#will i ever be able to write something short?

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm: Christmas

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Christmas in the STTC Universe

"Alexia!" Mapi shrieks," Alexia! Stop ignoring me! Alexia!"

Alexia hums to herself, hunched over her phone as she scrolls through another website.

Mapi, however, forces her way through mountains and mountains of stacked boxes to get to the other side of the room.

The locker room is covered in boxes from top to bottom with some even crammed into areas that they really shouldn't be able to be forced into.

"Ale! Alexia!"

Alexia looks up in shock. "Oh! Mapi! When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago! Which you would know if you didn't have this place stocked up like the back room of a shoe shop!"

Alexia frowns. "What do you mean? There's only five boxes of shoes here."

"I wasn't being literal!" Mapi snaps before massaging her temples with her hands. "What is all this stuff?! And why is it here?!"

"They're presents," Alexia says it like Mapi's dumb," For Christmas."

"Obviously but why are they here?"

"Well, I couldn't leave them at home. Maya's in that exploring stage so she'd get curious and try to look through them. And Elena's learning to crawl and this stuff would just get in way."

"So you thought that you would put all the presents for your whole family in here? With us?"

"No," Alexia scoffs," Don't be silly, Mapi."

"This is only temporary then? Thank god because I-"

"This is only Maya's gifts. Elena's are in one of the meeting rooms and y/n's are hidden at Alba's...Mapi? Are you okay? Your face is turning an odd colour."

Mapi's dramatic walk off is hindered somewhat by smacking her nose straight into a pile of boxes and nearly falling back into another one but, eventually, she manages to storm out and straight upstairs to your office.

You're sitting in your desk chair, looking through player health files or something when the door is slammed open.

"Your wife is crazy!"

"And hello to you too, Mapi. Come on in!"

"Crazy!" Mapi repeats, pacing in short, aggravated circles," She's crazy! The locker room is covered! Covered! In Christmas presents for your daughter! You have to get her to stop!"

You don't have a time to reply because the door swings open again and Alexia bursts in.

"Amor!" She cries," I found the cutest little booties for Elena! Look! Look!"

"No..." Mapi says softly," No...This-This can't be happening..."

"They're so cute!" You tell Alexia with equal enthusiasm," She'll love them so much! Order them! Order them!"

Alexia types in the delivery address and her card details and orders it happily before looking up.

"Where did Mapi go?"

It's a question that neither of you really dwell on that much as you show Alexia your own present ideas.

Wrapping the presents the night before isn't an easy task and you get the feeling that you and Alexia might have gone just a bit overboard. It's only a fleeting thought as you and Alexia wrap the boxes and tie them off with bows, writing sweet messages to your daughters on them even though neither of them can read just yet.

"We're all sleeping together tonight, right?" Alexia asks as she finishes off her last present, placing it in Elena's sizable pile.

"Us and the girls, definitely," You agree," I'm not sure if you'll get all the dogs and Mr Stinky in bed with us."

Mr Stinky looks up from his spot on the special pillow that's reserved just for him on the sofa. The tumours on his body have gotten much bigger now and he's getting weaker and weaker by the day.

He's got one more scan to come back to see if anything can be done but this could be his very last Christmas.

"Mr Stinky won't mind," Alexia assures you," He loves cuddling in our bed."

"And Lady?"

"Lady loves cuddling too!"

"And Sinky and his sisters?"

Alexia purses her lips. The puppies are still a bit wild and excitable at times, none of them ever content to just stay in one place even though the bed is more than big enough for everyone to fit into it.

"We'll leave the bedroom door open," Alexia says sagely, nodding her head like she's just cracked the secrets of the universe," So they can come in if they want."

"Alright," You say, standing up and stretching your back," I'm going to bring Mr Stinky up and then grab Elena. You'll let the dogs out one last time and get Maya?"

Alexia nods, drawing you back for a moment by your waist to press a kiss to your lips.

"I will, amor."

"Good," You say," And hurry up."

Alexia nods along with a smile, already heading to open the back door for the dogs.

Your footsteps approaching again makes Alexia turn and you speak directly in her ear.

"And I've got a very special present for you tomorrow when the girls have gone to sleep."

"Oh?"

