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asuyaka · 4 months

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Hello Arlan! I love you’re writing so much and was wondering if you could write someone with Aki from CSM since i see there isn’t a ton requested on here! What i was thinking was Aki and Reader(FtM or whatever feels best!) Having lots of little romantic moments together. Doing your chores everything like that and once they finish relaxing on the couch and they open up to one another about current life struggles and grow more and more intimate that Reader and Aki go into the bedroom and slowly but romantically have one another in the sheets. I love domestic like fics and i would love to see how you interpret this. I give you full reign to choose what happens but that’s just what i give to start an idea. I hope you are healthy and well!!

★ - m'was kinda strugglin' on if it should be FtM or cis... ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ ⁭ also!! CSM hype Reze 's gettin animated ໒꒰ྀི >ヮ<꒱ྀི১

☆ - Aki Hayakawa x FtM! Reader!

♡ - m'cigarette addicted boyfie...໒꒰ྀི ๑>///<๑ ꒱ྀིა | slight manga spoilers but no names are dropped!! | wowie, this one took a lottt outta me! but, anythin' for you guys!! merry (late) christmas ૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა

✪ - amab terminology, dom Aki/sub reader, praise, dacryphilia, nipple play, fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk, uses the term 'hole' and 'dick/cock' for readers genitals, slight degradation/mocking, creampie(s), n implied aftercare!!

Aki Hayakawa’s children are a handful. There is no other way to say it. However, you could say you enjoyed it whenever they got rowdy. After killing the Control and Gun Devil and everyone (surprisingly) making it out alive, Power and Denji have been inseparable ever since.

Constantly bickering about who’s getting the larger portion of juice, running around the house at fuck off O’clock yelling something about how Martians are going to invade Japan with tin foil shaped like a cone on their heads, or having… barf contests for some odd reason.

Then there was you Aki, and some girl Kishibe gave you after the control devil incident. Aki insisted on moving since the house was too big for five people and an absurd amount of dogs. He also pulled Denji and Power out of Public Safety and enrolled them in school when he figured out they were nowhere near the proper academic level for teenagers— and helped them with their homework whenever they got it.

The girl was always close to Denji or with the dogs. She was nice, a little freaky when you realized she was the new Control Devil, but you soon realized she was nothing like the past one.

She embodied a fresh new slate, a perfect addition to the family slowly building itself back together after almost losing important people in your lives.

“I’m back, I got groceries so we could make dinner when they’re back from Kishibe’s,” Aki says, accompanied by the automated chime that sounded through the house every time the door opened.

Donned in a plain apron jacket, Aki’s clothes, and house slippers, you greet him at the door with a kiss, an excited smile adorning your face. “Welcome back! I uh, wrote you something.”

Aki cocks an eyebrow slightly as his hands snake to settle on your waist, breathing in the scent of his shampoo on your hair. “What is it, baby?”

Walking towards the living room–albeit a bit awkwardly with the addition of your boyfriend behind you– you pick up a note from the table, an excited but shy look on your face as you hand him the paper.

Aki silently reads it behind you, remaining expressionless until he finishes. “You’re so sappy, you know that?” He breathes out, peppering kisses against your cheek.

A warm flush spreads through your body, slightly pushing his face away from yours. “I need to finish doing the dishes, wait on the couch?”

Aki kisses your cheek once more before nodding, the warmth around your waist leaving as he sits on the couch.

Immediately missing the added heat against your body, you do the dishes with added haste. Not too fast for Aki to pick up on what you were doing, but fast enough for your hands to gain slight ice burn.

You take your apron off and hold it, placing it next to Aki’s. It’s a slight, domestic feature that makes your heart swell up fondly. Aki’s blue eyes catch yours as he pats a seat next to him on the couch.

He wraps his arms around you, pushing your back against his chest and intertwining your legs. Moments like this make you feel lucky. Lucky to have Aki alive and your kids (?) alive too.

“What was it like being in public safety?” You ask absentmindedly, adjusting your position so you’re laying on top of him, chest against chest.

Aki’s eyes widened, his face slightly contorting in confusion. “What’s with the sudden question?”

“Well,” You shrug, intertwining his hands in yours. “You quit and I just got a little curious since you know… all that happened. I guess I was scared you and the kids wouldn’t come back to me.”

He stares at you and sighs, pulling you closer and putting your face in the crook of his neck. “I know, I’m sorry. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exactly good either. People died, a lot, and a part of me guessed that one day I’d die before I ever got a chance to find people to care about.”

“There was Himeno, of course, but that wasn’t the same.” Aki sighs, a vague image of his friend flashing through his face. “Ironically, it was when I met those two dumbasses and you that I think my life… turned around?”

“I was forced to take care of Denji and Power, obviously, but the added responsibility of taking care of two people who don’t know how to do long division made me care for them in a reverse psychological type way.”

Aki’s hands are under your shirt, drawing images on your bare back. “Then I met you and changed even more. I never thought I’d be able to have a significant other, not to talk about loving someone romantically.”

Aki isn’t good with expressing his emotions, and even though he’s millions of light years better than when you first met him, hearing him outright say that you changed him, for the better, makes something swell inside you.

“‘n I’m the sap.” You say in feigning annoyance, pressing a kiss on his neck. You feel his body shudder as the hands on your back dig into your skin. “Missed you.”

You move to straddle his waist, a warm flush spreading across your body. “Aki,” a shiver runs down your spine as you suck in a breath. Like a broken record, you repeat yourself. “Aki,”

Curling your fingers into his shirt, you pull him forward and push your lips into his.

You feel him move, his chest pressing against yours as he pushes you to lay your back on the couch. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, the smoothness of his topknot under your fingertips. He tastes tangy, addictive. His tongue swirls around yours, a tiny whine forces its way through your throat.

Pulling away, Aki plays with the bottom of your (his) shirt. “Can I take this off?”

“Yes, Aki please,” You whisper shakily, watching his eyes darken as he swiftly takes your shirt off, throwing it on the floor somewhere and burying his face in your neck.

Soft whines emit from your mouth, hands going to remove the hair tie holding his hair up. His dark blue hair cascaded past his neck and rested on his shoulders. Aki’s hands follow the soft arch of your back and leave indents of his teeth, accompanied by bruises forming on your neck.

Electricity pools in your stomach and flows straight to your dick. Aki spreads your legs with his big hands, his mouth nibbling on the tip of your nipple. “Bedroom?” You whisper breathlessly, remembering none of the people you and Aki are acquainted with know how to knock (except for Angel).

He groans and picks you up as if you weigh nothing, tossing you over his shoulder and opening the door to your shared bedroom with his foot. He puts you on the bed and readily restarts his ministrations.

You watch him play with the waistband of your boxers as his teeth graze the tip of your dick through the fabric. Your legs instinctively come to close, separated by his head. Aki grunts, his hands pressing into the flesh of your thighs, prying them apart and keeping you still. “Stay still.”

