#grinch book tag

[funtimeisparty]

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Beauty and the Grinch 

Just a cute idea, I try to give it the book style.

Also, a remake of my old art. ⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇

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[rustedhearts]

let it snow (70s!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: what happens when you're snowed in with your best friend (and there's a lot of sexual tension)?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the only living boy in indiana ✶ christmas carols✶ the library

tags: fluff, mutual pining, best friend!steve

"oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go: let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!"

— let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!, dean martin

somewhere in indiana. december, 1976.

“That snow’s really comin’ down,” Steve mused from his bedroom window.

You glanced up from your book, splayed on your stomach against his duvet. “It’ll be fine.”

Steve let his drape drop back into place over the window, frosted with ice and fogging with the heat from his radiator. He wandered back toward the bed, flopping beside you and jostling the mattress. You huffed into your current chapter.

“Not worried about missing your date tonight?”

You shrugged, flipping the page that you haven’t even read. “Eh. He’s kind of boring anyway."

"Well, yeah," Steve scoffed, twisting to lay on his back. The blankets bunched up with his shifting. "His name is Peter."

"Your name is Steve."

Steve's head snapped your way to sharpen his eyes in a glare. "Hey."

A slow, sideways smile plucked at your lips. You turned back to your book and stifled a giggle, though it burst free when his fingers poked your side.

"Wanna go in the basement? I need a light and Mom'll kill me if she smells it up here."

You closed your book around your finger and gazed at him over your shoulder. "They won't be home for hours."

"It lingers, sweetheart."

“Gross.” You scrunched up your nose and tried to ignore the pulsing ache in your chest. Bless the cold for keeping the heat from rushing to your face. “Don’t call me that.”

Steve rolled off the bed and to his feet, rushing the door and paying no mind to your distaste.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he called, already halfway down the hall. "We can dip into some of my dad's scotch."

So half an hour later, Steve was on his second Winston—the first stubbed out in the glass ashtray on the coffee table—and you were nursing a mug of scotch. Your mug had Santa on it, and you traced his beard with the edge of your nail as Steve fiddled with the stereo.

"Don't have any Christmas tunes," he'd muttered once you settled in the freezing cold basement. "But we can break out the winter music."

"And what do you consider 'winter music?'" you asked.

He lit up a Winston and clenched it between his teeth, already rifling through his baskets of vinyl. "Anything as cold and dreary as this damn town."

Now, Steve was bopping his hips to a jazzy tune found on a very old record from early high school. You remember the day he found it at the record store. It was during his "blue period," where all he wanted to listen to was jazz and blues.

You hid your grin behind another sip as Steve made finger guns toward the ceiling in time to the trumpet of the song, though a giggle burst forth into a gulp of scotch. His head snapped your way, one finger gun coming to pull his cigarette away.

"I hear your giggles, Miss. Grinch," he teased, swinging his leg over the back of the sofa to sit on the edge.

You swallowed down the pungent liquor, wincing when it stung. "I'm not a Grinch. I just don't like Christmas the same way you do, you know that."

Steve blew a cloud of smoke though his teeth. "Yeah, never understood that, by the way."

"Not for you to understand, Hair."

Steve narrowed his eyes at you, pointing the ashed end of his cigarette your way. "Don't call me that."

You quirked a brow, chin tipping up defiantly. "Or what?"

Steve cooly mouthed at his cigarette a moment more. He carefully slid down the back of the couch until he was seated near your socked feet, leaning forward to stub his second Winston out. As it died out in the mess of ash, Steve hooked his arm around your knees and yanked you close.

"Steve," you warned, voice knocked a pitch up. "Don't!"

It took everything in you not to spill your scotch as Steve's thin fingers prodded at your sides. He knew just what spots to press on, just where to squeeze and jiggle to have you twisting and writhing in a fit of laughter. The kind of laughter that had you aching with soreness. The kind of laughter that sent you back to infancy together.

Steve swooped the mug out of your hand and placed it on the coffee table before it could fall—but only so he could ignore your giggled protests to stop as the pair of you slipped off the couch. You tumbled to the hard floor together, a mess of limbs on concrete.

Soon, you were pinned under his heavy weight. His hands stopped tickling and rested stilly on your waist. They slipped under your sweater in the commotion, and now his palms braced your bare flesh without barrier. You could feel him between your legs—the sheer size of him, pushing your thighs apart and stretching them to sting. The outline of him pressed against his jeans.

The laughter subsided to breathless sighs. You gazed up at his pink-cheeked face, splotched with excitement. Your stomach was in your throat. The record stopped spinning some time ago, and now the empty scratch of needle turn crackled through the empty house. The end of your nose was frozen from the cold, but the rest of you was on fire pressed up against Steve.

Steve: your best friend.

"You're so soft," he whispered.

Your breath hitched. His thumb started to move in odd patterns under your shirt. You were suddenly and extremely aware of your hands around his arms—and how firm his biceps were under his sleeves. Every breath that touched your face smelled like Winston smoke. There was a tear in the rug underneath you and it was tickling your cheek.

"Th-thank you."

His thumbs continued. The breathing shallowed. The record spun on an empty track. His eyes were such a pretty color—or, an amalgamation of many colors all in one pretty iris.

You swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry. "I-I should go. Still...try to make my date."

Steve nodded, though he, too, was lost in your eyes. He never noticed how pretty the shape of your eyes were. How long and dainty the lashes were, how they brushed your cheeks with every blink. Did you know? Had you walked around with all this glorious beauty his entire life?

How could he have been so blind?

"Steve," you interrupted. "Get off me."

Steve scrambled to release you of his weight, rolling to his feet and brushing off his jeans. He helped you up—a gentle hand around your arm—and watched you grab your coat from the hook near the door. You've had that coat for years—the fur-lined collar and cuffed sleeves were full of lint and cat hair, and there was a button missing at the bottom.

While you were fishing for your gloves in the pockets, Steve moved the lace drapes over the back door and peered up the steps. There was about three feet of snow blocking the door, and as he watched, more piled over the staircase and across the yard.

"Uh...not sure you should go out in this," he announced.

You flicked your hair out of your face with mittened hands and huffed. "What?"

"The snow's pretty bad—"

"We live in Indiana, Steve. I've seen plenty of snow."

Steve dropped the snow and stepped away, arms folded over his chest. "Is Peter really worth getting stuck in a snowstorm?"

You cocked your foot out, mimicking his folded arms. "Maybe. He-he might be. I don't know."

It was the way his jaw tipped up at you, how his brows raised and nestled together, how his lip curled into a grin akin to the sixteen year old that never got told 'no.' It was the way your heart thumped in your ears with deafening force.

You weren't sure you could be around him right now. Not without wondering how his lips tasted. Not without wondering why he'd never told you he loved you.

"Really? What's his last name?"

"Good question. I'll ask him tonight." You rolled your eyes and whirled around, heading toward the basement steps.

If Steve wouldn't let you leave that way, you'd just go out the front.

"Hey—seriously, you're not going out in this."

"Oh yeah?" you huffed, stomping up the stairs. "Who's gonna stop me?"

A heavy arm hooked around your waist, knocking the air from your lungs with one quick pull. Steve hoisted you back down the steps, and it was only when he placed you back on your feet that you started kicking them. You got one good hit in the thigh before backing away to glare.

"What the hell is your issue?" you spat.

Steve threw his arms out—fucking Christ, his shoulders were broad. His hands were so big, and he had the prettiest pink flush to his face after all that play fighting and struggling.

"I'm not letting you go out in that."

It took everything in you to muster a squint and shoot it at him. You were sweating bullets in your buttoned-up coat.

"Well, I'm going."

Maybe you wanted him to grab you again. Maybe that's why you tried to push past him and dart up the stairs. Maybe you wanted to be chased, manhandled, held by those big, rough hands—Steve couldn't think of any other reason for your second attempt at escaping.

So, he snatched you up again. This time, you ended up dangling over his shoulder, and your feet were quicker to react this time. But your struggles were futile and adorable, and Steve chuckled when he brought you back to the cement floor and blocked off the stairs with a stiff body.

Once standing, you flicked your hair away again. Steve pushed his sweater sleeves up to his elbows. Cords of muscle flexed in his forearms—those strong, wide forearms. The scotch was starting to take effect. The room was getting smaller and hotter by the second, and you couldn't stop watching his lips grow pinker with heat.

"You have to stop touching me," you breathed out, so much softer than you wished it would sound. But you had no strength around Steve when he was at this proximity.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes, swallowing. He almost seemed in pain. "Then stop looking at me like that."

Your mouth ran dry. The room regained its frigidity in an instance. The sizzle of saliva down your throat passed between you.

"Like...like what?"

There was an ache growing in your chest that you were starting to resent. A hollow, weeping ache that squeezed with all its might when Steve looked down and shook his head.

"Nothing."

You watched him a moment. Scuff his shoes through the dirt on the floor. Wipe at his nose the way he does when he's nervous. Tuck his hands into his pockets and roll his shoulders. Meet your eyes only to duck away again.

"What if I...just go home?"

Steve scratched at the back of his neck, tousling his hair. "I'll-I'll walk you."

You nodded. "Okay."

Steve bundled in his coat and scarf, slipping on a pair of ratty old gloves before you pushed your way out the front door. Though you only lived a few houses down, it as a difficult trek. You had to hoist your legs with every step, kicking snow up the back of your jeans and under your coat. The wind whipped flurries at your face and numbed your mouth.

By the time you made it to your own front door, you were shivering and no less flustered than a few minutes ago. You turned around as you reached for the knob, finding Steve at the top step, waiting.

"Thanks for walking me."

Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. His smile was tight-lipped. "Sure."

You opened the door and slipped inside. Steve watched you kick the snow off your boots against the wall and shimmy your coat onto the hook. He watched you trudge to the steps and ascend them slowly, lost in the world of your own thoughts.

He stepped back and shuffled through the mound of white on your front lawn. He stopped in view of your bedroom window on the second floor, and watched the glass turn yellow in the lamplight. You passed in front of the window on your way to the bed.

Steve echoed a white breath into the air.

