#and now someone’s been invited in and we’re getting cosy in here because I’ve made it a space worth being in!

[theplantqueer]

gay on main

#dont rb #this is just a filler text for a tag ramble #but i’m!!! feeling really good about how hard I’ve worked on myself and my relationships to other people in the past year or two #and it feels like I’ve spent all this time thoroughly cleaning my living soace and decorating it in the ways that I want #(the living space being my mind & mental health & passions & idk what else!) #and now someone’s been invited in and we’re getting cosy in here because I’ve made it a space worth being in! #and they’re feeling cosy and complimenting the decor and finding joy in this space!!! which in turn brings me joy #idk maybe the space is also my heart! #love feels real good and i’m real proud of the love and care i can offer in this partnership basically 🥰 #me #ramble #🌿💕👻

[aesthyuckic]

AVENOIR | l.dh - VIGINTI TRES

(gif not mine - credit to rightful owner)

Genre: High School AU (at beginning) ; Tarot Reader!Witch!Hyuck

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: (bold if in use) slow but with a purpose, belief contradictions, mentions of r*pe, blood, swearing, violence(??), mentions of abuse

Pairings: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) x Reader (F)

KNIGHT OF WANDS: action, adventure, fearlessness

The birds could be heard chirping clearly that morning. The sunlight that came through the white curtains was warm and refreshing as it had kissed Donghyuck’s skin. Something about just made the half awake boy even cozier in the sheets of the bed as he wrapped the blanket around him more as he snuggled his face into the soft pillow.

Usually the autumn mornings were gray and colder but this one was almost perfect as is. The boy realized shortly after he wasn’t going back to sleep. His slowly opened blurry and out of focus as he saw the familiar window on his half of the room. Though, maybe it wasn’t ‘his half’ anymore as much as it was now a shared space since him and Cosimia were officially together. He remembered that every morning and it still made him smile to himself in his groggy state.

With that he sat up in the bed and stretched. He rubbed his eyes while yawning a bit before he even noticed Cosimia was sitting on the other side of the bed looking outside the other window. Her mother sat beside her, staring at her daughter. What an odd thing that she wasn’t annoying the boy for once. The quietness almost made him uncomfortable, yet it was still nice.

He turned his attention back to the girl and found it a heavenly sight to see the way the morning sunlight cascaded over her. Her hair had reverted to a natural brown that seemed to go red in the sun while her eyes turned a beautiful gold color under the light as well. She glowed like an angel... The scene had caused him to smile lazily at him in his half awake state, still feeling the familiar fluttering of his heart when it came to her.

He only then noticed the books that laid all around her on the bed, one she even held in her lap as she just seemed lost in her stare outside the window. They were his old ones about witchcraft. She had been reading them lately and he stopped practicing since he had gotten out of the hospital. He knew she didn’t want to be like her mother in the regard she didn’t want to be a witch, she said it many times. Yet, she read the books and he knew it was because since her abilities were given to him, she no longer felt anything was special about her. Just something that was a big part of her identity was ripped away and she felt hollow in places she kept trying to fill with other things and one of them was trying to take after what he use to do.

She never looked pleased reading them, always had a frown on her face and he always got why... He felt a pit of guilt within him at times like these even though he knew it was out of his control, then and now. But he remembered every time how she said she’d rather have him here above it all...

They were back in Southern California to rest for the season and only in spring would they start traveling again. Though, the good thing was it tended to be warmer there so they’d still be working regularly even if it wasn’t as busy as it would be. Luckily, they were given the day off to settle even though it had been a couple of weeks since they got back. It seemed peaceful that morning until the sound of fireworks started to go off occasionally.

She didn’t notice the boy until he gently wrapped his arms around her waist while he rested his cheek against her shoulder, comfortably half asleep. The familiar sound of young laughter could be hear outside along with the running footsteps and more fireworks.

“Did they wake you up?” She asked, referring to fireworks that were being set off by their friends.

He shrugged as he sighed dreamily, “Maybe.”

She hummed in response she continued on with the book in her lap. Her mom had said something to him about how upset she was that morning. He guessed it was one thing he was thankful for.

“Hey,” He said as he came to sit beside her on the bed before he took her hands in his which left that book forgotten for the moment. “Why don’t we go do something fun?”

She laughed, “Huh?”

“The others sound like they’re having fun...” Donghyuck pointed out. “Why don’t we join them? That’s sorta what the day off is for, right?”

It didn’t take much more persuading for her to surrender to him and get dressed. When they stepped outside, the sky was cloudy and yellow, similar to the color of dust. Hand in hand they followed the noise that filled the morning and the sky with brief moments of light. She seemed preoccupied in what was above her, the dusty yellow color reflecting within her own brown eyes, full of light themselves it seemed like glass. Though, Donghyuck was lost in that image alone, it left him with a smile and that familiar ping in chest he felt whenever she did something he adored.

They had made their way to the dry, desert clearing where all their closest friends’ trailers were. It seemed like everyone else was there by the amount of people they say running around with sparklers and setting off fireworks before running away. There was also quite a few kids with water guns and water balloons chasing each other around as it was a warm day despite it being November.

Jaemin, Jeno, and Xiaojun were sat under an umbrella on a blanket in front of their trailers that were now decorated with lights and other things you might’ve found at the party supply store. Kun was cooking on the barbecue with Jaehyun helping him. It looked nice and inviting in all honesty. Donghyuck had looked over at Cosimia and she seemed to look happier than before which made him feel better.

Meanwhile, Lucas and Hendery were having a water gun war with one another and some of the other younger ones. He was laughing and smiling as he sprayed the others around him. Though, it wasn’t long before he was surround by everyone against him and ended up drenched. His hair stuck to his forehead and his clothes to his body while he was out of breath from the combination of running and laughing. He could heard Hendery yelling out of victory with the others and celebrating with them.

He was catching his breath when he noticed something in the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see it was Donghyuck and Cosimia standing there, holding hands which wasn’t unusual to see. Though, it was when he saw the two give each other a quick kiss before she went off did his smile drop. It was only second though before a new one came about.

Donghyuck only noticed when his girlfriend left his side that Lucas was looking at him from far away. The older waved at him and he was hesitant to return it but he did in the end. The boy was quickly knocked out of the awkwardness when he felt something cold and wet on his clothes that startled him. And there she was with a water gun in her own hands just with a mischievous smile on her face.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it.” He muttered.

She started to run but he was quick to gently grab her waist and pull her back while she laughed loudly as he hugged her. She escaped rather quickly and he grabbed a water gun before he went chasing after her to get his pay back. Lucas has watched it and it made him chuckle to himself before he went to go hunt down Hendery.

The whole thing went on until dusk. Everyone started to retire to the fire in front of the trailers with towels in an effort to dry off and be warm. Some kids were still setting off fireworks, mostly with the help of the Jeno, Jaemin and Hendery at that point who were doing most of the work. Cosimia was off talking to some of the other girls since it was really the first time anyone was really aware of the relationship being official. Of course, people wanted to know more.

Her boyfriend was leaned up against one of the trailers alone, eating some of the steak Kun had cooked that tasted so good. He happily ate away while he had no knowledge of who was talking about him and even chuckling at how cute he was.

Lucas had come over to stand next to the other boy which he acknowledged right away, “I’m happy for you guys... You both seem to make each other really happy... Its nice to see, you know? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cosimia smile the way she does now or be so comfortable with someone.”

“Oh...” He said, mostly because he was nervous on what he’d say about the matter after the brief talk they had in summer earlier that year. “Thank you...”

“Listen,” The taller boy said. “The guys put a little something together for you two behind of Hendery’s and Xiaojun’s trailer. It’s kinda a surprise sort of thing but you can look it before you bring her or don’t... You know, that’s up to you.”

He gave the other a thumbs up and a wink before he walked away. What he talked about in all honesty left the boy incredibly curious but also very nervous at the same time. It was long before he went to go look at what it was simply because he couldn’t help himself. All he saw behind the trailers was a ladder that lead up to the roof of one of them.

He couldn’t find anything else around so he decided climbed up the ladder. His peaked his head up to the roof and was shocked to see a nice, knitted blanket spread out across the top as well a picnic basket, presumably that had food in it made by Kun.

“You can take credit for it if you want.” He heard Xiaojun say which startled him and almost resulted in him falling.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” He huffed as he climbed down.

“Sorry,” Xiaojun chuckled. “Didn’t mean to but again, you can take the credit. We just wanted to help you out a bit...”

“Thank you, honestly. The fact that you did means a lot to me. I know Cosi is really special to everyone and y’all want to make her happy but nonetheless, thank you again.”

“It’s not just for her, you know? We’re friends too, duh. Why else would do this if we weren’t friends as well?”

The words made him smile slightly and just feel comforted. He just nodded in response to the older. Shortly after, he went back out to where everyone else was and he saw his girlfriend was still with her friends, talking. He had to step in between groups of other people to get to her. It seemed like all them became quiet as he tapped the girl’s shoulder to which she turned around to see him.

“Oh, Hyuck.” She smiled as she grabbed his hand and looked up at him. “What’s up?”

He bent down to whisper in his ear. “There’s a surprise for us so when you’re ready meet me behind the trailers, okay?”

She nodded as she let his hand go so he could walk away. He could hear the girls’ hushed ‘oohs’ and teasing as he walked away which kind of just left him chuckling.

“Be quiet.” Cosimia blushed. “He can probably hear all you guys.”

“Go on!” Lia encouraged the girl, pushing her lightly.

“Yeah!” Choerry chimed in. “Who knows what the surprise is. Haechan is a really sweet boy.”

“And you’ve constantly brought up how he’s a romantic.” Giselle scoffed.

“Shut up!”

Her friends all giggled at how red her face got at the teasing.

“Seriously, though,” Giselle said. “Go.”

“Are you sure?” Cosimia asked. “I didn’t even really get to say much.”

“Definitely.” Choerry nodded. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“Plus, there will be more to tell us then too.” Lia added with a grin.

They waved goodbye as the girl as she stumbled passed the people that surrounded them. It was much quieter as she rounded the back to see the boy leaned up against the metal of one of the trailers. She noticed there was a ladder next to him that shined a little with the moon light. He turned his head at the sound of gravel moving and a big smile appeared on his face as she got closer.

“So, where’s the surprise?” She teased.

He gestured toward the ladder behind him now, “Up this way, m’lady.”

“What a gentleman.” She giggled, playing along.

She approached the ladder in which he helped her up by holding it with one hand and holding her hand with the other. He could hear her let out a small gasp from the roof before he came up. He sat beside her and she seemed too speechless to say anything. He could see the faint pink in her cheeks even though it was dark. Her friends had spotted her and waved with such assuming at the scene. To him, seeing her like this was such a treasure. All blushing and shy because of the teasing from friends, taken back by the gesture... Mostly because he never really got to see that part of her before or see her act her age because she was too busy with other things that hadn’t allowed that to be a thing.

He didn’t check what was in the picnic basket before and was shocked to pull out a sparkling cider bottle along with a piece of cake they ended up sharing in the end after the small dinner that was prepared for them. They sipped on the cider for the rest of the time being while looking up at the moon, the stars and just the sky the girl had always had such a liking too.

It was as if the others had caught on to the little plan when the starry night sky was light up with fireworks displayed in such a way it showed a pink heart. Her eyes seemed to light up as her jaw dropped before fading into a smile.

“Hyuck, did you really do all of this?” She asked, almost breathless as she sat up and put her glass down beside her.

“Mm... more of a happy accident.” He answered. “The boys did most, actually all the work... They said I could take credit but I really can’t, honestly. It gave me ideas, so next time it will be me. It was nice though anyway, right? Really nice of them too...”

He couldn’t look up, kind of embarrassed at the fact that he wasn’t the one that came up with it but treated like such at first. He ran his finger around the rim of the champagne glass in an attempt to distract himself. He was surprised when he felt the girl his cheek.

“Thank you.” She murmured, softly in the night.

“For what?” He questioned.

“For bringing me up here.” She started with a shrug. “For not lying to me, even when it’s a little lie. For pushing me to come outside today. For making me feel better. A lot of things...”

“Is it... kissing rewarding thankful?”

He smiled, sheepishly at the girl. She rolled her eyes before leaning over and giving him a kiss that was long than expected. She couldn’t seem to help herself, not that he’d ever complain about it. He felt like he was floating whenever they shared a kiss and his heart would feel so light. Her lips were always so soft and warm and they tasted so sweet like sugar every time. It just made him feel like he was in heaven.

“I love you, too.” She admitted.

“What?” He breathed.

“I love you, too...” She repeated. “You said it that one night... Hopefully it still reins true... I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how-“

He lean in and captured her lips, gently, one again. Though, it was him getting lost in it this time. Something about the passion in it made her whole heart skip so many times before he pulled away, slowly to rest his forehead against hers. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You don’t have to apologize.” He cooed. “I said it really soon... and it’s different for everyone, you know? But of course, it’s still true.”

“Really?” She asked.

“Really,” He reassured. “I can say it again if you want. I’ll say, I love you. I’m in love with you, Cosi. I’m positive of that. Do you want me to say it to everyone? Because I can. I’ll stand up and shout it right here, right now in front of all of our friends if you want me to.”

“No, that’s fine. I believe you.”

It was always nice to hear her laugh. He stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“Okay.” He shrugged with a moment of slience before he sat straight up. “I love Cosi-“

She was quick to grab him and cover his mouth before pinning him against the roof.

“Shhh!” She whispered to him. “Everyone is gonna hate us because we’ll be that couple!”

“So, let them.” He giggled. “We deserve this don’t we? I’ll gladly make them sick to their stomachs with how cute we are.”

“You’re something else.”

“You’re really beautiful.”

She looked down at him in silence, his eyes wandered around her face as he looked up. Her hair hid them as she was on top of him, pinning his arms down so he couldn’t get up to go yelling again and she so happened to have more strength than him. She leaned down and laid a kiss on his lips as her gripped loosen on his arms. His hands had found their way to her waist to pull her closer. He smiled into the kiss and she was left breathless by the skipping heat in her heart he caused with what he did. It wasn’t long before they felt each other soft lips on one another again. Something about the whole thing was so easily to get lost in and so intoxicating. One thing lead to another and they ended up making out, which was the first time they went beyond passionate, long, loving kisses since weeks prior.

Though, it was cut short when a empty soda bottle was thrown at them and bounced off the roof which startled the both of them out of each other’s embraces.

“Get a room!” Hendery yelled. “And no baby making on my roof!”

“This is your fault, deal with it!” Donghyuck retorted.

“You can keep the blanket!” Xiaojun added. “We don’t want it back.”

Luckily for the couple, most people had gone back inside with how late it was. Their stay was cut short after the moment of embarrassment but they still thanked everyone for the surprise. It was eerie walking home, but in a good way. It felt similar to walking home after trick or treating on Halloween as a teenager. It felt like one too with how happy and bubbly they were on their short walk... To them it felt surreal,. They’d never been in such a place, let alone together before. They laughed, trying their best to be quiet with the people sleeping as warm of each other’s hand keep their fingers from falling off.

The air was cool and the night sky was noticeably a deep purple color as they walked away from the light. The wind started picking up as soon as they stood in front of the trailer and it seemed to get worse once they were inside, sheltered from the cold. It howled outside the windows in a creepy manner.

The boy threw the blanket on the chair near the door once they were inside.

“Haechan.” Cosimia’s mother called to him.

Before he could even ask her what it was, Cosimia had wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him down a bit just to continue where they left off before they were interrupted. His hands were quick to find her waist once again just to bring her closer as he tried to not smile against her lips. He’d never felt such a way before and he just felt so high...

“Haechan!” Her mother repeated herself again, only louder while stomping her foot on the floor.

He tried to waved her off as his arms had wrapped around the girl’s waist. He could hear the woman scoff and presumably roll her eyeballs as well at the sight as the kiss just seemed to get deeper. He could feel Cosimia smile too at that point. It was unfortunate that they were interrupted, again at that, by the sound of something hitting the floor. The both of them stopped to turn their attention to the noise.

A shadow started to stop out from the darkness of the small hallway. The two of them both went pale and wide eyed at the sight of Cosimia’s dad only standing a few feet away from them. Donghyuck was the one to notice that large knife in one of the man’s hands that glinted under the dim light from the lamp in their living area that barely reached that edge of the kitchen.

“I was trying to tell you.... The mother sighed.

The boy’s breath hitched in his throat as his anxiety and adrenaline raised within a moment. His grip on his girlfriend’s hand tightened. He stepped in front of her once he saw the distraught expression on her face as she froze in her place. She looked much like a ghost, like her mother with the way the color drained from her face. He looked back at her father, who hadn’t moved but now had a sinister grin. His eyes were black, full of darkness and death... Everything about that man screamed ‘lunatic’ and it was absolutely terrifying with the way he started to twirl the knife in his hands.

It was his turn to protect her now though.

#haechan #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #donghyuck #donghyuck x reader #haechan au #lee donghyuck #haechan imagines #haechan imagine #haechan x reader #haechan fics #haechan fanfiction #haechan fanfic #haechan fluff #haechan fic #haechan scenarios #haechan drabbles #haechan blurbs #haechan blurb #wayv #nct dream fics #nct 127 fics #nct 127 au #nct au #nct dream au #donghyuck au #donghyuck blurbs #donghyuck imagines #hyuck

[mimicteruyo]

The Little Teahouse Around the Corner

[Touhou Ship Week Day 7: Free day. KomaEiki + AkyuSuzu, 2.7k, crack/fluff]

---

If described very charitably, the construction before Eiki and Komachi could have been called a teahouse, exactly as the bamboo plank above the entrance claimed it was. More accurately, it was simply a large tent lit with red lanterns, standing conspicuously close to the Human Village.

"At least it's open?" Komachi eyed the obviously wet paint on the sign, then peered within. "I figured that at this hour, we'd have a choice between grilled lamprey and nothing this close to the village."

"Indeed." Eiki followed Komachi's example. There were certainly plenty of people within, each with a beverage in front of them, but the overall mood in the tent was quietly puzzled. Besides chairs and tables, there was also what looked bafflingly like an oden cart. "Something about this seems wrong."

"No worries, Sis! It ain't anything weird! We're runnin' a perfectly nice temp teahouse!"

They straightened up in unison. The speaker was a calico cat perched on a stool just barely to the side of the tent's entrance, grinning at them. "Lookin' for a cosy place to chat? We've got ya covered!"

Komachi grinned back. "Mike Goutokuji, right? Don't tell me this is your shop."

"It ain't. I'm just workin' here for a bit." Mike's tail swayed gently from side to side as she talked, its many-coloured fur catching the light of the lanterns. "I'm a barker! Which I know sounds really weird since I'm a cat an' all, but I can do the job. For a few days, anyway. Steady work doin' the same thing over an' over again ain't really my thing."

Komachi chuckled. "I know that feel— er."

Eiki chose to ignore the aborted remark. In any case, Mike's plans made it sound as though she was doing precisely what she supposed to do. Losing interest in things and loafing around were some of the chief goals in a cat's life, after all.

"Anyway," Mike curled up her palm. She beckoned three times. "Welcome to the Juniper Teahouse."

The next moment, Eiki found herself within the tent with no memory of stepping inside.

She halted, blinking in the sudden light. There were half a dozen customers within, humans and youkai alike, nursing teacups and expressions ranging from vexed to serene. Although there were multiple chairs for each table, every single customer was solitary. What had looked like an oden cart from the outside was precisely that; no-one appeared to man it, although the occasional bang and tuneful whistle from within it told her that someone was indeed there, just beyond sight.

"Komachi," she began, more puzzled than troubled even as she clutched the Rod of Remorse closer to her chest. "We should keep our eyes—"

It was at that moment that she became aware of a distinct lack of Komachi by her side. Only Mike was there, waving her legs in the air and looking very pleased with herself.

Eiki spun around. "Komachi?"

No answer. No sight of Komachi, either.

Standing by the entrance feeling foolish wasn't going to do anyone much good. Ignoring the slow blink Mike was giving her, Eiki stepped back outside.

And collided with an invisible barrier with enough force to momentarily bounce her off her feet. She staggered back in surprise.

Mike gave her an apologetic wince. "Sorry, Sis." Her tail swished low as Eiki studied her forehead for bumps. "After I've invited ya in, ya've gotta stay a while."

"Is this your ability?" Eiki prodded at the barrier with the Rod of Remorse. It proved as solid and unyielding as a ten-foot block of ice. "What happened to Komachi?"

"She'll be fine," said a familiar voice behind Eiki. "At least, she will be according to what Mike told me. You'll be a better judge of whether it's true or not."

Eiki turned to see a slightly less familiar face smiling at her close to the back of the tent and responded in kind. "I didn't notice you before. May I join you?"

Hieda no Akyuu assented with a nod. She waited for Eiki to take the seat opposite of her before continuing. "I hope you've been well. This present situation expected, of course."

Eiki crossed her hands on the table. "I would say so. The situation in Hell remains both confusing and volatile, but that's to be expected. Has your work progressed well?"

Akyuu took a careful sip from her cup. "It has, thank you. I've kept comfortably busy. And Kosuzu..." Akyuu's smile, which bore a distinct resemblance to that of her previous incarnation, brightened and then immediately dimmed. "I hope you don't mind my saying this, but I expected her to sit where you sit now." Her smile grew more rueful still. "Especially since she's the one who wished to come here."

"Has this establishment..." Eiki gestured at their surroundings and discovered that she couldn't call them that without correcting herself. "...Tent been here for long?"

"It appeared yesterday. As for me, I have been here for ten minutes. Mike informed me that it takes at least an hour for her invitations to be considered fulfilled."

"That's longer than I had hoped." Eiki frowned at the innocuous-looking exit and Mike, who was currently occupied with a moth circling the lantern nearest to the entrance before turning her attention back to Akyuu. "Can you tell me precisely what's going on in this place?"

"I can explain that!" a muddled but cheery voice called from the bottom of the oden cart.

---

Komachi had walked merrily along for several minutes, taking in the twilight air and seeing if she could get her breath to fog up in the lingering cold from the past winter, when she realised she had at no point decided to take an evening stroll. Moreover, she was now alone, something which was the exact opposite of her plans for the night.

She halted in the middle of the path and turned to look over her shoulder. The greenness of the teahouse tent blended into the evening behind her, but she could still see it when she squinted. Distance of course meant little to her: she could be back there nearly as soon as she decided upon it.

But first, it was best to figure what had happened. It was likely nothing serious: the situation had the feel of a fairy prank to it. Still, the fact that she couldn't actually remember what had passed rubbed her the wrong way.

"Alright..." She adjusted her scythe to rest more comfortably on her shoulder. "What happened here?"

So, there was the weird teahouse, and Mike, who did strike Komachi as bit of a prankster, but who had seemed earnest enough inviting them in. Had Mike addressed her invitation to Lady Eiki alone? No, Komachi was sure it had been extended to them both.

She recalled her only previous encounter with Mike, on a lazy afternoon not that long ago when she had wandered into Gensokyo and struck up a conversation with the cat upon meeting her on the road. Mike had mentioned arriving in Gensokyo not that long ago, having only recently left behind the temple she had been born at, and that due to circumstances she had done so before she had completed her training as a maneki—

"Damn."

At the moment of realisation, Komachi became aware of of running footsteps rapidly approaching her, just in time not to be entirely surprised by someone small but fast-moving crashing into her.

"Ow!" The person who had collided with her tottered back, holding a hand to her nose. Even in the dying light and with half her face covered, she was obviously Kosuzu Motoori. "I'm sorry! I just..."

Kosuzu trailed off. Her eyes travelled first up to Komachi's face, then to the blade of her scythe. She took a startled step back.

Komachi grinned. "No need to fret. You're not dying tonight."

Kosuzu relaxed quickly in that quietly alarming way of humans who made of habit of traipsing too close to the border of the mundane and the supernatural. As her shock drained away, it was replaced by an almost mournful expression, so out of place it was almost comical.

"What's the matter?" Komachi almost began walking to see if Kosuzu would follow, but she had a funny feeling it would only result in Kosuzu crashing into her again. "It's not wise for you to run alone on a dark night like this. Did someone refuse to return your favourite book?"

