#yes hes an avid santa believer no one has the heart to break it to him

[theamalgaverse]

Haven’t managed to get a full picture out this time but I did get something small out, so Happy Holidays!

Small fun fact: Christmas was one of the only things Asher looked forward to as a kid, which leads to him being a slight Christmas junkie now that he's a dad

[avatarmerida]

Fullmetal Alchemist Secret Santa: The Authority of Words

Hey there @theysangastheyslew I’m your secret santa! Just under the wire. I’ve had this idea for a long time so I hope you like it! I was so excited to get one of my favorite people for this exchange!!!! Happy holidays!! 

-

“These reports are an absolute disgrace,” groaned Hawkeye shuffling through the mess of papers all covered in identical chicken scratch. 

“We are off the clock,” groaned back Rebecca, trying to enjoy her coffee and ease her mind despite the cafeteria being so loud. “This is a work free zone.”

“Well I’m sorry,” said Riza. “But these pages are impossible to read. I can’t have the colonel signing things I can’t even read.”

“Does the colonel really read the papers or does he just sleep all day and sign where you tell him to?”

“That’s beside the point,” muttered Riza, attempting to read. “He’s bad enough when it comes to paperwork, I can’t have the rest of the team slacking off too. It’s just so unlike Fuery to be so sloppy.”

“He’s probably just sad cause his little girlfriend isn’t stopping by anymore.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, the little mousy girl with glasses?”

“Sheska?”

“:Yeah! That’s the one!” she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. “She one who was helping Hughes, right? Ever since he passed, she’s been walking from department to department practically begging for things to read.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, i guess once she finished everything he needed her to do she was bored. She’d read my expense reports and proof read them and edit them. She’s like some kind of machine.”

“So she’s been doing my team’s work for them?”

“Naw.” replied Rebecca, looking at the documents in Riza’s hands. “She just tweeks them, makes them better. But I haven’t seen her in awhile so she must’ve found something else to do.”

“I wish I had known,” sighed Hawkeye. “I would’ve bribed her to stay.”

“Major Armstrong, might I get your opinion on something?” asked Riza an hour later. Her efforts during her lunch break had proved futile; if it wasn’t the spelling it was the grammar and she was more confused than when she started. 

“Oh course lieutenant, anything for you!”

“Well, I’m having trouble reading my teams reports lately, and I thought you-.”

“Oh the quality is lacking since the departure of Miss Sheska I assume?”

“Yes,” sighed Riza. “Did everyone know about this except me?”

“Yes, it would appear so.” he replied. “But don;t feel sore dear lieutenant, I am an avid supporter of the arts and when I found Miss Sheska distraught and throwing herself into these rather dull documents I encouraged her to expand her horizons.”

“Did you now?” chucked Riza.

“Yes!” he exclaimed with one of his famous flexes. “The girl was in desperate need of an outlet. As you know I have my painting and sculpting so I encouraged the girl to create.”

“And did she?”

“Oh yes!” he burst, dashing quickly into his office with no explanation. He returned as quickly as he departed his arms brimming with papers which he unload into Hawkeye’s. “A most glorious creation!” 

“Sheska wrote a book?” asked Hawkeye, trying to make sense of the various papers, some stapled together, some lose, and some tied with strings.

“A novel!” he declared. “Such a romantic and touching tale too! This is merely her first draft, I’ve read it countless times since she entrusted it to me. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you read it as well! It’s such a lovely story!”

“Well I’ll see,” she said as she struggled to gather the pages. “I haven’t much time when it comes to reading for pleasure, but I’ll let you know what I think.”

“Oh please do!” the Major, brimming with excitement. “There’s nothing I would love more than someone to discuss this tale with!”

-

After several talks with her team, the paperwork situation began to improve but not by very much. She had enough to handle with the colonel just being the colonel that the task of editor lengthened her work days and left little time for herself. One night, she found herself finally catching up on organizing and found Sheska’s pages waiting at the bottom. She decided that browsing a few pages couldn’t hurt, having earned a break from numbers and summaries.