You giggle right in her ear, low and sultry. "You're going to have a lot of fun unwrapping me for Christmas."

[ranticore]

thinking about characters fursonas is always more fun to me than directly anthro-ifying them because it's not just a question of "what animal would they be" since before you can even ask that you have to figure out how they would pick a fursona, and i almost feel like that says more about a character than what animal they choose.

like. would they want an animal that represents their ideal self? something that represents how they see themself to be currently? and how well does that perception match up with these actual reality? or would they pick based on something less complicated like "favorite animal"/"movie character they liked”.

all that leadup to ask, how do you think your mvf guys would pick their fursonas?

💯💯💯 literally it's one of the most fun characterisation exercises you can do, it tells you SO much about them, how they view themselves, what they want others to think of them and so on. all that good stuff. and then you get to delve into furry subcultures, influential artists etc

so on to the actual fursoneys themselves

Jean-Baptiste - aforementioned hummingbird with a suit from idk clockworkcreature or something. the subculture/art style is realistic but very humanised, basically a bird head on a feathery human body, no wing-hands, with a Georgian style of dress (potentially with steampunk elements) and named after a famous scientist from the period. He would not be an artist, but he would be one of those ppl who's a bigtime engineer making huge money who invests heavily in commissions of art (usually traditional media like oils, colouring pencil, etc) and writing about this character, who is a kind of inventor/old-timey scientist with a highly detailed backstory and canon setting. He chose the hummingbird because it's beautiful, precise, and tenacious, and also just because he likes the 'rare fursona species' aura. He has VERY strong negative view on poodling (when someone wears a partial fursuit with their skin showing) and has been posting to the same old rp forum for the past 20 years. Rude and bitchy but one of those guys who always pays well and tips for commissions because money is no object. an important part of the economy

Bowman - exactly the opposite to everything above. His fursona is a retriever-ish dog called Dog or Mutt or something with a single-colour palette and the art style is new school big toothy grin etc. fursona exclusively wears board shorts. He draws at a beginner level and he's obviously having a blast with it. The muscles are very detailed (so's the bulge) & the art is clearly bara influenced, especially around the eyes. He wouldn't have any interest in suiting i don't think but you will find him at the furry rave in a neoprene harness. He wouldn't have much money to commission with and his twitter feed would be mostly reposts of other people's art (without permission)

Islin - ok you know that one genre of art style used exclusively by dragon furries where it's got realistic scale textures, backgrounds, and the ref sheets are usually incredibly detailed and the dragons in their anthro forms are always absurdly ripped. He can draw this, i know it in my heart. The design is pretty generic western dragon, all things considered, I don't think he has the imagination for more (sorry). Character's name is something appropriately fantasy-ish like Xyrgoryx. He could definitely take commissions as a side hustle but as a perfectionist and professional worrier it would overwhelm him easily. You would probably not find him at a convention at all, I'd say such spaces do not appeal to him. He's been on Furcadia tho.

Félix - generic twinky fox in a thin-lines washboard abs disney-inspired art style with an absurdly deep backstory which we never get to see because the character is only ever drawn being railed. He can draw but more importantly he knows how to take the commissioner's money and run, delete his account, and remake under a different username. Was able to afford a fullsuit from Made Fur You and that alone gave him enough clout to continually avoid allegations of past misbehaviour. Every so often someone goes "hey isn't that a known scammer" when they see him at a con but it never sticks. Later he would get cancelled immediately for saying he "didn't care about" right-wing furries as long as their art was cute.

Senca - Almost certainly a feline-based original species or hybrid. The art style is very goldenwolf with spiritual/neopagan influences, mostly traditional media and ACEOs in oil pastel so it's got a kind of smudgy look. Her character has the same name as her and she considers it a 'truesona' of sorts. She's an established artist and well-respected but struggles to keep up with what Tha Youth are doing and her personal website has looked the same since the year 2006. She has a realistic partial suit but doesn't wear it much anymore, preferring to vend at the dealer's den instead. She always knows way too much gossip about any given person you could point out to her but she insists she isn't involved in what she'll delicately & vaguely refer to as 'drama'.