Kosuzu fidgeted with her sleeves. "No, nothing like that." For a moment, she looked hesitant to speak, but once she did, the words spilled out of her in a tumble. "Actually, it's our anniversary today."

"Whose?"

Kosuzu's cheeks flushed pink. "Mine and Akyuu's."

"Really?" Komachi couldn't help but chuckle. "That's a funny coincidence."

"What is?"

"Never mind." Komachi relaxed her stance. "Let's see if I can guess what happened. Since it was your anniversary, you decided to go out to celebrate."

"That's right."

"And you happened upon a new, strange teahouse."

"Exactly!" Kosuzu halted her eager nodding to blink. "How did you know?"

"Because it sounds like we're in the same figurative boat."

"Oh." Kosuzu smiled weakly. "I suppose that's better than a literal boat. Um, I mean..."

Komachi laughed. "That'll be another day." Before Kosuzu could become too unsettled, she nudged her head towards the road behind them. "Come on. Let's go find our dates."

---

"Here you go." Suika Ibuki slammed the teacup onto the table with enough force to make half the liquid within leap into the air. Miraculously, not only were both the table and cup undamaged, but the drink returned into the cup without so much as a single drop spilling. She winked. "I'd say it's on the house, but I'm guessing you'd take that for a bribe."

Eiki took the cup gingerly. Seeing its contents in the air had already made it obvious it was filled with anything but tea, but the scent confirmed it. "Is this sake?"

"Well, yeah."

"The sign outside said you're running a teahouse."

"Yeah, yeah. Is there a law saying you can't serve sake in a teahouse?"

Eiki had to concede the point. "Not in Gensokyo, no."

"See? Try it. It's good." Suika turned towards Akyuu. "Care for a refill?"

As Akyuu murmured a demurral, Eiki took a sip from her drink. It was indeed rather good, but that was beside the real matter at hand. She looked up. "Suika—"

Suika had already left the table. Eiki watched her stalk around the tent, grinning as she went, gathering empty cups and refilling others with seemingly no input from the patrons.

"So where was I?" She returned and cheerfully pulled out the remaining seat for herself. If she was discomfited by any lingering memories of the less than auspicious circumstances during which she had last encountered Eiki, she showed no signs of it, instead beaming with the brightness shared by the very innocent and inveterate liars. "A story of some kind?"

"You were about to explain why we can't leave."

"Yeah, that's right. So this teahouse is just a bit of fun. I'll get going as soon as Reimu finds out I've set up shop this close to the village." Suika grinned. "Actually, I think I'll wait for her to show up. It's more fun that way."

Akyuu offered her a polite smile. Eiki pushed her cup aside. "And then you hired Mike?"

"That's right." Suika took Eiki's cup and downed it in a single long swig before continuing. "Of course, I don't really need her to gather customers. I can use my foregathering ability to bring people over just fine. But it feels more like a proper teahouse with an employee, doesn't it?"

"A floor might have a similar effect," commented Akyuu dryly.

"Anyway, since Mike can only invite one person in at a time, I decided to gather people into the area so that even if only half of them got in we'd still have plenty of customers. It worked really well, too. Until people tried to leave. I tried making the people disperse once they got stuck, obviously, but for some reason it only worked on those who hadn't been invited in at all. I'm guessing our abilities got entangled in some mysterious way."

Eiki nodded. "I see."

"Anyway, you don't have to worry. Everyone gets to leave eventually. Even the person stuck for the longest managed to walk out after two hours."

Akyuu set her cup down. "At least one of us may not have to wait for that long." She raised her voice. "Mike?"

Mike, who was no longer paying attention to the moth and was instead swinging her leg back and forth, jerked her head upwards. "What's up, Sis?"

"Can you step out for a moment?"

"Sure." Mike dove out. "Now what?"

Akyuu stood up and nodded at Suika. "Thank you for your hospitality." She gestured at Eiki to join her at the tent's entrance and waited until they were both there before speaking again. "Mike, can you attempt to invite us outside?"

"Oh, I see." Eiki smiled as she grasped Akyuu's intent. "Even if the invitation can only work on one of us, it still means one of us will be free to go."

"I hope you're the one invited out." Akyuu's smile was thin but sincere. "Unnerving as it is being this close to multiple youkai, I have made my peace with waiting here. After all, by remaining in one place I have better odds of re-uniting with—"

"Akyuu!"

They turned to look outside. Kosuzu hovered right behind Mike, bopping her head around in an effort to see past her. Behind her, calm but still curious, stood Komachi. Upon noticing Eiki, she gave her a cheery little wave.

Akyuu's smile immediately warmed to the point where its brightness was a match to the lanterns. "Everything is fine, Kosuzu. It's only a small supernatural obstacle."

Kosuzu gave a distracted nod, then turned towards Mike, looking almost ready to put hands on the cat. "Please invite us in!"

Mike's eyes darted from Komachi and Kosuzu to Akyuu and Eiki and then back. She frowned. "Kay, how about we try somethin' like this?"

She positioned herself in the tent's entrance, one foot in, one foot out. Before anyone could do anything to stop her, she beckoned with both hands. "Welcome!"

The next thing Eiki knew, she had collided with something unyielding but relatively soft.

"Oof." Komachi staggered back, then reached out to steady Eiki. She grinned. "At this rate I'm going to be qualified to work as a roadblock."

Back on her feet, Eiki looked around. She was outside again, with Komachi's hands on her arms and the tent securely behind. "Who knows how far I would have walked if you hadn't stopped me. Thank you for catching me."

"Did you ever doubt I wouldn't?"

Eiki smiled back at her. "No. I didn't."

They looked back. Within the tent, Kosuzu was clinging to Akyuu's arm, speaking rapidly but too quietly for any discernible words to make it outside the tent. Mike was watching them from her perch, smiling with self-satisfaction.

"Well, that worked out great." Suika came to the entrance, beaming as though Mike's success was hers as well. "Must be fate." She winked. "And don't worry about paying. The drink was on the house after all."

Given that most of the drink remained in the house, Eiki found little cause to complain. "Thank you." She frowned. "Don't invite more people in until you have understood what causes this. Consider—"

"Yeah, sure." Suika made a sweeping wave. "Have a good night!"

She retreated back into the tent. Only Mike remained near the entrance, still pleased with herself.

"That didn't exactly work out, huh?" said Komachi, smiling all the while.

"Yes, I suppose it didn't." Eiki watched Akyuu and Kosuzu retake the table Akyuu had previously occupied, smiling at each other all as though they were the only two people in the world. "But it doesn't seem to have done any harm, either. Should we consider the grilled lamprey stand?"

"Funny. I was just thinking I was in the mood for some fried fish." Komachi let go to adjust her scythe, which had nearly fallen from her shoulder in the collision, then held out her hand. "How about we go see what else fate has in store for us tonight?"

And so they did, continuing down the road together, filled with newfound appreciation for the beauty of spring nights.

#thshipweek #komaeiki #akyusuzu #mimic fics #i'm really burnt out at this point so apologies for the inevitable typos #and any other issues lol #i hope you enjoy the story all the same!

[davidtennan-t]

‘Saviour in the Snow’ 

Chapter 3

The Doctor doesn't return from a mission on an alien world. Donna has to take matters into her own hands. Some Whump and general Ten/Donna foolery.

AO3 Link - Chapter 3 

-

It was cold - but there was warmth, radiating somewhere near his left side.

His head. It was pounding.

His ankle. Oh, it was throbbing something fierce.

His whole body. Still vibrating from the viscous kicks.

But the pressure on his leg? Disappeared. So had the horrible stickiness from the blood and the cuts he could feel on his face. He was also no longer lying on his stomach... he'd moved?

There was noise. A soothing and constant crackle of a fire which somehow drained away the breeze of the wind outside the cave.

The cave? Oh, right, yes. He'd passed out.

Slowly, the Doctor began to open his eyes, his eyelids flickering as he tried to focus. The bright shine from the fire made it hard not to squint. A figure was perched on a stone not too far from where he lay.

When he tried to move a groan escaped him. His body was stiff and every bruise was causing his skin to sting.

The figure sat a few feet away quickly turned in his direction.

"Spaceman..."

Donna was by the Time Lord's side in a split second, kneeling beside his lanky figure with a hand reaching out to squeeze his arm ever so gently for reassurance. Their relationship never usually involved such comfort and intimacy but this whole ordeal had scared Donna silly, even if she would never admit it. Not to him, or anyone else.

"It's okay, we're safe... for now, at least," Donna spoke softly.

The Doctor's brown eyes fluttered shut as he tried yet again to move but with no luck. Another groan.

"Give yourself a minute, you idiot, you've been out for a good hour or so," Donna added, removing her hand from his arm so she could move the coat she had placed over him away from his face. She was incredibly thankful she had chosen to wear a jumper with another layer underneath, otherwise her coat sacrifice may have placed her in just as much danger. The fire was at least giving off enough warmth in the cold space of the cave, despite the temperature outside.

The Doctor finally found the strength to focus his eyes and he glanced up at Donna, looking slightly confused.

"Since when do you know how to make a fire?" he asked, his voice weak but with the usual zest of confidence back in his tone. Donna gawped and raised her eyebrows, but even through the light insult, it was nice to hear him sounding a little less frozen and beaten.

"Since an hour ago, alright?" she responded firmly, "you didn't give me much of a choice. It was either make a fire or let your skinny hide freeze so I hope you're glad I didn't choose the latter."

"Well, I'm very glad," he replied, managing a half-smile.

"Good - how do you feel?" she asked, wanting to put some of her worry to rest. He still looked awful. She had wiped away as much blood as possible and covered him up, but his skin was still pale and his eyes looked tireder than they usually did. Even if Donna had known him for a while now, the age haunting what should be youthful eyes still amazed her and confused her all at once.

"Help me up?"

The Doctor was finally able to sit up somewhat, using the cave wall as a perch. Moving his ankle was difficult and his vision hazed but Donna was there to help him, trying to perch him up through the winces and small protests. Finally, he was upright and he blew out a few heavy breaths to clear his chest.

"Have we been to the Candoni Galaxy yet?"

Donna knew the Time Lord had been beaten hard but even his usual blabbering nonsense couldn't beat such a response to a rather simple question.

"What do you mean have we been to the... the what, Calipso Galaxy? I asked how you were feeling now where our next stop off is, you prawn!"

The Doctor swallowed and reached up to rub his eyes.

"No, we haven't been there, have we?" he said, "in the Candoni Galaxy there's these trees that produce a certain pollen and if you breathe in any of that pollen it knocks you out for hours and turns your skin to ice. When you wake up, you're body basically aches and joints can seize up... I've heard it's rather painful."

"Cheery..." Donna huffed.

The Doctor tried to chuckle but it turned into another harsh wince.

"Well... that's how I feel," he added softly.

Donna couldn't help but smile. She was so glad he was alive... even with the three hour break from his constant rambles, but she discovered it was very easy to miss them.

"How... how did you get me out of there?" the Doctor asked, having already firmly noticed he wasn't pinned under tonnes of heavy rocks anymore. Donna moved back to the fire to throw a few more of the sticks she had collected on her little ten minute wood hunt. Leaving the Doctor in the cave, alone, had been twice as nerve-wracking for her than the thought of freezing outside.

"Well, lemme tell you, Spaceman - I waved my magic wand and all the rocks sang a little song and ran off," Donna stated with a sarcastic smile which then turned to a more humble one, "what do you think - it took a good twenty minutes of playing 'guess which rock to move correctly so I don't bring down the rest of the cave and crush us both', but I did it eventually."

They weren't small rocks, by any means. They were boulders - heavy blocks of solid stone. Yet, Donna found adrenaline made a pretty good strength booster for moving the rocks when her best friend was laying passed out under a load of them. Moving them had been hard but she'd got there in the end.

Just like with the wood, the fire, using snow to clean away excess blood. Everything.

"To be honest, you were more of a dead weight than the rocks - you sure you don't hide bricks in that suit of yours?" she asked.

The Doctor chuckled but he was somewhat in awe. Everything Donna had done in the past hour had, undoubtedly, saved him from regenerating. He watched her closely as she finished stocking up the fire and then wander back over to him where she began to adjust the coat around his thin frame.

"You saved my life," the Doctor said.

"Of course I did! As much as I wanted to smack you for leaving me behind with Smurfs that suffer from anger management issues... yes, I saved your life, Spaceman, because you we're bloody dying," she growled. The Doctor's hearts burdened with guilt as he took the brunt end of her anger without arguing. Instead of saying another word, he leaned forwards with some difficulty, but then raised his arms to wrap them around Donna.

Not once had he ever invited her in for a hug like this. Nor had she ever asked for one.

But Donna wrapped her arms around him quicker than he could have anticipated.

"I thought you were dead," she admitted, "when I came in here and saw you lying like that I thought... God, you're such a idiot."

"Nah, not me," the Doctor assured lightly, "never me. Got too much stuff to do before I pop my clogs, ey?"

Donna wanted to continue berating him for going out on his own and leaving her behind. She'd had a solid hour to think over the exact terms and expletives... but as she was hugging him, feeling every shake and wince, it just didn't seem worth it. He was already injured - adding anything to top his already sore body didn't seem right to Donna. There would be another time for a slap, oh, because did she know that cocky alien deserved one now and again.

Not now.

"Thank you, Donna... really, thank you," the Doctor said as he pulled back, resting against the stone wall once more with a deep sigh. Donna smiled softly in return.

"No need to thank me. You can thank me once we get you back to the TARDIS or once we're on our way to some five-star outer space Spa," she answered. The Doctor glanced towards the cave exit, noticing the darkness and the snowfall. He sniffed - it was late. Even if the TARDIS was close, he didn't know if he would be able to make it.

"I'll be right as rain soon - well, the rest of me will, not sure about the ankle. Might need to have another nap to sort that out," he admitted.

"How did you even end up under all that?" Donna asked.

"Too slow," he replied back, simply and with a solemn gaze at his thin leg.

"You? Too slow?" Donna repeated, guessing she didn't need to ask any further questions - the ignorant natives had already answered most of her questions without her even having to ask, "I bet those alien Chuck Norris wannabees left you for dead, hm?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I suppose you could say that... remind me not to leave you behind again. You would have been the first one to push me outside," he stated with a half-smile.

"Too right, Spaceman," Donna replied, glancing to the cave entrance and then back to the Doctor, settling down near him on the rock she had chosen to perch on earlier. For someone who hated camping, she had to admit the whole ordeal may have been relaxing if it hadn't been for the murderous alien tribes and finding the Doctor limp.

"How long is the night here?" she asked.

"Not too long... another two hours at most, then we can head back to the TARDIS - here, have your coat back," the Doctor insisted, trying to lift the heavy garment from himself to pass to Donna upon realising she wasn't wearing it. But Donna shook her head.

"No, you need it more than I do - I'll keep the fire going and you can do that weird Time Lord-y thing where you sleep off your injuries and bounce back up like nothing happened, you're eyes are already drooping again," Donna stated firmly, pushing the coat back towards the Doctor.

"Donna-"

"I said no, you prawn! Now put it back over your skinny backside before you freeze, there's only so much my fire can do," she argued.

The Doctor reluctantly let the coat sag against him once more. He wouldn't admit it but it was cosy. He never usually needed warmth nor cold to keep his temperature balanced but the last few hours had taken a toll. Shivering on the cold cave floor for a few hours unable to move had seen to that.

Watching the fire was somewhat calming and... that wasn't tiredness again, was it? She had just said his eyes were drooping.

He didn't want to leave Donna alone in the cave by falling asleep, but the only guaranteed way of getting himself back to the TARDIS in the next few hours was to sleep. His brown eyes turned to look at his friend sat near him, smiling ever so lightly before he let his eyes slide shut.

"This is the probably the quietest you've ever been," Donna said after a few moments of listening to the crackling fire. No reply.

She turned to the Doctor. His head had lolled backwards and his eyes were shut, his whole body sagged underneath her coat.

She smiled.

"I'll always save you, remember that, you idiot."

#ten x donna #tenth doctor #donna noble #doctor who #my fic

[angrylizardjacket]

people change {Vince Neil}

@champagneandspice asked: hey! I adore your writing!!! could u please do a one shot but in the form of an article ? you’d be writing it as if you worked for people magazine or something like that. could u pls write ab the “speculated rumors” ab vince and I dating are true?? u could insert pictures or whatever u like. thank u <3

A/N: 2065 words. I love!! This style!! Of Writing!! also probably not what you were asking for, but i had fun and i hope you do too. i really sort of like this world/reader persona i’ve built?? i even added a few pictures for effect lmao. hope it’s enjoyable. i don’t usually do tags for one-shots but @cosmicsskies and @crazylittlethingcalledobsession asked and im too giddy to refuse.

WHAT THE F*** DO YOU THINK? - Mötley Crüe singer Vince Neil and Joan Jett & The Blackhearts newest guitarist Y/N Y/L/N spotted getting cosy after Crüe’s Atlanta show last Saturday? Does this hint at a collaboration between two bands, or is this more personal than professional? [Read more on Page 10...]

“What the f*** do you think?”

If you’re a woman working in or around the rock and roll music scene in the past half a decade, you’ve probably heard these words, or some variation of them, if you’ve come within a ten foot radius of the glam metal juggernauts Mötley Crüe; Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Mick Mars, and their blonde, boyish singer Vince Neil. They’re crass by reputation, however this is unsurprisingly true to life, though if you were interested in reading an expose regarding the number of gigs they’ve done while high, or how many hotel rooms they’ve set fire to, there’s innumerable gossip rags and magazines covering those particular scandals, including at least two Rolling Stone articles in the past two years, and we’re not here to retell old stories. 

When attending their concert in Atlanta last week, which I highly recommend; if given the opportunity, and you enjoy their music, see Mötley Crüe live, they give an almost unparalleled live performance, in my humble opinion as a music journalist of almost a decade, I was fortunately privy to the moment that sparked debate and controversy within the rock music gossip sphere. After the show, while I was made to wait at the stage door, their manager Doc Mcghee was kind enough to invite me to the afterparty. There, at the stage door, restless fans were held at bay, young men in black leather pants, emulating their idols, young women in barely anything at all, there to catch attention and garner the same invitation that I had received, and when the band themselves appear, it’s as if the gates of Hell had opened; the screaming I heard, ladies and gentleman.

First through the doors is Mars, already looking like he needs a shot or a nap, and he dodges more than one bra thrown his way, giving me a longsuffering look as he passes. To be that exhausted by fame is on a level I can’t even begin to comprehend. He’s on the tour bus which will take us to the hotel bar for drinks almost before anyone else is even out of the building.

Next comes what the fans have affectionately dubbed ‘The Terror Twins’, Sixx and Lee, both carrying a beer each, followed by several very pretty women who head to the bus whilst the musicians take the time to say high to their fans, signing various body parts and generally taking the time to interact with the more hardcore of their following who were waiting in the cold night air. They’re enough of a distraction that one might have missed the final band member, Vince Neil, laying uncharacteristically low, and who had actually been preceded by a surprising figure; Y/N Y/L/N, the most recent addition to Joan Jett & The Blackhearts as their rhythm guitarist. 

And this, dear readers, is the moment I decide to write the first gossip piece of my life.

As someone who regularly set fire to the copies of Hollywood Star my then-housemate had been getting delivered to our apartment back when I first began my journalistic career, the idea of writing an article based on speculation about the sexual conduct of celebrities was an idea I rejected out of hand. I’d told myself I had integrity. 

But then my proto-punk loving heart betrayed me, as I recalled Y/L/N’s lyrics from my favourite song of her’s, Sucker Punch, ‘speculate / scream my name / my heart, my love, baby it’s a game / they call me heartless, fancy-free / as if anyone’s meant something to a girl like me’. Y/L/N has been credited as the sole writer for the single, under her band at the time, Nuclear Patricide, who had garnered a cult following that has been credited as an idol for Joan Jett herself. After the Nuclear Patricide’s split in early ‘83, it’s been relative radio silence from the writer and lead guitarist until Joan Jett & The Blackhearts announce her as their newest addition, and she’s been with them for almost two years since.

[ID: Stills from Nuclear Patricide’s music video for Sucker Punch, 1980, known for the appearance of then-break out star Jamie Lee-Curtis. Editor’s Note: Y/L/N did not appear in the music video herself.]

So, upon seeing Y/L/N trying to keep a low profile whilst exiting a gig she clearly was not playing at, without any of her own bandmates to keep her company, I must confess I began to wonder, to speculate about the nature of her relationship with Mötley Crüe. She’s adamantly and publicly denounced romantic relationships in her work and in her public appearances up until her split from her original band, so has anything changed in the past few years?

Back at the hotel, I find myself weaving in amongst groupies and fanboys. My dark jeans and leather jacket act as a camouflage in this den of debauchery; I’ve worn professional clothing to this kind of thing before, and it usually doesn’t go over well; if the band sees a reporter there’s a sense of immediate hostility in what’s meant to be a safe space, relatively speaking, however, I’ve found that blending in, and making it clear I’m not on the offensive makes them drop their guard enough that they’ll give an honest interview. 

At least until a pretty girl walks past.

Neil and Y/L/N are nowhere to be spotted as I finally take a seat with a table that has neither cocaine nor a woman on it, and once I’ve ordered a drink and looked over my notes, someone actually joins me of their own accord. It’s Tommy Lee, who, to my surprise, recognises me from the last time Crüe had played in town. 

He talks about the tour, about how exciting it’s been and how he loves Atlanta, but he’s losing focus very quickly, not surprisingly since his name is being called by other tables every few moments, and there’s a faint dusting of telltale white powder around his nose. He promises ‘see you ‘round’ [sic] and then he’s off again. However, it’s as he leaves that I spot Y/N coming from a room by the back of the bar, and I make my move.

Mars has, as I’ve been told, already retired for the night, Lee is up to his eyes in cocaine, Sixx already has his dick out under his table judging by the look of him, and Neil is surprisingly MIA, so Y/L/N is easy to spot as the odd one out.

Not nearly as f***ed up or strung out as the rest of them, I watch her order a jack and coke, and down the drink mere moments after receiving it, before she turns to me. It takes her barely a second before she correctly identifies me as a reporter. I ask if she remembers meeting me, back in ‘82, she says no, but that she can pick a reporter from a mile away. 

People still fawn over her, pretty girls and pretty boys alike, her aloofness drawing them in, and I’d forgotten how overwhelming it was to be this close to her. She kicks a fanboy and a groupie who are messily groping each other out of a booth and we take their seats.

This is meant to be about Mötley Crüe, and I try to tell her as such, but she just gives me a thin smile.

“Then why did you come find me?”

And she gives me that stare, you know, the one from the cover of Nuclear Patricide’s final album, Treason Is A Girl’s Best Friend. It’s that piercing stare of hers that makes you feel like she knows everything you’ve ever done wrong in your life. 

I ask about her relationship with Mötley Crüe, and to my relief she looks away.

She’s candid about admitting she’s travelling with them, but not touring, right up until I ask her about her relationship with each member of the band specifically.

“Mick’s fun; he’s very talented and easily riled up. They’re all very talented of course, but Mick’s dynamic, [because] of his age and everything, is interesting within the group [sic] and I enjoy watching it all play out. He’s smacked Tommy a few times.” I’m assured that nine times out of ten he deserved it. 

She’s filled with glowing praise for both Sixx and Lee in turn, and even Doc Mcghee, but Neil she is oddly silent about. He’s the first of the band she’d met; he’d seen her play a few times with The Blackhearts and has admitted to enjoying her work in previous interviews when she’s been brought up, as the pair have been spotted together before. Well, she’s been spotted with the band before. Here is where she starts, to my surprise, to get antsy. So the rumours, which I had thought to be incredibly false given her history and general attitude, have more basis than she likes to let on.

And then she gets defensive.

He’s like cocaine; everyone’s doing him, it’s just the industry; no-one’s going to judge her for a fling. She does not appear to take comfort in the sentiment.

“People change.”

I ask her what she means. She refuses to clarify and leaves. Perhaps I pushed too far, but now I feel like a detective, and like I only have one more person I need to talk to. But perhaps I should have eased myself into talking about Y/L/N to Vince himself, but I’ll have to admit, between Y/L/N leaving and finding Neil, I may have done a bit of socialising with Sixx, which I recommend recreationally, and also if you have a high tolerance for most things.