Sounds of protest bubble up but the second you feel him lick your cock, it shuts you up instantly. You won’t admit how hard seeing Aki between your legs makes you. Your hole clenches around nothing as slick pools between your thighs.

“Aki,” You mutter, your hands gripping the sheets. “Just take them off already.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” Aki tuts, feigning annoyance as he grabs your thigh so you’re focused on his face. There’s a bare hint of flush on his cheeks, pressing against the crease where your thigh and crotch meet.

It’s like a mental game. Aki knows what he’s doing, how to play with your body to get the exact reaction he needs, and you were dumb to think he wouldn’t use that against you. “No… m’sorry,” You sniffle, fighting back the tears that you weren’t aware of bubbling up.

It’s embarrassing, the hold he has on you. All it takes is a few kisses and some manhandling to have you whining under him like a slut.

Nonetheless, he hikes your hips up and finally takes your boxers. A small gasp leaves your lips as Aki forces your legs above his knees, now properly sitting on the bed. You can feel the swell of his bulge on your ass. There, so close to where you need it the most.

“Open,” Aki’s fingers slip into your mouth, pulling at the corners with a smile on his face. He plays with your tongue, obscene slurping sounds forcing their way into your ears.

It’s not like you’re trying to be loud, but it’s so quiet that you’re practically forced to hear it. Every shortened breath, every whine, words of encouragement every time Aki calls you a good boy, his good boy.

You whimper when his fingers leave your mouth, a messy trail of spit connecting them. His free hand spreads you apart as he scoots down, a glob of spit landing on your cock and sliding down onto your hole.

His fingers find your hole instantly, rubbing against your dick in slow circles. “Aki—ah!” There’s a steady heat building in your abdomen, tight and needy.

“Hm? Something you wanna tell me, baby?” He pushes in a knuckle at a time, just below where you need it. You bite your lip, from the slight burn and the tease of pleasure.

You try to speak– tell him what you need but another finger pushes in and you're interrupted by your hiss. It felt a bit premature, it has been a while since you and Aki had sex so you aren’t as open as you normally would be. Aki leans in for a kiss. It’s demanding, and greedy as he takes your breath away, biting at your lips. Aki’s fingers begin sissorcing, a tiny mewl of surprise leaving your throat.

It takes a minute for the pain to leave completely and the pleasure to take over, g-spot hit dead on. “Oh–” You sigh, fingers holding onto Aki’s shoulder as he breathes your air, foreheads pressed against each other.

“Aki,” You’re out of breath and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. It’s humiliating, embarrassing, yet it feels so good. Aki moves down, his teeth leaving a trail as he settles on your left nipple. He circles the areola. His teeth nip and bite the bud, sucking as his fingers move faster.

It’s good, mind-breakingly so, but it hurts. There’s too much stimulation at once and you’ve completely forgotten everything other than Aki. How Aki feels, what he tastes like, your entire mind is Aki, Aki, Aki.

“Feels good, right baby boy?” Aki coos, his thumb circling the tip of your cock with a newfound haste. “Feels– Aki, m’gonna–” You nod frantically, eyes rolling back and tears streaming down your face as you cum.

“Shh,” Aki kisses your cheek, licking the salt off your face. He pulls away and you hear the sound of clothes rustling. He’s still going?

You can’t bring yourself to move, not when your body feels so limp. So you sit there with your eyes closed and wait.

A beat passes, then two, three, and Aki still hasn’t slipped inside. You are forcing your eye to peek open. Aki stares back at you, eyes lidded and breathing heavy. “Y’look so pretty baby, all perfect f’me, right?”

Aki oozes confidence that he knows he has. The power he has over you, to break with merely his fingers evokes an emotion in you.

The head of his cock presses against your hole, using your cum to slide over your cock. Again, and again, and again, until you’re hard and whining for him to fuck you. “C’mon baby, where are your manners?”

You sniffle, swallowing down a whine. “Please, Aki.”

“Good boy.” He smiles, and the slow grinding of his cock against yours finally stops as he slips inside you. Aki is big, even with prep it takes a bit to get used to.

“Y’feel so good baby,” Aki says, his voice catching on a grunt. “So perfect f’me, so fuckin warm too… shit…” The sound of Aki bottoming out embarrassingly almost brings you over the edge.

“A-Aki—”

Aki’s cock hits your g-spot. Whatever you were about to say gets replaced by a whiny moan. Your eyes snap close and your toes curl, more tears falling down your cheeks.

Aki still doesn’t let up, his hips snapping against your ass hastily. You and Aki have never fucked like this, at least you two haven’t gone past one mutual orgasm before. It feels weird, good– but your body burns up and you physically can’t think.

Your cock stirs, pleasure building in your abdomen again. It sends jolts through your body, pleasure building up, and up, and up and—

Aki’s thumb rubs the tip of your cock and that’s all it takes for another orgasm to wash over you. Your whole body trembles and your back arches.

“That’s two,” Aki says, not showing any sign of slowing down. “I want you t’count okay? C’mon baby tell me how many that was.”

Your voice cracks, and Aki is still fucking you. “Two! s’two!”

Aki grins. “There’s my good boy.”

You’re sure you look stupid, crying on Aki’s cock, rambling about how it’s too much, that you can’t cum anymore. You’re still so sensitive but Aki doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t let up; his thrusts are deep, overwhelming.

Your body sags when you feel Aki’s hips stutter, thrusting once, twice, before spilling inside you with a ragged breath. Heat fills your hole, filling you up and leaking past your perineum.

“My boy, my good fuckin’ boy aren’t you?” Aki kisses you, his hand at the back of your neck that’s adorned with bruises. Everything seems to melt into each other as you try to kiss him back, even out your breathing but you just can’t.

Then, Aki’s cock rehardens inside you, even though it’s barely been a minute. Your eyes widen, trying to look down but all the wind is knocked out of you the second Aki moves his hips.

“Ah! Aki— s’too much too much too—”

Aki grabs your chin, squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look at him through blurry vision. “T’aww, s’okay baby, just lay there n’take it, okay?” He says in a nasally, prissly voice.

In addition to Aki fucking your hole and still stroking your dick, he takes your nipple in his mouth. Licking around it, biting the bud and sucking the skin. Your throat hurts from all the whining and moaning you’re doing but you can’t help it. Not when he’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow, pushing you well past overstimulation.

Aki’s mouth burns on your skin, raising your body temperature. Everything is hot, too much. Then, tugs on your nipple with his teeth, slightly increasing the arch in your back.

With the abuse of stimulating all your erogenous zones, you feel another knot forming inside you. Even though everything feels too good, your tears stain the sheets, and electricity zips down every bone in your body. You’re so close, so close—

“Remember to count,” Aki warns just as another orgasm washes over you. For a second, you think you blacked out. Your senses dull and your eyes see nothing but darkness. Your voice tethers over the edge of a sob, your body still convulsing.

“C’mon baby, what number are we at?”