Ronald was typically know to be a ladies’ man, a heart breaker of sorts. This reputation often preceded him, but held no truth for he belonged to no one and had never held a heart long enough to break it. But this was the kind of man he admired, the kind of man who traveled the world, and so it was the kind of man he aspired to be. But these kinds of men are not born great, if only it were that easy. No, they must be challenged and rise to the occasion. But no such challenges presented themselves to Ronald in his small town, and so he had to seek them out.

She was that challenge.

He barely knew he better than a shadow on a wall, but found her just as comforting and mysterious. Every day she’d walk past his room and he’d do his best to act as though he didn’t see her. He needed to seem aloof, wise, and serious. Though just a boy, he knew that was the kind of man who received respect though why he did not know. All he did know was that she made him want to be better. She pushed him. When he finished one job and his teacher deemed it successful he sent his daughter with the next project. And although they only talked about his work and were only allowed to talk about his work, he looked forward to those moments more than anything. She would offer a compliment and he would ask about her studies and she’d have to excuse herself to get back to them and it was awkward and short but it was the fire that kept him moving.

They were essentially strangers minus these encounters which was most likely his teacher’s intentions. He knew he was supposed to learn his trade and leave this place behind him eventually. He wasn’t supposed to get attached or be distracted, but something about her begged to be discovered. But it was not meant to be.

Until the fateful night they found themselves caught in the rain.

-

She slammed the pile of papers with great force onto the colonel’s desk. “Have you read this?” she said, clearly unamused.

“Just add them to the pile and I’ll get to them eventually,” mumbled Mustang, leaning back in his chair attempting to nap.

“These aren’t government forms,” she stated. “They’re pages from a book Sheska is writing.”

“Hawkeye, if I don’t have time to read the papers I am paid to read then why do you think I have time to read a young girl’s diary?”

“It’s not her diary sir,” she struggled to keep her voice low as she turned to shut the door to his office. “It’s about us.”

“Us? Like surveillance?”

“No, no sir,” she replied trying to find the words.”Us. As in, you and me. When we were… younger.”

“Oh, so Sheska is writing my biography is she?” remarked Roy smugly. “What is it war stories? I can see how that might be upsetting.”

“No, well yes. Well, not exactly. There’s… more.”

“More?”

“It’s not about us but it’s our story,” she tried. “I don’t know how, but it’s… you and I.”

“Hawkeye, you’re acting very strangely,” said Roy, concerned. He picked up a page and began to read it, not taking long to understand what she meant. “Oh.”

“Exactly,” she said sternly. “Now care to tell me how exactly Sheska came to know these very… intimate details?”

“Look, I don’t know what to say. I’ve never told her any of this. We swore we’d never discuss it.”

“What if this gets out?”

“Hawkeye, it won’t-.”

“It already has, Armstrong is raving about it.”

“Well, do we really know it’s about us?” he tried brushing it off. “I mean, the names are all different and-.”

“People will find out because Sheska found out,” said Hawkeye sternly. “This is an invasion of privacy regardless and if it was discovered that these characters are supposed to be you and I…”

“Yes Hawkeye I know the results would be undesirable,” finished Mustang skimming the pages. “I mean, are we sure this isn’t a coincidence? I don’t recall saying more than 10 words to Sheska ever. I mean it could be oh no.”

He cut himself off, solving the mystery but wishing he hadn’t.

“What is it sir?”

“It was me.”

“You told Sheska?”

“No, I told Hughes,” he groaned, covering his face. “We would go out drinking or stay up late at the academy and it would come up. You know how he was always pestering me, I thought it was harmless. Just reminiscing. He must have told Sheska. I mean he was always talking it’s possible right? At the very least he had the sense to change the names.”

“So you have a few drinks and suddenly you can’t keep secrets that aren’t solely yours? What else did Hughes know?”

“Nothing you’re thinking,” he said. “The girl I grew up with was my first crush, my first kiss and that’s something friends discuss. You expect me to believe that you never think about back then?”

“There’s nothing to think about, sir because as… pleasant as those memories may be, those times weren’t as simple as nostalgia would have us believe. I believe in moving forward.”

“Well I believe you can’t know where you’re going unless you know where you’ve been.”

“I’m disposing of these and I’ll have Sheska do the same to any copies she may have,” she said, gathering the papers and not wishing to engage in a walk down memory lane. “End of discussion.”

“Is that really necessary? I mean, was what happened all those years ago so-?”