Léa - she was attracted by the promise of easy entry into a supportive and friendly readymade community and bought an expensive Closed Species design to be her fursona. She tried to participate in events but instead got sucked into a cesspit of petty warfare between her CS community and a very similar CS with design elements that may have been inspired by hers (after all, 'dog with kinda long pointy ears and a big fluffy tail' is VERY copyrightable). She goes along with it, afraid of losing her space in the panopticon discord community by voicing a dissenting opinion and it'll eat her up from the inside. until one day she wakes up and realises she paid €400 to gossip and participate in a group that bans you from adding horns to your fursona's head (a legendary trait restricted to the CS owner and their favourite sycophants) whose main form of bonding ritual seems to be reposting their enemies' art to mock it and colour-pick to prove the palettes were copied. She explains all this to Bowman in one big tearful rant on their first offline date at Eurofurence and he helps her get away from that community.

Helena - that was her copyrighted closed species. and she IS litigious about it.

Erica - it's a pine marten in a modern sketchy "just got an ipad and procreate" style, really cute, fun design, good coordinating outfit, honestly ticks all the boxes but then 5 days after he posts that awesome themed ref sheet he's got a brand NEW fursona and this time it's a cute lil jackdaw, again lovely design all around looks great but wait no in 5 days time it's a roe deer, no wait it's an otter, it's a gecko, it's a

Pascal - a sick as hell cartoony golden eagle with an electric guitar and sunglasses and you can imagine it airbrushed onto the side of a campervan because that's where it lives. he's strictly offline, doesn't know what a furry is, never been on twitter, but he is 100% certain in his heart that this bird is a true representation of himself

[pomogando]

hiii hehehe :3!! may i resquetttt maybe a medkit and child reader ehe write whatever ya likeee just idk i just want parental love for onc- that isnt important but i would be very happy if you do it!!have a nice day or night.

Medkit and a child Reader

Word count 800+, short and sweet, one-shot, platonic !!!!!!

Medkit is trying his best.

Medkit never considered himself the type to ever have a family in his lifetime. He never considered himself good with kids. Hell, he struggled to be the right person a kid could look up to. That's what Medkit thought, at least. He was pathetic in many people's eyes, a fall from grace from the scientist he could be. He felt aimless.

Hurrying back home to his apartment, he picked up cheap fast food. It was definitely not his favorite, but to survive till the next day, it was good enough. It was too late to plan a meal and he couldn't exactly cook in the first place, but he hoped one day he could make you something at home you'd actually like to eat.

The bus stop was far from the church, so he had to cover the food bag as he ran from the ever increasing intensity of the rain. The umbrella in his free hand wouldn't open. He grumbled as the rain wet his uniform.

He had meant to get a new one, but on the days he remembered, it was always too sunny for an umbrella to be needed.

Still, despite his impatience at the bus stop to get home, ignoring the odd looks from civilians, his thoughts drifted to you as they always did. His new responsibility on top of an already large enough list.

Sometimes, he wondered if he was doing the right thing for you by taking you in. It's not like the place was exactly grand, and you were a bit of a money drain through no fault of your own. It was his, actually, he found he liked spoiling you the little he could.

He got home late, the damned bus had taken forever, and then the bus driver drove everywhere but to you. He watched others leave to their homes with an annoyed look. He's pretty sure someone looked back, but he was more focused on the food that was definitely getting cold. He wrapped it in his jacket, putting the bag close to his chest.

The bus came to a rough stop as the driver told him to get off. He nearly dropped the bag.

He hurried upstairs, struggling to put his keys in the keyhole due to his own eagerness to get home.

He opened the door with a click, closing behind him and locking it. "I hope you don't mind, it's the same as last time." He announced, hearing your footsteps as you ran down the hall to see him. He dropped the food on the counter, watching as you ran to his side with bright eyes. It was your favorite for whatever reason. Despite his own disinterest in the food, he felt like he owed you. For everything, he didn't have a specific thing in particular, maybe for not being able to do enough.

Medkit couldn't help but look at your bandages on your thin arms as you dug through the bag for your usual. When he found you, you were covered in bruises and scratches. Your horns chipped with one almost in half. It'll thankfully heal with your young age, but he wondered how that could've happened, not that he would ask. You never mentioned it, so he wouldn't.

It was something he could piece together anyways, Playground was dangerous. How you got here, though, was something he couldn't figure out.