“Three! It’s three— Aki, can’t anymore s’too much—”

He interrupts you with a harsh snap of his hips. His hand pauses just before it goes back to your weeping cock. The stretch of time physically hurts, because you don’t know what he might be thinking. “I think you can give me one more, hm baby?”

“Aki!” You try to shout, but your throat won’t let you speak over a whisper. “Can’t, won’t, it can’t, can’tcan’t—”

“Shhh, s’okay baby,” Aki kisses your cheek, using one of his hands to pull you down on his cock. “Just let me do all the work okay? I��ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

Realistically speaking he’s always been doing the work so his words don’t hold much value. You don’t think that if you’re thinking of anything at all.

Aki’s hips begin to move again, his mouth latches onto your nipple and you don’t think you can breathe anymore. Continuing to rub your cock, he takes two fingers and adds them into your hole, with his cock still inside.

“Aahh! A-Ak—”

“I know baby, shhh, s’okay…” Aki says, pleased. The noises coming from your mouth are absolutely filthy, they sound straight out of a porno, vulnerable and embarrassing. His fingers and his cock move at an uneven pace, making it hard to tell left from right and up from down.

There’s no way you can cum again, it’s impossible. Even then, Aki still keeps going. There’s an unforgivable assault on your g-spot, the tip of his thumb toying and playing with the slit of your cock.

The pleasure is there, unmistakably so, but it hurts. It’s too much but not enough, everything is hot, too hot and—

“Can’t can’t can’t—”

“S’why I’m here, baby.” Aki’s voice sounds so distant even though you know he’s right there.

You shake your head furiously. “It won’t– Aki it can’t,” you cry, snot dripping down your nose.

Your skull melts into nothing when you feel that knot swell up inside you, it hurts, it's too much, it can’t. “There we go, you’re close, right baby?”

You feel like reality splits the second you cum on Aki’s cock. It dribbles out pathetically, borderline dry. Aki’s hips stutter as he cums inside you, his second time.

Yet, he still has the stamina to force you to face him. “Number?’”

“F…four,” Your voice breaks as you sniffle. You missed Aki’s hands on you, even if it was something small like this.

He pulls out and immediately goes to cradle you when he sees the tears only increase in intensity. “Baby? Hey, did I do something wrong? Does anything hurt?”

You can’t find it in yourself to talk, but you have to reassure him somehow. So you shake your head, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Can you tell me anything? Color?” There’s worry in his voice and you can’t help but love him more. Even if he just fucked you and your brain stupid.

Weakly, you hold up one finger, hoping that is enough to get the message across. He looks confused for a brief moment before all the worry washes off his face. “But seriously, why are you crying?”

“L…love you, s’muh…” Your voice is nothing less than grainy like you’ve been a chain smoker for twenty years.

Aki’s expression softens as he places a kiss on your cheek, using his thumb (not soiled with your cum) to wipe the tears off your cheeks. You try to stay awake so Aki doesn’t have to clean up alone.

You’re sure you were awake, but you don’t exactly remember getting into the warm sheets with a fresh new set of clothes on as Aki spoons you.

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unconnectedthoughts · 1 year

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The Martian with Matt Damon is a Thanksgiving movie in the same way Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

#i will argue this #cause im right #and you fucking know it #the martian #matt damon #thanksgiving #movies

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mwebber · 9 months

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normal ask i hope! ur fave underrated martian moment ?!

omg hi i have. so many underrated martian moments. maybe they're less "underrated" and more like martian just has soo much history to it that we physically cannot remember everything but i shall endeavour to include as much as i can <3

#1. "if i'd got no competition about me, no real fire or desire, then i'd get on with seb like a house on fire"

#2. TEAM FILMING DAY 2012 i think they were very buddy buddy and cute here, they shared a segway and looked like they were having fun :)

#3. JEREZ 2005 aka seb's first test in a car! seb saying in his abu dhabi 2022 interview:

"what people don't know is i did my very very first test in 2005, and mark was there as well! we shared the car, i mean i had the deal with bmw that i was allowed to do a couple of laps. and i remember the test very well because i was a bit scared, you know, after?"

+ this in aussie grit:

"my eyes were [huge], i was full of adrenaline, and after the couple laps i had, i wasn't able to hold onto my neck. and, you know, mark was so kind and gave us a lift to the airport! so that's really when it started.... we always had a straightforward relationship, there were some moments where we disagreed, let's say? but i think we always had respect for each other, and that respect helped us--and helps us--to get along the way we do!"

#4. BMW CHRISTMAS PARTY 2005 bom did a whole thing on this but to summarize, bmw hosted a winter party and mark and seb were in attendance and they sat across from each other in a carriage and it's possibly the most winter fairytale thing they could have possibly done together <3

#5. "I always thought that if you look at other team pairings, there are far worse ‘couples’ than we’ve been in terms of mutual respect."

#6. SEB WENT TO MARK'S FAREWELL DINNER. i have no official source for this it's been on my to-do list to find forever but the posts are there

#7. "IT'S FOR BOTH OF US." cota 2013 when mark was given a model car and seb looked at it and mark was like it's for both of us! martianblr at the time thought mark said "we can share it" after but i've listened to the clip and im hearing "we can sign it." who knows! i think it's rlly cute that a decade ago this place was losing its shit over the same things though

#8. MATCHING CAMPBELL SOUP SHIRTS and in their opposite matching porsche colours..

(post)

edit 6 hours after starting this answer i forgot my train of thought bc i ended up going outside for half the day lol but um. yeah! them <3 if i remember more and have time tmrw i'll reblog with a few additions because i'm sure im missing things!

#inbox #martian

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holly-the-trash-writer · 1 year

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Matching

Eleveneth Doctor x Fem!Reader

For an annonymous request!

Synopsis: For their movie date Y/n got them matching bowtie pyjamas and the Doctor loves them!

Word Count: 1,183

A/N: I'm going to stop doing requests for a little while. I have a serious case of writers block and also wanting to write for other things. I will try and get through the requests I have and then take a little break. But I hope to be writing for Eleven again soon! I love you all!

Y/n rushed around the apartment as she got everything ready for their movie night.

She had finally got him to agree to it as long as she followed a few ground rules.

Rule Number 1: Stay away from alien movies. The Doctor begins ranting about inaccuracies, the racisim and gets insulted about the portrayal of aliens in movies.

"Do I look like I have green skin or huge eyes? In all my years I have never seen any species look like that! I have seen Martians and that is not one of them!"

Rule Number 2: There must be many snacks provided.

Rule Number 3: It must not be boring.

So, with these rules in mind Y/n decided to go for 'Back to the Future Part I'.

She wanted to ask so many questions and also she wanted to hear the Doctor's opinion about the time travel in the movie.

She set down a plate of Jammie Dodgers on the table next to the bowl of jelly babies. There were two bags of popcorn sitting in the kitchen ready for popping and her secret surprise was sitting wrapped on the sofa.

There wasn't long to wait before she heard the familiar mechanical scraping noise coming from her bedroom. She ran into the kitchen and turned on the microwave before rushing to her bedroom.

