat next to Alfred, carrying what looked like a present with him. “I had— I had a surprise for him.”

“He told me he’d be coming,” said Gilbert, and patted Feli on the back. Roman walked to the table carrying a dish of roasted lamb and potatoes.

“Well,” said Roman, “I believe we should start eating now. I’ll leave the door open if anyone else wants to come,” but, just before anyone could taste the Vargas’ dinner, a certainly disheveled Ludwig Beilschmdt stormed into the room.

“Feliciano, I want to break up with you.”

“What?!” Feli stood up, with his face red and eyes that looked as if he’d been punched.

“What the fuck are you talking about, brother?” said Gilbert. Ludwig looked daggers at him while walking towards them.

“You shut up! This is all your fault! You couldn’t stand the fact that I was happy, could you! You just had to steal my boyfriend!”

“What is he talking about?” murmured Alfred.

“Oh my god! Are you an item?” Francis exclaimed, but Ludwig ignored him and, before anyone could stop him, he threw himself upon his brother. Soon enough, they started wrestling in the living room, while Feli and Antonio tried to separate them. At the same time, the Christmas carols were interrupted by presumably rude German idioms. Francis looked between them, amused to the bone.

“And there was I thinking the cherry on top would be Arthur’s new boyfriend,” immediately, Arthur made a sound as if he’d just choked with his drink, and opened his eyes wide.

“Did you tell them?!” he spit out, glaring at Ivan, and the neighbours whistled by the revelation.

“What did you do to him?!” Alfred yelled. “You’re sick! I don’t know what you’ve done to Arthur to convince him of this, but I’m not going to allow you taking advantage of him.”

“What are you talking about?” Ivan seemed to challenge him. “I think the only one who’s taken advantage of Arthur is you,” with the last statement, Alfred jumped to their side and grabbed Ivan by the collar. He pushed him to the floor, while Ivan kicked his legs as hard as he could. Ludwig and Gilbert were still fighting, silencing the uncontrolled cries of Feli. Alfred punched Ivan as hard as he could, while he was sure Ivan pretended to kill him right there. As soon as he scratched Alfred’s neck, Ivan freed himself from the grip  and yelled something that could be heard across the whole building.

“Arthur and Alfred had sex yesterday!”

“What?!” for the first time of the night, the playful smile Francis had been wearing was gone. Tino grabbed him, but Francis tried to escape by kicking the air. “Let me go! Sacre bleu! Arthur Kirkland! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you, fils de pute!”

Sitting in one of the dinner’s chairs, godfather Roman cursed between his teeth.

“I just wanted a normal Christmas eve,” he murmured.

*

“So,” the police officer broke the silence, looking through his notebook, “You wanted to give your boyfriend a paint of you but he thought you were cheating on him?” Feliciano nodded, and Ludwig looked down in shame. “All right, that’s clear. You can go,” he said, and they both left the flat. Ivan left with them after being asked by the other officer, and offered the couple they could clean themselves on his house, as it had more towels.

“But don’t go into the room,” he warned playfully, following them to their path.

Gilbert was on the ambulance, complaining about how his perfect nose would be crooked thanks to his brother’s stubbornness.

“And you…” the officer looked at Arthur, “You screwed your friend’s son, who’s also the building’s porter,  and accepted go to the Christmas Eve’s dinner with your neighbour, who hates your friend’s son, if he would keep the secret?” When confronted with the absurdness of his plan, Arthur couldn’t help to nod. “Man, you’re an asshole.”

“I know. I’ll talk to my flatmate about it.”

“Then I’d do it soon; we’ve given him a couple of tranquilizers,” the officer gestured towards Francis, who sung French carols while remained lied down on the Vargas’ couch. “Is there something else? I mean, we’re normally used to some kind of conflict in Christmas Eve, but this is by far the worst,” he said before leaving. Alfred, who was putting himself ice on his left eye, inched closer as Arthur finished his statement.

“You accepted to be with that creep just to protect me?”

“It wasn’t just for you; I also didn’t want Francis to kill me,” Arthur fumed, and saw Alfred looking at him from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Cut the crap, Arthur. We’ve gone through everything that could be wrong in a relationship without having one. Don’t you think it’s a signal?”

“A signal to what?”

“A signal to be together,” Alfred spoke fast. He breathed in, as if to gather strength. “Oh, Arthur, this days have been hectic. I’m —I’m sorry for what I did, I didn’t know what to do and then I saw that you were with Ivan and I… I didn’t know what to think. I tried to don’t care but… But I care, and I want to care, Arthur. I think I like you,” Alfred said. Arthur’s face seemed to heat. “Do you think we might try to work it out?”

Arthur stared at him intently, as if he was thinking about his options. After some time, he took the necklace off and, once he was free, smiled at Alfred.

“I don’t know, Alfred, but I do think you’re smart enough to know we’re under mistletoe and I want to kiss you very, very much.”