“I don’t think we’re any of your f***ing business.” 

Neil does not mess around, and apparently she’d already spoken to him about our earlier meeting. I leave it be, spend the night enjoying the festivities with Sixx and Lee when I can, leaving just before the sun comes up. 

Some of you may be thinking this is dissatisfying, that you came into this article wanting me to confirm or dismiss the speculated relationship between Vince Neil and Y/N Y/L/N, but I can’t. Neither of them would speak to me, and I can only leave you with a list of things I saw that night, and you can make up your own mind.

- The room Y/L/N had exited from when I first spotted her is the same room Neil left less than five minutes later as we were talking. I went to investigate later; it’s a supply closet.

- After my encounter with Neil, and I’d stayed clear of them, whenever I would spot either of them, the other was almost always within arm’s reach. Make of that what you will.

- He definitely did a line of coke off her thigh at about three in the morning.

- I asked both Sixx and Lee about it. Lee’s response was ‘loud’ with something akin to a knowing smirk, and Sixx’s was ‘he’s a lucky bastard’ and when I ask him to clarify he just says ‘flexible’ and climbs to the next booth over where they’ve been asking him to do a line; I’m not even sure what to make of it, but personally I think it’s pretty damning.

- Readers, they were all over each other, I apologise for throwing my professionalism out the window for a moment, but if I’m being honest I couldn’t look to a secluded corner of the room without there being a 40% chance of seeing Vince and Y/N. It got worse as the night went on. Believe me.

So, while I don’t believe there is set to be a collaboration between Joan Jett and Mötley Crüe, I do come baring good news for those fans who had been speculating regarding Y/L/N’s relationship with the hair metal band’s lead singer. So are they together? Are they dating? Though neither party will publicly state anything, I’ll leave you with my thoughts, my observations, and the oft spoke words of the man himself;

What the f*** do you think?

#vince neil #vince neil x reader #vince neil imagine #motley crue #the dirt #the dirt imagine #motley crue imagine #nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #the angry lizard writes

[thisiskatsblog]

Hey! I found your blog and that ask about how you've been like a veteran Larrie was beautiful. Even this: 'I just get sad when I see people's faith shaken so easily, not AT them for having doubts but because this is the environment bred by years of being told that the thing you see in front of your face isn't there. The gas-lighting is real.' That made me feel like sobbing. I try so hard to have faith and be strong for them, for the two boys I love more than anything in the world, because their

part 2: love truly completes mylife, and while I try so hard not to let some disgusting antis comments get tome, they inevitably do. I’m a new writer, and I just found a blog xxxxxxxxxxand I saw this: ‘I’m not one for violence, but I do believe that you should beencouraged to punch a) Nazis and b) Larries’, as well as this whole nasty,repulsive rant she went on about why she hates Larries. The world is so fuckedup and I hate that such horrible people exist. I hate how low I feelafter 

part 3: reading such vilecomments. Even though Larry is my whole world and I literally don’t care aboutany other couple, it’s so fucking hard to be strong in such a toxicenvironment. Sometimes I just feel like breaking down and sobbing because it’sso fucking draining and painful and it all just hurts so much. Sorry forflooding your inbox, I just feel so depressed about all this. I know we’re inthe majority, I know we’ve held our heads fucking high through it all, but it’sagonising. 

—————–

Dear sweet anon, 

First thingsfirst: imagine me giving you a big, warm and long hug (unless you’re uncomfortablewith hugs, in which case imagine me bringing you a cup of tea or something elseyou like). I know how draining it can be – didn’t leave the fandom for a yearfor no reason – but there are ways to make all this more enjoyable.

Withoutwanting to tell you what to do, I do want to share a few things that have mademy experience 10x more enjoyable this time round.

1stthing that worked for me: curating my social media experience carefully. Firsttime round, for the longest time, I wouldn’t block or unfollow any blogs anddeliberately followed some antis to stay up to date – all out of a misguidedsense of “I shouldn’t ignore any information”. But anti opinions are notinformation, and not all perspectives are equal. All evidence needs to be evaluated,in context of the last ten years. If this consistently points to a relationship– it’s okay for you to stop looking at blogs that discount the evidence for Louis’and Harry’s relationship. Keeping an open mind, okay, but publicityrelationships are a thing, and it’s perfectly okay to filter them out. It’s even more important to protect yourselfagainst hate speech

Which bringsme to the 2nd thing that worked for me: never to hesitate to block someonewho compares you to a nazi and says you deserve to be punched. That’s bullyingand online violence and it deserves no more than one second of your attention.The time it needs to report and block them. End of story. I was stupid enoughnot to do that in this case, I actually went and looked, curious to find out what thejustification of this comparison was, which led me to some seriously logicallyflawed theories of Larries being antisemitic conspiracy theorists which… lostme another hour of my day and brought me no useful insights whatsoever. If youneed whole pages to connect Larries to antisemitism based on the bad logic, on denial of evidence, and on denial that closeting of celebrities just HAPPENS,like ALL the fucking time - that’s really just not WANTING to see it.

A 3rdthing that has worked for me is not letting “Larry (be) mywhole world”. I hope you were exaggerating it a littlebit  - but I can related somewhat. Theirdynamics certainly became a source of positive energy in my life back in 2013when I was in dire need of one, but as I had few other sources and this RainbowDirection thing gradually started taking up more space in my life and became adirect target of the gaslighting and bullying tactics, it almost destroyed me.When your only source of positive is this, and you cannot/or refuse to avoidthe negativity, it becomes a toxic relationship for you. I always took socialmedia detox weeks over the summer holidays, but last year, I extracted myselffrom all of this for over a year because the negatives started outweighing thepositives. This allowed me to build more other sources of positivity into mylife and that has made all the difference in coming back. Taking a step back can really helpyou see perspective. Interestinglywhen I came back, I realized I had remembered most of the bad stuff, and I hadforgotten so much of the good stuff.  I amhaving loads more fun now. And I am also much more careful about what I allow to affect me. You can choose to see the glass half full or half empty. I chose to be an optimist, and allow myself not to have to doubt everything all the time. 

Fourththings that has worked for me: self care. I am who I am, so every once in a while,I do still get shitty anons, or I get caught up in an argument with someone whodraws the blood from under my nails, or I find out that someone I like that hasme blocked for some reason that likely has very little to do with what Iactually think or said. That’s shitty. But there’s good antidotes for it. I’vecreated a few resources for my own self care. When, this past year, shittystuff happened, I devoted myself to creating lists of things that make me happyin this fandom. For me that will be updating the Rainbow Direction press articleslist, or history page, or going through this list of tribute videos. I am justnow thinking of a post that I have been planning to make collecting allcomments from people reminiscing about the early RD days after Harry’s tour endedlast year. Go back over the Harry-Louis treatise, immerse yourself in FreddieIsMyQueen’schannel, scroll through the pride and rainbow tags, there is so much that youcan do to remind you of the good stuff in this fandom. There is really loads ofit.

Thatdoesn’t mean I don’t sometimes feel like breaking down and sobbing. When Iimagine going to Louis’ concert and watching him sing Too Young, or Walls, Ibreak down and sob and desperately want to be hugged. And that’s frustratingabout being in an online, virtual community, there is no one to give you thathug. That’s when I know I need to call one of my friends in real life andinvite them for a cosy evening on the couch. Actual real human contact, gettingmy daily hugs in, has been so so important for me. But self care also workshere: in the past when there wasn’t anyone, a long walk outside, a warm bath, ora visit to the sauna or the gym have also worked for me. Being physical,instead of all this virtual mindblowing and mindnumbing shit.

Wow,this wasn’t supposed to get so long. But I can relate. And I’m hugging you fromfar away, if that’s your thing.

All thelove, anon!  

#gaslighting #bullying #shady shit #self care #Anonymous #ask

[cobblepot-comfort]

The Rescue - Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - Oswald and Jim Discuss the Future

Jim had always known that Oswald was fragile emotionally, a fact he kept concealed inside a hard shell.  The notoriously ruthless, tough spirited gangster who could survive any amount of physical punishment and think - and fight - his way out of any dangerous, tricky situations, had become an expert at surviving and climbing.  He’d had to be, or he would have been sure to get trampled underfoot by the mobsters and henchmen he’d rubbed shoulders with.

He had seen Oswald’s vulnerability in his eyes the very first time they had met.

Sure, he’d been beating hell out of some poor bastard with a baseball bat - but that had been expected of him, after all, hadn’t it?  He had had to prove how ruthless he could be in front of Fish Mooney’s goons.  He’d been invited and encouraged in the activity by that side kick of hers, Butch Gilzean.

He had been far too eager to please and had rather overcompensated, but he had clearly wanted to make a good impression.  And that was just what he did - literally and metaphorically.  

Kill or be killed, that was the kind of world Gertrud Kapelput’s precious boy had gotten himself involved in.  He wasn’t sure how he’d got employed by Fish Mooney as her ‘umbrella boy’, and he wasn’t inclined to ask him.  The past was the past, as Oswald was often telling him when he'd attempted to apologise for yet another transgression he'd committed.

And it wasn’t as if the guy he was beating hadn’t been caught with his hands in the till beforehand….

Yep, Jim was smitten all right.  He’d always make excuses for Oswald.  But, after all, didn’t Oswald always make excuses for him, too?

He’d not been slow in administering physical punishment to get information and co-operation.  He used violence and threatening behaviour, turning to his brute strength,  to get what he wanted when mere words failed to get results.  He’d used that kind of force on Oswald more than once too. 

He’d since tried to apologise, promised that he would do his best to make up for it - and he now made a point of behaving like a gentleman towards him all the time -  but Ozzy hadn’t admonished him once over his previous bad treatment.  In fact, Oswald was very good at showing Jim’s guilt trips the door in his own inimitable way.

"Tsk, don’t be silly, James,” he’d said dismissively, cutting Jim’s anxious speech dead with a casual wave of his hand.  “As I keep telling you - constantly, Detective, the past is the past as far as I’m concerned.  And as I also never tire of repeating, you were just doing your job, as I was mine.  Please,  don’t give it a second thought.  Now, James honey - why don't you just ravish me if you're so determined to make amends….you know much I appreciate that..." 

That was an invitation Jim could never refuse.

He didn’t think he would ever really deserve Oswald.  Luckily, Oswald didn't seem to realise it.

Earlier, after Jim had driven them both home following their last goodbye to Gertrud, they had been sitting quietly on the sofa, just bathing in the comfort of each other's presence.  Then the silence was broken:

“What?”  Jim quizzed, gazing at Oswald curiously.

“What do you mean ‘what’, James?”

“You just gave me - well, a look -  and I’m not sure what you meant by it.”

“Ah.  Hmmmm.  You noticed." 

Oswald giggled nervously. 

"Hey, what's the matter?" Jim asked, reaching out and running his finger down Oswald's arm.

 "Well, Jim - um, promise you won't laugh....”

“Of course I won’t, sweetheart.”  Jim’s touch slid down to Oswald's hand and he held it fast.

“Well, then - it was that man, the one who had that young child with him - a boy.  We drove past them on the way here.  Did you see them?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I remember.  I think the boy was his son.  He was carrying him on his  shoulders, and they were both laughing.”

“Yes, yes Jim, that’s who I mean.  A father and son.  They looked so happy!”

“Yes, they did, didn’t they?”  Jim smiled.  “So - what was it about them that caught your attention, Ozzy?”

“Well,  just after we passed them, and I had noticed them, I was compelled to look at you, and I was overcome with a feeling I never experienced before.  It was a strange sensation, but it was warm, and it felt good.  That's why I looked at you the way I did, and then again just now, as I remembered it, with the feeling and expression I can't explain.”

“Ah.”  Jim’s smile grew, and he gave Oswald's hand a squeeze.

“What, Jim?”

“Wow.”  Jim shook his head slowly.  “Ozzy - I think I might have an explanation for this!”

"Do you?  Then can you please explain it to me, James?”"

Jim's deep blue gaze focused fondly on his lover's  bemused face.

“Ozzy,” he said gently,  “I actually think you might be getting - well - a bit on the broody side!”

“Broody?  What?  Me? Jim, be serious!  I mean, really.   I’ve never, ever thought about having children.  In fact, whenever I have had the misfortune to cross paths with any, I have always seen them as a nuisance!” Oswald protested, wrinkling his nose with distaste.

Then he saw Jim’s expression, and instantly felt remorseful.

“Look, Jim,” he said apologetically, straightening his face,  “I don’t mean to be insensitive.  I’m just being honest with you….”

“Yeah, I know, Ozzy.  I know you might say you don’t want kids, but  - well,  listen, sweetheart.  I’ll let you in on a little secret, and this time you’ve gotta promise ME not to laugh."

"Of course, Jim. I wouldn’t do that to you.  And I'm sorry to respond so insensitively.   I can see this matter is important to you.”

"Thanks.  And it's ok, Ozzy.  It’s better that we’re honest and open with each other.   And now I’m going to be honest and open with you.  This is something I never told anyone, and I trust YOU not to think I’m being ridiculous.   Anyway - Lee and I discussed having kids once or twice, when we were getting on a lot better, a while ago.  You know, me coming home, her being there  with our kids, a cosy little family.  And yet, no matter how  I tried,  I just couldn’t visualise that scene.   That was one of the things that drove us apart in the end.   But, Ozzy - whenever I look at you, I can DEFINITELY see us having kids together.”  Jim bit his lip, broke into an awkward boyish grin, and his cheeks became tinged with pink.  

“Awww.  Really, Jim?”  Oswald arched his black brows with amazement. "You can see us at home, all comfy cosy - two dads and our kids running round us - a family?"

“Yep, Ozzy.  I’m sure of it.  You know that time you cried out ‘I want your babies’ when we were making love?  Although I responded with something like  'what the hell?'  and then we laughed it off, well, when I had time to think about it, I realised that I really could see you as a dad - even a birth dad!”    Jim chuckled shyly.

“A birth dad?!  Hmmm.  That is impossible though, isn’t it, Jim?  Men don't - and can’t - have babies, can they?" Oswald pondered, knitting his brows thoughtfully.

“Well, true - not at the moment, anyway.  But Ozzy - remember, this is Gotham, and in this city, anything is possible, isn't it?  Never say never!” Jim shrugged, smiling hopefully.

“Well, there, you do have a point,” Oswald acknowledged, cocking his head and smiling back.  “But, seriously, Jim,” he probed,  “do you really think we could be - well, parents?  The two of us, especially given this situation we find ourselves in?”

“Yes, I do, sweetheart - despite everything - or even,  because of it.  And I think that, deep down, you kinda feel that way too.”

“Oh.  Hmmm.”  Oswald pursed and stretched his lips as he reflected on what Jim had said for a moment.

 “Well,”  he resumed, nodding slowly and stretching his jet brows thoughtfully, “now you come to mention it, Jim - having children together - even in the biological sense -   isn't beyond the realms of possibility.  After all - I love you and you love me,  and we owe it to my mother, and your parents, to give them grandchildren, don’t we?  And why else would I have looked at you like that, and had that reaction?  I suppose, subconsciously,  I must be feeling a little ‘broody’, as you put it.  And that is no bad thing when you love someone as deeply as I love you.”  

Oswald locked gazes with Jim and his dimples grew.   There was a twinkle deep within his eyes.

“Awwww.  That’s - well, beautiful, Ozzy.  And I’m so relieved to hear you say out loud what I hoped you felt, you know, about kids and all.   You’ve made me so happy.  And - sweetheart, when you say those things - and look at me like that - I know that nothing is impossible."

“Ahhh, James.  As ever, you melt my heart with your honeyed words.  We need to explore this matter further - and soon.   But...Jim, however we achieve it, I agree wholeheartedly that we should give my mother..and your parents, too, of course...grandchildren.  The more I think about it, the more it occurs to me that it really does make perfect sense ...”

“Ah, sweetheart - so now you’ve thought about it, do you really want to have kids with me, at some point?”

“Yes, Jim.  Of course I do.  I love you, and I would really  love us to have a family.  But first, I would want to make sure we both ensured a safe haven for our children.  A Gotham where they would feel safe and protected.  Free to walk the street without the likes of the Galavans and their ilk threatening their lives, as well as threatening to destroy all that’s around them.  Do you agree?”

“Yes Ozzy.  Of course I agree.”

“And - now I’ve thought about it -  I would carry your children gladly, dear, I would love to think of your child growing inside my belly, if it became possible.   But in the meantime, I would be willing to adopt a child, or maybe even more than one, who we could give a home to - who we could love and protect.”  

Oswald’s eyes suddenly lit up with excitement.

“Oh, Jim, maybe I could even open an orphanage - in my mother’s name!  It would be the perfect tribute to her - what do you think?”

“Well, I think that’s a great idea, Oz.  But as you said, we both need to work to ensure  a safe city for our future family - wherever, and whoever they happen to come from."

Jim gently laid his hand on his belly. Oswald gasped with surprise.

“I know you would make a great birth dad, if you are ever given the chance, Ozzy," Jim continued.  "And we would give our kids so much love!  I’ll hold you to your offer, Mr Cobblepot,  if it ever becomes feasible for men to give birth - safely -  in this city."

Oswald put his hand over Jim's, holding it firmly in place.

"That was so poetically expressed, my dear, again you don't fail to warm my heart.   I hope one day I will get the opportunity to keep my promise, I know now that they weren’t just empty words said in the heat of passion, I really meant them.  And oh Jim, we couldn't fail to have the prettiest kids with you as their father.  You with your boyish good looks."

"And you, with your beauty and brains in their genes, means we definitely couldn't fail.  Awww Ozzy, you're perfect.  I would love to see them  inherit your eyes ...and those dimples.  Little duplicate Cobblepots….running everywhere…."

"Causing mayhem, no doubt," Oswald cut in with a chuckle.  “If they are anything like me!”

"I am sure you were a very well-behaved child,” Jim argued with a smile.  “I was a real tearaway when I was a boy, so they might well be little troublemakers if they take after me!  But anyway, sweetheart -  however they start out,  I’m sure they will grow up to be real pillars of the community.  Maybe they’ll even go into politics!"

"Slow down, Jim, you're going too fast!"  Oswald laughed. "Anyway,” he continued more solemnly,  “however they turn out, we will love them, won't we?"

"Of course we will. How could I not love them with your blood running through their veins?"

"James - dearest!  I swear you get profounder by the second…and thank you….I love you so much.”  

Some time later, as Oswald and Jim prepared to take on the Galavans and rescue Bruce Wayne from their murderous clutches:

"Oswald, please, put on the bullet proof vest!" Jim pleaded, as they all prepared to go into battle.

"Jim, honestly! You know I am virtually indestructible…." Oswald retorted impatiently.

"Ozzy, please, don’t argue…."

"Geez, you two," cut in Harvey with exasperation.  "We can’t stand round here arguing while Galavan gets away with killing the son of Gotham. Put on the damn vest already and let’s go!"

"Thanks Harv," Jim murmured gratefully as Oswald reluctantly put on his armour, grumbling under his breath. Jim hoped fervently that he would never need it, but, better safe than sorry.

He would never forgive himself if the King of Gotham - his precious Oswald - was harmed.

Jim knew he would kill to save Oswald if he had to.  He wouldn't hesitate….

#oswald copplepot #james gordon #gobblepot #jimwald #oswald cobblepot

[xathia-89]

A Masquerade: Part 2

“I swear you seem to know where all the parties are happening,” my housemate complained as I finally arrived home in time for her to leave. “Though you lost your dress again,” she huffed while eyeing me up in a spare shirt of Luca’s and a pair of trousers I had left previously at his place.

“I didn’t lose it, it’s being cleaned,” I corrected her. “And Luca’s keeping my dress wardrobe safe anyway,” I shrugged.

“How do you even afford the dresses?” My housemate paused, realising that it was far beyond my wages as a waitress.

“I never wear the same one twice, I’m always trading them in and swapping them,” I shrugged, brushing past her to go and change into my uniform.

“Gia, I had that feeling again last night,” Rebekah spent a lot of her time worrying about me when I went out and paraded as my alternate self. “That you’re going to get caught at a ball, and then you know how it ends.”

“I’m playing a big game, but I never give a name, and I never go home with anyone who isn’t Luca,” I smiled softly, trying to reassure her and patted her on the arm before getting into my room.

We had a tiny two bedroom house, with a kitchen, bathroom and what was called a ‘living space’ but you could barely fit two chairs in the room. It was affordable, and we had seen things in worse shape on our budget. We lived on the edges of the slums, and violence was part of the day. Muggers were around most corners, murders were commonplace, and you just had to know when to give in to demands. Though recently it had been escalating beyond normality, and the police wouldn’t come in alone anymore, and pairs were a rarity to see. Our landlord didn’t force us into things, though my boss had raised concerns regarding my living situation and that maybe one day I wouldn’t make it home or to work.

I didn’t linger, I needed to get to work as soon as I had changed and redone my hair. I had pulled my loose curls back into a ponytail, a professional and clean look for the clients as I glanced at our direct competition across the street. The Blue Bell was a posh looking place, but The White Rose was cosy and warm. The range of teas at Blue Bell was meant to be unmatched, their main waiter was someone who kept rebutting any offers of employment from our boss, not that I was keen for him to join us since he always seemed to be a sourpuss whenever I caught sight of him before or after a shift.

“Gia! Glad you’re here,” my boss was all smiles and a middle-aged male, he had taken me under his wing several years back despite all the warnings from anyone who caught sight of me at the first meeting. I waved brightly and nipped behind the counter to take a glance over today’s special cakes. “I need someone to take a sample of my wife’s cooking- she said mango and elderflower sponge with a passionfruit frosting before she adds it to our list,” he was smiling too much for me to say no.

“How much sugar did she add?” I coughed. The frosting was thick and heavy, and the sponge barely passed off the flavour of the fruits it was meant to, I frowned and pulled back, studying the sponge before my head began to feel heavy.

“Enough to cover the sleeping agent,” he murmured, already catching my falling body before I could hit the floor.

***

My body was feeling stiff as I began to come around. I was in a dimmed room, on a made-up bed that was of considerable better quality than my own. My head felt as though I had my own collection of miners inside it and I tried to sit up.

“I wouldn’t do that,” a rough voice pushed me back down. “You’re lucky who found you. You need to sleep this off.”

In the darkness, I could make out his figure. It reminded me of the pastor who worked his rounds in the slums as a damp and cool cloth was placed across my forehead.

“Where am I?” I managed to force my voice out before a loud tut told me that the man didn’t care for my stubbornness.

“A safe place,” he abruptly replied. “Now go back to sleep.”

The Sandman had me in his grip before I could ask any more questions, lulling me back into a forced sleep and at the mercy of whoever the male was.

Luca was asleep in the chair as I opened my eyes again. I was still feeling lethargic, but my limbs were moving of a better free will at least as I rubbed my face, trying to chase the sleepiness away enough to be able to get at least a look at the room I was in. It was a large bed, and the sheets felt amazing against my skin as it dawned on me that I wasn’t in my uniform before I went to pull the sheets up.

“Settle down will you?” The rough voice was back, and a firm hand pressed me back before the door to the room opened.

I was surprised to see the blond man who had been accompanying Ryan Cromwell to the ball enter the room. Though he was extremely puzzled by my expression as he glided through the room with all the elegance expected from an experienced butler and bent over to wake Luca.

“Your friend,” he gestured, and then to see Luca’s eyes so wide before he scrambled to grab hold of my hand and make sure I was okay.

“What happened?” I asked, trying to frown but then realising it made my headache much worse and winced slightly at the sharp pain.

“We were going to ask you that,” the rough voice to the side attracted my attention, and I was finally able to get a good look at him. “I saw you being carried by your boss out of his carriage and on the way to one of the rough houses in the slums before I intervened.”

“He gave me a slice of cake, said it was a new recipe to try. Then when I complained it was too sugary, he laughed and said it was to mask the taste of the sleeping draught. I don’t know what it was, but it was rapid-acting,” I explained, shielding my eyes from any light as the pain was starting to get worse. “It was … sudden. I’ve worked there for several years, and nothing untoward has ever happened,” I added on.