She opened the door to see the Tardis cramped beside the wall and her bed. The Doctor was standing with his feet crossed and he was leaning back on the frame of the door, "Hi honey, I'm home."

Y/n's smile was dazzling him as she bolted across the room, "Doctor!"

He quickly stood straight and opened his arms for Y/n to jump into, "Ah, There's my girl." He caught her around the waist and spun her around happily. He set her down and pulled back grinning, "Am I late?"

Y/n giggled and straightened his lapels, "For once, you are right on time."

The Doctor smiled and clapped his hands, "So! What's the plan?"

"It's movie night!" Y/n yelled excitedly and grabbed one of his hands and pulled him out of the bedroom, through the hall and into the living room. Spreading her arms out and pointing to all the snacks she left on the table, "Ta da!"

The Doctor looked at the scene in front of him, the T.V was sitting paused on a movie, there were some of his favourite Earth sweets on the table, a large blanket that he had gotten her from a market they went to on another planet a few months ago and two differently wrapped packages sat in the middle of the sofa.

He grinned at the sight and ran over to the table, grabbing one of the biscuits and biting into three-quarters of it, "You can't beat a Jammie Dodger." He stated as crumbs flew out of his mouth.

Y/n smiled and walked over to the sofa to grab one of the presents, presenting it to the Doctor.

"Is it my birthday?" He greedily took the present from her and inspected it, how soft it was gave him the impression that it was clothes on the inside, "No, wait. It isn't my birthday." Thinking on it for a moment he raised a finger, "Actually, it could be. It's been so long I could have forgotten." His eyes sparkled at a new realisation, "I could choose a new birthday!"

Y/n placed her hands over his, "It isn't your birthday. I saw them in the shop and I thought of you."

The Doctor giggled and his hearts swelled at the idea of something making her think of him in a shop. He looked down at the present and ripped the paper off like a six-year-old on Christmas Day.

"They're pyjamas!" Y/n did jazz hands to make them seem a bit flashier.

The Doctor shook them out and inspected them, "They're better than that, Y/n. They have bowties on them." He lifted his other hand to wiggle his own bowtie, "And bowties are cool."

Y/n held up her hands, "Hold that thought." She grabbed her own parcel off the sofa and ripped the paper off. Showing him her own matching bowtie pyjamas.

The Doctor's mouth fell open as he looked between the two. Giggling to himself at the thought of you both in matching outfits. He vaulted over her arm chair with his pyjamas clutched in his hand, "Race you!"

Y/n also ran to her own room so she could quickly change. The shirt was a white silk button up with the small red bowties printed all over it and the shorts were a match.

When she finished changing she walked out of her bedroom to find the Doctor already slouched on the sofa, feet on the table, with a bowl of popcorn on his lap, his own pyjamas were the same material as her own but instead of her shorts and short sleeves he had long-sleeves for his shirt and trousers. He was grinning while throwing popcorn in the air and trying to catch it with his mouth. There were a few pieces scattered on the sofa, floor and his lap that had came from previous attempts.

"Having fun?" She teased him as she fluffed his hair and hopped over his legs to sit down next to him.

"You took too long." He whined before raising his arm to let Y/n cuddle into his side.

Y/n leaned up to kiss his cheek, "My apologies."

The Doctor blushed furiously and stuttered, "No, it's- it's, well, it's fine."

Y/n grabbed the remote and pressed play on the movie.

"What did you pick?"

Y/n stole some popcorn, "You'll have to find out."

The Doctor had been excited for her choice and had been invested in the movie. Up until his right hand curled around her waist and he rubbed his thumb across the soft material. Just about daring to brush his fingers under the hem and run along her skin.

Y/n did look cute in her pyjamas. Well, Y/n looked cute all the time.

Halfway through the movie and Y/n had thought she had done a good job at keeping her questions to a minimum. That was until...

"Why is it eighty-eight miles-per-hour?"

The Doctor thought about it for a moment before he frowned.

Y/n was going to question is silence when he jumped to his feet, scaring Y/n half to death as he pulled her hands and brought her to her own feet.

"What's going on?"

The Doctor pressed pause on the remote before dragging her out of her room and into the Tardis.

"Doctor? What're we doing?" The both of them slid around on the glass of the Tardis as they were only in their socks.

The Doctor grinned as he stood on the bottom level of the Tardis in front of a large whiteboard.

Y/n couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him in button down pyjamas, socks, a marker in his hand and a sparkle in his eye.

He walked over to her and grabbed her cheeks to kiss her forehead, "We, my dear, are going to do the math!"

He uncapped the marker with his teeth and turned towards the board. "The Doctor is in."

Y/n never got to watch the rest of the movie with him but sitting in the Tardis while watching the Doctor work in his pyjamas was quite a night indeed.

#doctor who #eleventh doctor x y/n #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x fem!reader #eleventhdoctor #eleventh doctor fanfiction #doctor who x fem!reader #doctor who x y/n

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natalchartnurtures · 6 months

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Mars in Deep Waters

Note: This post might not give you anything new if you're at an intermediate or advanced level of being on the astrology wildride :p

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Water Mars, on a good day: "I enjoy feeling my vibes and trusting my gut. I conquer challenges and move through life this way—with my willpower rooted in my wisdom."

Why?- What comes to mind when you first encounter a Water Mars? That they're sensitive crybabies, only acting on their moody whims when they don't get what they want? Think again.

Yes, this energy is all that, but it's also much more.

Mars in this element, when realized in its higher octave, can prove to be quite an invigorating force to have on your team. It embodies both "the Buddha" AND "the Badass" in one package, best of both worlds, really. Water energy is all about those feelings, the intuition (think Peter Parker's tingling Spidey sense), the magic, the unseen, the depth… like the ocean, nurture, empathy, dreamy romanticism. Pretty things like that. It essentially serves as the bridge between the tangible and the intangible, you know? So, what happens when your Mars is swimming in this beautiful, mystical realm?

Mars, in this element, can express itself as motivation fueled by the desire to feel something. Maybe it's how having that car makes you feel, or perhaps how that relationship makes you feel so safe that you are driven to nurture and care for it. It could be anything, but it's not necessarily the THING you want; it's how it makes you FEEL that is highlighted with this Mars. Think Cancer Mars. Cancer's intuition combined with Martian energy would equip you to achieve anything you want, provided it makes you feel something, anything. This is where your power shines, and you truly embody emotional intelligence in the way you move your way to the top (whatever 'top' means for you).

It could also manifest as a desire to put in efforts and invest your willpower into causes you believe in, no matter where you are or how small or big what you want to do is. Mars here really enjoys feeling like it is a part of a larger whole. It could even be as simple as working in a company where you have a distinct role, and you're all working to set up this new product that could be of service to the greater population, speaking within the context of the corporate world. Or, on a more spiritual note, it could manifest as wanting to explore and seek the truth of life. You could fall anywhere on the spectrum if you've got a Pisces Mars; this is where the compassion of Piscean energy meets the drive of Mars to create literal FORCES of light that can overcome 'most anything.