“End of discussion,” she insisted.

“Very well, lieutenant” he sighed. “Let me burn the pages, you have enough on your plate already.”

-

“Sheska I hope you don’t mind but the lieutenant gave me a copy of your book and I-.”

“Oh did you like it?!” she practically yelled. “Oh, that’s just my first draft, so it’s a little rough. I’m still finding the language, but what did you think? What didn’t you like? Did you write any notes I’d love some notes.”

“I loved it,” he said gently. “I couldn’t put it down. Where did the inspiration come from?”

“They’re stories Lieutenant Colonel Hughes would tell me. Old friends of his, regular star-crossed lovers! After he passed I didn’t want the stories to die with him so I just wrote them down. I added a few things but the original story is so good.”

“Any idea where they are now? Did they ever get their happy ending?”

“No idea,” she admitted, sadly. “But I did write a sequel of sorts, my own thoughts on what could’ve happened. After he left her without telling her how he felt the lack of closure tore me apart. So I composed a reunion I thought would resolve things nicely.”

“You wrote more?”

“Yes!” she dug deep into her satchel and pulled out a heavy stack of messy papers. “Their dynamic was so tragic and beautiful, er tragically beautiful. Beautifully tragic? I just kept revisiting them and writing more and more. There’s just so many directions to go. Like if they had ran away together like they talked about or if he had gotten off the train or if she had gone with him… ”

“I’d love to read them,” interrupted Roy. “Every one of them.”

“Really?” she beamed. “I mean, they’re not much. Just short stories. I guess… I just can’t give up on them because Hughes never did. I know I’ll never know what happened but I like to think that one of the versions I think of is the right one.”

“So… do you really think that she loved him?” he asked somewhat timidly. ‘I mean they were so young and things change, but if they were to meet again now, do you think she would still love him?”

“Of course,” she said. “But I’ve never met her so I really can’t say for sure.”

“And, just a silly question, do you think she prefers dogs or cats?”

“Dogs, definitely.”

“Well I have to trust you,” he smiled. “You obviously know the characters very well.”

[myrish-lace-love]

Who wants to play a Jonsa Headcanon game?

How to play -

@amymel86 started this jonsa headcanon alphabet train with two lovely A and B headcanons of her own, and I picked up C and D!

Anyone who would like to be tagged to continue with the next two, please comment on this post and I will nominate one of you to post your headcanons for ‘E’ and ‘F’ - that person also asks for volunteers to continue and so on and so forth! Let’s get to Z jonsa fam! You can do modern or canon AUs, whatever you like!

***

So I kind of suck at headcanons because they sort of turn into hybrid mini-stories, but hopefully that’s okay? Prepare for unabashed fluff!!!

C is for Chocolate (Modern AU)

Jon loves chocolate. He’d never admit it, because it’s a pretty girly fixation, but he can hardly go a day without sneaking a piece. On bad weeks, when he’s stressed out at work, he brings entire bars of dark chocolate to the office. He’s sure no one’s the wiser. After all, he lives alone.

Until Sansa Stark is his Secret Santa in the office gift exchange. She shows up with an enigmatic smile, in a yellow cap-sleeve dress that is totally work appropriate, and somehow still makes Jon’s mouth dry. She’s carrying a beautifully wrapped box under her arm. The bow’s as big as a grapefruit.

“Hi, Sansa.” Jon hopes he sounds casual. Like he’s got his act together. Like he isn’t staring at the delicate diamond necklace that rests at the hollow of her throat.

“Hi Jon. I had to think forever about what to get you, I was completely stumped.” She sashays over to his desk. He stutters out a thank-you, and waits for her to leave.

“Well? Aren’t you going to open your present, Jon?” Sansa’s arms are crossed, but there’s a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

He fumbles with the wrapping paper and finds a box of Ghirardelli chocolates. His favorite kind, lemon creams. How had she known?

“I peeked my head in one day and saw you with a box of these...they’re my favorite, too,” she whispers. There’s a playful glint in her eye. Jon smiles back.

Sansa toys with the ends of her hair. “So...do you mind if I stop by sometime? If I need a chocolate fix in the afternoon?” It slowly dawns on Jon that Sansa might, just might be hitting on him. He can hardly believe his luck. He nods again.