"Did you get me a milkshake?" You asked. He paused to think. "I left it on the bus.." His eyes widened, quickly running to grab it. He heard you giggle as he ran out the door. Thankfully, the bus hadn't pulled away yet, but the driver still wasn't very happy to be flagged down for a single milkshake.

Medkit came back to you eating your fries. He had told you before to slow down, which you obviously didn't listen to. "Come sit!" Your food was spread out on the table and his neatly placed nearby. He was intending on eating in his own room, but he couldn't exactly refuse you.

"Here." He put the shake down near you, watching you perk up. "I didn't forget, like I said I would." You smiled, taking it eagerly. He sat next to you. You've had this meal day after day, yet you still ate it. He wasn't even sure if it was actually your favorite. You didn't seem very picky.

"Slow down, you'll get a brain freeze." He stole one of your fries, making you huff.

You finished it all way too quickly for his liking. He hadn't even unwrapped his burger, but he couldn't even scold you before you got up. Already running back to your room to create a mess.

"Thanks, dad!" You called out as you were already closing your door. Medkits eyes widened. He wasn't sure how to feel. Him? You considered him your dad? He always felt as if he didn't do enough, or maybe he was too strict. Maybe he was too lax.

.

.

.

He scoffed at the wrappers on the table. You always 'forgot' to clean up after yourself, leaving him to do it instead.

But, he'd let it slide, just this once.

[consanguinitatum]

First off, I want to say thanks to @80smaniac for writing such a thoughtful piece on my article about MacWizard Fae Oz, John Binnie, Scotland Matters and David Tennant. It was indeed a remarkable coincidence that I just so happened to run into that flyer, which was the catalyst for a renewed search and a possible (though still not confirmed by the man himself) solution to the mystery of why he was in that photo of MacWizard Fae Oz.

I haven't yet done a deep dive into Scotland Matters (or indeed any of David's three other 7:84 plays) at A Tennantcy To Act because to be honest? They're all quite the undertaking. I've been able to dig up quite a lot of information about them, and it's precisely the amount of information I have that makes me feel a bit overwhelmed. My brain's short circuiting like: "Where to start? How to start? There's toooo much OMGggggg...." I'll get there, I'm sure, as soon as my brain decides it's ready to start laying it all down!

But I think I can - albeit only partially - address your wonderings about how Scotland Matters addressed homosexuality in the early 1990s. It was part of that whole growing movement about gay rights, safe sex in the time of AIDs, and calls for the establishment of institutional and governmental safeguards as opposed to looking solely within the gay community for those guardrails. And of course, fighting the ever-present blame and discrimination. You'll be happy to know David wasn't in that group (as if he'd ever be)! He's always walked the walk. In drama school at the RSAMD in 1989, he joined a school theatre company called Theatre Positive+ Scotland, formed by students to help raise money for Scottish AIDS charities like the Scottish AIDS Monitor.

Now on to Scotland Matters in particular.

The play was a collaborative show, made up of ten playlets by nine different authors, each one focusing on a different aspect of Scottish life. No one was more important than the other, and the 7:84 being the radical politically-motivated organization it was, it even held a series of at least three after-show discussions featuring prominent Scots about subjects like class, culture, identity, nationalism, sexual politics, and football.

As I mentioned in my article about MacWizard Fae Oz, David played (alongside many other roles in the play) Ben in the playlet Away w’ the Fairies by John Binnie. about two boys who meet while watching Death in Venice and fall in love.

Without giving too much away about Scotland Matters, I can share here something director Iain Reekie said to Scotland on Sunday about the play around a year later on 14 Nov 1993:

"...we did a play in Edinburgh called Away w' The Fairies, about two men falling in love with each other. At one point the two got their clothes off and embraced. An elderly man in the audience jumped up and shouted, "oh, no, no, not that!  That's disgusting.  You're not going to do that!"

So now you know David got his kit off onstage in Scotland Matters, and now you also know how it was likely generally received.

Thanks for reading A Tennantcy To Act - I really do appreciate it, and I'm so glad David's fans enjoy reading my geeky little research on his career!

Collecting David Tennant's Theatre Programmes: What The Butler Saw (1995)

Everyone who follows me over at A Tennantcy To Act over on Substack knows I collect David Tennant's theatre ephemera (programmes, flyers, etc.) and love to chat with others who do, too. But I've never delved into the particulars of collecting.