Another way this energy could show up is wanting to discover and unwrap your personal power, kinda like you're a child unwrapping its present on Christmas. It could show up as wanting to get in touch with that quiet power brewing inside you, waiting to be discovered, only demanding you to look inward and bow to its intensity. Yes, I'm talking about Scorpio Mars. Of course, Mars here feels right at home because power is what it knows. It lives and breathes the language of this Scorpionic desire to meet its own potential no matter, even getting transformed in the process of attaining it. This is ambition at its greatest. And! how can we forget the oh... so magnetic energy of Mars here? This is because Scorpionic energy is great at commanding energy, and since Mars feels at home here, Scorpio bestows Mars with this raw attractive vibe you just can't deny. Not even the universe can resist giving them what they want, let alone us mere mortals.

So that was my take on the water mars energies :]

Ps. the Scorpio paragraph was so much fun to write, im not gonna lie. Probably cuz Pluto trines my Moon :p

#Scorpio mars #Cancer Mars #Pisces Mars #astrologyreadings #astrology #spirituality #zodiac #astrology community #Astrology Insights #Water signs #pisces #scorpio #cancer

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notroosterbradshaw · 1 year

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Office Christmas Party

We all know the Office Christmas Party season is in full effect. You: office manager. Bob: your admin. A Chris Beck (The Martian) self-repost from - ha - 2016, now an ode to Lt. BCG’s himself, Bob Floyd. A short, fluffy AU. 1.5k.

“Hot date?” you joked, sidling up to your administrative assistant as his long, slender fingers drifted across the screen of his phone, sitting on top of the desk of his workspace. He looked up with a shy smile, pocketing his phone and raising his champagne in the plastic glass instead. “I see boss lady forked out for the fancy crystalware this year,” you murmured to yourself, disappointed while he couldn’t resist scoffing and he offered you a glass of your own that he’d been saving.

“There wasn’t room in the budget,” he reminded you, nudging his glasses up his nose. “Not after the cuts made last financial year. Don’t beat yourself up. There’s free booze, who’s to argue with that?”

“It would have been nice to leave the office. Have a nice meal,” you continued before sighing, taking heed that your employees were at least enjoying themselves at that moment. Bob wriggled the glass again, hoping to distract you. “Thank you,” you gratefully accepted it. At least it was the good stuff, you realised, relaxing into the taste. “Merry Christmas, Bob.”

“Merry Christmas, boss,” he nodded solemnly as you both took a sip. “Don’t dock my pay for this because I know you respect honesty above all else and I would hate for it to backfire on me, but that jumper will definitely win the ‘ugly sweater’ comp later tonight,” he joked quietly, his amused smile wide and stony blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Ballsy,” you commented with a snicker. “You’re right. That is a good way to dock your pay.”

He laughed heartedly. “I’m sorry. I take it back,” he raised his glass in mock surrender.

“My boyfriend actually got it for me last Christmas as a gag gift, he knew I’d hate it but he’s taking me to dinner later tonight so I’m going to wear this, just in spite of him,” you said as Bob chuckled, lightly shaking his head. “I am glad I got an occasion to wear it. You know, really get something out of it and make him regret it.”

“What a horrible guy. You should dump him if this is the kind of thing he gifts you,” he took another sip of his champagne nervously as you raised an eyebrow at him before you giggled quietly at his gall.

“Maybe so,” you joked back to put him at ease. You both took in the scene around you. Your co-workers milling around with their champagne flutes jovially; the white and colourful Christmas lights strung across workstations and flashing brightly; the mail boy trotting around to lay kisses on the cheeks of all under the guise of the mistletoe he was holding; tinsel being used as scarves and selfies, selfies, selfies galore of happy employees – you were relieved to see everyone so pleased even if it was such an underwhelming celebration. “I saw that you extended our morning meeting time tomorrow,” you whispered.

Bob nodded, pushing back his long dirty blonde hair, nervously. “If you don’t mind?”

“Of course not, as long as I have the time on the other side.”

“You’re not booked back-to-back,” he confirmed. “It won’t take the time I’ve allocated.”

“No problem. Off the record?” you began as he gave you his attention and straightened to his full height.

“Off the record,” he cleared his throat. “I will be putting in my resignation.”

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. You were aware this was coming. Robert Floyd was far too intelligent to be trapped as your assistant for the rest of your careers and you’d heard through the grapevine that he had passed up a few jobs to stay where he was, which was a little upsetting. You didn’t want to hold him back and you certainly did not want him to feel obligated to stay. You dragged him in for a meeting a few months earlier to remind him that his potential was being wasted, regardless of what he thought his obligation was to you. You had a few contacts with other companies that could develop him further than you offered though he blatantly refused – he wanted to do things his way and without your influence which you respected immensely. “I’m devastated but I knew this was coming. I appreciate you staying with me as long as you have, Bob.”

“I’ve really enjoyed working with you. And I should thank you for giving me such a good reference. They mentioned that they called you already.”

“Really, it’s no problem. We sound like a mutual admiration society,” you scoffed, sipping your champagne.

Bob finally laughed, bringing a dimple to his handsome features. “True, we’re much too jaded for that.”

“Exactly,” you agreed as Mariah Carey blasted through the office and half the employees started happily/drunkenly screaming the lyrics to All I Want for Christmas is You. “When do I lose you?”

“MISTLETOE!” the mail boy bellowed, dangling the piece of red and green plastic above your heads as you and Bob looked at each other, alarmed.

“Ahh, no,” you spoke up immediately. “No, no. Not happening. Please be advised I am Mr Floyd’s manager.”

“I’m her subordinate,” Bob reiterated. “I don’t think we need to remind you of the ramifications of those actions,” Bob pointed out thoughtfully to the young man who was now ashen. Bob smacked his arm in that traditional bro-style – you were thankful to Bob for taking charge in the only way dudes can for each other.

“Fuck,” he muttered as you bit back a giggle at his language – this was not going well for him. “I’m so sorry – ” he tried as you shook your head, trying to hide your grin.

“It’s okay, just drop the mistletoe and move along,” you hinted.

“Yes, boss,” he said, before slinking away, mortified. You both laughed quietly.

“His intentions were good,” Bob told you as you nodded.

“So?” you gave Bob your attention again.

“Start of next year,” he confirmed. “I’ll finish the year out, but my notice is two weeks then I’m taking a few days to take my girlfriend away for Christmas.”

You sighed but forced a smile. “Well, congratulations, Bob. You deserve it. I wish the company wasn’t losing you, but you’ll thrive wherever you go,” you raised your glass as he did the same and took a sip. “Well, I’m going to head out. I don’t want to stay and cramp everyone’s style with the boss being here.”

“No,” Bob insisted. “Stay. Everyone wants you to take us out to a bar with your corporate card later,” he teased as you grinned.

“No, no,” you put the plastic flute on the desk before you. “I don’t want to have to haul anyone in and grant warnings on Monday. And if I didn’t see it, it didn’t happen,” you said decisively.