“Your boss has a twin actually, a rather unsavoury one,” the rough voice said, drawing the focus of the room. “He had his eye on you and tied his brother up in order to get you. It’s a ring that’s been evading the police for a while, mostly because they can’t get to the girls in time, and it was sheer luck that I was passing to come and make sure you hadn’t been captured.”

“Pastor,” I murmured, closing my eyes again. It was too much to keep them open as someone replaced the cloth on my head, the touch felt like Luca. “My housemate, she’s just as likely to be worried.”

“Rebekah never showed up for her shift, and your house has been ransacked, we already checked,” Luca quietly said, already holding my hand in preparation for the news. “We’re looking for her in the usual suspect places, but this gang tends to go after those who won’t be missed. You don’t fit that profile, but Rebekah does. You’re the only one who would truly miss her, and since you’re just housemates, then there isn’t a lot of weight behind you going to the police.”

“So Miss Rivers is the exception to the rule, why go after a high chance?” the butler pushed his glasses up his nose as I peered through my half-lidded eyes, desperate to read the room.

“A message,” the Pastor spoke abruptly. “It’s a warning.”

“Well then, I’m sure Noel would be interested to hear about this,” the butler nodded before turning to leave. “We should let Miss Rivers rest, it was a powerful drug. I have a room set up for you next door Luca-”

“I’ll sleep in here,” my best friend waved him off.

“It’s just like when I stay over,” I laughed softly. “Only the bed is bigger.”

“Don’t look at me like that. She’s my best friend, and I don’t think of her in that manner,” Luca was scowling at someone as I shifted over in the bed to make some space for him. “Plus if she has a bad turn then I can alert you all. You’ve already said that you aren’t sure what it was that was used.”

“Mr Cromwell will probably insist on coming in then,” the butler sighed.

As though on cue, the green haired male came in wearing a deep frown on his face.

It wasn’t proper, I knew that much, but things were just natural between us. There wasn’t any romance, though I had been the ire of so many of the women that fawned around him. I was often an escape from invitations if I was passing by, and he would always throw his arm around my waist and pull me into him. We didn’t have the chemistry between us that a relationship required. It was safe and secure as Harry was as blank-faced as ever.

“Luca-” the head of the Cromwell household sighed, but then looked stumped as Luca interrupted.

“It’s not proper to sleep with a lady, I get it. But she’s my best friend, and right now, she’s in danger. She’s ill, and I’m the last person she has that she can count as family,” I had to give Luca his dues. He was actively prepared to sleep in the chair again if necessary, it was clear that he wasn’t leaving the room until I was recovered.

“Let the boy sleep in here, he was doing that anyway,” the Pastor snorted, all traces of his softness disappearing instantly much to my surprise. “It’s not like she’s your sister or anything.”

Ryan was staring down hard at Luca, before sighing and shrugging his shoulders in defeat.

#ryan cromwell #luca sinclair #harry cromwell #chris granger #love lies and a heist

[cravingmarvel]

Apartment - Chapter Three

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warning: Maybe like one swear word, Sarcasm Central

Summary: You just moved from Germany to New York, working as an editor at a newspaper. So what happens when you find out your favourite actor lives in the apartment across from yours? And how will people react when you share your story on your Blog dedicated to him? What will you make of this situation? 

A/N: I am feeling extra sarcastic today. Tell me what you think about this chapter and hit me up people, I want to get to know yall. Also, it’s true, I love cacti.

Masterlist

Sebastian Stan Masterlist

Chapter One 

Chapter Two

TAGLIST IS OPEN

As I close the front door, I take of my coat and put my bag down. My first day at my new job was pretty good and I felt like I was getting along with everyone. I wanted to get straight to making myself dinner but was interrupted by a knock on my door. I swear to god, if this is Sebastian I am going to burn my apartment down and move back to Germany. I look like trash right now and am too hungry to face him. But as I open my door, he is standing there of course, because the universe still hates me. “Hey, y/n. I just, uh wanted to give you this” he hands me a container of sugar and I can’t contain my laughter. “You know, you didn’t have to give me the sugar back, you can keep it.” His features light up as he lets out a small chuckle “I just wanted to give you back what I owe you. I don’t want you to run out of sugar sooner because of me.” For some odd reason, just a millisecond, I question his true intentions. When I gave Mrs. Hagen some of my cinnamon powder, back in Germany, she never gave me the amount back. Or maybe this is just what they do over here I the states? Nonsense! I’ve never heard of someone doing that, ever! “Thank you, but you really didn’t have to do that” we smile at each other before I open my mouth, only to regret ever learning how to speak “do you want to come in?” well throw me out the window, because I just died anyway.

We sit on my couch silently for a little and my mind is punishing me for asking him to come in. I was never really good at talking to people, especially guys. I either get so nervous that I say whatever comes to my head and ruin the whole thing, or I don’t say anything at all, like right now. So I am glad that he spoke up first “So, did you watch Captain America?” I would like to take back what I said, I am not glad that he spoke up first. “Oh yeah, I did. It was good, really liked it” And that wasn’t a lie, obviously. He moves to turn his body to me as the corner of his mouth curls up to a smirk. “And who is your favourite character? I really hope it’s mine” I laughed at that a little, images of my blog flashing into my head. “Yeah, of course.” Also, not a lie. As we talk about the movie a little, I remember how surreal this is. A little like a fanfiction. Never would I have thought that he would sit on my couch, in my apartment someday. But life works in mysterious ways, you never know who your neighbour might be.

I thought everything was going good. I’m not stumbling over my words as much, my cheeks aren’t as red as my ass after a good spanking and we’re keeping the conversation away from Marvel. But yeah, my life just wants to fuck me over and make me uncomfortable at any given time. So I wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen in the next few hours.

My stomach started to call for food and I totally forgot how hungry I was, since I’ve been indulged in the conversation. “Sorry, I was about to make myself some dinner. I don’t want to be rude but I have to kick you out.” He leaned back on the couch holding his stomach, laughing as he tried to get some words out. He thought I was joking, I wasn’t. “It’s ok. But um, would you like to come over to my place, I make some good pasta.” He said as he sat back up straight and composed himself. And oh boy, if you thought I was shook and surprised at him wanting to know where I’m from, you should really take a look into my brain right now. “I, uh, yeah why not, um that sounds great.” He could tell that I was just a little uncomfortable as he put his hands up “I’m not inviting you with the intention of doing something. Just two hungry people, trying to get to know each other more” he tries to calm me down and honestly that was really sweet of him. I could feel the smile creep up on my face as I try to look anywhere but him. The familiar feeling of butterflies had started and I feel calmer.

As we stepped into his apartment I noticed we had the exact same layout. The living room, dining room and kitchen melting into each other and the wall made out of windows. But everything was flipped. His apartment was very stylish but also rustic and cosy. His colour scheme was mostly white and a deep grey with some black accents. He definitely was into collecting some vintage items as you could tell his dining chairs had lived some years. He also seemed to love books as he had a whole wall covered in bookshelves on the wall to the right. “So, I will be getting started on dinner and you can have a look around if you want.” He started walking over to the kitchen taking out all the ingredients. I didn’t hesitate to have a look around and noticed the shelved above his TV. On them were picture frames with a few familiar faces and some I didn’t recognize. He didn’t own any plants like I do and I wanted to know why. “Seb?” It was a little weird calling him by his nickname. He just hummed while cutting some tomatoes. “Why don’t you have some plants? Like a cactus?” He looked at me over his shoulder. “I’m away a lot so I can’t take care of them.” I don’t know why that made me so sad but it did. “But a cactus doesn’t need a lot of care, you can water it once a week and it will leave you alone until the next week.” He chuckled lightly and that made my heart flutter. “You sure seem to love cacti, do you? And even that is too much care.” And it was true I love cacti.

This conversation was obviously too smooth for the universe, so I obviously had to say something stupid. “You know, I’m gonna gift you a cactus and I can take care of it while you’re gone.” Why? Why do I have to ruin a good smooth conversation? But he surprised me “Thank you. I also feel like this apartment needs more green.”

Taglist for this fic is open!

Taglist: [just some people that I love and that you should definitely check out. If you wish to be removed send me a message:)]

@buckisthatyou @myattemptatfanfic @spideyjlaw @buckybarneshairpullingkink @whyisbuckyso @softlybarnes

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #modern au

[mysunfreckle]

Could you write something fluffy with Eposette? You don’t have to if you’re busy but if you do...

A visit to Fantine

Developing Eposette(with background Marisette), Fluff, 1.8k

[This was a challenge, I do not write these girls often enough, so I pushed myself to write something in my ‘official modern au’. I hope you’re not averse to mariposette, anon

It’s notthat Éponine is nervous, but�� Well,no, scratch that, she’s incredibly nervous. Which is ridiculous, she knowsthat. It’s not like she hasn’t met friends’ parents before, even if the likelihoodof that is a lot smaller nowadays than it was in high school. Besides, Cosettetalks about her mom so much that Éponine feels like she knows her already. Shealso sounds incredibly nice. As nice as Cosette, which is—

“We’renearly at our stop,” Cosette says cheerfully and Éponine smiles at her, becausethat’s all she seems capable of doing these days. She suddenly wishes Mariuswas here, he knows Fantine already and having him here – in all his officialcapacity as one of her best friends and Cosette’s actual boyfriend –   shouldat least help a little to keep her thoughtsin check. Because right now Cosette, sitting opposite her on the train, in hersalmon dress, travelling to introduce her to her mother, is just a bit too much like the stuff of dreams. Dreams Époninecan’t afford to have.

“I’m so gladyou wanted to come,” Cosette says and for a second Éponine almost thinks shesees some of her own nerves behind the warmth in Cosette’s eyes. It’s gone instantlythough and she continues:

“The ride’sgone much faster with you here.”

“Well, itnearly was a lot longer,” Éponine grimaces. She had gone to the wrong platformat first, nearly missing the train and nearly making Cosette miss it becauseshe was out looking for her.

“I was intime to rescue you,” Cosette says lightly. “And we made it just fine. A miss isas good as a mile.”

“What?”Éponine laughs.

“A miss isa good as a mile,” Cosette repeats. “If something goes right, it doesn’t matterhow close it got to going wrong.”

“Yeah, Igot that,” Éponine smiles. “From context. But I’ve never heard anyone say that.”

Cosette’scheeks colour a little and damn it she’s too cute for human comprehension.

“It’s froma book,” Cosette says, now looking as pink as her dress. “Now I think about it,it must be a really old expression. Probably no one uses it anymore.”

“It’s agood one though,” Éponine says hastily. Cosette always talks prettily, evenwhen she curses she does it poetically. Terrifying, but poetically. “What book?”she asks and Cosette smiles.

“Little Houseon the Prairie?”

The name isvaguely familiar, but Éponine has very little idea of what it actually is. “Isn’tthat an American tv show?” she frowns.

“Yes,”Cosette says, wrinkling her nose slightly. “I don’t like the series much.” Shelifts up her eyes. “The books are wonderful. Very idealistic, I know, consideringit’s about pioneering. But they’re just so cosy.”

They are interruptedby the need to get off the train, but during the walk to Fantine’s houseÉponine gets to hear at least a little of Cosette’s gushing about muslindresses and homemade cheese.

Apparentlyshe’s grinning a bit too widely, because Cosette gives her a scolding push. “Don’tlaugh at me!”

“I’m not,”Éponine chuckles. It’s just cute. And typical. She’s pretty sure that Cosettehas lived in cities all her life, just like she has.

“You aretoo!” Cosette huffs. “And I’ll have you know that rural escape fantasies are biculture.”

Époninesnorts. “I think I know at least a few people you’ll have to fight on that.”

“I’m sorry,”Cosette says airily. “I don’t make the rules.”

Époninewould argue, except she really doesn’t want to and before she can think ofsomething she does want to say, it turns out they’ve arrived.

“Tada,”Cosette laughs, giving a little wave of her hand.

There areroses growing by the door and Éponine takes a moment to appreciate that theuniverse at least has some sense of living up to expectations.

“Maman?”Cosette calls out as soon as she has unlocked and opened the door.

There is aglad shout of greeting in return from someone in the house and before Époninehas a moment to compose herself Cosette is holding her hand and she’s beingdragged through the tiny hallway and into a cheerful living room. It’s so cosyand homey that Éponine would like to tell the universe it’s overdoing it a bitby now, but she needs her attention for the young woman in the blue dress andblazer that must be Cosette’s mother.

Cosettelets go of her hand and Éponine quickly retracts it, because her first impulseis to reach for her.

“Welcomehome, darling,” Fantine says, hugging Cosette tight.

“Maman,”Cosette says and she smiles just likeher mother. “This is Éponine.”

“Well, it’shigh time I actually got to see you,” Fantine says warmly and Éponine letsherself be kissed on both cheeks with an odd feeling of appreciation. Fantinedoes really feel like a mom, even if she barely looks ten years older than thetwo of them. Éponine knows Fantine had Cosette very young, no older thansixteen if she remembers right, but she hadn’t expected her to look so young.

“How lovelyto have you both here,” she says. “And I do appreciate it, Éponine, it’s quitea trip to go up and down in a day.”

“Thanks forinviting me, ma- Fantine,” Éponine says.

Fantinelaughs, eyes twinkling. “I hear you’ve been instructed already, very good. Ireally do prefer Fantine.” She glances down. “Look at me still in my workclothes, I can’t tell you how hot it was today. Speaking of work, Simplicesends her love.”

Cosettemakes a cheerful noise and Éponine nervously tries to remember if she shouldknow who Simplice is. She really needs to stop being so silly, her heart isskipping just a bit too fast and she can still feel the press of Cosette’s handon her own.

“Oh,Éponine!” Fantine says, taking off her blazer and looking up at her cheerfully.“Cosette told me you had a big test a few weeks ago, have you heard back yet?”

Éponine canjust see Cosette’s apologetic smile from the corner of her eye. “Eh, yes,” shesays, smiling at Fantine. “I did well.”

The wayFantine’s face lights up is very much like Cosette’s. Honestly, Cosette isstarting to make more sense by the minute.

“That’sfantastic,” Fantine beams. “Well done you!” She turns around. “Well, thatwarrants celebration! Strawberries for dessert, I think!”

Éponine canfeel her face grow hot. “It was just small test,” she mutters.

“Oh, but Iknow you study so hard,” Fantine says earnestly and Cosette adds cheerfully:

“Neverargue with strawberries.”

“Quiteright,” Fantine nods. “Go on, show Éponine around the house if you like,Cosette, I’ll get started on dinner.”

“I’d liketo help,” Éponine offers immediately. She was right, Fantine is nice. Far too nice and she wants toshow that even if she might have had to teach them to herself, she has goodmanners.

“Thank you,dear,” she smiles. “And I’d love a hand later on, but the prep I can handle onmy own. You two run along.”

Cosettegives Éponine a reassuring look, following it up immediately with a grin. “Doyou want to see my room?”

“God, I’mtwelve again,” Éponine groans, but she laughs and follows Cosette back into thehallway and up the stairs. The house is small, but very well kept and passingby a window on the first floor Éponine can see a pretty little back garden.

“This ismine,” Cosette says, opening a door. “And speaking of being twelve, this roomis basically still the way it was when I left home at eighteen.”

“Is it pink?”Éponine grins, leaning past her to look inside.

Cosetteblows out an amused breath and Éponine blinks. It’s not pink. Most of the wallsare dark lavender. One is nearly black and the curtains are dark velvet.Éponine turns to Cosette with as serious an expression as she can command.

“Don’t tellme you were goth,” she says, vowing to herself that if the answer is yes shewill do everything in her power, including enlisting Marius, to get her handson photographic evidence of this fact.

“I wasn’t,”Cosette says regretfully. “But I wanted to be so badly.”

Époninelaughs. “You weren’t allowed?” she can’t really imagine that. Then again shecan’t imagine Fantine having breakfast opposite a teenage mess of black clothesand make-up either.

“No, I wasjust really bad at it,” Cosette laughs, walking further into the room. “Catastrophicallybad. It’s good you didn’t know me then.”

“I wouldhave loved to have known you then,” Éponine says unthinkingly.

“Yeah?”Cosette smiles, looking at her with soft eyes. “Would you have fixed my awfulmake-up for me and psyched me up enough to actually go through with dying myhair?”

Éponineswallows. “Absolutely.”

Cosettesmiles a little wider and Éponine gives herself a single second to be sorry forherself. But no more. She made that mistake with Marius and she’s not making itagain. Being lovesick is overrated, being friends is better.

“Your roomis great,” she says, letting her mouth pull into a smirk. “Especially the Aristocatssheets.”

“Hey, thoseare the softest sheets in existence,”Cosette defends herself.

“I wasn’tjudging,” Éponine grins.

“I can hear you judging,” Cosette says, a smileclearly audible in her voice. She turns around to pick a cardigan up from thefloor and Éponine takes the opportunity to look at her desk. She doesn’tactually get to look at it though, because tacked against the wall just aboveit, is a poster. A poster that Éponine looks at, takes in, and stares at withan odd sort of silence suddenly filling her mind.

The poster,contrary to the rest of the room, ispink. And the letters on it, curvy and blue and purple, spell out the words: ‘Perfectly Poly and Practically Perfect’.

“Shall wego back down or do you want to snoop some more?”

Époninebarely hears Cosette’s teasing, but she turns around anyway. She turns aroundand looks at her, with her loose curls framing her face and her laughing eyesand her pink cheeks and she just… Perfectly poly.

“You okay?”Cosette asks, her face turning just the slightest bit concerned.

“Yes,”Éponine blurts and she better think of something to keep her mind busy becauseright now it is racing, along with her heart, and full of sudden and startlingnew ideas and possibilities. “We should go help your mom.”

“Yes,”Cosette agrees cheerfully. “There are celebratory strawberries to tend to.”

Époninefollows her out of the room, doing her best impression of a girl that’s got aperfect handle on the situation. It’s a good thing she has considerablepractice with that act. A very good thing indeed.

#eposette #mariposette #eponine #cosette #fantine #modern means less miserable #sunfreckle's stories #I hope this fulfills your fluffy needs dear anon! #be careful what you wish for #today was a good day <3

[taronfanfic]

ABER

Masterlist

Chapter 4

I could get used to this. The freedom, the lack of responsibilities, just doing what I want, when I want… Do you know how many places in New York claim to do the world’s best cup of coffee? Too many is the answer. I’m sat in one of those places now, giving my feet a rest from this morning’s site seeing. No one needs to hear about the view from the Empire State Building but I’ll sum it up in one word for you: Lonely. The prices on the way in were a bit of a giveaway: Family, Couple or Groups. Nah, just me thanks. I went, I saw, I didn’t bother with the t-shirt. Maybe the generic tourist stuff isn’t what this trip is going to be all about for me…

I tell you what was good though – dinner last night. As soon as David said it was on him I knew exactly where I wanted to go. Riverpark. Fancy as fuck but totally worth it just for the view over East River alone. He said he wanted to wine and dine me and that’s exactly what happened. He’s been saying a lot of things in the past 48 hours actually… We’ve reminisced a lot. We’ve joked a lot. We’ve in a roundabout way covered my recent dating history or lack thereof. That was a fun one… For a while I was… hesitant? Confused? Dubious? Uncertain? (all of the above) about his genuine intentions for this trip, but last night he not so subtly revealed his true game. Let me explain.

Phase 1: Subtly drop hints about me being in his bed before the end of the week with an added over the top wink so he could play it off as a joke if everything backfired.

Phase 2: Insist on me staying in his bed. No wink this time. Cocky.

Phase 3: “I’ve never known anyone turn down a cosy spooning opportunity.” Followed by innocent promises of his offer being just a spoon and nothing more. Yeah yeah, I believe you.

So with his plan slowly unravelling before my eyes was I brave enough to resist his invitations? Well after a couple of bottles of expensive wine and a few extra drinks in the hotel bar last night, to put it simply: no. I went and climbed right in didn’t I! Now here is where things get awkward. I’m likening this to when you don’t hear what someone’s said to you and you ask them to repeat themselves. You have a maximum of 3 chances to understand what the hell they’re on about before you have to smile, nod, and pretend you knew exactly what they said. Asking them to say it a fourth time is just weird. So picture this…

I’m the pyjama wearing little spoon, comfy as anything after a brilliant evening, enjoying the physical closeness and warmth of having another human fitting perfectly in behind me. I’m smiling to myself thinking he was right all along, this is nice, it is innocent and pure and god I’ve missed the feeling of being held by someone. But then David forgot to tell his penis that he wasn’t invited to our private spooning party and he popped up trying to join the fun. What a dick!

So here’s where things get awkward. I know David’s aroused. He sure as hell knows he’s aroused. He also knows that I know because there’s no mistaking that his cock is pressed firmly against my arse!! So now the countdown begins. Either I get up and return to my sofa immediately, or wait for him to make a move before politely rejecting him and then returning to my sofa. Simple. Except neither of us moved. Fair play to him, he was sticking to his word. Just spooning, nothing more. Self-restraint is an impressive quality to have. So now it was on me to wriggle out from his grip and say goodnight. That was all I had to do, but why oh why was I failing to move a single part of my body. The longer I lay there the more it looked like I wanted something else to happen. But my naïve wine-fuelled-brain picked that exact moment to drop the bombshell thought into the front of my mind:

So this is what he really meant when he said he wanted some company whilst traveling.

Why he’s chosen me is anyone’s guess. People like me don’t sleep with people like David and that’s just a fact. He’s a 10 and I’m a 4 on a very rare good day. We are worlds apart and it’s sheer coincidence and luck that I even know him in the first place. So after an awkwardly long time spent being spooned by him and his not so little or subtle friend, I finally got my shit together and shuffled across to the edge of the bed, mumbling a ‘sleep well’ as I stumbled back to my sofa in the dark and worked out what to do next.

I decided I was going to play it cool and act like nothing had happened. Neither of us mentioned it this morning and somehow things weren’t awkward either. Result? Fuck knows, but what I do know is that he won’t be getting any of that anytime soon. Not because I don’t want to, girls would kill to have the opportunity to climb him like a tree and ride on his branch. He’s fit and I’d just be disappointing so I’ve got to prove a point. I never came on this trip with that in mind, it wasn’t even close to being on the cards as a possibility! So if he’s made it his mission, probably thinking I’m an easy target, I’m going to play the long game and make him work for it!        

BADQ x

***

“Don’t get too comfy, we’re going out in a bit.” Taron started to tidy up the room service plates and move them out into the corridor.

“What? I was planning on chilling out tonight, reading some of my book, watching a few episodes of Game of Thrones or something.”

“It’s a last minute invite that’s come through and I can’t really turn it down. The director for the film I auditioned for this morning is hosting it so if I can get in with him then it should up my chances of getting the role.” Taron started to look through the wardrobe and pulled out a crisp white shirt.

“Ahh, schmoozing time! I’m gonna leave you to it, but good luck.” You lowered yourself down to a more comfortable position on the bed and picked up your book.

“The bar is only down the road, so I was hoping you’d come with me. It won’t be a late one.” He placed his shirt and black suit trousers down on the end of the bed as you watched from over your book.

“But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what all women say to try and get out of going to things.” He turned back to the wardrobe and pulled out the pale pink dress you’d brought, holding it out to the side as he gave you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please come with me.”

“Urgh! You don’t give up do you?”

“Not when I want something, no.” He smiled back as he handed your dress over to you and pulled his tshirt off over his head.

“I’m going to have to talk to people too, aren’t I?” You sighed, really not feeling in the sociable mood.

“Yes, but it’ll be the same old small talk questions for most of the night. How long have you known me, how do you like New York, what do you do, what are your plans…”

“My favourite!” Your sarcastic tone drew a concerned look from Taron as he sat down on the side of the bed.

“Is it really that bad? I thought you wanted to experience this side of things too?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to have good answers for those kind of questions. Especially now I don’t even have a job!”

“Don’t worry about that, you’ll probably never see any of these people again so it really doesn’t matter what you say… you could make it all up and they’re not gonna know are they!?”

“I suppose.” You shrugged your shoulders back to him, still not sold on the idea.