Maybe one day.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Tiger Club (part 3)

Steddie || ~2.3k words || rating: M || tags: single-dad steve harrington, teacher eddie munson, teacher chrissy cunningham, eddie and chrissy are best friends, steve harrington is dustin and max's dad, dustin and max are twins, meet cute, humor and fluff

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (you are here!) || ao3

~~~

It’s Eddie’s week for Tiger Club and by Thursday he still hasn’t seen Steve once. It’s been Robin every day so far, but she promised yesterday that he’d be doing pick ups today and tomorrow. Eddie hadn’t really believed her after so many previous missed connections, but when the kids ran out to the playground screaming about Dad bringing them for ice cream after school, he thinks maybe he should’ve taken her seriously.

Because now here he is, fiddling with the sleeves of his leather jacket and smoothing a hand over his flyaways like he’s about to meet the goddamned Pope. He’s not nervous– he’s not. It’s just some guy– nay, an ex-trust fund kid. Sure he sounds amazing on paper, but Eddie’ll decide that for himself.

“So is he here yet?” Jumping out of his skin, he turns to find Chrissy smirking at him. He checks his watch and sure enough, it’s 3:45, and Max and Dustin are the last kids on the playground. God, he really should’ve noticed all of the other kids leaving. “Eddie, you seem nervous,” she says, giggling as he scoffs at her implication.

He is not nervous.

“What would I have to be nervous about?” He almost shouts it, gesturing wildly with his hands. “I don’t even know the guy. I just know he’s late. Again!”

Chris nods toward him, eyeing something over his shoulder and he turns in time to see a familiar maroon SUV pull up to the curb. But the man stepping out onto the sidewalk definitely isn’t Robin.

No, he’s just the prettiest man Eddie’s ever been lucky enough to set his gaze on.

He’s wearing tight, acid washed jeans and a navy henley that’s holding on for dear life across his broad chest. The aviator sunglasses should really make him look like a stereotypical douchebag, but of course it just makes him look hot, accentuating his full, pouty, pink lips. His thick, chestnut hair is feathered to appear casual. Even from across the playground it looks soft, and Eddie’s desperate to touch, to hold and pull tight. 

The fucking guy is effortlessly cool, and Eddie hates that cool ex-jock is a look that’s apparently his type. 

The man scans the playground, a wide grin brightens his face when he catches sight of the twins. Eddie watches as the literal fallen angel pushes his fingers into his mouth– sending Eddie’s thoughts careening dangerously off course– and whistles loud enough that Dustin and Max pop up like adorable groundhogs.

“Daddy!” Max yells, jumping up and running full speed towards him with Dustin hot on her heels. 

Daddy? Eddie’s never heard either of the twins call him that– it’s always been Dad. Although Eddie’s also pretty sure he’s never seen Max this excited before.

Steve drops to his knees– Eddie’s jaw hits the ground at the same time– to catch his kids as they send him toppling over. The three are a pile of limbs and smiles, and it’s melting Eddie’s cold, grinch heart.

Chrissy nudges him. He can tell she’s already reading him like an open book, the same way he had when she’d first laid eyes on Robin. Instead of teasing, her smile is full of comfort and encouragement. She lightly tugs his arm, pulling his frozen legs behind her towards the chaos. As the kids disentangle themselves, he can hear them excitedly talking over one another. 

“No, Daddy listen, Lucas told the funniest joke at recess–”

“Max, oh my god, no one cares! I literally made a volcano in science–”

“Shut up, Dustin, no one cares about your stupid science volcano!”

“Hey!” Steve’s up on his feet clapping loudly to get the kids’ attention. “Language, Max. How many times do I have to tell you that Dustin’s science stuff isn’t stupid? And Dustin, don’t interrupt your sister when she’s talking. Just because you’re louder doesn’t mean you get to talk over her. Both of you apologize. Now.”

The kids look equally cowed, and mutter their apologies before turning back to their dad with their proverbial tails between their legs.

“And?” he prompts.

“Sorry for arguing, Dad,” they answer in unison.

“Good. Now, let’s go find Miss Chr–”

The end of Steve’s sentence is lost to the autumn wind as he catches Eddie’s eye. He watches as Steve slowly pushes his sunglasses up onto his head and jesus christ those are the warmest honey hazel eyes Eddie’s ever seen. Steve’s mouth has dropped open, drawing Eddie’s gaze to his plush lips.

Up close, Eddie can pick out the golden shine to his hair and the moles scattered across his skin. Two on the man’s neck hold his attention, filling Eddie with the strong urge to bite. Steve pushes up his sleeves to reveal toned forearms. His hands are large with long fingers and Eddie needs them wrapped around him.

“Daddy, what are you looking at?”

Both men jolt at the sound of Max’s voice. A heavy blush coats Steve’s face, and Eddie wants to explore where else the man turns red and wanting. Mouth suddenly dry, he darts his tongue out to wet his lips, only for Steve’s gaze to immediately track the movement. 

“Daddy, oh my god why are you being so weird!”

Steve tears his eyes from Eddie’s mouth, briefly turning to face Max again.

“I’m not being weird. You just haven’t introduced me to your teacher yet.”

“Oh, right I’m so sorry,” Chrissy steps forward, not sounding sorry at all. “This is–”

“Mr. Munson, right?” Steve says. “And I’m–”

“Daddy,” Eddie finishes.

It’s quiet. Too quiet, and Eddie realizes everyone is staring at him. Steve’s eyes are wide, mouth open in shock. He’s flushing red down his neck and up to the tips of his ears, but his eyes never leave Eddie’s. 

“Did you just call our Dad, Daddy?” Max asks, pointing and laughing.

And oh.

Oh god no.

He called him Daddy to his face in front of his children, and the universe, and everyone. A beautiful, gorgeous, perfect specimen of a man he’s never met before, and he called him Daddy like Eddie was cursed in a past life to make a total ass of himself. He’s on the verge of melting into the ground when Dustin’s shrill voice cuts through the fog to come to his aid.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Munson. Last week I accidentally called Mrs. Click, Mom, but it was an accident,” the boy reasons. “It happens to everyone, it’s okay.”

Except it’s very much not okay, and Eddie thinks nothing will be okay ever again. 

He chances a look and sees Steve’s finally closed his mouth, though he’s chewing on his bottom lip and still blushed up to his ears. Eddie can only imagine how red his own face is.

“Well,” Chrissy clears her throat– loudly. “Eddie, this is Steve. And Steve, this is Mr. Munson, but you can call him Eddie.” She looks a little too pleased with herself, but Eddie doesn’t know whether to thank her or remember this for next time Robin comes around.

“Hi,” Steve says, dazed, absently reaching out for a handshake because of course Steve’s the kind of man to shake a guy’s hand who’s just accidentally called him Daddy. The nerve of some people.

“Umm, hi,” Eddie responds while he grabs Steve’s hand. It’s not a firm handshake between two people meeting for the first time. It’s gentle, Steve practically cradling Eddie’s hand in his and he was right. Steve’s hand is bigger, softer than his own, but Eddie’s fingers are thicker.

Over far too soon– but maybe too long if Chrissy’s scrunched expression is anything to go by– Steve lets go. Eddie’s forced to stand and watch Steve flex his fingers, stretching until they’re white, before balling them into a fist and shoving his hand into his back pocket. His other hand rakes through his auburn hair, and– for absolutely no reason whatsoever– Eddie considers including a Jane Austin unit next semester for his eighth graders.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from the kids. And Robin. Oh and Jonathan and Joyce,” Steve rambles. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d say the man sounds flustered. It helps him relax a bit.

“All good things?” Eddie teases, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers before pulling it in front of his face.

“Yeah, they just failed to mention,” Steve gestures vaguely to all of Eddie, much the same way as Hopper had but also very, very different. He looks down at himself to make sure he didn’t wear anything especially heinous today, but all he finds are his typical combat boots, black jeans, and his gray t-shirt underneath his leather jacket.

He steps a little closer to Eddie, putting them within middle school slow-dancing distance from each other. Eddie can’t look away from his eyes, warm and golden, just like everything else about him.

“Kids,” Chrissy cuts in, “why don’t we go get your stuff together while your Daddy talks with Mr. Munson a bit?” Eddie could kiss her for being such a saint, and the three of them wander off while Eddie remains a captive to the intensity crawling around in Steve’s stare.

“So,” Steve sighs, voice low and smooth. Chills spread down Eddie’s spine, and he knows he’s done for. “Daddy, huh?”

Heat scorches Eddie’s face as white hot embarrassment spreads to his core. Steve smiles like he’s successfully cornered his prey, and Eddie can’t figure out what to do with his hands. He stands frozen as Steve takes another step forward, now toe to toe.

“Yeah,” Eddie drags the word out, not quite sure of what he’s agreeing to. He’s only sure of Steve’s breath mixing with his and Steve’s eyes roaming his face and Steve’s everything.

He clears his throat, smoothes his clammy hands over his jeans, and tries again.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” He chuckles, hoping to play it off as casual. “It really was just an accident like Dustin was saying, you know? An awkward slip of the tongue. See, the thing is that Max was calling you Daddy, right? Which is totally weird because she always calls you Dad. So I was just kind of surprised and confused and I couldn’t stop thinking about you– I mean Daddy! The word Daddy, not you as a Daddy.” Eddie groans scrubbing his hands over his face, hiding behind his fingers. “Fuck, god, I’m so sorry, this is so unprof–”

“I don’t think you’re sorry,” Steve interrupts. “In fact, I think you liked it. And if I had to guess, I think you want to do it again.”

This isn’t happening. This is not real life. 

Things like this don’t just happen to people like him, to the Eddie Munson’s of the world, and certainly not with men like the golden god leaning into his space. Except here he finds himself, trapped in a real-life porn intro with a man he’s never met yet has been crushing on for over a month. The tightness of Eddie’s black skinny jeans is becoming an increasing problem and he reminds himself this is a school and there are children here. 

Before he can recover enough to save himself, Steve’s cooing at him, pulling at the edge of his leather sleeves and asking “would you like to do it again?”

Eddie nods, dumbstruck and inappropriately turned on.

“Good,” Steve praises, saccharine, “all you have to do is ask for my number and I’ll give it to you.”

Eddie looks around the playground and sees Chrissy with the kids well on the opposite side. They’re playing on the swingset, thoroughly distracted. 

“I know they’re there. It’s okay, they can’t hear us,” Steve says and grabs Eddie’s hand. He tangles their fingers together, goosebumps shiver up Eddie’s arm. “Now, ask me.”

“Umm, can I have your number?” he mumbles.

Steve shakes his head and gives Eddie's hand a firm squeeze. “No Eddie, you need to ask nicely. Go on now, I won’t say it again.”

Eddie swallows against the dryness in his mouth and Steve’s darkened eyes flit down to catch his neck flex around his empty throat.

“Please, Daddy, may I have your number?” Delicious shame coils through his chest while heat curls lower in his core. He’s not used to such brazen affection, nor so immediately trusting to reciprocate. And fuck, normally Eddie’s the Daddy. But from everything he’s heard– all of the kind and caring people who talk about how amazing Steve is– he thinks this might be okay. Hopes and wants and craves it all to be okay.

Steve’s answering smile is surprisingly gentle. He rubs his thumb against the back of Eddie’s knuckles before taking a step back, not far enough to leave him self-conscious, but Eddie feels like he can breathe for the first time since Steve stepped out of the car. 

“Of course you can have my number, Baby, thank you for asking so nicely.”

Eddie unlocks his phone and hands it over just as Chris makes her way back with the kids. They all say their goodbyes, and much to Eddie’s delight, Steve texts him before the SUV even pulls away from the curb. To top it off, Steve waves as they drive by, a dorky spirit-finger wave that sends Eddie into a fit of giggles, like he’s a school boy with his first crush.

Chris elbows him in the side, a smirk on her face and her eyebrow arched. 

Eddie sighs in faux-defeat. “He’s alright, I guess,” he answers her unasked question with a giant, smitten, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 

He loves the twins, has met basically Steve’s entire family, and is almost positive Chris and Robin have hit it off. Eddie’s hopes are already too high up to pull back down to earth, excited to see where this journey will take him. He’s loath to admit it after weeks of petulant moping and pining, but Steve Harrington does, in fact, live up to the hype.