Sansa drops by every other day after Christmas, and Jon spends a lot of cash keeping his office stocked with their favorite treat. It’s worth it, though, when he works up the guts to tell her she has a smudge of chocolate on her cheek. She leans in so he can wipe the bit of chocolate away. The flush on her cheeks makes him bold enough to ask her out on their first date. 

D is for Dancing (Modern AU)

Sansa’s roommate Jon hates to dance. Sansa, who’s an avid swing dancer, bugs him about it constantly. He's a black belt in jujitsu, after all, and she just knows he'd be a natural, so would it kill him to try the intro class on Tuesday nights? 

Jon grumbles about it, but he agrees, and Sansa's right - after Jon gets over his initial shyness, he's quite good at spinning girls across the room. So good, in fact, that other dancers start to hang on his arm after class and whisper in his ear. Jon turns an adorable shade of pink when this happens.

Sansa gets a strange tightness in her chest when they show up next week and there's a line of girls in pretty skirts and sparkly shoes ready for Jon to lead them. Sansa doesn't get to share a single dance with him.

She gives Jon the cold shoulder when they get into the car, even though she knows it's unfair. Jon tries to ask her what's wrong. He's completely confused when she won’t speak to him. Finally, when they pull up to their apartment, he breaks the silence again. 

"I thought you wanted me to learn, Sansa-“

“I did, because I wanted to dance with you, okay, not watch you spin other women around all night!" She realizes she's been yelling, and the car gets very quiet. Jon looks stunned.

Sansa stares at her lap. “I'm sorry Jon. I...wanted to be your partner, and it was hard for me to see you with those other girls. I should have told you. I'm happy for you though."

Jon hasn't taken his hands off the steering wheel. He clears his throat. "So, um, remember how they talked about etiquette and asking your partner for the next dance at the beginning of class?"

Sansa nods. "Yes, I know, you've been very polite to your partners, Jon, I’ve seen you.” 

Jon takes her hand. Sansa’s heart starts to beat faster.

“Then...Can I have your dances? All of your dances? Or, well, as many as you want to give me, in case that’s too forward, I don’t want to-“

Sansa cuts him off by kissing him, and it’s a good twenty minutes before they get inside.

They spend the rest of that summer, and the rest of their lives, dancing together.

[rose-margarita]

the trial run

December 6th, 2019

Last night I drunkenly, vocally begged myself to dump him. To drop this. I had cried all through my roommate’s dance performance, all through the ugly sweater Christmas party.

He’s been practically ignoring me for the past few days since that amazing night. After seeing a therapist and talking about the intensity of the impact of sexual abuse on my current relationships, I had finally reached a drunken breaking point. My level of desperation became so high I could no longer ignore the outward burst of anger and sadness that stained my ugly Christmas sweater, sporting Santa’s bare ass, with tear drops and red wine stains.

He came to the end of the year party at the school. We didn’t say a word to each other. I was being drunk and bubbly, getting high off the energies of hundreds of old friends and potential new friends in one room. He just stared at me. I left to watch my roommate dance and went to a party he wasn’t invited to. Yet I cried all night. Why doesn’t he show interest? Why doesn’t he chase me? After all we’ve been through?

December 8th, 2019 10:10 PM

Yesterday was Saturday. I woke up and felt determined to end things. To just be friends. It’s what I need at this point. I can have any guy physically, and most emotionally even, but somehow not him. He wants nothing to do with my antics. He messaged me midday - “hey how was your night?” I told him I spent the majority of it crying. He asked me why, and I avoided the question. He asked me why again. I said the instability is hurting me. I said I need a relationship or friendship. He responded he just wants what’s best for both of us. I said I want to be with him. He said we’re not a match. I told him I was coming over, sprinkled in with other emphatic exclamations about how absurd the notion we are no good together truly is.

I bought him a chicken sandwich and a ginger ale from the greasiest fast food restaurant across the street from his house. He greeted me with a kiss and we chatted as we always do, lightly and comfortably, like we do this everyday. And we touched playfully, and we kissed longingly, and those all too familiar electric sparks filled my heart and my lungs, invaded my brain. Mush. Love. All that ever remains of me when I’m around him.