“You could be… an author working on your first novel… a journalist?... a blogger! You are technically a blogger now so that wouldn’t even be a lie! You’ll be absolutely fine and I’ll be by your side doing 99% of the talking anyway. Please, Y/N.” His hand was resting on your lower leg, his eyes locked to yours, his chest temptingly bare. You hadn’t come on this trip to sit in hotel rooms doing exactly what you’d be doing at home, so why were you trying to refuse another great offer from Taron?

“Is it a free bar?”

“Yes.” He laughed softly. “I should have just told you that from the start, shouldn’t I?”

“Makes all the difference.” You smiled as you sat up and picked up your dress.

@egerton-sweetie @amanda-tallmadge @lizziespidiepridie @leanimal90 @anantheminmyheart22 @aynsleywalker @bohemianrhapsody86 @manners-maketh-taron @butterfliesslugswormsandothershi

#Taron Egerton #Taron x reader #Taron Egerton Fanfic #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton imagine

[onhowtobecrazy]

Compromised | Bill x Laura (BsG)

@thisisamadhouse Marie, my wonderful sister, happy birthday once again ♥ a day late because being sick totally thwarted my plans. Here’s you Space Parents goodness, I didn’t even do angst, be proud!

A/N. First part of a two-chapters “what if” post-Hand of God in season 1, where the Commander and the President celebrate their unexpected and welcome victory against the Cylons... and it’s all about sexual frustration. Rating will go up in second chapter ;)

.

“You seem distracted.”

Laura stopped sliding her finger over the rim of her wine glass and looked at Adama, subtly leaning on the table towards her as he watched her with a gentle smile that showed curiosity rather than concern. She smiled back, straightening up in her seat and taking a burning sip of ambrosia, her tongue shuddering under its bite. Even if she closed her eyes, there was no way her memory would be able to replace the taste of the strong, green liquor with the heady delicacy of wine.

And memory was all they had left.

“Something on your mind?”

“You could say that again.”

Just like ambrosia would never make for an honest substitution of more refined beverages, the hurried, stolen moments of pleasure she'd found at her own hand in her rare times of solitude would never replace the triumphant bliss of shared sexual intimacy.

She was craving it.

She'd always lead a healthy sexual life (she couldn’t say the same for the relationships that intersected with it), and she never denied herself when she had an itch to scratch. Her frustration at the forced celibacy her job entailed was scraping her raw. It wasn't like she could just frak anybody. Had she been President on the colonies, she could have managed casual relationships, but neither the circumstances nor the place were propitious to any kind of illicit intimacy. And that was just what she needed. A good, uncomplicated frak with someone she could trust, no drama, no consequences.

It was even harder today, after Kara's embrace. It woke something in her, a stirring that had her realize she hadn't felt a friendly body pressed against her own since the attacks. If you added the constant duress she was under, the decorum she had to maintain, it was no wonder she was so wound up.

“Wanna share with the class?”

She chuckled politely, noticed how his eyes had gone from curious to teasing, and wondered how much impropriety she could get away with tonight.

It wasn't that she hadn't thought about it.

Besides the obvious fact that their paralleled positions in the fleet made them suited for each other like no one else in their need for secrecy and mutual understanding of their respective duties, she had to admit Adama had a distinctive charm. She wouldn't have called him handsome—not at first sight, certainly—but there was something appealing in his charismatic presence, his quiet strength, his weathered features. Piercing blue eyes, a soft smile, a voice meant to soothe and seduce; yes, she might have thought about it, once or twice.

She wondered if he had, too.

“I know there's very little time for the two of us to dwell on the life we've left behind, but I found myself thinking a lot about simple things I missed, lately.”

“Such as?”

“Well, to be honest with you, commander, I was thinking of sex.”

To his credit, Adama didn't choke on the drink he'd just brought to his lips, but she noticed that he took a long time to swallow.

“Don't you miss it?” she asked, pushing a little farther.

After all, he'd been the one to invite her over to his quarters for an intimate dinner, again. Last time, she'd been surprised at her inclusion to the family with Lee and the Tighs, but had kept quiet about it. She was beginning to suspect that Adama was the kind to adopt on sight. But beyond the little knowledge she’d gained of the man these past weeks, she found him hard to read on certain matters. Was she meant to take his invitation as forwardness? What to make of the flirtatious banter that had replaced the bickering between them? Should she take his compliments as more than him being a gentleman?

“How about you come to my quarters this evening to celebrate? We can have dinner, just the two of us.”

The offer had thrown her off as much as Kara’s hug had, and she’d reacted in the same way. She accepted without a second thought, patting the hand he’d gently laid on her arm to draw her attention away from the elated crowd cheering about their hard-earned victory over the Cylons.

“That’s a nice idea. Let’s have a do-over with fewer arguments.”

“I promise no drunken nuisance this time.”

“Oh, Commander, you weren't that drunk.”

He’d frowned, as she’d expected, then gave her a wry smile. “Funny.” She couldn’t help a little condescension.“You always seem surprised.”

He'd taken her hand when she joined him in his quarters later, after a quick trip aboard Colonial One to freshen up and change clothes, and for one, crazy second she had thought he would kiss it. His eyes had lingered on her blouse, the same burgundy one she'd worn last dinner, which she thought he would comment on, but all he said was “You look nice, Madame President.”

She'd smiled easily as he'd drawn the chair for her, and sat with a grateful nod. “Thank you, Commander. I'm afraid it's as close as festive as I can get with my limited options. We did say we would celebrate. Didn't we?”

But the hardest piece of William Adama’s puzzle was probably to have to guess how he would now answer her deeply personal, and some would say, inappropriate, question.

“What makes you think I’m not having sex? Things can get quite cosy on this ship.”

She giggled, relieved to have him playing along, and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Besides the obvious fact that the both of us are way too busy for fun time off? If you were getting in on the regular, Commander, you'd be easier to deal with.”

She took another sip of ambrosia, a bigger one this time that singed her throat in a way that was starting to be pleasant. Adama lowered his chopsticks on the table and crossed his arms, seemingly forgetting all about the little food he had left in front of him to focus on challenging her. “Are you advising me to get laid to facilitate your political agenda, Madame President?”

She hummed and pursed her lips in a malicious smirk. “To be perfectly honest with you, I'm more interested in my own sexual satisfaction. Doesn't mean it couldn't meet yours.” She pushed back her chair, crossing legs and arms, dropping the teasing for a more earnest expression.

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“You mean us—"

“Frakking, yes, that's what I mean.”

She watched intently as he rose from his chair and made his way slowly around the table to her side, leaning his hip against the edge and looking down at her with troubled eyes.

“How much of that is a game, Laura?”

She didn't know when they had switched to first name basis, but she figured they might as well given the personal turn their conversation had taken. Maybe it was the alcohol making her so bold; maybe it was a conversation waiting to happen. Whatever the reason, she went for it.

“Actually, nothing. I'm quite serious. We both have unique roles in each other’s lives; we’re both acquainted with the demands of the job and the need for discretion. I like you when we're not butting heads, and I find you sexually appealing.”

He stopped her with a hoarse laugh that seemed to be part unease, part frustration. “Well, isn't that the kind of talk everyone dreams of hearing?”

He left her side to go and sit on the couch, and she turned sideways on her chair to keep facing him. He spread his legs and leant his arms on his thighs, bending over and looking at the floor. She could see a despondent shadow closing in on him.

“I'm guessing your unenthusiastic reaction to my proposal has more to it than you finding me unattractive.”

He laughed again, a wounded sound. “I didn't know it was a proposal, yet.”

“It is. If you want it.”

“If I want it…”

He looked at her, and she realized the mistake she'd made by pushing him. There was something naked and shocking in the sudden yearning she saw in his eyes, and she shivered on her seat, squeezing her legs tighter together.

“Do I want it.”

She turned away from him and hastily reached for her drink, downing it in one go, gasping as the burn seemed to spread to her lungs and veins.

“I was a little afraid of that,” she admitted once she could use her voice.

“Can you look at me?”

She didn't want to; but she did, twisting on her chair again and meeting Adama’s eyes without flinching.

“It wouldn't be the first time I engage in a casual affair. I tend to favor it over a steady relationship—I’m a solitary type. I was involved with someone in a, ah, sensitive situation before, and I’ve always been able to compartmentalize, do my job, live my life as I intended. But he was... not quite willing to even try. He kept some expectations.”

If he was surprised by he revelation or guessed who it was about, he did not let it show. “Expectations are not always a bad thing.”

He seemed calmer, as if the cloud of dark energy that had seemed to suddenly surround him had lifted, leaving room for an attentiveness that was as thoughtful as it was a little unnerving.

“Until it becomes about being owed something.”

He stayed silent for a while, mulling over her words. “You think I have expectations?”

She made a face as she formed her answer, wanting to say it right. “Not quite. With you, it’s—you’re emotionally compromised. With your crew, your pilots. It makes things complicated.”

“It also makes it human.”

“Yes. Yes it does.”

They held each other’s eyes. A moment passed, and with it the chance to change the course of this night. Then, Adama slowly removed his glasses, and carefully laid them down on the coffee table in front of him, settling back into the couch with his hands crossed low on his stomach, his face tired, and weary.

“So, where do we go from here?”

She hesitated for a second before rising up and crossing over to him, sitting carefully to his right, not too close, but close enough to whisper.

“William…” she began, but he interrupted her gently.

“Bill. William was someone else.”

“Bill,” she amended, and waited a beat, savoring the new name on her tongue. Bill. Laura. The simplicity of their names combined in her head was almost shocking, somehow. Easy names for complicated people.

“I trust you. Maybe I should have started there.”

She gently took one of his hands in hers, urging him to stop looking down at them and meet her eyes.

“How much?” he asked softly, and she couldn't help but smile at his greed.

“I trust you to make me feel good.”

His hand flexed reflexively between hers, and she slowly brought it to her mouth, brushing her lips over his knuckles, drawing a shiver from him.

He let her play with his hand until she rasped her teeth against his palm, drawing a groan out of him and spurring him into action, both hands coming up to circle her face, bringing her to him, his lips teasing the side of her mouth.

“Why now?” Bill murmured against her cheek, and she froze, lips tingling with anticipation, her tongue burning with truths she couldn't tell.

Because I'm dying, Laura wanted to scream. Because I'm high on drugs half the time and seeing snakes and gods now what else next time. Because I think there's something bigger than all of us that’s coming and it's about to change everything I thought I knew of myself and the world and I'm terrified and clueless and alone.

And it's a kind of loneliness I've never asked for.

“Maybe because I've had a very bad day that ended wonderfully. Maybe because tonight it feels like we've won. And maybe just because I want this. Shouldn't that be enough?”

Bill seemed to believe it was. He pulled back, just enough, and let her enter his eyes, intent on giving her a last warning, a gentle thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

“I won't pretend I don't get attached.”

“And I won't pretend I can give you more than what I have.”

Laura was relieved to see him smile—relieved he didn’t push, but didn’t back down either. She had a fleeting, amusing thought about their strange, so often strained but oddly gratifying relationship where conflicts bloom but they kept each other honest and fighting, able to agree to disagree and move on—sex wasn't about to change things much, it seemed.

When he finally—finally—closed the distance between their lips, Laura sighed into the kiss and banished all intrusive thoughts from her mind.

.

TBC

#space parents #bsg fanfiction #laura x bill #roslin x adama #adama x roslin #bsg #once again I hope I'm not making a mess of characterization #do not fear the smut is coming #lolymoon writes

[tgr489]

Lockdown, the prequel

It’s been a while… too long, if you want to know. And oh how things have changed in that time, for the good or bad, I’ll leave you to answer for yourself. For me, the lockdown, now pretty much over here in London, gave me some time, probably a little too much, to reflect on things.

I’ve spent the last 12 or so weeks holed up with friends I made towards the end of last summer. Seemed like a brilliant idea at the start, and while it had its tumultuous moments and occasional bouts of violence, it’s come to an end and I’m a little sad about it.

It began in December with the winning of a contract for some new work. My big mouth got me involved in a project for Mel, my friend Zac’s partner. A conversation in the pub about her work and the project she was hoping to start, an AI type thing which sounded interesting. I questioned her about it, the purpose and goals, posed a few arguments and then spent some time picking holes into the details of her agency’s proposal. She was pissed at me, it was justified, but her position of supposed superiority in our conversation needed some balancing. I must’ve hit a chord because I was invited to deliver my proposal to her superiors, which I performed with slightly less drunken energy and rant, but a little more professionalism, and that saw me sign a contract a week later to begin in the new year. With 4-6 months of work lined up for the new year, I felt relaxed but didn’t take my foot off. I bought a flight back to New York to pick up possessions and make my London stay less transient. Three days was enough to catch up with those that could free up time in their schedules, what with the run into Christmas. It was fruitful but felt somewhat alien to be back, the relief and tension washed through me when I left. I also timed the visit so I could complete my RTW ticket, that untaken last leg to LA and my friend Araya. I thanked her again, this time in person with a bear hug, for helping me out of that hole last year. She is in a hole herself now, recently separated, with a divorce, probably a messy one, on the way. Love turned sour. It’s a long story for a time when lawyers have finished picking over carcasses. Our time was also brief but enough to reaffirm each other we’re OK and we’re both there to support the other. 5 days all in and I was jet-streaming back across the Atlantic saying adieu to the US, for how long I didn’t know. The immediate winter holidays were spent back in Austria, my crew regrouped to collect and scatter ashes in the only place befitting of our good friend Tibby, the mountains. We had 10 days of sun and powder on the slopes, coupled with some sentimentality, lots of drinking and other goodies. It was a grand farewell, and my good friend can rest in peace across the slopes of the white ring. Anna and I returned to Vienna and everyone else went everywhere else. I had a date to go on, and serious conversation to have with my host, nothing bad, all good.

My date (Emily) and I had spoken occasionally in the time between now, and our shared flight the last time I was here. She was someone I was keen to see again in the flesh. The more I’ve spoken to her, the more attracted I’ve become to her. When we actually met it felt a little like we were the protagonists of a blind date. I felt awkwardly nervous, reciprocating a vibe I was receiving from her. We settled into it eventually, the distraction presented itself in the form of a pretty awesome Vietnamese spread, followed by a long walk in the cold, crisp night to a cosy bar on the edge of the city centre. I have no idea where because I was lost in her stories and her. We stayed until closing, which came about all too quickly. I didn’t want to go but she'd called it, citing work reasons. I was pretty sure nothing intimate was going to happen between us, not on that night anyway. I was in no position to invite her back to Anna’s, and she gave no invitational signals to go to hers. I was fine with it, there would be another opportunity. We said goodbye at her taxi, with an unexpected lustful kiss which had belied her earlier demeanour. I had a momentary feeling of loss as the door closed and the car pulled away, and I watched it for the short distance before it turned a corner and was gone, waiting for my boner to flake. We are still in touch and will see each other again when the circumstances permit. The more I thought about the evening on my journey home I had the impression she had been hiding something. The erratic movement in her eyes, never resting for a moment, always scanning, like looking for danger. I told Anna about the date over dinner the next night, her appraisal was to tell me with almost certainty that Emily has a partner. This had me thinking, but I parked it, as it was time to talk to Anna. She still needed to unwind a bit so she cracked another bottle of red. She's adjusted to her widow's life with a degree of resignation, but she’s moving on, with some worries. Time away has made her see new horizons and she’s up for those, but she has a baby and that’s her foremost responsibility, so everything else has to take a back seat, for a while at least. I’ve told her not to give up and that she will find someone else, or someone will more likely find her first, and love will start again. Anna smiled at this and it was then I told her about the plans I’d made to help her out financially. I told her a little white lie, namely the company Tibby and I had been partners in still held all my share of the profits we’d made, and invested it had grown enough to provide a salary/pension, and I was giving it to her. She was gobsmacked, and then she cried a lot, hugging me furiously, thanking me profusely. Don’t get me wrong I haven’t given her a fortune, but it’s enough that she can get by on if she needs to stop work or something. There was money still tied to that company but it was only a couple hundred bucks, i topped it up.

I thought about Emily on my journey to London and my course of action is to ask her the partner question and put me straight. If she is then I know it and can deal with it, it won't be like before. I've yet to ask, something in me doesn't want to know. Maybe I'm scared that by asking she won't want to talk any more. No one wants to be caught in deception, it's embarrassing for all concerned. When travel restrictions have reached some level of normality she is coming to London, primarily for work with the promise to stay for an extra day, so I've decided I will ask her in person and face the outcome head-on. In the meantime, I’ll work out whether another long-distance relationship is worth it.

Later Gators

#ashes to ashes #austria #st anton #new york #first dates #goodbyes #christmas #snow #powder #gifts

[upthenorthmountain]

Something Just Like This - Chapter 6

Previous Chapters

Author note: Sorry

Chapter Six

Anna opened her eyes. She was lying on her side, and someone was watching her. He smiled when he saw that she was awake.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Morning.” She was smiling back; she couldn’t help it. Kristoff stroked her hair back from her face, then put his arm round her and pulled her towards him. Anna snuggled up against his chest.

“Were you watching me sleep? Weirdo.”

“You looked so pretty.”

“I was probably drooling.”

“Hey, now. None of us can help what we find attractive.”

Anna snorted. “What’s the time?”

Kristoff peered over her to see the clock. “Just gone eight. Do you have anywhere to be?”

“No, just curious.”

He kissed her on the top of the head. “Tea?”

“Mm. In a minute. ‘M ver’ cosy.”

“OK.” He stroked her hair. She fell back asleep.

-----

When Anna woke up again she was alone in the bed, but Kristoff was just walking out of the room, stretching as he did so. His moving must have been what had woken her. She turned and looked at the clock; it was closer to nine now. Probably time to be getting up.

She could hear Kristoff in the kitchen. He filled the kettle and put it on, then leant on the worktop, lost in thought. Anna watched him from the doorway. His pyjamas were grey, long trousers and short sleeves, and the fabric was soft and pilled from wear. His feet were bare, and for some reason that made a little ache in Anna’s heart. He looked at home.

Yesterday! She’d been supposed to marry a completely different man, yesterday! And now….she wanted Kristoff to be at home here. She wanted to walk into the kitchen and find him making tea in his pyjamas, and to have him smile at her when she woke up. She didn’t want him to go.

You always rush into everything. This was supposed to just be a little easy, comfortable thing, a cosy space to rest until they both felt ready for a real relationship again. But it was rapidly becoming much more than that. She couldn’t imagine that mythical future man, her husband, the father of her children; she didn’t want him. She wanted Kristoff. She wanted this.

The kettle clicked off and Kristoff started looking for mugs. He saw Anna in the doorway and smiled. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay. I am prepared to concede,” she said, walking over to him, “That it is morning.”

She let him fold her back into his arms. Don’t let me go, she thought. I think that maybe, possibly, I love you. I’m sorry.

-----

It was a couple of weeks later. She’d seen him all day at work (or at least a few times, and they’d eaten lunch together as they often did, and walked home together), but Anna still found herself missing Kristoff that Friday evening. Maybe it was because they hadn’t made any plans for the weekend, so she didn’t know if she’d see him before Monday. Or maybe she was just bored. Either way, at half-six she found herself putting on her shoes and walking down the road to find him.

She didn’t think about whether she should have called first until she rang the doorbell. Too late now. After a moment she saw Kristoff through the frosted glass panel, and she heard him say “This’ll be them now,” to someone behind him as he opened it.

“Oh!” he said when he saw her, and smiled. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hi, I was just….oh, you have guests, I'll go.”

“No, it's fine. Come in.”

He ushered her in and closed the door behind her before she could protest. “What's up?”

“Nothing, really, I just wondered if you were busy, but you are, so -”

“Join us,” a man’s voice called from the living room. “The more the merrier.”

“I just have some people over for dinner,” Kristoff said. “Stay.” He waved her into the living room. “These are my friends Sven and Jessica, and this is Ben -” he gestured at a little boy sitting on the floor playing with some toy cars - “and that's Daisy -” he pointed at the baby Jessica was holding. “And my parents will be here in a minute. This is my friend Anna from work,” he said to the room. “Let me just check on the food.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Jessica said. “At last,” Sven said cheerfully.

Anna stood awkwardly, wondering what Kristoff had been saying about her. He'd introduced her as his friend. Should she just be his friend? Was that what he wanted?

“Sven,” Jessica said, “Did you bring in the other bag, is it in the car?”

“No. Yes. It's in the car.”

Jessica sighed and handed him the baby. “Hold this. Back in a sec.”

She left, and as the door shut behind her Ben shouted “MUMMY DADDY MY CAR.”

Anna and Sven looked down, and saw the little boy lying full length on the floor, peering under the sofa.

“Blast,” Sven said. “Here, hold this,” and he handed Anna the baby and lay down on the floor beside his son.

Anna juggled the baby onto her shoulder.

“Kristoff,” Sven called, “Do you have anything long? Like a metre rule?”

“Like a what?” Kristoff came back through, taking off oven gloves.

“It's all the way at the back.”

“Then pull the sofa forwards, hang on, move up -”

The doorbell rang. “That'll be my mum,” Kristoff said. “Hang on.”

“Aha!” Sven said triumphantly. “There you go, son.” He held up the car. “Now where did I put your sister? If I lose her Mummy will be cross.”

“Um, here,” Anna said. “Here, take her before I drop her -”

“Is that something you're planning to do?” Sven said, taking back the baby.

Anna hung back as Kristoff’s friend greeted his parents. Jessica had returned also, holding a huge changing bag, and they clearly all knew each other well and were happy to see each other. Anna wondered if she should make her excuses and leave, but when she edged towards the door Kristoff came through it from the kitchen and handed her a glass of wine.

“Food in ten,” he said, trying to pass another glass to his mother, but she waved him away in favour of holding the baby.

Anna followed Kristoff back through to the kitchen. “Are you sure you don't want me to go? I could have an important Thing that I need to go and do.”

“Do you? Have a thing.”

“No.”

“Well, then.”

“I'm intruding -”

“You come here when you don't want to be alone,” Kristoff said. “There's plenty of people in this house and I was worried I'd done too many potatoes as it is. Stay.”

Anna hesitated, twirling her glass. “What's for dinner?”

“Roast chicken.”

Sven came into the kitchen and started wordlessly rifling through the top drawer.

“What’re you doing?” Kristoff said after a minute.

“Setting another place at the table,” Sven said. “Since you can’t count. We’re one short.”

“He didn’t know I was coming,” Anna said.

“A likely story,” Sven said. “Never mind, I’ve got you,” and he went through to the dining room, holding a handful of cutlery.

-----

Anna had seen Kristoff eating leftovers for lunch at work, so she knew he liked to cook. He’d even offered to make her dinner a couple of times, though they’d never got round to it. But since he’d finished work he’d managed to make roast chicken, roast potatoes, vegetables, yorkshire puddings and gravy for six-and-a-half people, and it was delicious. She’d underestimated his abilities by some margin.

And god, his friends were nice, and their children delightful; his parents were lovely and friendly and welcoming, and no one seemed to mind that she’d gatecrashed a dinner party. Anna could tell that Kristoff’s parents, his mother in particular, were trying to size her up and work out whether she was Kristoff’s girlfriend. She wondered if she should tell them that she wasn’t really sure herself.

-----

Sven and Jessica left straight after dinner to put the children to bed. Kristoff’s parents stayed a little longer for a final cup of tea, then they said goodnight as well and Kristoff went to the door to see them out.

When he came back into the kitchen Anna was sitting at the breakfast bar, refilling her wine glass. She took a deep drink from it and said “We should have a baby.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No, look, look. It makes sense. You want to be a father, right? At some point. It’s something you want from your life. Right?”

“Well, yes.”

“OK. And I want to have a baby. And we’re both employed and have safe places to live and everything. So we should just do it. We wouldn’t have to live together or anything, we could share it. One week on, one week off. Ooooorr we could have TWO babies. One each.”

“Come on,” Kristoff said, taking the wine glass from her and putting it in the sink. “I'll walk you home.”

“Your mum liked me. She'd be happy.”

“She probably would, at that.”

“Then let's -”

“No.”

“Everyone makes jokes about biological clocks,” Anna said as they walked down the front steps, “But it’s true. I turned thirty and my ovaries just starting shouting at me.”