~~~

Tiger Club was so much fun to write! It was the very first story I wrote when I decided to get back into writing. This fic sat in my drafts for months before I decided it might be worth going back to. And now look at it!!

[theorphicangel]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫.| 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 (𝐟𝐞𝐦!) 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 |

synopsis: In the span of 3 years, it's crazy how much you can learn about one single person. So much yet so little.

You find yourself realising that with every year there will always be more to learn. Every year offers a new opportunity to grow together.

You soon learn that he has things that are discreetly hidden from you.

And you him.

tags: roommates au, fem!reader, eventual smut, mutual pining, friends to lovers

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲

word count : 4.9k

warnings: drinking, alcohol, drunk! Levi🤨

“Don’t even think about it.”

The warning slipped from your tongue in a haste.

Not even a full minute had passed since emerging from his room and your words were already aimed straight at his throat; piercing his skin like the tip of a knife.

Your intonation held a low and deep vibration throughout the room which almost startled him.

Almost.

You weren’t even looking at him directly.

His steel eyes snap over to your figure on the couch where you sat with your legs curled up like a cat under a fluffy blanket. Two hands held open your new novel, the one that had been on your reading list for god knows how long.

He'd gotten it as a gift for you at Christmas. You guessed it as soon as it caught your eye underneath the tree, one of the very first gifts placed there. It took everything in you to hold back at the temptation to rip at the carefully wrapped present and not jump straight in between the pages.

You held back. For him at least.

Barely two days into the new year and you’ve regretfully almost come to the end of your story. He curses quietly under his breath at noticing this, himself regretful that he hadn’t gotten you the whole book collection instead.

He thought about saving it as a birthday gift instead. Most definitely.

You continued to read on, pulling an oblivious expression with your eyes still glued to the page as you hear him huff in impatience. You knew all too well that if you just looked up to your left, he’d be standing there with his hands placed on his hips and his infamous scowl imprinted on his face in pure frustration.

A smile played along your lips at how easily you could rile him up. Too easily.

“You even touch that Christmas tree and I’ll take away your present.” you forewarned, fingers turning the feather-light page, eyes already jumping to the next sentence.

The Christmas lights that were wrapped around the tree blinked furiously in the corner of the living room, the large golden star at the peak of the tree heavily loomed over to one side, threatening to topple over due to its weight.

He’ll never forget how you had coerced him into helping you set it up. And you’ll never forget the comical-like way in which his eyes widened at the sight of you returning back to the apartment with a large cardboard box in your hands.

“It was a sale, I couldn’t resist.” were your words of defense, consciously aware that it was still early November at that time.

Despite your protests, he brutally ignored your excuses, instead babbling mutters of discontent as you made him walk in circles around the tree to wrap the tinsel.

“Stupid.” he remembers mumbling, feeling himself become increasingly irritated at the lone strands of tinsel that fell onto your carpet, which he would now have to go to the effort of hoovering once the two of you were done.

Switching on the bright lights—that you had definitely spent way too much money on—they powerfully illuminated the room, the festive colors of red and green bouncing off your white walls. The electricity bill for that month was indefinitely set to soar.

Regardless of Levi’s annual duplication of the Grinch, he couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of satisfaction at your glowing smile in reaction to the tree and after what felt like hours decorating, you finally won against your need for perfection. You stretched out your hands in front of him proudly, a beaming smile stretching across your lips with an exclamation of, “Happy birthday!”

He scoffed at you, his mind no where near the idea of his birthday. You knew how much he dreaded it each year, coming to the sudden realization that he was getting one year older.

Or one year closer to death as he would say which would earn a light slap on the arm from you for ruining the so-called “Christmas spirit.”

You introduced him to all the traditions of the holiday; something abnormal to him, having never experienced this during his childhood. A few years before and he would’ve never even given a second thought about the holiday.

The only thing that he does remember from his childhood is the long anticipation of receiving a present from his mother, one that she had saved up for all year to be able to give him.

He appreciated them all, no matter how small or bare, he was always grateful. Unlike the other kids who’d grown up spoiled, flaunting their gifts as soon as it was the return back to school after the holidays.

Was he envious of what other kids had growing up? Yes, of course, what kid wouldn’t be?

But, now having grown up he’d come to realize that he was deeply satisfied to have the more important things in life, like the close memories of his mother. He was more thankful to have spent time with her rather than receiving a bunch of toys he would soon grow out of.

Especially since people can suddenly be taken away from you in a blink of an eye.

But celebrating also helped you too, he’d learnt that moving away from your family to a new city by yourself wasn’t easy and with the guilt of the first christmas that he had spent with you, from then on he’d make sure that he'll put in all his effort.

Even if the whole day shortened his lifespan in the process.

Now standing in front of the glowing tree, Levi didn’t have to turn around to witness the grin on your face. He’d already heard it through your threat.

If there was one thing he learned about you throughout all these years, it was that you always kept to your word.

“It’s fucking January,” he remarked, “Christmas is over.”

You shook your head, “Nuh-huh Mister Scrooge, it’s still the holiday if I remember clearly.”

He snorted out loud, “Barely.”

“You’re just mad that you’re going back to work earlier than me.” you noted and again your mind can picture a crease between his brows at your blunt reminder.

“Whatever.” he muttered, sulking his way over to you without any further debate.

You felt the couch shifted a little under his weight, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

Finally, you glanced up from your book to observe the figure sat adjacent from you.

You caught him mid-yawn, his hair uncharacteristically disheveled, raven locks astray, but one thing that predominantly stood out towards you was how well-rested he looked, his face slightly puffy from sleep and eyes full of energy, no evidence of dark circles under them. You felt content at this sight and it was more than obvious by the way you studied him.

“What?” he said bashfully, suspicious of your observation of him.

“Are you still hungover?” you ask, distracting him. You were annoyed that he caught on regardless of your obvious stare.

He rolled his eyes as your question. Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants, he deliberately ignored your question.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” you murmur, eyes returning back to your place in your book.

A wave of silence filled the room, no further conversation made between the two of you. It was a comfortable silence, one that the two of you have gotten well adjusted to for the past three years, more than comfortable in each other’s presence.

Then, after a minute or two of silence, his lips parted to defend himself after some deep thought.

“I’m not hungover.”

You hum quietly, the sound of paper flicking as your fingers turn the page, not seeming bothered by his answer.

You recall back to New Year’s day, returning home with Levi from Erwin’s annual New Year party. Erwin was polite enough to offer that two of you should stay the night but you remember clearly how he kept whining about wanting to go home. With you.

In your three years of living with Levi, you’ve barely–no, rarely, seen him drunk. You didn’t know what was really up with him at Erwin’s, just the fact that as soon as you stepped into his apartment, he couldn’t stop throwing back the drinks. It was very incongruous to the usual Levi that you knew.

Unless he had something on his mind. You figured it was just the post-birthday emotions hitting him. He never went into detail but you were smart enough to assume that this time of the year was always tough for him.

As a result, you had to carry him home. His heavy, dead-like arm wrapped around your neck with the majority of his body weight pushed up against you for support, making your thirty minute walk home looking to take around an hour.

“Fucking hell, Levi.” you swore, your footsteps echoing against the stone pavements, the sound ricocheting off the concrete walls of the giant buildings that loomed above you.

His own steps lingered–irregular and clumsy–as he relied on you for total support. It was nearly four in the morning and groups of people were still out in the city, alive as ever, still drunk off a new year high. You could tell by the fireworks being set off irregularly that the celebrations had yet to finish, also not missing how Levi’s body flinched at the sudden sound of fireworks nearby, rising up into the sky, illuminating for a few seconds before disappearing into colorful clouds of smoke.

Of course, you couldn’t avoid interactions with large groups of drunk strangers wishing you a slurred happy new year from across the street. You gave a friendly smile back and wished them the same back, the same couldn’t be said for Levi, drunkenly sending death glares as his own response.

But it wasn’t until you walked past a certain group of strangers, that consisted mainly of guys, that he really grew hostile.

“Did you-did you see tha’?” he blurted out, stumbling in absolute defeat.

“See what?” you asked, focusing your eyes on his face and not missing the glow that the streetlights created upon his face.

“The way that guy looked at-” he paused, taking a breath, probably to hold down the bile rising in his throat. “You.”

He finished in a dangerous tone. It sounded unnatural even for him.

“No, I didn’t see that Levi, they’re drunk.”

“Drunk bastards.” he cursed, losing his balance momentarily until you held him upright again.

You hold back a chuckle, “And you’re one of them.”

“M’not drunk.” he debated, his lips turning into a pout.

“Okay,” you said, an idea popping in your head, “Stand by yourself then.” You pause in your steps and remove his arm from around your neck. In this separation, the warmth of your body is quickly replaced by the chill of the winter wind.

You’ve paused purposely by a lamppost to hopefully make it easier for him to navigate. You stand away from him, only a few meters, next to the hovering streetlight.

“You good?” you ask, raising a brow at his state.

His eyes are drooping a little, full of fatigue and obviously intoxicated. His body sways a little, side to side and his dark locks flutter a little in the almost icy winter wind. You don’t miss how pink and tinted his cheeks are, especially under the glow of the streetlight.

Little puffs of vapor escape from his mouth now visible in the cold winter air but disappear quicker than you can blink.

Vapor escapes from your own mouth as you observe him, “You’re swaying Lee’, that’s cheating.”

His eyes are now fully closed and a part of you is slightly concerned that he’ll topple over at any moment; just one light tap on his shoulder and he’ll end up face planting the stone pavement.

“M’completely–” he pauses again taking in a shaky inhale,“Fine.”

He scrunches his eyes before he attempts to walk and at an incredibly slow pace, his shoes scuffing the pavement. He barely moves an inch before opening his eyes again.

He looks around wearily, a dazed expression on his face.

“Did I get far?” he mumbles, his lips puffy and pouting.

Adorable.

You can’t attempt to hide your grin any longer, “C’mon you idiot, let’s go home.”

“You’re the idiot, idiot.” he grumbled back, immediately falling to your side, his arm wrapping perfectly over your neck.

You nodded,”Yeah yeah, thank you.”

And if it wasn’t enough to drag his ass home, you also had to get him up to your shared apartment.