Bob nodded. “Fair,” he agreed.

You stood up and removed the Santa hat on your head before affixing it to Bob’s. “Ahh, lovely. Really brings out the blue in your eyes,” you said as the globe at the end flicked on and off dimly. “Make sure they don’t burn this place to the ground, huh?”

He chuckled quietly, dropping his eyes. “I’ll try.”

“Enjoy your night, Bob,” you told him and headed to your office to organise yourself and make a discreet exit. You closed the office door, the sounds of the joy of the season quietening. Fixing your hair, you gave your make-up a light touch-up and spritzed on your partner’s favourite perfume. Jacket on, rugged up in your snuggly scarf and bag you’re your shoulder, you gave yourself another quick once over in preparation for your date before you re-opened the door and the wall of Christmas sound hit you again.

Spying Bob standing tall among a gaggle of other admin, you knew he had a bit of a reputation around the office as a heartthrob, in that sweet nerd way, you supposed. Of course, you knew, it wasn’t lost on you how handsome he was. How sweet and friendly – but you caught yourself before getting swept up in those thoughts about him.

You gave him a small smile and wink before ducking through people and snuck out to the elevator. You waited until it arrived and stepped in eagerly, relishing in the Christmas muzik and found your phone, seeing the influx of missed work calls and texts, one text standing out and piquing your interest the most.

Bobby Floyd: I know I’m an asshole for getting you that jumper last Christmas but I love that you’re wearing it just for me right now. I’ll prefer it on the floor with the rest of our clothes when I get my hands on you later tonight. I love you, I will meet you at the restaurant soon, lover xoxo

You smiled openly, happy in the privacy of the elevator. It had been a strange year, hiding your relationship from your co-workers. You were so sad that Bob had landed the job of his dreams and that you wouldn’t be working together anymore. He’d told you all about the job, and you were just thrilled for him, but not seeing his cheeky grin outside your office every day would be… different. Maybe a little sad. You’d just have to contend with it at home instead. But he deserved this, and you would celebrate with him as he deserved and for the season later.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

#notroosterbradshaw #bob sweet bob #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob fluff #top gun maverick #au #bob floyd au #bob x reader #top gun fluff #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 1 year

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Welcome to the 12 Days of Christmas countdown to Christmas Day. We've 5 days left!!

Mars Odyssey

Imagine: Atticus wakes up on Mars and doesn't know how he got there.

Tags: Atticus Freeman, Atticus x Leti, Mars, Christmas

A great explosion startled Atticus into a sweating and fearful state, searching eagerly with his eyes but finding no Leti. No Montrose. No Hyppolyta. No Ji-ah. There was only a stretch of red dusty land, ice-capped mountains, volcanoes, and canyons.

For Atticus, it was only one mere second ago that he was dying of blood loss. Now he was in what seemed to be New Mexico.. or Mars.

His body was in one piece, but there was something fixed to his face, an oxygen mask. Someone wanted him to survive, but who? And where?

He climbed to his feet steadily looking into the distance and in the twinkling of an eye, two astronauts appeared from literal thin air.

"Gah-damn," he whispered.

They approached him as he stood waiting for answers or anything that would tell him where he was, how he got there, and how to get back.

"You've been abducted," the one on the left said. "We brought you here because your body was in the process of being destroyed on Earth, but here we have technology to fix that."

"Y'all do see I'm a colored.. You sure you wanna use all that fancy tech on me?"

The astronauts exchanged a look.

"That's Earth's dysfunction. Come with us," they extended a covered hand.

Atticus wasn't on earth after all.

He followed them through the hills and plains until they disappeared behind a barrier into thin air.. he paused, but he was brave, so he stepped on through the barrier as well. There was an entire hidden city. As he listened to the astronauts, he learned that he was indeed on Mars and would suffocate if he removed his oxygen mask.

They had a colony and knew he was a soldier. They wanted him to help them strategize and war against the Earth.

"This explains my dreams more than I previously thought."

Atticus explained that he dreamed of foreign wars that were outside of his planet, and now he knew that the Martians were actually humans living on Mars. He was in awe at all he saw. Everyone was integrated. There was no Jim Crow on Mars, and everyone wore sophisticated and tiny breathing apparatuses.

"The oxygen is thin," the lady astronaut shared, "But it exists. Our bodies have adapted. We don't need a lot to survive. Still, everyone has a supply."

"What's y'all's beef with the Earth," Atticus asked as they showed him around. "You all came from it," he stared.

He wasn't prepared for the explanation that came.

"This WAS Earth.. before the ruling regimes destroyed it."

There were creatures, dinosaurs.. vegetation flourished all over. There was oxygen and water. It was a paradise. Then people became violent and vain. They warred among themselves. There was poverty, environmental terrorism, bombs, pollution, the food was poisoned, the air became unbreathable. Natural disasters increased. Everything was dying and the planet was becoming uninhabitable. There was a great flood that wiped out billions of people. A remaining colony of the rich who could afford to dodge the flood left to find another Earth and they re-settled. The old Earth became Mars and life restarted with the ones who remained.

"We've been at war ever since the NEW Earth tried to destroy the remaining people here. They continue to try to take from OUR planet so we must defend ourselves from their tyranny. So you see, we didn't come from Earth.. this was always our home. Will you help us defend it?"

Atticus was torn. As much as he wanted to say yes, his family was home and he couldn't help in their destruction. He needed them all with him. All of them.

He struck a deal to have them abducted. Only then would he join their army.

"Atticus.. Atticus... "

"ATTICUS!!!"

"Huh!"

"Damn!"

He jolted awake to the sound of Leti's voice. He was sitting in his favorite chair with a blanket over his lap in their home in front of the fireplace. There was a book in his hand called Mars Odyssey and Leti was in his face.

"Mhm," her lips pursed as she rolled her eyes and got the kids together. They were running wild. He'd fallen asleep while reading them a story. "Told you that book was boring as hell, done put yourself to sleep! You were supposed to be watching the kids while I made dinner. I can't do everything Tic!"

Atticus was confused. His dream had seemed so real. The ground was cratered and covered in dust. He felt that he'd died from blood loss and had woken up on Mars where he was expected to lead an army against the Earth. Now he was in a different timeline, and it was Christmas. He couldn't say he didn't like this life...

"This isn't real," he whispered.

"It's a simulation, but it could be," the female astronaut stepped into the living room suddenly with no space suit. Atticus flinched. "Call it intrusive; but we went through your memories of earth to see what advantages we could gather.. what is this Christmas that you guys seem to have.."

"Christmas? Y'all don't have Christmas?"

She looked genuinely puzzled. Atticus smirked.

"Great." Sarcasm dripped from his being. He was wishing the simulation was real. Yelling and all. "How bout this.. Instead of teaching the ways of war, I teach love and brotherhood. Good will towards men. That's what Christmas is about. Loving ypur neighbor."

"What about the lights?"