“You’ve plenty of time yet.”

Anna looked him up and down. “Do you think you’ll get married again? One day?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t turn out to be very good at it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“With someone else it would be different.”

“Different, sure.”

He set his jaw. Anna walked alongside him in a silence for a minute.

“How about you?” Kristoff said suddenly. “Do you still want to get married?”

“Of course, some day. But. I don’t know if I want to plan a wedding again? Or not the same wedding, obviously, but then…” She paused. “Like my dress. It was so pretty, and if I went looking for another dress to marry someone else, would I deliberately look for something different? But then that was my favourite! I don’t want a second-best dress to marry the actually-decent man. But I’d be stuck between choosing the dress I was going to marry Matt in, or a dress I don’t like as much. Which would be rubbish.”

“Get married on a beach, then,” Kristoff said. “Wear a white bikini and sunglasses. Sparkly flip-flops.”

Anna laughed. “I guess that’s an option. And the groom in board shorts. No. A speedo.”

He smiled. “It sounds like a classy event, I hope I’m invited.”

Anna couldn’t think what to say, so she said nothing. Kristoff didn’t seem to notice.

They’d reached her building; Anna stopped at the door and Kristoff stopped with her, his hands in his pockets.

“Do I get a goodnight kiss?” she said.

“Of course.” He cupped the side of her face and kissed her; nicely, but quickly.

“Not like that,” she said. “Properly.” He smiled, and she reached up to wrap her arms round his shoulders. “Like this,” she said, and kissed him. She felt him smile briefly against her lips, then he slid one arm round her waist and the other round to cup the back of her head with his hand, holding her in place while he deepened the kiss.

“Like that?” he said, when he finally pulled back.

“I -” Anna said, and stopped herself in time. “Yes. Like that.”

Kristoff smiled. “Goodnight, then.” He didn’t release her, still holding her in his arms.

“Goodnight.” Anna didn’t move, either. Instead she kissed him again, and another time, not wanting him to leave but not wanting to risk inviting rejection by asking him to come upstairs.

A car drove along the road and they jumped, separating only slightly.

“I feel like a teenager,” Anna said. She meant, because they were standing kissing on a street corner, but when Kristoff said softly “Me too,” she felt her stomach swoop.

“We could elope,” she said, not thinking about the words until they were out. “We could just go, not worry about dresses or flower arrangements or, or any of that. Just go, and do it, and…”

Kristoff’s eyes were searching her face. He said nothing, just gently stroked his hand over her hair. Anna waited for him to tell her that she was being silly, that she should go home,for him to ask her what the hell she was talking about.

She waited. And then he said, quietly, “I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

He let his hands drop, then, and took half a step backwards.

“I - this is all new to me,” he said. “I feel like - we only just met, it’s only been a couple of months, and yet - I know you. I know - that I love you. I want to spend my life with you. And I never - this is so fast and so sudden but it feels right. It doesn’t feel like me, at all.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I feel like I'm going mad.”

“In a - good way?” Anna said in a small voice.

“I don't know. I -” He looked up at the sky, then back at her. “I don’t know what to do. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. It’s too soon.”

“Kris -”

“You don’t want to marry me, Anna,” he said. “I couldn’t do it. I tried, but I wasn’t good enough. You deserve better.”

“Don’t you dare -” He was backing away now, and she followed him. “Don’t you dare go! Kristoff.” But he was walking away, and what could she do?

“I love you,” she said, and she thought he paused for a split-second, but he didn’t turn back.

#something just like this #kristanna #modern au #fanfic #fanfiction

[tipsycad147]

Herbs + Essences for the Haunted

 Alexis J. Cunningfolk

In some ways, we’re always dealing with ghosts when it comes to healing. We’re haunted by past events, words spoken to us at tender times, promises broken, pleasure denied, the shock of trauma, and the weight of memory. When someone seeks my services as an herbalist and Witch I am not only meeting them in the moment, but I gaze back and forward along their weblines, trying to see what they’ve brought with them and where they might be headed. I get to meet younger and elder you while sitting with the present you.

The shadowlands which we all of us spend time in, meeting with or enthralled by our ghosts, grow all sorts of strange plants that sprout up in our life as grief, anger, shame, despair, loneliness, and more. In other words, the list of recommendations I could have for plant allies that help us to deal with our haunting s could be vast and never-ending. That’s not very useful. In fact, the open secret is that if an herb, any herb, is helpful to you on your path of healing, it is an ally to you in facing your ghosts. So, knowing that there are a great many choices out there, I’ve chosen herbs and essences that I’m fond of, that I think are far-reaching in their scope, and because they are the ones that came forward at the time of writing this post.

The Herbs

Thorn magick, such as Hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna) and Rose (Rosa spp.) is a very valuable ally in working with our ghosts. I’ve written more about working with thorn medicine plants here. In short, Rose helps us to deal with our grief instead of running from it and Hawthorn helps us to open our heart again to life.

Mugwort (Artemisia spp.) is our dream ally as so much of what we feel haunted by can be accessed in liminal states. It’s an incredibly powerful herb for integration and in traditional western herbalism it is honoured as one of our eldest of herbal allies. Working with herbs like Mugwort, which are considered spiritual elders, to actual ancient plants Gingko (Gingko biloba), and Rose (Rosa spp.) that have been on this planet for millions of years is useful in haunting work. These plants have the ability to travel through our timelines with strength, wisdom, and discernment. Use the essence of Mugwort, too, especially if dealing with nightmares.

Skullcap (Scutellaria lateriflora) is an herb that I talk about a lot and that’s because it is so useful when it comes to dealing with excessive mental chatter, anxiety, and the inflexibility that can arise from both conditions. When it comes to our personal ghosts, Skullcap helps us to move out of our heads and into our bodies. Some of us try very, very hard to logic our traumas, to make sense of our ghosts, and while sometimes we can build stories that make sense, that’s not always the case and that’s not always necessary. Sometimes it’s just about recognising, deeply and making space for the emotions that arise, that something hurt and that once we do that we can begin to leave that pain behind. Skullcap is a good ally to work with if you don’t know quite where to begin - you feel like there are ghosts everywhere and they’re all talking. Skullcap can help come in and quiet everyone down.

Yarrow (Achillea millefolium) is another liminal spaces herb and one intimately linked with the Good Folk. In my tradition, the Good Folk are some of our eldest ancestors (you’ll see a theme emerging with my recommendations so far - work with the Old Ones). Trauma and the things which we are haunted by can sometimes happen over a slow period of time and sometimes it happens suddenly, shocking the system. There is a lot of lore tied to the Good Folk and shock - they are often accused of being the source of ill but I think they are often the ones who show us that we are already suffering we just hadn’t realised it yet. Another way to understand this pattern of energy is to recognise Yarrow as a plant ally for the wounded warriors and wounded healers among us. They are the ones who facilitate some of the most beautiful and profound healing spaces for others because they carry a great wound themselves. We are at a moment that as a species we are carrying the vast wound of environmental degradation caused by the choices we’ve made and the distance we’ve created between ourselves and the rest of our living planet. I highly recommend Yarrow as an essence and learning more about the Yarrow Environmental Essence that the folks at the Flower Essence Society has created.

The Essences

The essences listed below are either available as part of the Bach Flower Remedies or the Flower Essence Society collections.

Aspen (Populus tremula) is helpful for those who are afraid of the unknown that lies beyond their current state of being. It can be scary to imagine what our lives would be like without the familiarity of our ghosts, even if we know that we no longer wish to be haunted. Aspen helps us to face our fear and move beyond it.

Bleeding Heart (Dicentra formosa) helps us to let go of our ghost, releasing attachments to the things, places, and beings which are no longer with us.

Crab Apple (Malus sylvestris) helps us come to release feelings of being somehow “contaminated” with our trauma and that makes us impure or unfit for healing and connection with others.

Evening Primrose (Oenothera elata) is a great ally when we are processing childhood trauma and its impact on us today. Take before and after your therapy and healing sessions.

Honeysuckle (Lonicera caprifolium) helps us to arrive back in the present moment so that we can move on with our lives.

Rock Rose (Helianthemum nummularium) helps us to befriend the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. For those who are afraid of dying or loss of self.

Sage (Salvia officinalis) helps us to get out of own way, accept the fact that we have and should change as we grow, and come to accept ourselves for who we are now.

Self-heal (Prunella vulgaris) for those of us who don’t believe we have the capacity to heal, that our minds and bodies are broken beyond repair. Self-heal reminds us that our healing is possible, assists us in reaching out to others for help, and learning how to trust ourselves again.

Star of Bethlehem (Ornithogalum umbellatum) helps us to deal with the shock of loss. We’re not always able to deal with the initial feelings of loss in our life and have to make time and space for it at a later point. Star of Bethlehem helps us to navigate that meeting with our feelings.

Wild Mustard (Sinapis arvensis) is one of my favourite essences for the type of sorrow that feels like there is no light left in our life. It helps to bring back the sun.

Willow (Salix vitellina) helps us to forgive, release bitterness, and move forward with out lives.

Working With Herbs + Essences When You’re Haunted

Before you use any herb or essence, do your research by referencing reputable materia medicas (i.e. books full of plant profiles) to determine if a plant is right for you and the correct dosage. In general, googling a plant is not the best way to find accurate information or appropriate use. Please use discretion, practice empowered choosing, and ask your local herbalist for help, too!

There is something about water-based remedies that I find to be particularly powerful when it comes to working with the stuff that haunts you. We live on an ocean planet, we are made up of so much water ourselves, and we are formed and shaped in a watery womb. If you have access to a bath, I highly taking an herbal bath. If you don’t have a full bath to use, you can still do a foot and/or hand bath, as well as making a shower rinse (i.e. make a strong infusion of herbs and water, strain, and wash with as part of your shower). Teas are another simple way to use herbs in ghost work and adding a few drops of an essence into your morning water is great, too.

Once you’ve chosen what plant allies to work with begin by stating your need to the plant. Begin by setting up a space in a sacred manner - it can be as simple as cosying up on your favourite comfy chair, wrapped up in a blanket or more similar to casting a circle. Once you’ve set space for the work to begin, set your intention with your plant ally. You might already know the work you want to do and the haunting you want to clear from your soulshrine (i.e. your body and sacred being). Or you might not, in which case it is helpful to journal, cast cards or spend time in meditation. Take a moment to greet your plant ally, introducing yourself and speaking to them with reverence and kindness. Once you’ve determined what haunted room you want to walk into, state to your plant ally:

{Plant Name}, I wish to release the ghosts of my past. I am haunted by {describe your haunting}. With your aid, {Plant Name}, I seek to release it. Thank you, {Plant Name}, for guiding me in my healing work.

Repeat this simple ritual for the next three, six, or nine days. Pay attention to how the description of your haunting may or may not change during this time. Take time for journaling, casting cards, talking with your friends and family, your dog, your therapist. Sharing the stories of our haunting s can help to shed light where there was once murkiness - and then at some point the story may feel all told out. Invite your ancestors in, especially the really old ones whose names have been forgotten but are no longer afraid of earthly haunts.

As for how long to take the herbs in haunting work - that depends on the herb and you. In general, using an herb or essence for a cycle of the Moon and reassessing at the end of that cycle can be a good place to start. Does this mean that it only takes a cycle of the Moon to release a haunting? No. Healing work is circuitous, mostly lengthy, and on rarer occasions it feels instantaneous. But when we’ve found the modalities of healing that serve us best, feeling better day by day can become a very familiar feeling. I wish a swift and steady healing for all of you.

May this and all Samhain seasons be ones of reconciliation and healing, of happy reunions and blissful revelations.

http://www.wortsandcunning.com/blog

[ancientbooshartifacts]

A Bit Rubbish

Author: IDeserveYou

Year: 2013

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Naboo/Dennis, Naboo/Saboo, Dennis/Methuselah, Howince, Saboo/Methuselah

Fuck, Naboo thinks wearily, leaning against the kitchen table and surveying the wreckage of his once cosy flat.Why the fuck did I say that we’d throw a Christmas party this year? I should have just bullied Howard into cooking turkey for the four of us as usual. Not let Vince invite half of Camden and then gone mad myself and invited the entire Board of Shamen because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I wasn’t born yesterday. I should’ve known. There is a groan and a loud snore from the sofa. Yeah, and I know you did a good job getting rid of the last few paralytics, Bollo, but if you don’t get your act together with the clearing-up tomorrow, I’ll take back what I said about not getting an upgraded familiar. This place is a disaster zone. I don’t even know where to start. Mechanically, Naboo picks up an empty crisp packet from the table, balls it up and chucks it at the bin. See that? Missed. Story of my Christmas. Story of my fuckin’ life. Dunno why I bother. He snorts. Saboo would say that a lot of the time I don’t. He was on good form tonight, hardly acknowledged my existence except to insult me but why change the habit of a lifetime? And why – he kicks irritably at the crumpled packet, knocking it under the worktop – why did he have to look so fuckin’ hot in that red jumpsuit and Santa hat? That’s Vince’s job, mind you he was rockin’ the sparkly angel look and I didn’t see Howard complaining… He glances along the passageway; the light under Vince’s bedroom door has gone out and all is quiet. All right for some. I know, I shouldn’t begrudge them, they are sort-of my friends I suppose and we’ve been through a lot together, why shouldn’t they get what they want for Christmas? He sighs. C’m’on, Naboo, you plum, it could be worse. You're Naboo, that's who, an' you're self-sufficient. You could be stuck with someone who argues with you the whole time. That bitch of a wife of Dennis’s, honestly, she’s well fit but what else does he see in her? Beats me, always has. She’s never happy, can’t just take the D-Man as he is… well OK, he is pretty hopeless and he can’t take his eyes off a pretty pair of boobs in a tinsel basque, but she didn’t have to hit him quite so hard. Fuck, what was that? There’s a scrabbling noise on the roof, and a sudden thud. Burglars? Better wake Bollo – no, hang on a sec, that click, that’s the latch on the skylight, hear that often enough with those two goin’ out on the roof to snog, but they’re in bed so who was up there? ‘Has – has everybody gone?’ a hoarse and hopeless voice asks from somewhere near the top of the stairs. ‘Most of ’em.’ Naboo detaches himself from the table and clicks the landing light on. Oh, the poor sod. I should’ve known.

‘Dennis? What the fuck were you doin’ on the roof?’ ‘It was cold up there.’ Dennis is shivering, swaying on his feet; Naboo isn’t entirely sure he knows where he is or who’s talking to him. ‘You bin out there all that time?’ Naboo kicks himself for a thoughtless git. It must be two hours at least since the fight, and once the music was turned back on and the drink was flowing again, nobody had bothered to ask where the loser had gone. ‘Yes.’ Dennis’s robes are askew, his peacock feather headdress is bent and crumpled, and there is a blackening bruise on his cheekbone. That wife of his is a bitch. A lean, lithe, snarling wild animal in a gold minidress. She really did hit him hard. Punishing her mate for his roving eye, and then taking her revenge… ‘Come on in an’ get warm, then.’ Naboo gestures towards the kitchen. But Dennis seems to be having trouble focusing. ‘Cold is good. Clarifies the mind. Assists in the rethinking of basic principles and the suppression of the animal passions… Where is she?’ ‘Gone back to yours.’ ‘Very sensible.’ Naboo takes a deep breath, and adds the rest of it, the two words he really didn’t want to say: ‘With Saboo.’ Dennis gives an approving nod. ‘Well, that’s… very gallant of him. Methuselah is not much of a carpet driver at the best of times. And tonight wasn’t exactly the best of times. I’m sure he’ll see her safely home…’ Naboo can’t help shaking his head to try to shift the image still burned into his shaman-senses, the two figures tightly entwined, gold against red, Saboo’s big hands splayed across tanned skin... The Head Shaman’s milky blue eyes grow suddenly sharp. They look at Naboo, and through him, and right to the core of him, and there is no hiding place. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ Dennis takes a wobbly step towards Naboo and reaches out, no doubt meaning to put a kindly hand on his shoulder, as he has done many times before. He staggers and almost falls; Naboo grabs him round the waist, and hangs on. Dennis wraps his arms around Naboo, and pulls him into an awkward hug. ‘I didn’t know… I never saw. Never looked.’ Naboo's not quite sure what's happening here; he'd expected to be being sorry for Dennis, not the other way round. But it does feel good to be held by someone. Beggars can't be choosers... ‘Nuffink you could’ve done anyway,’ he mutters into the front of Dennis’s robes. ‘Probably not.’ Dennis heaves a huge sigh. ‘I am somewhat inexpert in affairs of the heart. Otherwise I should not be here now, I should be tucked up in bed with a cup of cocoa and…’ Naboo gives him a sympathetic squeeze. ‘Yeah, I know. We’re a bit rubbish at this, aren’t we?’ ‘Naboo, I am grateful for your support. Yes, we are a bit rubbish at this. In fact we are a bit rubbish at many things. Sometimes I wonder whether the Board of Shamen itself is not actually a bit rubbish. Ditto the Head Shaman.’ ‘Oi, Big D, don’t talk like that. We get enough of that bullshit from Tony fuckin’ Harrison.’ Naboo stares hard into his leader’s troubled face. ‘We need you, Dennis. You’re doin’ good. So what, the Board may be a bit rubbish, but that don’t mean it ain’t still got magic…’ Dennis turns his head away; looks up at the landing ceiling. Naboo looks too, and suddenly they are both very still. Stuck to the lampshade by a curling piece of Sellotape, one single tatty sprig of mistletoe droops forlornly among the abandoned party streamers and tinsel, its leaves wilting and its three berries dull and shrivelled. ‘Bit rubbish,’ Naboo whispers. Dennis looks down at him, and their eyes meet. Naboo has no idea whether he is prompted by hope, or loneliness, or pity, or just sheer bloody-minded determination to wring some sort of fucking seasonal cheer out of this fucking rubbish Christmas; but he stands on tiptoe and reaches up to pull Dennis’s head down for a kiss, and as their mouths meet and they lose themselves in each other, he knows the magic’s still working. Well enough to be going on with, anyway. They can worry about the rest in the morning.

‘Can.. can I stay?’ Dennis’s voice is muffled in Naboo’s hair. Naboo squeezes him tight. ‘Course.’ He’s reluctant to move, and break the spell; it’s nice just standing here all wrapped around someone else, someone he doesn’t have to explain or apologise or protest to, someone who understands… His mouth still tingles from their kiss. The Head Shaman is a good kisser: not the most expert Naboo’s ever encountered in his long life, but passionate, sincere, generous. And heartbreakingly desperate for affection. ‘Naboo…’ Naboo loosens his hold a little, and looks up. ‘One more for the road?’ Dennis is smiling, a bit shyly, his lips all pink and full, and it’s impossible to resist kissing him again. This time he doesn’t draw back in alarm when Naboo licks at the corner of his mouth, he opens up and lets him slip his tongue in. Naboo’s careful not to overdo it, breaking off as Dennis’s breathing quickens. He takes the older man’s arm. ‘C’m on, then. I fink Bollo’s kicked all the drunks out of my bed.’ But Dennis still hangs back. ‘Naboo, I am not asking for… I mean, I would not presume… but I would take it as a kindness if you would permit me to wake up just once with you beside me. I have often wished…’ ‘But never asked.’ ‘The time was never right.’ ‘Tis now, though. An’ I’d like that too. But, Dennis…’ ‘I know.’ Dennis strokes a thumb along Naboo’s cheekbone. ‘This is a one-off under exceptional circumstances. You need have no fear that our professional relationship will be compromised by… whatever may or may not happen in the next few hours. Or that I will make demands upon you afterwards.’ ‘I wasn’t scared of that. I just don’t want you to think –’ ‘I don’t think, Naboo. I know this isn’t love. I am well aware that both of our hearts are spoken for. Now can we just go to bed? My feet are freezing.’ ‘Alright.’ There’s a lump in Naboo’s throat that makes it hard to say more. He clicks the landing light off. Dennis wraps an arm around his shoulders and they start to pick their way across the rubbish-strewn lounge, careful not to awaken the snoring Bollo on the sofa. The bedroom’s almost as cold as the landing. Naboo locks the door, sticks the electric fire on, pulls the curtains, switches on the bedside lamp, turns the covers down on the bed… Dennis is still standing just inside the door, staring into space. ‘Second thoughts?’ Naboo hopes not; they’ve made such a good start. ‘No, I…’ Dennis takes a couple of steps towards the bed. ‘Sorry. Tuned out there for a moment. There is, um, quite a considerable residual odour of illicit substances in here.’ He glances uneasily at the hookah on the dressing table. ‘Unsettled me a little. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.’ Naboo grins. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not plannin’ to get you high. Not with drugs anyway. An’ I’ve had plenty for today, might need a top-up later but I won’t smoke if I do. I think there’s some hashcakes in the fridge if Bollo hasn’t pigged them all.’ ‘Thank you. That’s… very thoughtful of you.’ ‘Dennis, for fuck’s sake stop bein’ so polite an’ get into bed. I don’t want to be up in front of the Board tryin’ to explain how I let the Head Shaman freeze to death in my own bedroom.’ Naboo puts his turban on the table beside the lamp, kicks his curly trainers under the bed, strips his own robes off over his head and drops them on the floor, and is about to take his trousers off too when a hoarse voice says ‘Stop.’ Dennis is standing on the other side of the bed, wearing only a pair of very small, very purple pants and a rather nervous expression. ‘OK, underwear’s fine, one step at a time eh?’ Naboo pulls the duvet down a little further, and gestures encouragingly at the bed. ‘No, you misunderstand me, I do want them to come off…’ Dennis swallows. ‘But I should like to be the one to take them off. If you would let me.’ ‘Course.’ Heart beating fast, Naboo walks round the end of the bed to stand by Dennis. ‘All yours.’ Dennis sets his big hands very carefully on Naboo’s hips; hesitates a moment, then pushes the waistband of the silk trousers down, and lets go. The fabric slides to the floor, and Naboo steps clear. He can feel Dennis’s eyes on him, looking him up and down. ‘Beautiful,’ Dennis murmurs. ‘So beautiful…’ Naboo shivers. ‘An’ also so frozen.’ He burrows into the colourful pile of duvets and blankets on the bed. ‘Never got used to the climate on this planet… Dennis? You comin’ to join me or what?’ Even stripped to his underpants, the Head Shaman cuts an imposing figure: tall and well-muscled, holding himself very upright as he looks down at the bed. Naboo wants to wrap himself around that big body and warm it up; he wonders what’s holding Dennis back now. ‘You want me to put the light out?’ ‘No.’ Dennis gives an emphatic shake of his head. ‘No, I want to see… to see you. If that’s all right.’ Dennis takes a deep breath. ‘And I have nothing to hide from you.’ He slips the purple briefs down over his hips, and steps out of them. He’s already half-hard… and woah, that is big. Naboo hasn’t got a lot of experience of full-males, whether from Xooberon or from Earth, but you don’t share a flat with Vince Noir without getting the occasional eyeful you didn’t want to see, and since Vince and Howard have been an item there have been a lot more mornings when Howard’s wandered happily into the kitchen in his underpants… Dennis is of similar build and, it seems, similarly well endowed. And now, finally, he’s getting into bed. Naboo pulls the covers over him before he can change his mind. ‘You’re warm.’ Dennis reaches for him and pulls him close. ‘So warm…’ So this is what it’s like to be in bed with the most powerful bloke in the galaxy. He’s shivering and chilled and awkward and clumsy but he feels and smells so good… Naboo presses himself against Dennis’s side, craving the contact and the comfort. This might be second-best, it might not be love, and it might not be what he’d really wanted for Christmas, but still he’s not going to be writing to Santa to complain. Whatever happens. Or doesn’t. Looks like it might, actually. Dennis is pulling him in for a kiss, and this time he’s taking the initiative, slipping his tongue gently into Naboo’s mouth while caressing the nape of his neck in a way that makes his spine tingle. And all the while that big hot hardness is making its presence felt, nudging at Naboo’s hip; either Dennis hasn’t noticed it yet or he isn’t bothered by it, but either way that’s good. Naboo reaches up to touch Dennis’s face; Dennis flinches and draws a sharp breath. ‘Sorry, I forgot about your battle scars… You want me to get you something for that?’ ‘No, it’s fine, I’d forgotten about it too to be honest. And I expect I’ll forget about it again in a minute. At least, that is, if you… Naboo, I know I said I just want to wake up beside you, but do you think… could we…’ The lump in Naboo’s throat is back, and this time he can’t stop it from overflowing into tears. ‘Course we could. You’ve waited so long, and you never put pressure on me… You’re a diamond, Dennis, I don’t know anyone else who’d have done that for me… you’re the best… I’m sayin’ that an’ I’ve bin in love with someone else for years...’ He sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the duvet cover. ‘Sorry, I’m bein’ an idiot. C’m’ere.’ He strokes Dennis’s flat stomach; works his way down to the soft thatch of hair in his groin, and finally wraps a hand around his cock, and starts to work it slowly, up and down. Dennis is breathing heavily. ‘That’s… that’s so good, Naboo… but it’s not… What can I do for you? Do you want me to –’ ‘It’s OK for now. I’m more of a long-term project, y’know?’ ‘But this is all one way…’ ‘Listen.’ Naboo pins Dennis down with a hand on each shoulder; looks into his eyes. ‘You’ve spent three hundred and something years givin’ to me. That’s what you do, D-Man, you give. To me, to the Board, to whoever… An’ I figure it’s time for someone to give somethin’ back, an’ for you to let yourself take it. Let me give you a good time, let me listen to your troubles, let me warm your feet up an’ be there when you wake up in the morning. That’s not one-way, it’s what I wanna do an’ it’ll be a pleasure.’ ‘If you’re sure…’ ‘Course I am. An’ you can see it’s true.’ Dennis heaves a sigh, and relaxes. ‘Thank you.’ ‘No worries. Now, where were we? Aww look, now I’ll have to start all over again.’ Full-male bits do his head in, they’re so robustly masculine but at the same time so terribly vulnerable, all outside the body with nowhere to hide. Dennis’s prick feels heavy and soft in his hand, the skin at the tip like silk. Already it’s stirring, hardening again, and it doesn’t take long before it’s rigid and weeping and Dennis has rolled onto his side and is thrusting against Naboo, seeking release. Naboo’s never known anybody need sex so badly. Not even himself. Dennis is whimpering now, quickening the pace, and Naboo wraps his other hand around him and tightens his grip. A tremor runs through Dennis’s body, and Naboo can feel how close he is; and also that he’s holding back, still afraid that this is unwelcome after all. ‘Let it go,’ Naboo murmurs. ‘It’s OK, I’ve got you, you can come for me…’ And Dennis does, his hips jerking out of control, his mouth buried in Naboo’s hair to muffle the funny little mewling sounds he can’t help making. Naboo smiles to himself. He’s heard Howard make sounds like that, trying to be quiet, but the walls in this place are thin… Vince, of course, has never even bothered trying. Dennis just keeps coming and coming; Naboo holds him and helps him ride it out. There’s wet everywhere, slick between their bodies. It’s sticky and uncomfortable and it smells of wet flour and sex, but Naboo doesn’t care. It’s worth any amount of extra laundry just to see the blissful expression on Dennis’s face as the aftershocks die down and leave him limp and panting. ‘Wow.’ Naboo kisses Dennis on the forehead. ‘That was pretty intense.’ ‘It was… it was… Thank you. Just… thank you. But I’m sorry…’ Dennis squirms in the wet patch on the sheet. ‘If I’d known it’d make such a mess…’ ‘It’s OK, got tissues somewhere.’ Naboo reaches for the box and dries what he can reach. ‘I should…’ Dennis is still trembling and incoherent. ‘No, you shouldn’t.’ Naboo pats him on the shoulder. ‘Give yourself a few minutes, yeah? Just rest quiet while I go and get the rest of this off… calm yourself down, do some deep breathing or something.’ It’s cold in the bathroom and he doesn’t linger, just cleans off the stickiest parts of him with a flannel, grins at his nude reflection and flits silently back to the welcome warmth of his room. Dennis is sitting on the side of the bed, staring into space, solemnly doing deep breathing and presumably rethinking yet more of his basic principles. Naboo puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘You all right?’ ‘Er, yes, I think so.’ Dennis focuses on him and smiles. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. Or I will be, when I’ve…’ He gets to his feet, a little unsteadily, and heads for the door. ‘I’ll keep the bed warm for you.’ Naboo turns the fire off and burrows under the covers. Oh, so good to be warm, inside and out. He couldn’t possibly have expected tonight to have turned out quite like this. It could have been weird, it should have been weird, Dennis wanting to take him to bed after all this time, but somehow it doesn’t feel weird at all, it just feels… nice. He wonders with a sudden pang whether Saboo and Methuselah are tucked up together too; whether they’re talking about him, or about Dennis. Probably not – probably not talking at all. Not if their passionate embrace on the doorstep is anything to go by. But he doesn’t want to think about that. Change the subject, see whether anything can be done to help Dennis save his marriage. Tap into all that counselling bullshit that Howard used to lap up by the bucketload – and pay good money for, too – back at the zoo. What is it that’s gone wrong? And why is Dennis taking so long in the bathroom?