“One step lee’, almost there.” your voice strained under the weight of holding Levi upright as he reached the second floor. One down, thirteen more to go.

And to think that out of all fucking days, tonight had to be the night that the elevator was out of order. The universe couldn’t even wait a day into the new year before testing your patience.

Your arm was wrapped securely around his waist, fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him up the stairs. Sweat dripped down your back, your warm winter coat doing its job too well as an insulator.

“Are-are—we almost there?” He slurred, almost falling as he did so and your free hand suddenly clasped onto the railing to steady yourself. If he falls, you’re certain you’ll go down with him.

Now you sort of understand why he gets so annoyed when he has to pick you up from a night out, especially if he had to do this every time with you. The only difference is you're more of a mess. By far.

And with that taking longer than it should’ve, you finally come to a standstill at your apartment door. Your hand delves into your coat pocket, fingers searching through crumples of old receipts and tissue for your keys, it doesn’t take long for that sweet metallic jingle to reach your ears.

Levi stood next to you in silence. He was rather quiet during the final climb up the last floor. You brought it down to his exhaustion and post drunk clarity finally hitting him, a feeling you know all too well and despise deeply.

The jingle of your keys echoes down the empty hallway as you turn the lock, opening the door to a sea of darkness. You follow through first finding the light switch and Levi trails in after, shutting the door. Your back hits the wall of the hallway with relief and fatigue, you couldn’t wait to get to your bed.

But first… you had Mr grumpy to deal with.

Slipping off your coat and your shoes, you address him with an exhale noticing how he’s remained still the entire time, staring into the abyss.

“C’mon Lee’ let’s get you to bed.”

He makes no response, already trailing into his room without debate. Before you follow, you grab a glass of water for him during the night.

You find Levi sat on his neatly made bed, only completed with the task of removing his shoes. His dark locks look even more disheveled.

“C’mon,” you coo, placing down the cup on his neat bedside table. There’s only a radio that sits on the counter, its red digits reading, 4:23 am. Your hand pulls back the covers as Levi stands and he makes his way to lay down immediately but the touch of your hand meets his bicep.

“Change first.”

A light whine came out his throat, before he could even stop himself. If he were sober enough to care he’d cringe but he steps back following your instruction.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” you state, “you don’t wanna sleep in those clothes, trust me.” You speak merely from experience, you know first hand that it’s not the best way to start the morning after a night out.

You go to leave the room to give him privacy before a soft utterance stops you from doing so.

“Stay.”

A hum leaves your throat in confusion. He watches you apprehensively, whole body rigid with his fists curled up by his side.

His mouth is snapped shut almost as if he regrets the previous words that come out of his mouth, you’re about to put it down to the state of him being intoxicated before he pleads again.

“You don’t have to leave.”

You remain unmoving with your mind still not sure of what to say apart from a simple, “Okay.”

You do turn around though, in an attempt to give him space whilst you try to find some clothes for him to sleep with.

“First drawer.” he says, nodding his head to the direction of his bedroom cabinet.

He slips off his slacks, stepping out of the material in slow movements. The clink of his belt carries a heavy tone and ends up with a loud clang on the floor.

You find gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt and as you turn, you find Levi half way in pulling off his own shirt before dropping it carelessly to the ground, too exhausted to pick up it and fold the material.

You try not to let your eyes linger too much on his body, particularly on the muscular tone of his stomach, a dark trail leading down to his lower abdomen as he stands solely in his boxers.

You awkwardly avert your eyes to the floor as you hand him his clothes, your cheeks burning up.

He dresses in silence, brushing a hand over his locks which in the process lifts up his shirt, revealing another little peak of his lower abdomen. In an attempt to distract your mind, you pick up his clothes without hesitation, hands already going to fold them methodically.

“I can do that tomorrow-” he starts, mouth open in protest at your help. You’ve already helped him enough. Too much.

“It’s alright, I’ll put them in the basket,” you say, folding up his stained t-shirt and pants, removing the belt before you fold up the latter.

His exhausted eyes linger over your face as he sits in silence on the edge of the bed, watching you complete the task.

You can feel his eyes bore into you. Purposely, you avoid his gaze, instead focused on the task at hand. “Thanks.” he utters, quietly, once you’ve finished.

You half shrug, “S’’nothing.” You know that he would do the same for you, Levi’s the type of guy to without you even asking so it’s only fair that you do the same.

“I’d give you painkillers, but you shouldn’t take them after drinking.” you say, nodding over to the glass of water that sits on the bedside table.

He nods wordlessly, “Thanks.”

You’re about to turn to leave, grabbing the pile of his folded clothes on the edge of his bed to place in the laundry basket. Your figure is about halfway into leaving the room before his voice stops you again.

“Do you mind staying–just for a little bit?” he speaks up, timidly. Levi still sits at the edge of his bed, and there’s a nervous manner in his body language that you don’t usually see. Tufts of raven hair are stuck to his forehead, his eyes wordlessly pleading you with his gaze.

It’s a tempting offer.

His eyes linger over your face, watching as you hesitate for a moment and for a second he regrets asking you at all, he’s just about to say never mind before you interrupt.

“Sure.”

Walking over, he shuffles over to the other side, silently observing you get underneath his covers. The scent of your laundry detergent—one that Levi religiously insists on buying—fills your nostrils as well as the faint smell of alcohol from him.

Your mind is too aware of the close proximity, the air from his lungs meets your bare neck and for once, out of three years of living together, the silence of it all scares you.

You clear your throat awkwardly, your heart loudly thumping in your ears.

“Did you enjoy tonight then?” you ask, your voice almost breaking as you did. Never would you have expected to be in this predicament. Laying in your roommate’s bed.

You hear a light scoff come from him. “As much as a new year’s party can be.”

You want to ponder on what made him want to drink so much in the first place, knowing his particular distaste for alcohol. But your lips remain shut making the assumption that he—like everyone else—wanted to mark off the end of the year and either way, you’re glad you remained sober tonight even if you weren’t planning to. At least one of you had to be responsible for getting home.

“You should get some sleep Lee.” you suggest, propping your elbow up and resting your head in the palm of your hand.

He lets out a deep hum in response.

To be honest, Levi was still thinking about his behavior tonight, his steel eyes observing your shadow through the darkness. A pit of anxiety stabbed at his lower abdomen, flashbacks popped up in his mind here and there of his behavior. His hand rubbed his forehead, a headache already forming in his skull.

If he could take it all back, he fucking would.

“Sorry.” he mumbles, silently dreading what tomorrow’s hangover would bring.

“For what?” you ponder, curiosity in your tone.

“Making you drag me back here.” he lets out a sigh, “We should’ve just stayed with Erwin.”

“It’s fine.” you reassured, “You’ve done this way too many times for me.”

“Not out of free will.” he joked. A low, natural hum played in the background, the natural vibration of the apartment alongside the outside noise of distant fireworks continuing the arrival of the new year.

“You got a new year’s resolution?” you ask, fingers skimming over the soft, fresh duvet covers.

Levi held back another scoff. Personally, he found that shit so stupid.

He would always remember how Hange would create thirty new resolutions each coming year and yet when December 31st they’d only have completed four by the end of it.

“No.” he states, “What about you?” he’s still slurring slightly, but you can tell the alcohol is starting to wear off especially as his body grows with more weariness and his question is finished off with a yawn.

You hesitate slightly out of embarrassment, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he repeats, his tone holding a subtle teasing tone which releases some of the awkward tension in the room.

“I don’t know,”’ you admit shyly, fiddling with your fingers underneath the covers, becoming too comfortable under the covers. You’re going to find it hard to leave soon.

“Well, what is it that you want to do?”

You shug, despite Levi not being able to see you. “It was just a thought, I don’t think it’ll make a good resolution.”

“What is it?” he asks again, gently pushing for an answer.

You let out a sigh, “I just want to get more work done, y’know develop my career and try to push into more opportunities?” you reveal, slightly shy.

“You’re already doing that.”

“Really?” You hummed in disbelief, “I feel like I haven’t worked as hard in the last year like I usually do.”

Levi’s words are now mumbled, falling captive to the power of sleep, “You’re one of–” he yawns again, “the–most hardworking people I know, if anything, your resolution should be to relax more.”

You let out a snort, “Coming from the man who eats, sleeps and breathes in front of a white screen sending emails.”

He scoffs in response,”Well, when you have a shitload of new interns to supervise on a daily basis who constantly ask you stupid questions ninety nine percent of the time, you barely know the meaning of rest.”

“You’re hard working too, Lee.’” you say, “You don’t realize it, but I honestly–I aspire to be like you. You’re always so calm and even when things ‘Go to shit.’” You curl up your fingers to air quote his own words,”You always handle it well.”

Your throat grows thick and you pause to swallow before speaking again, “If anything you should be taking your own advice this year.”

You can’t see due to the darkness of the room and for once Levi is grateful as fuck. With the mix of alcohol and the compliment from you, his heart pounds at a million miles per hour right now.

‘I aspire to be like you.’ You might as well have tattooed those words right above his fucking heart in the sense that your comment will stay permanent in his mind forever.

He’s definitely sure that his cheeks are a burning red from your comment, his mind running on pure elation.

He clears his throat nervously trying not to seem obvious that your words had deeply impacted him.

“I’ll die before that ever happens.” he grumbles and you poke him in the side in annoyance.

“Now that I’ve told you mine,” you say, “What’s yours?”

His face scrunches up, thrown off guard by your sudden question. It takes him a while to think before coming up with a definite answer for you.

He lets out an exhale, his heart almost heavy as he admits it to you.

“Not to take anyone for granted. Anymore.”

You remain silent, hearing it clear in his voice the remorse behind it. Your own heart aches, your limbs almost tempted to reach out to comfort him in a way, to try and understand the sorrow that he holds. Over the past three years, there’s always been allusions to it but you’ve never asked explicitly. It’s not your place to.

After a period of silence he clears his throat, “So–” he begins, “Let’s make a deal.”

Your eyebrows quirk up in curiosity as Levi continues.

“You will promise not to overwork yourself this year and I–” he hesitates, “I’ll not take anyone for granted.”

“And don't overwork yourself too.” you add on to the end.

He clenches his jaw, that wasn’t something he thought about agreeing to but…fuck it.

“Fine.” he says exasperatedly, “I won’t overwork myself…I mean–I’ll try.”

“That’s good enough.” you declare, “It’s a deal then.”

“Deal.”

You don’t remember much of the conversation past that point apart from listening to him complain about the new interns and the annual Christmas office party.

He makes a suggestion for you to come with him next time to which you respond with a “maybe.” It’s not much but it’s enough to set his hopes up, an unfamiliar, warm feeling in his limbs. He tells himself it’s the after effects of the alcohol, unknown that you too, are silently experiencing the same effects.

Somewhere along that point, you fall asleep, your body only jolting awake a few hours later. Already, the sunlight peaks through, illuminating the room that was pitch dark just a few hours ago.