We made tea and climbed into his bed. He showed me the variety of new plants he bought for his room. I adore plants. I ran my left hand through his dark beard and my right hand from the soft spot behind his ear to the base of his neck, rubbing his skin gently. I adore him.

He asked me to explain my overwhelming sadness the previous night, a sadness he did not even witness in person, but rather most likely heard about from his closest friend who had been with me to watch my roommate dance. I told him once again that I need stability. He rolled over on top of me, holding the back of my neck with one hand and placing his other in the small of my back, holding me tight and staring into my soul with his mocha eyes.

“Look,” he said. “I think we’re not compatible.” He went on to explain the extensive reading he’s done about attachment theory. He claims I attach insecurely to others, and he’s much more secure in comparison. He went on the explain his theory that we will never be healthy for each other emotionally. A lot of thoughts were running sprints in my mind at this point. 1) He set up a paradigm from the beginning defined by an impossibility for us to be together. He’s too old, we have no emotional connection, we function too differently. He made so many unfair judgments about me and our relationship before taking the time to get to know me. And then months later admitted he had been wrong about me. Which leads me to believe that the things he says are not very relevant because he’s not even sure if he means them. And I’m a stubborn Motherfucker, so his proclamations only fuel my avid desire to change his mind. On top of all that, he was attempting to dump me while holding me in his arms in his bed. His actions never match his words. His actions always seem to say “I love you, don’t listen to this idiot talking right now.” 2) He doesn’t put himself into the equation when making judgments. He blames me me me. I’m insecure, I’m too hyper, I’m too loud. I’m also floating around in a vacuum apparently. None of this behavior could possibly be abnormal for me as an individual. None of it could possibly be a response to his negativity, to his mental health problems. Nope, not a chance.

In reality, I think HE attaches insecurely. Insecure avoidant attachment to be exact. And my response is to be avoidant as well. But I digress.

He stated a plethora of inevitable truths that describe me, the reasons we would never work, reasons that are steadfast and unavoidable. He continued to hold me, to look at me with doting eyes that did not match a smidgen of the words dripping from his mouth. So I said no. “No, you’re wrong.” Because we are a match. We are polar opposites, and therefore, not in despite of, we add so much to each other’s lives, enriching each day we see each other. At first he resisted. Then he added a few positive notes. He’s 31 and I’m the best physical connection he’s ever experienced. And when he says that, I know he genuinely means it. And he’s been with many women seriously. So that statement implies a lot. The ways I subconsciously touch him are ways that drive him to insanity. Innately, I know just what he wants and just where he needs it. I don’t believe this sort of connection is achievable void of a strong emotional comprehension and compatibility, but what do I know? I’m just the idiot 24-year-old in the equation.

Finally, I requested one simple thing: “Just be my boyfriend. Give me the clarity and security to say ‘yes’ when someone asks me if I have a boyfriend at a bar.” He smiled and asked me if I always get what I want. I said yes with a grin, mostly because recently, it’s been true. I told him I don’t want to let him go. He asked me why I’m playing with his heart. And THAT’S IT! If I had to guess, if someone bet me a trillion dollars, I would wager he’s so scared of the relationship that has the potential to develop between us. He’s terrified. Mortified. I’m invading his heart. He’s trying to resist, and I’m aggressively and incessantly doing my best to make his efforts futile.

And he caved. Trial run relationship until winter break. We agreed if it doesn’t work from any one side, we will be friends. We will support each other and respect each other no matter what. But he has to give me a real chance. That’s the deal.

The unbelievable sex ensued. Our first time together as a couple, laughing and moaning and smiling and loving each other. He was passionate, worshipping my body, reaffirming the fact that we are always in a perfect element while wrapped in his blankets. Nothing but love exists between us in these moments. The way his tongue dances against my skin has my muscles convulsing and contracting within minutes, unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I love his body. He’s built like a runner, like a soccer player. He always smells like masculinity mixed with daisies. He always tastes intoxicating. When we kiss, our faces melt together into one unified entity that moves with grace and confidence. His eyes are hiding a little kid in a candy shop inside of them every time I’m nude in front of him.

Today was another day of his few and far between texts, but I think that is just the way he communicates. I’ve decided to take a deep breath, to let things run their course. Maybe we’re no good for each other, but at least now we’ll have a chance to find out.