…….

‘Howard?’ Vince whispers into the darkness. ‘Howard.’ ‘Howard, Howard, Howard…’ Sod it. Vince gives up trying to be gentle about waking his sleeping partner, sits up, and clicks the bedside light on. ‘What the…?’ Howard reaches for him, trying to pull him back down into their warm cocoon of duvets. ‘I can’t get back to sleep.’ ‘I was asleep,’ the big man complains. ‘I was too. But then I wasn’t. And I’m still not.’ Howard sighs resignedly. ‘Why not?’ ‘Well, I had this really weird dream about havin’ ants inside my mirrorball suit an’ they were tryin’ to build a nest … an’ I woke up all itchy.’ Vince scratches and fidgets and peers at himself. ‘No wonder, look, I’ve got all glitter stuck in my bellybutton. Must’ve come off my costume.’ He reaches for a mascara brush and starts trying to extract the scratchy little bits. ‘Oi, stop laughing, tisn’t funny.’ Howard chuckles. ‘Sometimes you have to suffer to be beautiful, little man.’ ‘An’ was I?’ Vince smiles to himself; he saw the expression on Howard’s face when he emerged in his skimpy angel outfit, complete with silver boots and glittery wings and halo. ‘You know you were. You are.’ Howard’s tiny eyes peer up adoringly at Vince over the edge of the duvet. Vince smiles to himself again. Being Howard’s lover is genius. He still annoys Howard a lot, probably as much as he ever did, but these days Howard finds it very hard to stay annoyed for long. ‘I tried to go back to sleep an’ not wake you up,’ he says earnestly, ‘but I could hear ’em doin’ it next door an’… I felt a bit left out of the action, if you know what I mean.’ ‘I have no idea at all what you mean. Hear whom, doing what?’ ‘Naboo and Dennis, gettin’ it on.’ Howard’s face screws up in disgust. ‘Naboo and Dennis? No. No way. You’ve gone wrong, Vince. You must have imagined it.’ ‘Did not.’ Vince is indignant. ‘I heard Dennis’s voice on the landing. An’ I know muffled sex noises when I hear them, Howard. Someone was makin’ sounds just like you do when I’m givin’ you a mind-blowing orgasm an’ you’re tryin’ to keep quiet.’ ‘Vince.’ Howard rolls his eyes. ‘Just because you are having constant sex doesn’t mean everyone else has to be.’ ‘I’m not having constant sex,’ Vince protests. ‘Otherwise, I’d be having sex right now, an’ I’m not. Although I could be…’ He bats his eyelashes provocatively. ‘It’s three in the morning.’ Howard is trying to pretend the eyelash-batting isn’t having an effect, but Vince knows it is, just from the way Howard’s eyes are crinkling at the corners. ‘So? Anytime is sexytime, an’ it’ll help you get back to sleep again.’ Vince trails the mascara brush up the middle of his chest; traces a tickly path around his nipples, and watches the blush spreading over Howard’s cheeks. The door to the next room creaks; Dennis’s heavy tread goes down the hall to the bathroom. Vince puts the brush back on the table. ‘An’ I don’t have glitter anywhere any more, although you might want to check…’ Howard is tempted, he can tell. Vince leans over and whispers in his ear. ‘There were… a few places I couldn’t reach…’ Just as he hoped, the temptation proves irresistible. Howard pulls him down into a fierce embrace and starts kissing him as though it’s been years since they last snogged, not just a couple of hours. And when he lets go of Vince’s mouth, leaving his lips all puffy and tingling from the soft scratchiness of Howard’s moustache, Howard keeps on kissing him, everywhere, pretending to look in all sorts of crevices for traces of glitter. Vince giggles and squirms as Howard works his way down under the duvet and kisses all round the base of Vince’s now rock-hard erection. ‘Nope, no glitter there,’ Howard mumbles, ‘but let’s see about down here, shall we…’ and that gorgeous almost-prickly sensation carries on round Vince’s balls, and behind them, and finally traces round the rim of his hole, by which time Vince has stopped giggling and is breathlessly pleading instead. ‘What, you think you’ve got glitter up there?’ Howard slides a wet finger inside, and feels around. ‘Well, if you have, I don’t want to know how it got there. No, sir.’ ‘Haven’t – got glitter – ’ Vince pants, ‘want – want you in there, Howard.’ ‘What, again?’ Another finger slides in beside the first, gently stretching him. ‘Aren’t you sore?’ ‘Course not.’ A little achy, maybe, but Howard’s always so careful... ‘An’ I know you want to. You – you said you couldn’t get enough of me.’ ‘I can’t.’ Howard has three fingers inside Vince now, and is smiling at him in a way that makes Vince’s insides melt. ‘It still amazes me that I can have any of you, after spending all those years thinking you wouldn’t be interested. And tonight – ’ ‘Last night, now.’ ‘I don’t care what night it is. Was. You just looked so… so sexy as an angel, and you’d gone to all that trouble, and it was all for me.’ Howard leans down for another kiss. ‘So if you want another Northern bumming, who am I to deny you? Even at half-past three in the morning.’ ‘Awww, Howard.’ Vince kisses him back with enthusiasm. ‘I’m glad you liked my outfit. Took me ages to make it, with the wings and the glitter and all.’ ‘I did like it. I liked it a lot. It made me want to… do things. But there were too many other people…’ Vince grins, recalling how Howard’s eyes had followed him around the room. ‘So you just ogled my pumpkin arse and thought about doing things. And when everyone had gone, you took me to bed and did quite a lot of them.’ ‘Yes, but not this… or this…’ ‘Howard, please…’ Vince arches his back as Howard’s fingers find his sweet spot. ‘All right, my impatient angel.’ Howard withdraws his hand, and reaches for the lube on the table. ‘One Northern bumming, coming right up.’ He’s really getting quite good at this, considering they’ve only been having proper sex for a few weeks. Vince had expected it to take years, after all that don’t-touch-me stuff that Howard had had going on, but once across the physical boundary (helped considerably by one of Naboo’s more potent baking experiments) the big man had proved as eager as Vince himself. Possibly more so, if that were possible, which at the moment it surely isn’t. ‘C’m’on Howard, you must be ready by now.’ ‘Can’t rush these things.’ Howard puts the lid carefully back on the tube and puts it back on the table. Vince pouts. ‘Can too.’ ‘Oh, really?’ And Howard lifts Vince’s knees up and back in one swift movement, and slides his perfectly lubricated cock into Vince’s equally perfectly lubricated arse without even pausing to draw breath. ‘Oh yes, look, you were right.’ Howard’s not the only one who can’t get enough of this. The first time was good – if short – and every time since has given Vince exactly the same feeling of breathless amazement, except now it usually lasts for considerably longer and Howard doesn’t keep stopping every ten seconds to ask Vince whether he’s all right. Vince settles into a nice steady pace, matching Howard thrust for thrust, stroking Howard’s chest and brushing a thumb over Howard’s hard nipples every now and then, because he knows Howard really likes that. Howard leans down for another scorching kiss, and Vince wriggles a hand in between their sweaty bodies, so that he can touch himself. ‘I love you,’ Vince says, looking into Howard’s eyes, because he knows Howard really likes that, too, now that eye contact doesn’t make him uncomfortable any more. ‘I love you too, little man.’ Howard must be close to coming, to be talking about love; he still has trouble with that particular four-letter word even though Vince has been saying it lots lately, partly because Naboo told him it might help de-sensitise Howard to it but mostly because he means it. Vince tilts his hips, to take Howard in just that bit deeper, and Howard’s cock finds Vince’s prostate and suddenly Vince is coming all over the place and he can feel that Howard is coming too, and it’s just the best feeling in the world. ‘Oh. Oh, Vince…’ Howard is flushed and tousled and gasping for breath but he’s still very careful as he disentangles himself from Vince and lies down beside him. Vince strokes his hair and pulls the duvet up over his shoulders, then reaches for the tissues to clean them both up. ‘Thanks.’ Howard yawns luxuriously, and nuzzles into Vince’s neck. ‘That was absolutely –’ ‘Shush a minute.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Listen.’ There are noises in the next room. Unmistakable noises of rhythmically creaking bedsprings and someone going ‘Oh.’ ‘Still think it sounds like you,’ Vince giggles. ‘I’m sure’ – Howard yawns again – ‘there is a perfectly innocent explanation.’ ‘Oh yeah? Let’s hear it, then… Howard?’ But the big man is already snoring quietly. Vince lies wakeful for a while, wondering whether Dennis and Naboo are having a nice time and how that is even possible since Naboo doesn’t have bits, although Vince is sure Naboo isn’t a girl. He hugs Howard a bit tighter and is glad both of them are blokes. He couldn’t imagine not having his bits and he can’t imagine Howard as a girl either, although he’d probably still fancy him if he was… There is a sharp cry from the next room, then a murmur of voices, then silence. Naboo and Dennis. Dennis and Naboo. Who would have thought it? Vince had been watching Naboo at the party – a bit concerned that their landlord didn’t seem to be entirely in party mood – and he’d have sworn he only had eyes for Saboo. Mind you, that red jumpsuit was complete genius and a very snug fit, and Naboo wasn’t the only one eyeing it up… and then Saboo went off with Dennis’s wife, very dangerous given the Head Shaman’s track record… maybe Naboo is only sleeping with Dennis to try to persuade him not to cut Saboo’s head off? How is that ever going to work? And what if anything will happen if or when Saboo comes back? Vince yawns wearily and settles his head on Howard’s shoulder. It’s been quite a Christmas. And it’s not over yet.

…….

Naboo is just about to get out of bed and go and see whether Dennis has fallen asleep in the bath, when he hears the door open and shut and the key turning in the lock. Then a very chilly Head Shaman is clambering in beside him, and Naboo stops thinking and just concentrates on warming him up again. Over the sound of Dennis’s teeth chattering, Naboo can hear faint giggling from the other side of the wall. So those two are at it again… Dennis rolls onto his side, his breath tickling Naboo’s ear. ‘Naboo?’ ‘Mmm?’ ‘I’ve… well, I’ve washed and everything, and I thought perhaps…’ Blimey, he’s hard again already. ‘You want more?’ ‘Only if you… You see, I asked, and she said no, and ever since I’ve wondered whether I should have persisted or whether it’s something a man can do without… I need to know, Naboo, and I don’t know anyone else I can ask.’ ‘Ask what?’ Naboo is beginning to suspect that communication issues may be at the heart of the Head Shaman’s marital problems. ‘Well, I’m not certain of the correct terminology, but would you…’ Dennis buries his hot face in Naboo’s shoulder. ‘With your mouth,’ he whispers. ‘You’d like me to blow you?’ ‘Yes.’ At last, a straight answer to a straight question. This feels like progress. And the idea of it is already turning Naboo on, more than he’d have expected it would. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever…?’ ‘Don’t laugh, but no. Nobody ever has. My wife refused point-blank, the one time I asked, and she won’t let me, umm, reciprocate either. She never lets me… There’s so much I want to give her, so much she needs, but I can’t find the way to… I can see, you see. I can see into the heart of her, but she hates me for it.’ ‘I don’t hate you for it.’ Naboo strokes the back of Dennis’s head, tracing the lines of his shamanic tattoos. ‘An’ maybe she doesn’t either, maybe she just finds it, I dunno, a bit scary or somethin’? Anyway, listen, we can talk about that later, right now we’ve got some important research to do.’ He rolls Dennis onto his back; leans over and kisses his nipples, nibbling and teasing until they’re standing stiff and proud and Dennis is making funny little noises again. Then he takes his time over kissing his way all down the middle of Dennis’s stomach, in the direction his arrow-shaped blue markings are pointing, into his very clean groin, and then up his shaft… Dennis groans. ‘You OK there?’ ‘I’m fine. Please, don’t stop, please…’ Naboo grins, and puts his head down again, planting tiny kisses on the soft folds of Dennis’s foreskin, drawing it back little by little until the shiny purple head is revealed in all its glory. He swipes his tongue across the smooth surface, tasting salt and sex and Dennis, and it’s all very strange but very good… and Dennis doesn’t need to know that Naboo has never gone further than this before… It’s a tight fit and it’s straining his jaw, but it’s all in there, or at least quite enough of it to be going on with. Naboo puts a hand round it so he can’t take it in too far, and choke. He doesn’t want to give Dennis any excuse to stop: that hot, hard flesh against his tongue is one of the most arousing things he’s ever felt. To judge by the sounds Dennis is making, it’s quite mutual. Naboo moves his head slowly, up and down, and licks at the ridges and folds of Dennis’s cockhead; he cups the other man’s balls with his free hand, feeling them drawing up and tightening in response. ‘Oh.’ Dennis arches his back. ‘Oh, that is… I never imagined… But you’d better stop, I’m going to –’ Naboo lifts his head briefly, just long enough to make sure his jaw’s still working and say ‘I know, an’ I don’t mind, I want you to.’ Dennis shudders and gasps as Naboo returns to his research. ‘You want me to… Oh. Oh…’ Well, they do say be careful what you wish for. One more lick, and Naboo’s mouth is flooded with thick, sweet, earthy-tasting come. It takes him by surprise, and he’s swallowed the first lot without giving it a second thought; he rolls the second mouthful around his tongue, deciding that he rather likes the taste, before swallowing that too and carefully sliding Dennis’s softening prick out of his mouth. The big man is sobbing quietly. Naboo crawls up beside him, and holds him tight. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘She - she made me feel dirty for asking,’ Dennis chokes. ‘She said it was disgusting – that I was disgusting…’ ‘She’s wrong there. Both times.’ ‘But doesn’t it taste –’ ‘No, it doesn’t, it just tastes of… well, you. Like this.’ Naboo kisses him, very gently. Dennis resists at first, then gives in and opens his mouth, and they kiss until it all tastes the same, and Dennis’s tears have ceased. Naboo lies back on Dennis’s shoulder and lets Dennis stroke his hair in a soothing rhythm. A shaman could fall asleep like this… ‘Naboo?’ ‘Mmm?’ ‘What do you taste of?’ Unexpected, this is. Naboo props himself on an elbow and grins. ‘You really wanna know? Here.’ He runs a finger through the wetness in his groin, and brings his hand up to Dennis’s lips. Dennis licks cautiously, then opens his mouth and takes Naboo’s finger in, caressing it with his tongue, sucking at it as though it were a cock, not just a finger. So that’s what it feels like… Naboo moans and rocks his hips, and Dennis slides the finger out and kisses Naboo’s mouth, tasting of both of them. Then he’s kissing Naboo’s throat, and his collarbone, and his aching nipples, and his navel, and right down over his un-male mound and between his thighs, Naboo unfurling like a flower in sunshine, opening and softening as Dennis licks and strokes and looks. ‘Could we…?’ Dennis asks softly. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but I’d really like…’ The D-Man certainly has stamina. His wife doesn’t know what a lucky woman she is. Or perhaps she reckons you can have too much of a good thing… Naboo, on the other hand, will take as much of a good thing as he can get. ‘I’d like, too. If you can get three fingers in then yeah, it’ll be fine.’ A wet fingertip pushes cautiously inside him, and Naboo has to concentrate very hard on thoughts of Tony Harrison in order not to come right then and there. The second finger finds his major sweet spot, making him gasp and wriggle. ‘Does that hurt?’ ‘Do I look like that hurts?’ Dennis stills his movements and looks Naboo very solemnly in the face. ‘No, actually, you don’t. You look like… as though that was very nice indeed and you wish me to continue.’ ‘Spot-on, it was an’ I do. Please…’ By the time Dennis has worked a third finger in beside the other two, Naboo is dripping wet and open and so turned on he can hardly stay still. ‘Are you…?’ Dennis leans over and kisses him. ‘Ready for you? You bet. Here, stick a pillow under my arse, it’ll make it easier for you.’ ‘Do we require, um, lubrication?’ ‘Have you felt what’s goin’ on down there? If I get any more lubricated I’ll float away.’ Dennis smiles, slicks himself with his wet hand, then kneels between Naboo’s parted legs and works his cock carefully inside. It’s a tight fit, but it does fit, and as they start to move together Naboo realises that something has changed. Dennis is no longer clumsy with need but confident, relaxed, in control. The D-Man doing what the D-Man does best: giving. He kisses him and their eyes meet; Dennis is looking right into Naboo’s soul. The milky-blue of Dennis’s eyes clears and darkens, and suddenly Naboo is looking right into Dennis too. Oh, and he is loving this, just loving it. Being able to give Naboo such a good time and at the same time just enjoy himself. This is what he wants for him and his Methuselah. And now he has hope that it might somehow be possible. A fragile, trembling hope… Naboo has to close his eyes, or he’ll start crying again. ‘It’s all right. I just wanted you to see…’ Dennis strokes Naboo and soothes him, then starts thrusting into him in a slow rhythm, touching all three of his sweet spots in turn as that big hard full-male prick slides smoothly in and out. He takes Naboo right to the edge, to the point where the pleasure becomes almost painful in its intensity and Naboo is whimpering helplessly. Then he leans down, his moustache brushing Naboo’s ear, and whispers, ‘Come for me.’ With a sharp cry, Naboo lets go, his climax surging through him and washing away years and years of pent-up frustration in a flood of come and sweat and tears. He’s adrift, and would be lost if Dennis’s big hands weren’t holding him; he clings to the other man for dear life until it’s over and he’s washed up and sobbing and weak, but so very, very happy… ‘You were right,’ Dennis says, as he cleans Naboo up with the remainder of the box of tissues. ‘It does make one afraid, letting someone else see one’s innermost thoughts. It requires a high degree of trust, and that’s not easy.’ ‘’S good though, yeah?’ Naboo smiles at him. ‘Yes. Yes, it was. But then I’ve known you for a long time.’ Dennis sighs. ‘Whereas my wife…’ ‘If it can be like that with me, it can be like that with her too.’ ‘I hope it can, but I can’t see how.’ Dennis shakes his head. ‘Don’t give up on that hope. There has to be a way.’ Naboo yawns, and stretches out under the covers. ‘I need to sleep on it, but I’m sure I can come up with something. We can talk it through in the morning.’ ‘Naboo, I –’ ‘Still think we’re a bit rubbish?’ Dennis laughs, and hugs him. ‘So what if we are, we had a good time, didn’t we?’ ‘We certainly did, Big D,’ Naboo murmurs, snuggling closer. ‘And I’m not giving up hope.’ Dennis reaches up to click the light off. ‘It’s still Christmas. And we’ve still got the magic.’

…….