Your eyes were blurry, your body aching and overstimulated with heat as your clothes stuck your skin. You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to adjust to the new lighting of the room.

Coming to your senses, you notice the feeling of a heavy limb wrapped over your torso, keeping you tightly secured in place. Only then you realize that you’re not in your own bed.

A head of jet black hair beside you makes you fall back into reality. Shit.

Levi’s arm is wrapped around your waist, tightly, and his head positioned near your shoulder. Light snores escape from his mouth, they’re so quiet you can barely hear them. You can feel his chest expand and deflate against your back, it feels so snug and so…right.

Too right.

Without warning your mind panics, desperate to find a way to get out. His presence was too intoxicating for you to even comprehend your own thoughts.

You shuffle slowly, attempting to get out of his grip in a way as not to disturb him. Your plan to be discreet fails in pure vain as a light groan is heard near your ear.

“Levi.” you whisper, sensing that his body is beginning to come alive, ever so slowly.

It takes a while for him to become aware of his position and remove his hand away. Almost immediately, you notice the growing distance between the two of you as he pulls away.

And all of a sudden you hate it. The iciness that your body feels as he pulls away, your brain almost lulling you to return to him, pull him back and close the distance between the two of you.

Ignoring your painful isolation, you sit up and stretch your aching legs before unwrapping yourself from the covers.

“Sorry,” you mumble,”I must’ve fallen asleep.”

There’s no response as he’s turned away from you, the back of his raven hair the only thing you see.

You don’t even know if he’s awake. You make the assumption that he’s not based on the fact that he doesn’t really say anything to you as you exit his room, the unspoken tension thick and awakened between the two of you.

Since then, not much has been impacted between the two of you although you both actively avoid discussing what happened that morning.

It’s not awkward but more so that the tension between the two of you has shifted ever so slightly.

“You better not touch the decorations either way.” you state after a long period of silence, flipping the next page of your novel.

Levi clicks his tongue in faux annoyance.

To you, you think that you’ve successfully won him over. But in reality…

he doesn’t really care if they stay up for the rest of the year or if you’re planning to take them all down tomorrow.

For long as you’re here; you can make up the rules

if you’d like to be tagged let me know !

[jeannereames]

If you could change or insert one aspect of the common pop culture picture most people have in their heads when they think about ATG what would it be?

I'm going to jump this in the queue because I can answer it swiftly, but also because I have TWO things that are personal pet peeves.

FIRST: That "historians" keep insisting Alexander and Hephaistion were "just good friends" in the face of obvious evidence to the contrary.

SECOND: Alexander called Hephaistion his Patroklos (to his own Achilles), and they used this comparison frequently throughout their lives.

So, let’s take on the “Fake News,” shall we?

The notion that "historians" keep insisting Alexander and Hephaistion were "just good friends" in the face of what would seem clear evidence to the contrary is over 50 fucking years out of date.

Are there “historians” out there who say that? Sure. But they tend to come in two flavors: 1) people who aren’t specialists, Hellenists, or even historians,⸸ or 2) Greeks.* Since Badian, Green, Hamilton, and Schachermeyer (et al.) took over Macedonian/Alexander studies mid-century, few specialists claimed Alexander and Hephaistion couldn’t have been lovers, or Alexander couldn’t have been attracted to men. Even Hammond cagily acknowledged it.

Yet—TBH—I don't think those who repost that meme really care. They just want a convenient strawman/whipping horse to make them sound "smarter than the experts."

You don't. You sound as if you haven't read much about Alexander since about 1975. Historians who have died of old age by now said Alexander and Hephaistion were probably lovers.

But that raises another problem: the implication that anybody who might argue they aren't lovers must be an old, white homophobic dude. Again, this is wrong.

The current discussion centers more on source problems, and separates Alexander having male lovers from Alexander and Hephaistion being lovers themselves (not the same thing, actually). Those making the best argument for caution are young, very much not homophobic (but absolutely brilliant) women (e.g., Sabine Müller). Follow the link to see a picture of Sabine, if you don’t believe me. I don't agree with her, but you can't shoot down her argument by screaming "Homophobe!" at the top of your lungs. The points she raises are all good ones and any responsible (and smart) historian will take them seriously.

As for the Alexander-Achilles/Hephaistion-Patroklos pastiche… yeah, sorry, no.

I realize this torques off folks, as it’s become a mainstay of queer culture surrounding Alexander as a gay icon and owes more than a little to Miller’s The Song of Achilles.

Busting it probably makes me sound like a Grinch.

BUT…the facts just don't support it. Yes, Alexander compared himself to Achilles--but not as much as to Herakles and Dionysos. Not even close.

How do I know? I COUNTED THEM. Facts ... not impressions.

After all, looking closely at what the sources (not impressions) actually say about Hephaistion is how I came to the conclusion the man was a lot more important than heretofore recognized. 😉

Again, as I’ve said elsewhere, Alexander did compare himself to Achilles. That’s not in dispute … it just wasn’t as frequent or common as modern fans like to pretend. And Hephaistion was compared to Patroklos only twice. There’s also a problem with WHO made those comparisons: chiefly Arrian. Again, I’ve talked about this elsewhere, so won’t go over it again.

Yes, I made the comparison myself in Dancing with the Lion: Becoming. But it concerned one circumstance near that book’s end (not giving spoilers), and isn’t something they harped on otherwise. That mirrors how it appears in our sources: it’s limited, and situational.

“Patroklos” was not Hephaistion’s nickname. Wish folks would stop claiming it was.

—————

⸸ Just because somebody is tagged “historian” on a History Channel special—or his own private blog—doesn’t mean they actually have a PhD, or even a Master’s, much less one in ancient history, Classics, Classical archaeology, or ancient art history. The number of idiots on Tik-tok yapping about how Alexander thought this or did that—and clearly know jack shit—routinely stuns me…even while it doesn’t. Dunning-Kruger Effect all over the damn place.

* Greeks must often work within the confines of official narratives in order to secure jobs and funding, which can limit what they say on certain topics, from who’s buried in “Philip’s Tomb,” to the Greekness of the ancient Macedonians, to any possible homosexual “taint” staining Alexander’s greatness. This may swim against the current of academic discourse outside Greece, even by other Greeks. The Greek Ministry of Culture and Sport has softened on some of these topics in recent years, especially as LGBTQIA rights have gained better traction in Greece.

[greypetrel]

Fanfic Writer Questions

Tagged by @melisusthewee, and at least another person. I'm sorry if I ignored the tag, I was away and it's a busy period, let me know ;_;

Tagging forward: @ndostairlyrium @shivunin @inquisimer and YOU who are reading and would like to do it!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 12, right now.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 497,183 ... I'm chatty.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Dragon Age, and a crossover with LOTR/The Silmarillion.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Home Was Never on the Ground (long fic, concluded, it's anthological and mainly me filling blanks in DAI as inspiration stroke)

She of Many Names (ongoing, a LOTR/Dragon Age crossover. A follower on Instagram asked me if Aisling was Sauron, the idea made me laugh so much that my mind took fire.)

Saturday Prompts (a collection of prompts I posted here. I never uploaded every one of them, oops)

Death and All of Its Friends (ongoing, a DA2 collection)

The Night Before First Day (Two chapters, concluded. One it's in rhyme and illustrated. Aisling taught her daughter that the Dreadwolf is Santa out of spite. Solas tries to disapprove.)

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, always!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I do love angst, but I don't like angsty endings all that much ahahahahah. I think the one that gets closer, in a bitter-sweet way, is One for the Road. Call me a sucker for rare-pairs, this was also prompted here and my brain took fire (LavellanxFenris)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The Night Before First Day. Listen I'm not a Christmas person, I turn into a seasonal depressed Grinch at Christmas, living in a catholic country doesn't help, and that is my way of giving myself some joy.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not that I know of.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Not any that I publish.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Yes I do. She of Many Names is a Dragon Age and LOTR crossover. I love it dearly, I'm slow to update it because I have the greatest love for Tolkien (with all his flaws, but my brain rewired when I saw the first movie, and the book has been my entire personality for two years. I wouldn't be the same person without it) and I do care of rendering it as I want.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? ... Not that I know of? I hope not, ahahahah :"D

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? If you consider that English is not my first language, all my fics are translated? xD Other than that, no.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but I'd love to.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? EowynxFaramir, hands down. Out of pure lenght. Maybe LeiaxHan Solo (my parents are both nerds, I think my mom made me watch Star Wars the first time... I don't remember, the vhs were always around in the house. I was very, very little.)(we don't talk about the sequel trilogy.)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I tried to write a third chapter for the aforementioned One for the Road... But it ends up in a love triangle and I don't like love triangles that aren't a poly relationship. So, it's sitting in my folder and I'll never finish it. I was considering ditching the second chapter and rewrite it as a "Aisling as a companion in DA2" fic... But MEH.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think dialogue. I am trained as a comic artist, which means that the writing parts that get polished are dialogue. I have much more experience with that. ... I am also terrible at judging my own work in a positive way, tho, so you tell me.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? English not being my first language and leading to mis-spellings. Other than that... I started writing fanfiction after YEARS of not writing anything in prose that wasn't screenplays for comics (which follows different rules). Since I stopped because of being hurt by it, I went on to it by not planning stuff.

I'm rusty with prose, and my retelling -the first thing I tackled- clearly had little planning ahead.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? It's a no, for me, unless you specifically wants your audience not to understand what's being said and create a sense of isolation and of not knowing what's going on. A sentence here and there with a translation is fine. But if it's something long... You want the reader to understand well. Italicized text it is.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I wouldn't call it a fandom, but: Greek Mythology. I drew a parody comic of the Iliad in my first high school year, alongside friends. It had been so fun. I also wrote, still in high school, something heavily inspired by Eragon, which only my friends had the pleasure of reading. (I'm only saying it involved my now most hated trope: THE SECRET TWIN.)

20. Favorite fic you've written? The next one.

I'm very invested in Ashes and Sparks, aka the Dreadwolf AU. I'm putting ideas in it and going fully canon divergent and writing it as I would like Inquisition to have gone. No Corypheus, more crazy tevinters, and the focus ON FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.

In a modern setting because yes.

It's also tackling something I absolutely hate in fiction when it's done wrongly, which is time travel, and I'm sweating and hoping I'll do it with logic. It's something niche and not so focused on a single ship, so probably it'll interest only me, but I'm happily writing and trying to contain myself from posting chapters of more than 10k.

Blank Form Under the Cut

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you've written?