Until now!

For the first time ever, I explore collectibles related to one of David's early plays. For this inaugural dive, I've chosen the 1995 production of What The Butler Saw.

Join me!

[someforeignband]

there's red & green everywhere (but i'm so blue) WC: 1.8k this is for all the christmas haters who have partners that are christmas lovers

Theoretically, Eddie should hate Christmas. It’s an amalgamation of everything he stands against, from organized religious celebration to conformism to capitalist gift-buying bullshit.

And, it’s not like Steve hates Christmas. It wasn’t like that, he swears it’s not. But, this year he didn’t even bother pulling decorations from storage because he knew his parents weren’t coming home.

And that was that, the garland and tree and mistletoe could stay boxed up in the garage. Steve wouldn’t have to worry about breaking his back to decorate the house. He had a partner that not only loved him, but liked him, so he didn't have to worry about impressing someone with unrealistic expectations of him.

For the first Christmas ever, Steve was without obligations.

Christmas might, for once, not be a massive disappointment if he didn’t spend the next few weeks building up excitement for something that would never happen.

It should’ve all been fine and dandy, should’ve been good. Steve could rest easy knowing there wasn’t anything he had to do in preparation for the holiday season.

But, to Steve’s absolute shock and horror: Eddie Munson loves Christmas.

Eddie loves Christmas in a way that he actually owns a copy of Frank Sinatra's Christmas album on tape and apparently keeps it in his car year round. Eddie loves Christmas in a way that means he has a whole box of recipes reserved just for the Christmas season. He loves Christmas in a way that means that he goes all in, just like he does with anything else Eddie loved.

The Munsons love Christmas in a way that means that Eddie and Wayne have a massive advent calendar that they take time every day to open. The Munsons love Christmas in a way that means that there’s VHS tapes of A Charlie Brown Christmas and It’s A Wonderful Life sitting out just begging to be watched.

Eddie Munson loves Christmas.

So much so, that it pretty much looks like Santa and his Elves exploded all over the northeast corner of Forest Hills Trailer Park.

“Holy shit, Ed,” Steve shakes his head, looking around the trailer in disbelief. “This is crazy.”

“Isn’t it incredible!” Eddie grins, unwrapping another string of multi-colored lights.

“It’s-uh...” Steve stammers, trailing off, sort of dumbfounded by the insane amount of holiday cheer.

Not that he cared that Eddie loved Christmas. It was nice, actually, to see him so excited about something so... normal. Maybe this was a minor re-direction of the current timeline. No biggie.

Except that Steve supposed he’d have to rethink just about everything regarding the upcoming holidays. There’d have to be gift buying, and event planning, and meal prepping, and cleaning, and all of this pressure to do things he's not good at.

He's never been good at holidays, or gifts, or family, or love, or any of that stuff that comes with this time of year.

"Wayne needs some help outside with the lights, he's too old to be up on the ladder." Eddie calls over his shoulder, having migrated across the trailer to top the tree with an angel.

"Do you mind helping him out?"

"Oh-uh... No, no not at all. I got it." Steve murmurs, backing toward the door, still reeling from seeing Eddie like this.

Wayne greets him outside, smiling, nose red from the early December air.

"He's serious?" Is all Steve can say, exasperated, breath fogging up in front of him.

"As a heart attack, son," Wayne shrugs, grinning. "The kid loves Christmas." "Oh, no, yeah," Steve barks out. "I got that much."

"He's a little intense," Wayne chuckles.

"Got that, too," Steve laughs.

"I think he gets that from his momma," Wayne shrugs.

Steve moves toward the pile of lights and begins untangling. He's still in a near-trance, thoughts swirling, trying to figure out what this meant for Eddie, what this meant for their relationship-

"Don't work too hard over there, boy," Wayne chuckles, plugging a string of lights into an extension cord.

"Oh, I wasn't, I'm just-"

"C'mere," Wayne beckons him over, pointing at the painter's ladder leaned up against the side of the trailer. "Eddie'll lose his mind if I get up there." And so they go about hanging lights, and Steve's so focused on the fact that Eddie likes Christmas to even recognize that he was on a rickety old ladder, that it was higher than he was probably comfortable with, or even that it was cold.