"The lights..," he smirked seeing the slight twinkle in her eye. "That's the festive part. We hang lights and decorate trees because it makes us feel good deep down inside. It reminds of the good times with family and friends.. people I miss very much."

"TIC!" Letti's voice yelled.

This time when Atticus awoke he was lying on the ground. Everyone rushed him saying it was a miracle they bound all white people from using magic. It was a miracle the spell worked and he survived. They thought he was a goner for sure.

Atticus looked up at the sky that twinkled extra bright before they helped him up.

He had another life to spend.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @nobodybaby93 @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @tgigoldie @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybee @playgurlxoxo

#Spotify #atticus freeman #lovecraft country #lovecraft country fanfiction #atticus freeman fanfiction #christmas fanfiction #black fanfic writer #original

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profgandalf · 1 year

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What Makes a Truly Satisfying Christmas Story?

I despise the tripe that passes as most Christmas stories. If it's a romantic narrative then a couple will have some sort of difficulty during the holidays and will overcome it by the end through the intervention of either an unexpected plot twist of goodness, a supernatural elf, or even a visitation by Santa himself. Something must pull the protagonists’ bacon out of the fire at the last minute. Economic or domestic difficulties are all solved. Meanwhile, how many times has the holiday itself been saved by one character or another? Ernest saves Christmas, Frosty saves Christmas, the Martians save Christmas (actually Santa saves Christmas from the Martians) and so it goes. One almost gets the sense that the celebration of Christ’s birth is a porcelain figure rather than our rugged religious holiday.

Part I

Only Charles Dickens, with "The Christmas Carol in Prose,” ever managed to write a non-overtly religious narrative that successfully embraces the central power of the holiday. Furthermore, his success seems to have eluded him in most other tries. After 1843 Dickens composed Christmas stories multiple times which were financially so successful that his Christmas presentation became a staple in Victorian England. However, most modern critics admit that "A Cricket on the Hearth," "The Chimes," “The Haunted House” “The Struggle for Life,” and the “Haunted Man” do not rise to the power of Scrooge’s transformation. In fact, most readers have never heard of them. Only “The Cricket” ever made it as a Rankin and Bass special. Furthermore this failure should not be connected with any sense of the growing cynicism within the author. Not even the Christmas chapters from "The Pickwick Papers" (which predates “The Carol”) entitled "The Goblins Who Stole a Sexton" hit the nose on the head in the same way that Scrooge’s story does. “The Carol’s strength comes from Dickens’ channeling the holiday’s spiritual center. Using that as a base, I would like to suggest that the spiritual center necessary for an effective Christmas story must include the following: (1) it must be a narrative of wonder; (2) it must involve something precious, (3) that precious something must face real jeopardy, and finally (4) the solution to that challenge, the salvation depicted in the story’s conclusion, must be potentially inclusive.

Part II

To begin, the successful story of Christmas must be one of wonder. As Dickens famously said In the opening of his “Carol” “There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.“ Christmas is, at its center, not an everyday event. “It is the most wonderful time of the year.” It comes, shaking up the norm. And that is part of its spiritual center. Both Hebrew and Christian understanding of the Almighty’s workings includes wonder: “Who is like unto thee, O Lord, among the gods? Who is like thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders?” (Exodus 15:11 KJV). “Remember his marvelous works that he hath done, his wonders, and the judgments of his mouth” (1 Chronicles 16:12 KJV). So Christmas stories, at their best, always include wonder. In some ways, this is the easiest of elements to incorporate. Just set the story in a land of wonders such as Toyland in "March of the Wooden Soldiers," Christmas Town in “Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer” or Whoville in “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” The fantastic element of the place itself will instill wonder. Furthermore many might note that because of the fantastic setting, an overt reference to Christ is not always needed. And many Christmas stories avoid the overt religious quality by doing so. However, overtly avoiding the Christmas story is perilous since it is the springboard of the Yule soul. Think of Fred Halloway's observation from "the Christmas Carol":

“I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.”

Again, note the element of breaking into what is normal. Still, it interesting to note that C.S. Lewis and Tolkien disagreed about lands of wonder and Christmas. Tolkien, who created a whole series of Father Christmas letters and stories for his children, told Lewis it was impossible to have Christmas in Narnia since there was no Christ. Apparently, Lewis just shrugged and had Father Christmas appear anyway. (Ironically, Tolkien felt that Lewis’ fairytale was to obviously Christian, preferring his more subtle approach found in Middle Earth.) Still I think Lewis' instincts also had merit. What a powerful opening Lewis gives which is centered on Christmas: “It is winter in Narnia,” said Mr. Tumnus, “and has been forever so long. . . always winter, but never Christmas.” The bleakness of Narnia is tangible to both young and old readers even if it is a world of wonder and when Christmas comes it signals the end of the White Witch’s power. One might wonder where is the wonder is such a hard-boiled Christmas narrative as “A Christmas Story,” in which the narrator is desperately trying to maneuver his mom and dad into buying him a Red Ryder BB Gun© (with this thing in the stock that tells time). However, the wonder is everywhere in this story. As Ralphi recalls "First nighters, packed earmuff to earmuff, jostled in wonderment before a golden tinkling display of mechanized, electronic joy!" Randy is still so young that he dances about at the Christmas Parade at seeing Mickey and the characters from “the Wizard of Oz.” But even Ralphie is enough of a believer in wonder that he includes Santa in his machinations. Wonder is vital for a Christmas story. And the acceptance of wonder is required: “Man of the Worldly mind” says Marley’s ghost, “Do you believe in me or not?! "Seeing is believing," says the conductor in “The Polar Express.” "but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can't see." Christmas stories demand the embracing of wonder. Meanwhile, the depth of Wonder in a Christmas story is directly related to its next quality, the jeopardy in which something precious is placed.

Part III

The second and third qualities found in the best of Christmas Stories are intimately joined together: Such stories must involve something precious, and that precious quality must face jeopardy. And here is where many Yule narratives go off the rails. Too often Christmas itself is held up as the precious thing supposedly in peril. Relatives might not make it, the dinner could be ruined or maybe Santa can’t make his flight and all the goodies will not be delivered. But as Dr. Seuss reminds us, Christmas is not so fragile. “’Maybe Christmas,‘ he thought...doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps...means a little bit more’”. Stories that make the Christmas celebration the center point falter. Also, romantic love, while precious, is not neatly so important as to support a Christmas story. Now here, I might expect some pushback. There is hardly anything so enshrined in our culture than the ultimate value of romantic love. After all, in Dickens' "Carol" Scrooge's nature is revealed by his dismissal of Fred's choice to marry because of love.

“Why did you get married?” said Scrooge. “Because I fell in love.” “Because you fell in love!” growled Scrooge, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. “Good afternoon!”