[suseagull04]

Get to Know Me Better Tag Game

Thanks @iboatedhere and @na-dineee for the tag!

favorite color - Blue

last song - "Spiderman- The Main Title Theme" from 1967

currently reading - Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall and Diners & Double Dates by ACDs-Coffee from last year's @thebrownstone anniversary event!

currently watching - OBSESSED with the Summer Olympics!

currently craving - I miss Greek food! Specifically these zucchini balls we found everywhere that were AMAZING

coffee or tea - to paraphrase the Grinch, I don't touch coffee with a 39.5 foot pole

hobby to try - I have no idea what to say here, my life is pretty much reading books and writing and reading fics when I'm not at work...

current au - the Divergent AU I'm writing for @aroyallybigbangrwrb ! Plus an Olympics AU I'm trying to piece together before they're over, but we'll see how that goes...

Spicy/sweet/savory: I do really love a sweet treat, and salty things too

Current obsession: RWRB

Relationship status: in a relationship

Tagging @read-and-write- @14carrotghoul @thinkof-england @heysweetheart-writes @caterpills and open tag for anyone else who wants to do this!

[socalwriterbee]

Oh, Christmas Tree!

Book: Open Heart

Characters: Ethan Ramsey x Tessa Martinez (FMC)

Rating/Warning: Teen/Fluff

Word Count: 982

Summary: Ethan and Tessa's niece (Melody) are on the look out for a Christmas Tree, only to find out that the tree they are looking for his for his home.

A/N: It's been a minute since I've posted on a story on here and a few weeks ago I got this idea from a conversation about a christmas tree farm with @cariantha @txemrn and @peonierose. I hope it this is ok Cari, it got my mind going. I would also like to thank you for the little something I will be adding at the end. I absolutely love it!!

A/N 2: This was quickly edited, sorry for any errors and typos.

A/N 3: My posts will not have any tags, if you happen to stumble upon this story, Thank you for taking the time to read, like and/or share! Hope you enjoy!

Characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry!

Happy Holidays!

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

The sun sat bright in the sky, only giving some warmth to a cold December morning, the smell of pines surrounding them. Ethan found himself in search for the perfect Christmas Tree. Tessa was somewhere else with the rest of her family at a local Christmas Tree farm that was just outside the city limits. The ground crunched under his shoes as he tried to keep up with the little girl in front of him. 

It wouldn’t be hard to lose sight of her they way she was dressed, black pants, shoes that lit up with each step she took paired with a ‘ugly sweater’ as Melody called it and a beanie with a white pom right on top.

Ethan knew if he did not have her in his eye sight she would turn and go off on one of her adventures, where he would call out for her and he would only hear her soft giggles when she hid from him. 

Ethan sighed, he had been bested by Mel more times than he cared to admit. “Have you seen one you like?”

Melody answers him with a simple shake of her head.

What she was looking for Ethan had no clue, they passed trees he would have chosen, full, a nice shape to them, height was perfect for Talia’s family home. 

They were all here when Talia mentioned to Tessa and him about doing this when they went over to her home a couple weeks ago. Tessa’s sister was trying to work around their hospital schedule, Ethan found it quite nice to be included in their family activities and memories. 

He watched Melody stop in front of tree, it stood only a few inches taller than her. Ethan came to a stop next to her, looking down he saw the cold had nipped at her nose making the tip rosy. 

He felt the opposite of a chill when Melody’s warm little hand settled into his. “This one Uncle Ethan.”

The words he wanted to say died on the tip of his tongue but that didn’t stop him from thinking them in his head. The tree in question was quite sad, he tilted his head to the side while he took it in, it was more branches than anything, the needles sparse.

“Mel, are you sure?” He asked, she had to be mistaken the space meant for the Christmas Tree in her family room would swallow this little runt up. “We passed by a lot more bigger ones…”

“But I like this one.”

Alright.

How was Ethan going to sell this one to Tessa and her sister, he saw a smile spread across Melody’s little face and he knew that this little tree was going home with them. He could already hear Tessa, “that little girl has you wrapped around her finger.” 

“I guess we could make room for two trees in the family room.” Ethan said. 

He started pulling out his phone to call Tessa, when Melody’s voice stopped him. “No, Uncle Ethan it’s for you. Auntie Tess said we could decorate a tree for you.”

Ethan tucks his phone back into his coat and drops down to the four year old’s height, sort of he was still a couple inches taller but that didn’t stop her brown eyes from locking with his. “I don’t need one, sweetheart.”

Her little arms wrapped around his neck, Ethan lets out an oomph as he balances the two of them from the force of her hug. “I don’t want you to become a grinch.”

A grinch? Tessa. Ethan shook his head before taking the little girl in his arms, balancing her as he stands them up. “I won’t become a grinch.”

“But you don’t have any Christmas decorations, how will Santa find you to leave presents.”

“Oh.” Santa, right. Ethan tickles Melody, feeling her wiggle and her infectious laugh fill the air, it’s a quick distraction, one he hopes will buy him some time to come up with something. 

When she stopped laughing, Ethan turned them back to the tree in question. “You really like this one?”

Melody nods. 

“There you guys are.” Ethan and Melody turn to see Tessa making her way towards them. “What did you two find?”

“Auntie.” Melody calls out, trying to wiggle out of Ethan’s arms, before she can fall, he places her down and watches her run towards her aunt. 

“Did you find it Ladybug?” Tessa asks.

“Santa is going to like it aaalot.”

“Is he? Show me which one.” 

Ethan watched the interaction between aunt and niece before they made their way to him and the tree he stood in front of. When they reached Ethan, he heard Tessa let out a soft laugh before she turned to him. Tessa was biting her bottom lip to prevent herself from laughing even further. 

Ethan leans down and places a kiss at the corner of Tessa mouth, “This has you written all over it.”

Tessa’s eyes go wide. “Me?”

“You’re the only one who calls me a grinch.” Ethan says wrapping an arms around Tessa and bringing her into him. “And you’ve been trying to get me to decorate, so you enlist a child to do your bidding.”

The two of them look out in front them, Melody skipping around Ethan’s tree singing a Christmas song he doesn’t recognize. 

“Did it work?”

Ethan doesn’t answer her because Tessa already knows the answer. “This is the one Mel.”

Melody stops skipping and singing to only start jumping with excitement. “I did it Auntie Tess.”

“Yes, you did Ladybug.”

“I picked the ugliest tree like you said.”

Tessa slipped out of Ethan’s embrace before he could say anything that Melody could hear. Ethan could only laugh to himself, he had fallen once more to the mischief niece and aunt came up with.

This time it was with a little holiday spirit.

[duusheen]

Thank you @aliengirl and @theosconfessions for the tag! luv u <3

💓 Favorite Three Ships: ed & stede, hopper & joyce aaaaand destiel!

🎧 Last Song: What I Did To You by Bless You 🎶

🎬 Last Movie: The Nightmare Before Christmas and The Grinch (I watch those two movies every Christmas 😆)

📖 Currently Reading: Over the weekend, I read 2 books by Louise Collins ✌🏽

🌶️ Craving: French toast and Coffe 🤤

👯‍♀️ Relationship status: I ended a relationship of more than 10 years because she suddenly wanted a boyfriend. so I'm single now yay!🤣

🪷 Last Thing I Googled: "what happens if I fall asleep after I hit my head?" It was for writing purposes, i'm ok lmao

💫 Current Obsession: SpainRP, Divinity Original Sin and Louise Collins 😉

[funtimeisparty]

How The Grinch Stole Christmas

[kipscorner]

-- Anything in parentheses (abc) feel free to delete! -- Anything in square brackets [abc] feel free to change! -- This is a long post, so please remember to tag “long post tw” or some kind of varient of the sort so you don’t clog mobile users dashes/people who don’t have “shorten posts.” turned on! :D

“Doesn't this seem like a bit much?”

“This is what Christmas is all about! Can't you feel it?”

“You guys, where are we? I think we should go back.”

“Serves them right, those Yuletide-loving sickly-sweet, nog-sucking cheer mongers!”

“I really don't like them. No, I don't.”

“I've been much too tolerant of these (Whovenile) delinquents and their innocent, victimless pranks.”

“So, they want to get to know me, do they?”

“I guess I could use a little social interaction.”

“Yeah, you bet. Ho, ho, ho, and stuff…”

“You see, [name]? The city is a dangerous place.”

“Now, please, don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.”

“Well, it's just, I look around at you and [Mom] and everyone getting all kerbobbled. Doesn't this seem...superfluous?”

“I think they were up on the mountain playing with matches, or defacing public property, or....”

“Take a look at his mailbox, (sweetie). Not a single Christmas card, in or out… Ever!”

“And for the rest of you: Jury duty! Jury duty! Jury duty! Blackmail. Pink slip. Chain letter. Eviction notice. Jury duty!”

“Well, that worked out nicely.”

“[Max], let's go. Our work here is finished.”

“Don't you know you shouldn't take things that don't belong to you? What's your problem? Are you a wild animal?”

“Saving you? Is that what you think I was doing? Wrong-o.”

“You've been practicing your Christmas wrapping! I am so proud of you.”

“My, I've never seen so many beautiful Christmas lights, [Betty Lou!]”

“It's handcrafted and almost 100 years old.”

“Come on, hurry up, Slowpoke.”

“What's that stench? It's fantastic!”

“One man's toxic sludge is another man's potpourri.”

“Did Christmas change or just me?"

“First floor, factory rejects.”

“But we did our worst. And that's all that matters.”

“At least I scared the bejeebles out of that little [girl] at the post office. [She]'ll be scarred for life, if we're lucky.”

“Funny she didn't rat on us, though. Must be afraid of reprisals.”

“If you utter so much as one syllable I'll hunt you down and gut you like a fish!”

“I've got all the company I need right here.”

“I'm an idiot!”

“You're an idiot!”

“Am I just eating because I'm bored?”

“In your own words, please tell me everything you know about [the Grinch.]”

“Hey, honey, our baby is here! He looks just like your boss.”

“It was Christmas Eve, and a strange wind blew that night.”

“Do you want a Christmas cookie?”

“Don't forget, tomorrow is our big Christmas gift exchange.Everyone bring a special gift for a special someone.”

“You don't have a chance with [her].”

“It was a horrible day when they were so cruel to [him]. And I could hardly bear it.”

“And that was the last time we ever saw [him]. The very last time.”

“I hate you.Hate, hate, hate. Hate, hate, hate. Double hate. Loathe entirely!”

“Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!”

“I may do something drastic.”

“You made that up! It doesn't say that.”

“But the book does say: The cheer-meister is the one who deserves a back slap or a toast. And it goes to the soul at Christmas who needs it most."

“Blast this Christmas music. It's joyful and triumphant.”

“The impudence! The audacity! The unmitigated gall!”

“You called down the thunder now, get ready for the boom!”

“Gaze into the face of fear!”

“You see? Even now the terror is welling up inside you.”

“Run for your life before I kill again!”

“Maybe you need a time-out.”

“Kids today. So desensitized by movies and television.”

“"Holiday Whobie-what-y"?”

“I know you hate Christmas, but what if it's all just a misunderstanding?”

“I myself am having some Yuletide doubts.”