Eddie likes Christmas.

He climbs down from the ladder, shoving hands in his pockets, just looking at Wayne, whose brows were furrowed, mouth all tensed up like he was trying not to cough or something.

"All done," Steve offers, brightly, slapping on a smile.

He's trying, alright. But, the imminent Eddie likes Christmas won't stop screaming at him, like it's a box he can't check.

"You okay, son?" Wayne asks, and it's like all the air gets sucked out of Steve's lungs.

"I don't think I can do Christmas like Eddie does," He confesses before he can stop himself, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

Wayne laughs, shaking his head, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Nobody does Christmas the way Eddie does."

Wayne was entirely too unserious for the situation at hand and was obviously not understanding what Steve was saying.

"I've never really liked Christmas," Steve says quietly, like it's a secret, like he's afraid Eddie will hear. "I just don't want to disappoint him."

Wayne stops laughing, blinking a few times. "Oh, Steve, it's not that big'a deal."

"I didn't even plan on getting him a gift, I didn't even know we were celebrating Christmas, I thought he would hate it."

"Steve," Wayne cuts him off, placing his other hand on Steve's shoulder. "Eddie doesn't care about any of that."

Steve shrugs his hands off, shaking his head. "I just wish I would've known so I could better prepare."

"Prepare for what exactly?" Wayne asks, wetting his lips.

"So I'd do all the things he needs me to do to make Christmas special, you know? Ugly sweaters and presents and baked goods and all of that Christmas crap."

Wayne's eyes flicker downwards, like he's thinking something he's not saying.

"You wish you could've better prepared? To what? Pretend to be somebody you're not?"

"Well," Steve groans. "Don't say it like that."

"Son," Wayne sighs, and his hand is back on Steve's shoulder again. "The most important part of Christmas for Eddie is being with the people he loves. You are what makes Christmas special for him."

It takes everything inside Steve to not roll his eyes, it would be like Wayne to give him the 'Christmas is about love and family' bullshit. From the way it looked inside that damn trailer, like the North Pole had suddenly relocated to Hawkins Indiana, Steve had a snowball's chance in hell of making Eddie's Christmas special.

"The most important present Eddie will get this year is you spending Christmas with us," Wayne presses further.

And this time, Steve can't help it. He feels his eyes roll, ever so slightly. He sighs, giving Wayne a defeated shrug because this guy can not be serious. Did they see the same Eddie inside throwing fistfuls of tinsel onto every free surface?

But, before he can get into all of that, the front door to the trailer is slamming open and Eddie's skipping around all excited, looking at the lights.

God, Steve felt like shit.

"Look, kid," Wayne tries one more time, squeezing Steve's shoulder, pulling his attention back to the task at hand. "Eddie loves Christmas because it helps him be close to the people he loves. Don't go off trying to be somebody else for him, that would ruin the whole damn point."

That would ruin the whole damn point.

"They look so good, you guys!" Eddie grins, feet crunching over frozen leaves as he trots over to Steve and Wayne.

"And, I didn't get on the ladder even once," Wayne grins, eyes flicking between Steve and his nephew.

Something in the middle of Steve's chest tugs, painful but good, like rubbing out a sore muscle or itching at a sunburn.

"I wouldn't let him," Steve offers, end of his mouth twitching up into a soft smile.

"I knew I could trust you," Eddie grins, dimples on full display, cheeks already going red from the winter Indiana air.

Wayne waves a hand, feigning frustration, scoffing. "You both act like I'm a sneeze away from the grave. I'm goin' inside."

He storms away, but Steve knew he wasn't actually upset. His shoulders were shaking in silent laughter as he trudged toward the trailer's front door.

The door slams, and Steve feels Eddie's hand just barely grace his own. They stood a respectable distance apart. Steve's hand tingles from the featherlight touch, and his stomach flutters, watching Eddie look over his shoulder at the lights.

"Thanks for helping him," Eddie whispers, eyes bright and full of pure happiness. "He makes me so damn nervous on that stupid ladder."

Steve nods and a gust of wind makes him shiver, cutting right through him. It was damn cold out, and yet he hadn't noticed.