For many, the saddest moment in "The Carol" is Scrooge's choice to not follow his heart and marry a woman who would bring so little wealth to his situation when the norm of Dickens's age was to look for a woman who could aid oneself economically. In fact, some scholars think that Dickens worked himself into an early grave partly because he was trying to set up dowries for his two surviving daughters. It's notable that Dickens actually received some contemporary criticism in "the Carol" for encouraging young people to marry willy-nilly for love without thinking of the full consequences. Personally, I can recall thinking that the joyful ending of "The Carol" is marred because Scrooge does not find romantic love at the end. But that is a misunderstanding. Romantic love while wonderful is precious only in its hope of becoming marital and familial love--the building blocks of our culture. Anyone who has seen more than twenty-five birthdays knows that romantic love by itself is as fleeting as a morning mist. Romantic love is precious only in that it leads to marital and familial love. Such love may play a role in a strong Christmas story but if such fleeting affection is the centerpiece of a Yule narrative, the Christmas story flounders--a lot of sound and fury with little consequences. The bounds of marriage and children are deeply precious and the forces which put marriage and a family in jeopardy are worthy elements within a strong Christmas story. Thus, as George Bailey, in "It's a Wonderful Life," moves towards despair, it affects his marriage and family--his daughter Zuzu especially. The true tragedy that the Ghost of Christmas Past presents to Scrooge is the marriage and family he might have had.

And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life, his sight grew very dim indeed.

This last image is so wretched it causes Scrooge to physically attack the spirit to repress it. And when, transformed, he sets forth, Scrooge finds his great joy met first at church and then among his family. The best Christmas stories are those that center on humanity's loss and reclamation. Christmas at its center is the story of helpless humankind being hopelessly lost. The race teeters on despair and destruction. Although the wonder of Christmas can be assisted in fantastic settings, the central quality of Yule wonder is that in the midst of helplessness, help arrived. “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined” (Isaiah 9:2). This is emphasized in multiple Christmas stories. Death and sterility being "The Carol." Marley is dead, to begin with, and so is Scrooge. The narration makes it clear that they are tied together: “Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: It was all the same to him.” Scrooge at the beginning of the story is as dead as a coffin nail.

“Oh! but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!.”

The fact is that the old miser needs help, even if Scrooge himself doesn't know it:

Scrooge. . .made bold to inquire what business brought him there. “Your welfare!” said the Ghost. Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately: “Your reclamation, then. Take heed!”

Again, in so many of the best Christmas stories, the state of the individual is in deep peril. In Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life,” George Bailey is near self-destruction. The top angel, Franklin, says this “man will be thinking seriously of throwing away God's greatest gift”. Clarence knows exactly what he means. “Oh, dear, dear! His life!.” More than that, in the eyes of the very Catholic Frank Capra the contemplation of suicide places George Bailey's eternal soul in jeopardy. And the film "Joyeux Noël" depicts the events surrounding the Christmas Truce of 1914 in the midst of tragic jeopardy. Such potential terrible loss is the kind of foundation upon which the best Christmas stories are built.

Part IV

The fourth and final quality of the best Yule narratives is that like the original good news, a Christmas Story should be inclusive. “Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people'” (Luke 2:10 KJV). Christmas is for all people, no matter one's race, gender, or age. The best Christmas stories portray the inclusion of those who, for one reason or another, were outcasts.

This is important to the narrative because it is organic to the Christmas message. Contrary to the claims of many contemporary experts, Christianity has always been inclusive. As St. Paul writes “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28 KJV). That, from a man brought up in the Pharisaical tradition, is an amazing claim. St. John writes in the last book, “Whosoever will, may come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely (Rev. 22:17b KJV). As a child, I can recall gustily belting out the chorus to P. P. Bliss’ ”Whosoever Will May Come:”

“Whosoever will, whosoever will! Send the proclamation over vale and hill; 'Tis a loving Father calls the wanderer home. "Whosoever will may come."

(Just a side note: the American hymn writer, P. P. Bliss, from Ohio lived from 1838 to 1870 and was therefore a contemporary of Charles Dickens who lived from 1812 to 1870)

The inclusion of the outcast, the inclusion of the enemy, is an especially vital part of Christmas stories. “God Bless Us, Everyone!” is first Tiny Tim’s and then the narrator’s wish in the Carol. Christmas should never involve the gleeful dancing by the hero over the fallen figure of his or her opponent. In "Joyeux Noël" that becomes literally true as soldiers from Germany, England and France face one another at Christmas during World War I. In Adrea Bocelli's Christmas song "God Bless Us Everyone" (featured in Disney's version of “The Christmas Carol”), he provides this proms:

To the voices no one hears,

We have come to find you.

With your laughter and your tears,

Goodness, hope, and virtue.

The central nature of inclusiveness is emphasized in Rankin and Bass’ “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” when the red nosed Rudolf and Hermey, the Elf who wants to be a dentist, find places within their community (as does the terrible Abdominal--whose job becomes the one who places stars on the tops of trees ). And who can forget the joyful ending when Santa arrives to gather up and find homes to all of the inhabitants of The Island of Misfit Toys. The ending which featured this rescue was a late added scene for the second year’s broadcast because there was so much uncertainty over the fate of the toys from the show’s premier. That is how important inclusiveness is to Christmas. Those who think “Happy Holidays” is a more inclusive term miss the point entirely.

But there is a caveat. While all are welcome in the spirit of Christmas, not everyone will come because not everyone will lay down what is killing them spiritually. Henry F. Potter from "It's a Wonderful Life" is not there in the final scene singing with the rest of his community, and it's NOT because George Bailey, his family, or his friends would have excluded him. It's because Henry F. Potter excluded himself.

The isolating sin of idolatry is alive in our age. Whatever is placed above the light of Christmas is, in fact, a deadly hindrance--what Dickens wisely portrayed as chains on Marley. Bell, Scrooge's former fiancé, identifies his economic passion as idolatry:

"Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve.'' "What Idol has displaced you?'' he [Scrooge] rejoined. "A golden one.''

Dickens' audience would have immediately recognized the Biblical echo of the golden calf from the Exodus story. If he had not accepted the truth given by the Spirit of Christmas Past (a metaphor for memory) Scrooge would not have found himself at his nephew's Christmas dinner. Meanwhile, if the Grinch had not seen that there is more to Christmas than packages and bags, then he would have found himself out in the snow not enjoying his roast-beast.

Thus, whatever we hold so dear in ourselves that we will not let it go and would sacrifice all else for it, be it political affiliation, gender identification, sexual gratification, competitive economics, or national patriotism when we hold it higher than the light which Christ claimed to bring, we bare ourselves from Christmas.

Thankfully the truth of Christmas in the best of stories is revealed to be far more penetrating, far more enduring, and far more powerful than the world thinks it is. "And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not" (John 1:5 KJV). The best of Christmas stories helps us comprehend it just a little bit more than we might have.

So with all that being said, I sit here with my fingers hovering over the keyboard trying to compose in my head a Christmas yarn worthy of the title. Glad there is no deadline on me as poor Charles was facing in 1843. Merry Christmas Everyone! Dec. 2022

#Christmas #Writing #literature #Dickens #Capre

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