“Award? You never mentioned an award!”

“Was anyone emotionally shattered?”

“Come on, a minute ago I couldn't shut you up! Details, details!”

“I don't know if it's that adorable twinkle in your eye or that nonconformist streak that reminds me of a younger, less hairy me.”

“Who knows? This Whobilation could change my entire outlook on life!”

“You can make snow angels later.”

“The nerve of those (Whos). Inviting me down there on such short notice. Even if I wanted to go, my schedule wouldn't allow it.”

“4:00, wallow in self-pity. 4:30, stare into the abyss. 5:00, solve world hunger tell no one. 5:30, jazzercise. 6:30, dinner with me… I can't cancel that again. 7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing… I'm booked! If I bumped the loathing to 9:00, I'd have time to lay in bed stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness.”

“It's not a dress, it's a kilt! Sicko!”

“This is ridiculous. If I can't find something nice to wear, I'm not going! That's it, I'm not going.”

“Ohh, ahh, mmm… That's it, I'm not going.”

“[He] isn't here. What? [He] didn't show? Who could have predicted this?

“All right. I'll swing by for a minute, allow them to envy me grab a handful of popcorn shrimp, and blow out of there.”

“But what if it's a cruel prank? What if it's a cash bar? How dare they!”

“All right, I'll go. But I'll be fashionably late.”

“All right. I've made my decision! I'm going, and that's that!”

“Come on, while I'm young!”

“But first, a little family reunion.”

“Are you two still living?”

“Sweater? What are you talkin' about? No, I can't! I can't do that!”

“No. I can't do it, honestly. I'm not ready. It's too much, too soon!”

“I've got a lawyer. There'll be hell to pay!”

“Look at the time. I really should be getting back.”

“Bring it on! Is that all you got? Is that all you got? Come on!”

“That's what it's all about, isn't it? That's what it's always been about!”

“Look, I don't want to make waves, but this whole Christmas season is stupid, stupid, stupid!”

“There is, however one teeny-tiny Christmas tradition I find quite meaningful. Mistletoe.”

“Burn, baby! Burn!”

“Evening, folks. Mind if I ride along? You might want to scooch over.”

“You fellas all right? How about a nice hat?”

“I'm hurt, [Lou]. I'm hurt, and I don't hurt easily.”

“But you and your family.... I'm so disappointed.”

“I just wanted everybody to be together for Christmas.”

“Suffering snorkelblatz! They're relentless!”

“Oh, no. I'm speaking in rhyme!”

“I must stop this whole thing. Why for year after year I've put up with it now.”

“Are you having a holly, jolly Christmas? Wrong-o!”

“If you're not going to help me then you might as well…”

“You're as cuddly as a cactus and as charming as an eel.”

“Just face the music, you're a monster.”

“Your heart's an empty hole.”

“I asked for three-quarters, not five-eighths. Stay focused!”

“Air bag is a little slow. But that's what these tests are for!”

“Talk about a recluse. He only comes out once a year, and he never catches any flak for it!”

“Probably lives up there to avoid the taxes.”

“No, forget that part. We'll improvise.”

“Saving Christmas was a lousy ending. Way too commercial.”

“We're gonna die! We're gonna die! I'm going to throw up, and then I'm gonna die!”

“[Mommy], tell it to stop!”

“Almost lost my cool there.”

“It's Santa! Go right back to sleep.”

“[He]'s planning a double-twisting interrupted forward-flying 2-and-a-half with a combo tuck and pike. High degree of difficulty.”

“Blasted water weight! Goes right to my hips.”

“Okay, fellas. Show time.”

“[Mr. Santa], what are you doing with our tree?”

“[Santa], what's Christmas really about?”

“I know [he]'s mean and hairy and smelly. [His] hands might be cold and clammy. But I think [he]'s actually kind of sweet.”

“Nice kid. Bad judge of character.”

“Clearance sale. Everything must go.”

“That wasn't so bad, was it, [Max]?”

“What an embarrassment! I've been robbed!”

“I wonder who could have done this.”

“But did anyone listen to me? No.”

“[Cindy], I hope you're very proud of what you've done.”

“You're glad. You're glad everything is gone. You're glad that [the Grinch] virtually wrecked.... No, not wrecked, pulverized Christmas. Is that what I'm hearing?”

“You can't hurt Christmas, [Mr. Mayor], because it isn't about the gifts or the contests or the fancy lights. That's what [Cindy]'s been trying to tell everyone! And me. [She]'s been trying to tell me.”

“What's wrong with you? This is a child!”

“[She]'s my child. And she happens to be right, by the way.”

“I don't need anything more for Christmas than this right here, my family!”

“Now for the final note in my symphony of downright nasty not-niceness! The crescendo of my odious opus! The wailing and the gnashing of teeth. The bellowing of the bitterly bummed out! It'll be like music to my ears!”

“Somehow or other, it came Just the same!”

“How could it be so? It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!”

“Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

“Help me! I'm feeling!”

“What's happening to me? I'm all toasty inside. And I'm leaking?”

“All right, that's enough! Knock it off! beat it! Get out of here! One step at a time!

“Wait! This can't happen! It shouldn't! It couldn't! It mustn't! It wouldn't! Not now, not then, not ever again!”

“What are you doing up there!?”

“I came to see you. No one should be alone on Christmas.”

“I got you, [Cindy Lou]!”

“Are you kiddin'? The sun is bright and the powder's bitchin'!”

“Now scoot over! It's my turn to drive!”

“Now you listen to me, [young] [lady]! Even if we're horribly mangled there'll be no sad faces on Christmas.”

“By the way, these lights match your outfit perfectly.”

“This could be more difficult to negotiate.”

“Out of the way! I have no insurance!”

“Run for your lives! Watch out, I can't stop!”

“Aren't you gonna cuff me? Put me in a choke hold? Blind me with pepper spray?”

“Sorry but my heart belongs to someone else.”

“Cheer up, dude. It's Christmas.”

“There's nothin' like the holidays.”

“Too late! That'll be mine.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

What would Mousey get Curtis?

Christmas Countdown day 21 — Go Christmas present shopping for your spouse/partner/mate

You grit your teeth and second guessed the gift you had given Curtis. He was the man who had everything he wanted or needed, he was almost impossible to shop for considering that if he had wanted anything he got it for himself. Curtis Everett was the last person you had to shop for on your list, and in the end you had decided to go the hand-made route.

You had gotten the idea off of Pinterest when you were searching for gifts to get the man who had everything, and immediately set your sights upon the coupons that would propel the relationship to an incredible new level. However in the same thought and breath, you’d been hesitant to actually create make and give them to him, wondering if you were overthinking the relationship.

Did Curtis really want you as much as you wanted him? And if you had given him these coupons, would he laugh you off or think you were a stupid?

In the end, your idea won out and you had spent the better part of an hour printing, cutting, tying and setting the coupon book together all while the dirty images filled your mind of things that would or could take place when he opened them. The books of coupons for things like a private strip tease, a lap dance, an evening of ‘dress-up’ and a massage, was a catalyst that had you losing your mind to the idea of Curtis touching, tasting and indulging in you.

“Pull yourself together.” You had given yourself a subtle scold while tying the last deep red ribbon around the book and then you dropped it like it was burning you, even going as far as to subtly kick it toward the pile of Curtis’ other gifts.

The gift looked inconspicuous, tucked safely inside a nondescript decorated box with your red ribbon tied around the width. You’d added Curtis’ name to a tag and tied the tag to the end of the red ribbon, finalizing the present with a soft sigh. You were in a state of doubting yourself again and again, wondering if you were overstepping and overthinking your relationship.

Your chance to take the present back had ended when Curtis had come into the living room dressed in a pair of low riding sweats and a plain white shirt that had no longer hidden his tattooed than his size and strength.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” You spoke without being asked, your eyes growing wide and your lips parting as Curtis raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Shut up, I didn’t do anything.”

His silence made you nervous, his stare made heat bloom and burst in your belly. You had cleared your throat and averted your eyes, slowly spying a gift with your name on it, shoved under the tree. You had tilted your head and looked back at Curtis with furrowed brows, your lips pursing.

“Don’t even think about peeking, Mousey.” Curtis’ voice hit your ears, the pleasant sound making you feel weak in the knees.

“I wasn’t doing anything, and i wasn’t going to peek.” You huffed, rolling your eyes with indignation.

“Sure,” Curtis hummed, amusement playing on his lips, “come here baby. Come keep me warm.”

“You’re warmer than me,” you’d countered, strolling toward him regardless.

“Fine, I’ll keep you warm.” Curtis pulled you into his lap, holding you close with one arm around your waist, and the other had been reaching for a blanket. “Choose a movie, the boys are sleeping.”

“I like How The Grinch Stole Christmas, reminds me of you.” You leaned back against him, slowly breathing in his scent.

“Unlike the Grinch, my heart isn’t the only thing that grows in size.” Curtis whispered huskily in your ear, grinding your ass against his erection.

[master-wus-tea]

2023 Christmas Prompts!

Now with interchangeable prompts!

It's that time! I've posted prompts on 3 blogs for 3 years now! For any fandom or OCs, but tagged Ninjago as that's my main fandom! Tag me in your results (if you want!) (bolded for better reading) (these are mostly winter/Christmas prompts!)

Main Prompts

 Dec 1) Snack Cakes:

Dec 2) Pine Trees:

Dec 3) Christmas Shopping:

Dec 4) Decorating the tree:

Dec 5) Hanging Stockings:

Dec 6) Christmas Music:

Dec 7) Paper Snowflakes:

Dec 8) Too many blankets:

Dec 9) Mugs:

Dec 10) Snow Day:

Dec 11) Christmas Cookies:

Dec 12) Wrapping Gifts:

Dec 13) Wreath:

Dec 14) Lots of lights:

Dec 15) Hot Cocoa Stand:

Dec 16) Nutcracker:

Dec 17) Golden Days/Nostalgia 

Dec 18) Holiday Book:

Dec 19) Ornaments:

Dec 20) Reindeer:

Dec 21) Sappy Christmas Movie:

Dec 22) Snow Angel:

Dec 23) Homemade Garland:

Dec 24) Advent Calendar:

Dec 25) Home For Christmas:

Extra/Other Prompts to use!

Family Vacation

Family Picture

Matching Sweaters

Mistletoe 

Grinch

Santa Hat

Red and Green

SnowGlobe

Feast

Baking treats

Snowed in

Lighting/Plugging in the tree

Candles

Festive Seasonal Foods

Cold Weather

Snuggled up for warmth

Down the Chimney

Too Many Marshmallows

Snowless Winter Day

Vintage Holiday

Hot Cocoa/Holiday Sweets truck

Seeing Lights

Making Christmas lists

[good-rwbyaus]

I learned today that Tumblr posts are limited to only 100 inline links. I also learned that if I keep doing this I will probably vomit blood.