"Come inside, bug," Eddie gives his hand a quick squeeze. "It's gonna start to snow."

Steve looks up, and almost serendipitously a frozen flake hits his nose.

"Oh," He whispers, wiping his forehead.

Eddie giggles, "C'mon, baby. I was gonna make us some cocoa." He pats Steve's arm gently, nodding towards the trailer.

"I even bought a real gallon of milk for it! No powdered shit."

There's that feeling again, like cracking your knuckles or ripping off a bandaid.

The most important present Eddie will get this year is you spending Christmas with us.

Steve sighs, feeling another flake hit his ear, then another, and then another. He looks at the lights he just spent the better part of the last couple hours hanging, a few of them didn't light up fully, blinking dull and slow.

"Coming," He says, feeling the frozen leaves and grass crumbling under his steps. Eddie's holding the door open for him, grinning ear to ear at him like he was the one who put the angel at the top of the tree.

He picks up his pace, knocking his hip against Eddie's as he shuffles through the door of the Munson's trailer.

You are what makes Christmas special for him.

"I love you," Steve breathes, quiet and hesitant, as soon as the front door closes.

It feels weird, the warm lighting, the smell of hot cocoa on the stove, the Frank Sinatra Christmas album playing in the background.

Sunburns heal. Sore muscles get stretched out. Ripping a bandaid off only hurts for a second, and sometimes you have to crack your knuckles, so your fingers will feel better.

"I love you too, sweetheart," Eddie responds easily, without obligation.

For the first Christmas ever, Eddie had Steve. For the first Christmas ever, Steve was without obligation.

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[poetryqueer]

planning document must be going well I just said the words “explaining the endurance of Platonism could be the life I’m living” to myself. Alone. At 2:30am. Because yeah. Could be.

[theflyingfeeling]

fic talk in the tags 💝

[end-orfino]

ahhhhhh i remember why i dont read comics & books and watch movies as much as I should. Because they make me lose it

[blujayonthewing]

the problem with AI is that it sucks shit but its benefits are actually tangible; every idiot on the block wanted a piece of NFTs and crypto but they still died quickly because they just didn't have legs to get anywhere beyond the immediate unspecific hype, but companies very much can lay off a bunch of artists and writers who take days or weeks or months to work and replace them with a guy who can shit out AI trash in five minutes

[whumpy-wyrms]

ITS BEEN A MONTH SINCE TLLR CHAPTER 11????? WHAT

[seventh-district]

takes a 5 minute break in the middle of writing a scene to sob over Swan Upon Leda by Hozier

[shiroselia]

Also like the thing is that it keeps surprising me because I don't expect this sort of thing. Which probably sounds fake as fuck to the people who see me pull these things out of my ass on the regular but it's never Been about the word count. It still isn't. Never will be.

Like yeah it's Nice to be able to throw out big numbers, but anybody can write x amount of words of trash. What really gets me going is being able to write something I'm proud of. Which is why I'm sitting here giving a second draft to a 280k long first draft because I'm not proud of its quality. Sure I'm still insanely proud that I did it, and had I not done it that way originally it wouldn't have been done at all, but now I can do better, and I want and will do better. Because I want to be able to show this off to people and go Yeah I did that, aren't I fucking great? Because if I can't do that then what's the point?

It's not about the word count, it never will be about the word count, it's nice that I'm insane Both in quality (subjective) and quantity (arguably objective), but I'm still never Expecting myself to reach x amount of words because it's not about writing something long it's about writing something I'm proud of.

Sadly I am also a Terminal fucking yapper and happen to have my critical writing analysis work Just as well on my own writing as it does on everybody elses. So I guess we're writing documents long enough to the point where even google docs tell me it's enough.

[musical-chick-13]

Not me...putting all my time into.......a fandom event..............that I didn't even plan to participate in...................................

[atlabeth]

thank you so so much for the positive reception to dance until we're bones, it's truly something i poured my heart into and i think it might be one of the things that im most proud of on here and maybe one of my favorite things ive written ever!

i think i will eventually write a short little sequel exploring hotch and the reader's relationship in the future because i've kind of grown attached to them and i just really want them to have the happy ending they deserve. especially after the emotional damage i put them through

[rafesfawn]

🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.