I think what I'll do later is just dedicated mod posts for the AUs, though Mod Green will probably need 1 or 2 or 3 posts lol.

I've been skipping one / two-liners mostly. But if you really want to seek them, you can use the mod's personal tag to search for them.

Currently, the post range of this post is March 24th 2021 to November 15th 2019.

Mod Green

Ozcury AU - Mercury's training Ruby.

Ozcury AU - Fight at Haven with Oz-Mercury in the middle.

Crack/Reference to unknown?!Adam is a total fanboy of Summer Rose and discovers he just maimed her stepdaughter.

DevilMayCry!AU - Distant cousin Dante drops by for a visit to the Schnees.

Ozcury AU - Instead of Oscar's head, Ozpin ends up in Mercury's!

AU where Raven isn't a coward - which makes her into an overly enthusiastic mom

Weapon Souls AU - Crescent Rose is Ruby's twin.

Konosuba!AU Aqua Weiss + Megumin Ruby

Weapon Souls AU - Crocea Mors acting as Jaune's mom much to his annoyance.

Konosuba!AU Darkness!Pyrrha explaining why she likes Jaune.

Weapon Souls AU - ModAsk: Huntsmen weapons have human forms a la Soul Eater

Jaune gets no respect AU (Dangerfield AU?)

Ruby unintentionally steals Emerald and Mercury through sincere kidness

AU where armor does what it's supposed to do. And why Jaune is seen is a tough guy.

GrimmPyrrhaAU! - A clone of Pyrrha that sorta ends up defecting.

AU where the filler villain adam is cut out

SaturdayMorningCartoonVillain!Salem AU - Ozpin suffers.

Ben10!Mercury AU

Ironwood calls for backup for Mantle. Master Chief, Duke Nukem, and Doomguy show.

Nicholas Schnee is still alive. Visit Vytal to see the grandkids.

Bluby x Jaune shipping

Bluby x Jaune shipping

AU where the heroes save the world by wearing the tingle outfit from BoTW.

AU where Watts has a crippling Pokemon Go addiction.

Jaune is recruited to teach Ruby to dance for her wedding!

Emerald Schnee AU!

Tyrian developed a fear of Ruby after she maimed him. Discovers her again at the Rally.

Mr. Taurus Grinch Song.

Aura-amp AU! Ruby and Weiss get an unfortunate speed boost.

Conspiracy!Raven meets Penny

ModsInRemnantAU!

Mod Yellow

All of Yellow's most recent posts till 2019-ish.

Mod Lilac

The Things Jaune Arc (and the rest of Team Remnant) are not allowed to do at Beacon Academy (post-saving the world)

Evil Ozpin AU - Picking the Kids Up

The Vytal Campaign (RWBY is a DND campaign)! - Salem and Ozpin play out the Lost Fable.

MetalDong69 - Crack!AU where Salem gives up her plans for consquest because she got addicted to FortKnight. Ironwood is her greatest online rival.

Blake's Book Trade - Blake never becomes a Huntress and becomes a bookstore owner instead.

Medical Intern AU - Jaune never becomes a Hunter and becomes an medical intern instead. (pt 1b)

Crack!Like an Oz (to the beat of Like a Boss)

Becoming AU - Ruby mistakenly believed to be a secret professor at Beacon - Pyrrha's perspective

Rising Snow AU - Pieces 12-14 - Where Whitley had been keeping the company viable since he was young - Meeting "Acacia"

Becoming AU - Ruby being made an offer she can't refuse - aka Weapon / Weapon Maintenance Club.

Crack!Glynda Runs an OnlyFans account???? - not as nsft as it sounds.

JAUNE IM GOING TO KILL YOU - Jaune's semblance is to make other people turn into harem protagonists. Blake suffers.

Someone asks a stupid question while Salem is trying to ask Jinn her questions.

Rising Snow AU - Pieces 10-11

Destiny AU - Epilogue: Oscar

Becoming AU - Perspective: Yang's POV on Ruby being mistaken for a Professor.

Becoming AU - Perspective: Weiss

Becoming AU - Start - Crack(taken Seriously)!Ruby is mistaken for a Beacon professor and Ozpin just rolls with it.Uncle Crow AU - Pt 2

Uncle Crow AU - Pt 1

Rising Snow AU - 7-9

Rising Snow AU - Crack!Beginning: Whitley is the sole reason why the SDC is up and running.

Of Caerbannog - Crack!Why you don't piss off Velvet Scarlatina

Team STRQ - Loudly observing at two girls' competing affections for the same guy is bad for your health.

FullmetalAlchemistAU! Reenactment of the Chimera scene. (I'm sorry.)

Actors and Actresses AU - convincing - blake convincing yang.

Actors and Actresses AU - first interview with lisa - weiss

Scatter - Summer kills Salem. It doesn't take. - incomplete

House!AU - Dr. Arc - incorrect quotes style

AccidentalMastermindAU!Salem - the Rainforests of Vacuo

Be Careful Who You Blackmail AU - Jaune and Cardin have a heart to heart in Forever Fall.

big brother jaune to Oscar and Whitley AU

Other - Submission

Planeswarden AU - watcher-servant

DevilMayCry AU! Dante and Winter cousins that don't get along - random-reborn

Aura-Amp AU! Jaune accidentally brings Blake's clone to life. - pandemic-smiles

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Rules: post 10 of your favourite comfort movies then tag 10 people.

Thank you for the tag @its-all-ineffable 💖

The Holiday. Hot people Christmassy romcom, what's not to like? What Jack Black does with his character!! Beautiful!! And do I need to say more than Kate Winslet? Also single dad Jude Law in glasses!! Cameron Diaz rocking out to The Killers!! And driving a Mini down a country road and nearly getting wiped out by a lorry. So accurate it's *chefs kisses* Favourite scenes include: Arthur's moment to shine, Miles and Iris in Blockbuster and the tent scene with the kids with an honourable mention for Mr Napkinhead 😂 It's my go-to movie whenever I'm sad because it's just so stupidly funny and adorable.

How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Jim Carrey. That's all I have to say. Honestly, I've seen this film a million times. I can quote it by heart and do so regularly much to my mums annoyance. The schedule scene is very me anytime I'm invited anywhere 😂 some favourite quotes "Am I just eating because I'm bored" "Hate, hate, hate. Hate, hate, hate. Double hate. LOATHE ENTIRELY!" "We're gonna die! I'm going to throw up, and then I'm gonna die!" "The insolence! The audacity! The unmitigated gall!" "Nice kid... bad judge of character" (absolutely me with my niblings) It's just the perfect remedy whenever I'm ill.

The Muppets Christmas Carol. I love all the adaptations but this one is my favourite. Me and my mum snuggle up every Christmas Eve and sing along. It reminds me of the magic of childhood Christmases and soothes something deep in my soul.

The Old Guard. This is the only adrenaliney one cos I have anxiety and I need chill shit if I watch a film but Joe & Nicky are my perfect Immortal Husbands and the tiny details of their relationship are all-encompassing and easily distract from all the murder and kidnap 😂

Mary Poppins. Do I need to say more than Julie Andrews? Dick Van Dyke. The outfits. The songs. Suffragettes. Tea parties on the ceiling. Dancing penguins. The merry-go-round horses. When I was a kid my mum used to foster so our house was always full of kids who needed someone to love them, make them feel safe and bring them some joy. That's probably why Poppins is one of my comfort characters, my mum was her.

Alice In Wonderland. Any of the adaptations. They're all brilliant. I do love the 1951 animation though mainly bc I adore the dormouse scene but becoming BFFs with a load of weird and wonderful creatures in a dreamstate is just *chefs kisses* Any scene with The Mad Hatter in any of the adaptations is my favourite but I am a sucker for the clean cup move down scene.

Sherlock Gnomes. I also love any Sherlock adaption but this one's just hysterical. Watson is just done™️. Sherlock and Juliet's squirrel disguise when sneaking through the park kills me every time. Moriarty as a pastry mascot and the fact he has dumb gargoyles as his assistants. Perfection really. Honestly, this film is just so fucking stupid you can't possibly feel sad when you watch it.

Monsters, Inc. bc it might've been like twenty years but I still want a Sully hug!! Also the pure beautiful hilarious chaos that is this film cracks me up. "Mike Wazowski", "Always watching" and "Put that thing back where it came from or so help me" are just killer lines. I absolutely adore The Abominable Snowman too he's just too sweet.

The Addams Family. Any of the films. All of the films. Gomez and Morticia are ultimate couple goals. They adore each other. Support their kids unconditionally. So kind and generous it often gets them in trouble. They're just perfect.

Red, White And Royal Blue. Last but not least, only because it's the newest. This film was amazing!! I adored the book and although the film is different I love that it's basically a 'what if' fanfic of itself. It was genuinely lovely to be able to watch a queer story and be able to relax with it!! Don't get me wrong I love how profound queer films can be but they either have me gripped in anxiety waiting for the shoe to drop or have me reaching for a comedian to brush away the deep-seated sadness. I felt so safe and yeah they have their ups and downs like every couple but I think I'd have felt the same safety with those characters even if I hadn't read the book first. 5* 10/10 highly recommend. Will be watching this on repeat for the foreseeable future.

Absolutely no pressure tags @mickalaem @flowercrowngods @auroraplume @estrellami-1 @i-less-than-three-you @mentallyundone @hbyrde36 @penny00dreadful @adhdsummer @writingfanficsfan 💖

[burke-juliet]

i was tagged by the lovely @targaryeirene and i usually always forget to do this stuff so i'm doing it immediately lol

• last song: bruce springsteen's live version of santa claus is coming to town (i was listening to my christmas playlist)

• favorite color: red, especially the darker shades

• currently watching: finally watching new girl, i'm on season 3

• currently reading: dead voices by katherine arden, i rarely read middle school lit but when i do it's gotta be horror

• last movie: rewatched how the grinch stole christmas, one of the very few christmas movies i actually enjoy

• first ship: i honestly don't remember but will/elizabeth from pirates of the caribbean was one of the first ones for sure (bisexual culture <3)

• three ships: i'm gonna go with my top ships this year, so henry/alex (red, white and royal blue), kaz/inej (six of crows) and mulder/scully (the x-files) / (although who am i kidding kanej is on my top ships every year)

• current obsession: mh i'm not sure i have a specific one, just my usual ones. i'd say that i've been completely obsessed with firstprince/rwrb since i read the book in july/august, and the proof of my obsession is that i've actually started reading ffs of them, and i usually never read ffs that much. i just always miss them and i need CONTENT and there's a few trusted ff authors that really get the characters and it's almost like reading canon, so here we are

• relationship status: single lmao what kind of question

• last thing i googled: balmoral test, i had no idea what it was

tagging @ronandreams @wickedhawtwexler @linusbenjamin @daniels-gillies @hamster-on-fire no pressure of course! 🌹