As always, Naboo’s shaman-senses wake him just before his radio alarm clock clicks on; only this morning he reaches out and clicks it off, instead of lying there listening to Xooberon FM. Beside him, Dennis is still peacefully asleep, sprawled on his side with one arm tucked around Naboo’s ribcage. Naboo has the feeling his boss needs all the sleep he can get. Although… Most of Dennis may be peacefully asleep, but one particular part of him isn’t, it’s wide awake and nudging into Naboo’s hip. Naboo shifts his position a little, to give it more room. ‘One more for the road?’ Dennis murmurs sleepily. ‘And good morning to you, too, morning glory.’ Naboo wraps a hand round Dennis’s cock. ‘Sleep well?’ ‘I – Oh, that’s good, yes, I did, thank you. You?’ ‘Like a log.’ Naboo tightens his grip; strokes Dennis’s arse with his other hand. ‘Didn’t even dream.’ ‘Nor did I… Naboo, what are you doing?’ ‘Goin’ a bit too far?’ Naboo takes his hand away from Dennis’s ring. ‘Sorry. Should’ve asked first.’ ‘That’s, um, a bit personal. I mean, I know you and I… we… last night… and I’ve thought long and hard about my basic principles, many times. But I don’t –’ ‘You don’t need to explain.’ Naboo leans over and kisses Dennis into stammering silence. ‘But I can do this, yeah?’ And he strokes the furred ridge behind Dennis’s balls, pressing in deep, knowing there’s a sweet spot in there somewhere. ‘Yes, that’s… that’s fine. That’s… Oh.’ Yup, there’s a sweet spot in there alright: right there. There’s a knock on the door. ‘Bugger off, Bollo,’ Naboo calls, ‘shaman business. Go an’ put the kettle on.’ ‘OK boss.’ The gorilla’s shuffling footsteps go away down the corridor, and there is a clink of crockery from the kitchen. Naboo takes Dennis’s prick into his mouth until it’s slick and gleaming; reaches a hand down to prepare himself, which doesn’t take long since he’s still pretty relaxed after last night. Then he kneels astride Dennis’s hips, and smiles down at him. ‘You wanna top from the bottom?’ ‘I… how did you know?’ Naboo shrugs. ‘My shaman-senses were tinglin’.’ ‘Your shaman-senses, Naboo, are particularly highly attuned. That’s one of the reasons I appointed you to the Board… Oh.’ ‘Fuck now, talk later, yeah?’ Naboo seats himself comfortably and tightens up a few key muscles, feeling Dennis twitch inside him in response. ‘That sounds like a good plan to me,’ Dennis says gravely. ‘I may not come this time – batteries take a while to recharge, y’know? But that don’t mean I won’t enjoy it.’ ‘I sincerely hope, Naboo, that you will. Enjoy it, I mean. This might be the last time that we…’ ‘Shush. Think of it as the first time that we… do it this way up.’ Naboo moves his hips gently, carefully, following every hint Dennis’s body is giving him. The Head Shamanic Markers are standing out dark and clear on Dennis’s pale skin; Naboo traces the blue curves with his fingertips. ‘I remember when they put those in, you asked me to stand witness at your markin’ ceremony an’ everyone thought it was a condition of my gettin’ on the Board…’ ‘Everyone except me. I knew you would do it anyway. I didn’t want anyone else to see me like that.’ ‘Like what? You barely flinched. I was the one who almost passed out. But I couldn’t look away. An’ they’re beautiful. Thought that at the time. Still do.’ ‘Thank you.’ Dennis arches his body into Naboo’s touch. ‘Sensitive too, eh?’ Naboo is smiling now, and Dennis smiles back, and they move together, easy and gentle and affectionate, with no more need of words. And to Naboo’s delighted surprise, he does come, right when Dennis does, and although it’s a low-key affair compared with the epic dam-burst of the night before, it’s still a magic moment with the two of them perfectly in tune, and Naboo never wants it to end. Afterwards they lie quiet for a long time, Naboo’s head pillowed on Dennis’s shoulder. ‘That was nice,’ Naboo murmurs, when the silence has gone on long enough and it’s time to start talking; start trying to help. ‘That was… something else my wife will never do,’ Dennis admits sadly. ‘Even though I know she’d… reach a climax more easily that way.’ ‘Ever thought that perhaps that’s why not? Maybe she’s scared to let go an’ show weakness. Or she’s holding out on you to make you feel inadequate, prove she’s got the power…’ ‘Or maybe both.’ Dennis sighs heavily. ‘You wanna talk about it?’ ‘Well… I suppose it might help. Didn’t you say you used to do counselling as a sideline, when you worked at the zoo?’ ‘Yeah, but it was mostly for that ballbag Howard, an’ he ain’t exactly complicated. I’ll do my best for you though.’ ‘I don’t know where to start.’ ‘Start at the beginnin’, then. When you got married. What was it drew you two together?’ Dennis thinks about this for a long time. ‘She’s like you.’ ‘In what way is an extreme sports calendar model even slightly like me?’ Naboo’s all at sea here, he hadn’t expected that particular answer, he was expecting a candid admission that Dennis had simply fallen for a fit body and a nice pair of tits. The Head Shaman’s brow is creased in thought. ‘Self-sufficient, or pretending to be, but a loner, in need of support.’ Another long silence. ‘And, of course, she does have a fabulous body and the nicest pair of tits I’ve ever laid eyes on.’ Naboo nods. ‘She’s a stunner alright.’ ‘With a core of fire, but so fragile… she won’t admit it… she wants the world to see her as a successful career woman in her own right, and I can’t blame her for that –’ ‘You jealous of her career?’ ‘No, I’m very proud of it. But she doesn’t believe me when I say that. And the other Board members seem to think I just wanted her as a trophy wife, to prove my virility.’ ‘When in fact the reverse was true.’ ‘I’m afraid so. And I didn’t see it at the time. I was… flattered by her attentions…’ ‘And didn’t see that she wanted you as a trophy man, one of the most powerful blokes in the galaxy, to underline her successful status.’ ‘She really did want me. Physically, I mean.’ Dennis sighs. ‘At least, she used to like me being masterful and waving a big sword around, but the novelty’s worn off now. Besides, I couldn’t keep doing that all the time. The body-count was unacceptably high – it was causing the Board all sorts of public relations issues.’ ‘I fink…’ Naboo takes his time finding the right words; he could very well be wrong here. ‘I fink she made the mistake lots of people make about you – she didn’t see that you do actually have real power as well as the symbolic position. She thought they’d just put you in charge of the Board because you were a pushover, and that you’d be a pushover as a husband as well. An’ when she found out you could see right inside her head…’ ‘She hated it. I told you.’ Dennis heaves a harsh, painful breath. ‘So she’s pushed you away because she’s scared of being close to you.’ ‘Of being close to anyone, I think.’ Well, that’s something Naboo can sympathise with. He hugs Dennis a bit closer. ‘So… Is all the girl-chasing just due to frustration? Proving that you still got it even though your wife refused to recognise it?’ ‘I suppose so,’ Dennis admits reluctantly. ‘It’s more of a habit, one I’ve never broken. I suppose I was being selfish – I never really thought it would do any harm. She goes to launch parties and photo shoots with all manner of young and handsome men…’ ‘Revenge?’ Naboo asks quietly. ‘I hadn’t thought of it in that light, but yes, I suppose so. And last night was more of the same.’ ‘You mean Saboo?’ Naboo stammers a little over the name. ‘Yes. And I assure you, Naboo, I won’t go after Saboo with a sword, whatever I find has transpired when I get home. You have my word, I will leave him in one piece. The Board of Shamen needs him. And you need him.’ ‘Yes, well…’ Naboo tries hard not to think about just how true that is. ‘What about what you need, though?’ ‘That’s not important.’ ‘Bollocks.' Naboo props himself on an elbow, and looks hard at Dennis. 'It’s the most important thing of all, and the whole reason you’re in this mess. Listen, you love her an’ you want her back, right?... Right?... Dennis, look at me.’ It takes a while for Dennis to turn his head and meet Naboo’s gaze. ‘I do love her. As well as… want her.’ ‘An’ you thought because she’s into extreme sport that she’d be into extreme sex as well, and she isn’t.’ Dennis shakes his head sadly. ‘She’s afraid of… anything even slightly unconventional.’ ‘But she wants you, yeah?’ ‘Yes. I can see that she wants to have sex with me, very much. But then she shies away from it. I have never really comprehended the workings of the female mind. I don’t understand.’ Naboo kisses him chastely on the cheek. ‘I think I do. It scares her. Like you said last night. To have really good sex with someone you really have to trust them – it’s like takin’ your skin off and letting someone else see your insides – an’ she don’t trust you.’ ‘I’ve tried…’ ‘Yeah, but think about it. You spend a lot of time away on shaman business an’ she knows fine well that that usually means you’re getting’ wasted with us lot. You run after pretty girls at parties whether she’s there or not. She don’t feel secure. She can’t see inside you. If you want her to know what’s really goin’ on in there, you’re gonna have to let her in.’ ‘I’m not sure I can.’ ‘Course you can. You did it for me, you can do it for her too. You have to do the hard thing, big man, an’ tell her who you really are. Show her. And then trust her to make the right decision.’ Dennis puts both arms round Naboo and holds him tight. ‘Naboo, you’re right. My wife and I need to start again from a position of honesty, and you’ve shown me that that may in fact be possible.’ ‘As well as releasin’ the tension, eh?’ Naboo nuzzles into Dennis’s neck. ‘That too. It should render the discussions… less complicated. And it was everything I ever hoped it would be. I – I don’t know how to thank you.’ ‘No need. Listen, Big D, you’ve been the best friend and nearest thing to a parent I ever had.’ Naboo can feel himself welling up now. ‘If... if I could love you I would, you’ve always stuck by me and bent the rules for me, to save me…’ ‘I think we saved each other, actually.’ Dennis pats him awkwardly on the back. ‘Come on, now, there’s no need for tears, didn’t you say we should look on this as the first time and not the last?’ Naboo sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the duvet. ‘Yeah. An’ it was a fuckin’ good first time an’ all.’ ‘Magic,’ Dennis says firmly. ‘It was magic. And it always will be.’ There’s a knock on the door. Naboo sighs. ‘Bugger off Bollo, I told you –’ A loud and derisive gorilla-snort makes the doorhandle rattle. ‘Yeah, yeah. Shaman business, Bollo’s hairy arse. Bollo boil kettle six times. You two coming out for breakfast or should Bollo just make lunch now?’

…….

‘Morning.’Vince looks round from stirring a big pan of porridge on the stove, and grins at Naboo and Dennis as they come through the kitchen doorway. ‘Good morning,’ Dennis says politely. ‘All of an hour left of it,’ Bollo grunts, ‘Bollo not know why he bother.’ He thumps the teapot down in the middle of the table. Howard is hovering nervously at Vince’s elbow. ‘You need to turn the heat down, Vince, it’s going to burn…’ ‘Give over, ya big fuss-pot, it’s fine.’ Vince’s grin grows wider. ‘Sleep well?’ ‘Um, yes, yes, thank you.’ Dennis seats himself gingerly on one of the kitchen chairs and pours himself some tea. Vince giggles. ‘Yeah, it sounded like it.’ ‘Vince,’ Howard hisses, ‘I don’t think that’s –’ ‘Ah.’ Dennis frowns as he adds milk to his mug. ‘You… you heard, then.’ ‘Course we did.’ Vince hands the porridge pan over to Howard to dish out, and plonks himself down at the table next to Naboo. ‘But it’s OK, we didn’t mind. Sounded like you were having fun… ’Spect you heard us, too.’ Naboo puts his head in his hands and thinks very hard about memory-wiping potions. Vince pats him on the back. ‘Aww, Naboolio, don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us. Isn’t it, Howard?’ 'Er...' Howard is blushing. ‘Secrets not possible in house with walls this thin,’ Bollo mutters. ‘I see no particular reason to conceal the truth on this occasion,’ Dennis is saying earnestly. ‘After all, we are all friends here.’ Naboo shoots Bollo a warning glance before the gorilla can say anything else. ‘Have some porridge, Dennis.’ Howard brandishes the pan. ‘And, um, maybe change the subject?’ ‘Before Naboo sinks through the floor, you mean?’ Vince is laughing, but his touch on Naboo’s shoulder is kind. ‘And make another mess for Bollo to clean up.’ Bollo slops milk into his bowl. ‘Mmm, Vince, this good, you getting better.’ ‘Cheers.’ Vince leans over for the tin of golden syrup. ‘Here you go, Naboo, sugar rush, just what you need.’ He ladles a generous helping onto Naboo’s breakfast, and a still more generous one onto his own. ‘You’ll get fat,’ Howard warns. Vince sticks his tongue out at him. ‘What, with all the exercise I’ve been gettin’ lately?’ ‘Thought we was changin’ the subject.’ Naboo takes a spoonful of syrupy porridge; lets the sugar start to do its work. ‘You guys hittin’ the sales later?’ ‘Maybe,’ Howard says. ‘There’s a late-nighter on at Top Shop and I know Vince had his eye on a few things...’ Vince and Howard – well, mostly Vince – start chattering on about clothes and glitter and shades of brown; Naboo catches Dennis’s eye and says quietly, ‘You OK?’ ‘I’m fine.’ The big man is looking thoughtful. ‘Just… getting my ideas in order. It’s going to be a challenging day. But at least I started it with a good… um… breakfast.’ And then they are both laughing quietly, while Bollo rolls his eyes and licks the last of the golden syrup off his fur. ……. ‘Well, there you go. Bit dodgy, but it should get you home.’ Naboo unrolls his magic carpet onto the pavement outside the shop, and pokes at its threadbare fringe with the toe of one curly trainer. ‘Won’t be needin’ it for a few days, just send it back whenever, it’s got a homin’ device that usually works…’ He looks up and meets Dennis’s eyes. ‘Crunch time.’ Dennis’s voice is quiet, but resolute. ‘Yeah, I know.’ Naboo reaches up to touch Dennis’s cheek. ‘Best of luck.’ ‘Thanks. Er, how about… um… one more for the road?’ It’s a long, sweet kiss, and so hard to break it off, but finally Naboo pulls away and slaps Dennis on the back. ‘Go get ’er, big man.’ ‘I will.’ Dennis smiles down at him. ‘Thank you for everything, Naboo. And don’t forget…’ He steps aboard the carpet. ‘Forget what?’ ‘It’s still Christmas,’ Dennis says, and he looks as though he was going to say more, but he has to sit down rather suddenly as the carpet takes off with its usual jerk. Naboo watches it rise unsteadily into the grey sky; the steering takes a bit of getting used to. Should get it fixed really. The street feels very empty when the carpet finally disappears over the rooftops. And the cold air is making Naboo’s eyes water a little. Heavy footsteps come down the stairs behind him, and he’s pulled into a warm and hairy hug. ‘Shaman business, eh? Good thing you lock door, Bollo didn’t need to see. But Bollo glad you had nice time.’ The gorilla looks long into Naboo’s face, and ruffles his hair. ‘Come on inside. Bollo go and put kettle on again. And light up bong. It nearly time for Boxing Day special of Peacock Dreams.’ As he climbs back up the stairs, Naboo makes a mental note: never to even think about upgrading his familiar ever again. It’s nice and warm in the lounge; the TV is on, and the two humans are already comfortably settled on the sofa. Which is no longer an island in a sea of rubbish and empties. Someone – all three of them, to judge by the smug smiles on their faces as they see that Naboo has noticed – has done a hasty but thorough job of shovelling the crap into binbags and piling the dirty plates and glasses in the sink. And someone has even pushed the Hoover across the carpet – almost certainly Howard, since Bollo always says hoovering sets off his asthma, and Vince has no idea how to turn the thing on. ‘Cheers guys, ’preciate this,’ Naboo mumbles. Vince exchanges a meaningful glance with Howard, and puts an arm round Naboo as he sinks into the cushions beside them. Naboo makes another mental note: to raise his employees’ wages and stop calling them ballbags so often. The hash pipe is lit, the familiar theme music is tinkling, Bollo has shoved them all up the sofa so he can squeeze in at the end as well, and they’re all just drifting off nicely when the doorbell rings. ‘Bollo, go an’ see who it is, would ya?’ Naboo says sleepily. The gorilla grumbles his way to the window, and peers down into the street. He turns back to them, grinning. ‘Well? Who is it?’ Vince asks. ‘Anybody we know?’ Naboo takes another drag of the pipe. ‘Go an’ let ’em in, Bollo, we’re just gettin’ to the good part.’ Bollo grins still more. ‘Bollo not going. Naboo should answer it.’ ‘Why me?’ ‘Trust Bollo.’ And Naboo finds himself being hauled bodily out of his cosy seat and propelled to the door. ‘I gotta good feeling about this,’ Bollo stage-whispers as he shoves Naboo out onto the landing. Naboo doesn’t share the good feeling. It’s cold and draughty on the stairs, and he really doesn’t want to talk to anybody at the moment. He really should have got that entryphone fixed, he thinks, as he opens the door… Oh. Fuckin’ hell, it’s Father Christmas. ‘What –’ Naboo swallows hard, and tries again. ‘What are you doin’ ’ere?’ Santa sweeps off his pointed hat and makes an elaborate mock-bow. ‘I’ve come to make your Christmas dreams come true – actually, no, that’s a total lie, I’ve just come to bring your carpet back.’ Naboo rubs his eyes. This can’t be happening. The visitor taps one fleece-booted foot impatiently. ‘Look, this suit’s got no insulation. I’m freezing my arse off out here. Are you going to invite me in or are you just going to stand there gaping like a stranded goldfish?’ He jams the hat back onto his black curls, and stands there waiting. His silky red jumpsuit is indeed not designed for a wintry climate: it clings tightly to every line and curve of his tall body. The fur-trimmed belt knotted about his waist has slipped down, sitting low over his hips, the tasselled ends dangling down one thigh… He shivers, and takes a step closer. ‘Naboo, you plum, get a grip. Or at least get out of the bloody way.’ He actually wants to come in? No, this definitely can’t be happening. But just in case it is… Naboo opens the door a bit wider, and stands aside. ‘Um, yeah, come in, sorry, we were just chillin’, er, it’s warmer inside.’ He’s not sure whether any of what he’s just said made sense, but he’s hugely relieved when Saboo comes in anyway and dumps the rolled-up carpet in the hall. ‘There you go. One manky rug. With the Head Shaman’s compliments.’ ‘Cheers,’ Naboo says cautiously. Perhaps this is really happening. Saboo kicks the carpet closer to the wall, out of the way. ‘Dennis said you might be needing it. Thank fuck he didn’t make me fly here on it, doesn’t look airworthy to me.’ ‘Don’t knock it,’ Naboo says indignantly, ‘it works fine.’ ‘Does it now.’ Saboo’s lip curls. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.’ Naboo searches desperately for a safer topic of conversation: one that won’t involve Saboo telling him he’s rubbish and that he’s never liked him. ‘If you didn’t fly, how did you get here?’ ‘By amulet. Dennis lent me one from his personal collection.’ ‘Bit unconventional.’ Amulets are powerful artefacts; shamanic law decrees that they should only be used in emergencies. ‘Since when has that ever stopped the D-Man? I think he just wanted me out of the way so he could get it on with his wife.’ ‘They’re back on speaking terms?’ Naboo hopes fervently that Dennis has succeeded in his mission. Saboo rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. She was still asleep on the sofa when I left. But to judge by the way he was looking at her... Anyway he couldn’t wait to get me out of the house, said you’d be needing help to sort things out after the party, and burbled some nonsense about it still being Christmas.’ A small flicker of hope lights itself up in Naboo’s mind, like a single fairy light on a tree. ‘It is still Christmas.’ ‘Like I give a toss. Christmas is over-rated, if you ask me.’ ‘Didn’t you get what you wanted, then?’ Saboo aims another vicious kick at the rolled-up carpet. ‘No, I fucking well didn’t. Blasted woman. I spent half the night playing the therapist, having my ear bent about how impossible her husband is. And now apparently I have to be Dennis’s errand boy and your home help. Still in this embarrassingly ridiculous costume. Well, the least you can do is make me a cup of tea now I’m here…’ He stomps up the stairs, still complaining. ‘Honestly, Naboo, you are completely hopeless. Dennis was right about that, at least. Look at this place, it’s a tip.’ Naboo can’t even defend himself; he’s reduced to speechlessness at the sight of Saboo’s scarlet-satin-clad arse going up the stairs in front of him. ‘And as for that…’ Saboo isn’t finished yet. But the flicker of hope in Naboo’s mind is suddenly strong enough to illuminate several Christmas trees at once. Including the stars on top. Because Saboo has stopped dead on the landing, looking up at the light. ‘Oh, that takes the cake. It’s pathetic. It has to be the most rubbish bit of mistletoe I have ever seen.’ ‘Don’t knock it,’ Naboo hears himself say as he reaches the top step, ‘it works fine.’ Saboo snorts. ‘Does it now.’ He turns round and looks at Naboo with a challenge in his eyes, and a hint of laughter twitching the corner of his mouth. Naboo lifts his chin defiantly. ‘Course it does.’ That flicker of hope is now a blaze of certainty. Dennis is behind this. Dennis has never let him down yet… ‘Would you care to prove that ridiculous assertion?’ Saboo is grinning openly now; the sparkle in his eyes is more of an invitation than a challenge. Dennis, you diamond. This is really happening. It really is. And it’s still Christmas. Naboo stands on tiptoe and flings his arms round Saboo’s neck. Saboo’s mouth meets his with a hunger and sincerity that drives away all remaining doubt. ‘Why –’ Naboo gasps, coming up for air, ‘ – why didn’t you say?’ ‘Why didn’t you?’ Saboo takes Naboo’s face between his hands and gazes at him in a way that says this is all he’s ever wanted. ‘Fair point,’ Naboo concedes, and then Saboo is kissing him again, and Naboo doesn’t care if they never do anything else, because this is just perfect, and it’s turning out to be a magic Christmas and not a rubbish one after all. Saboo picks him up bodily and carries him through the lounge, to the accompaniment of wolf-whistles, cheering and applause from the others on the sofa. Naboo gives them a two-finger salute behind Saboo’s back. ‘Excuse us, gentlemen.’ Saboo can barely keep a straight face. ‘We’ll join you later. But right now Santa has a couple of late Christmas wishes to fulfil.’ He’s still laughing as he kicks the bedroom door shut.

Saboo puts Naboo down on the bedroom floor, takes a pace back and looks at him. ‘Well. What now?’ A delicious shiver runs through Naboo; he’s not used to being looked at like that. He could easily get used to it, though… ‘Erm, how about a re-run without the audience? And then we can unwrap our Christmas presents.’ ‘Sounds like a plan to me.’ Saboo puts his hands on Naboo’s shoulders, and bends to kiss him again, carefully this time, as though afraid he might break him. Naboo licks at the corner of Saboo’s mouth until his lips part; the other man lets out a small, needy whimper as Naboo starts to explore him with his tongue, tasting and caressing, letting him know just how much this means… It means everything. Everything, just to stand there and hold and be held in return, to feel Saboo’s heart hammering under the flimsy red material, to hear his own pulse loud in his ears. Saboo is shivering slightly and his body is taut with excitement; he smells of sweat and leather and a faint waft of perfume… Methuselah’s perfume. Naboo’s heart twists painfully inside him, and he pulls away. ‘Saboo…’ The name feels strange in his mouth. ‘What is it?’ So hard to say it, when it could wreck everything. But not saying it would be ten times worse. ‘There’s… before we…there’s somefink I have to tell you.’ ‘No, you don’t.’ Saboo smiles; his big hands are gentle as they stroke Naboo’s back. ‘Dennis already did. And it’s all right.’ ‘You – you don’t mind?’ Saboo shakes his head. ‘Why should I? You didn’t know I’d be coming back. Hell, I didn’t know I’d be coming back. And I can’t blame you for taking a bit of comfort when it was offered.’ Naboo buries his burning face in Saboo’s chest. ‘Wasn’t just comfort,’ he mumbles. ‘We had sex…’ ‘I know. But I wouldn’t be standing here if you hadn’t. I’d be a decapitated corpse in Dennis’s front room.’ Naboo shudders. ‘Stop it.’ Saboo pulls him close. ‘Don’t think about it, it didn’t happen. Don’t…’ But Naboo can’t stop shaking, it’s all too much, his world has been turned upside down and he hadn’t smoked nearly enough weed before that doorbell rang. ‘Sorry, ’m havin’ a panic attack…’ His voice sounds wavery and too high. Saboo takes his hand, tows him across the room and sits him down on the bed. ‘Little one.’ His voice is gentle; Naboo has never heard him speak like that to anyone. ‘I know, it’s a big change and it’s been a long time coming. But there’s no need to panic. Take a deep breath and count to ten. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.’ He sits beside Naboo and strokes him as though he were a scared small animal, touching him without haste, without demands, soothing away his fear. Pretty soon Naboo is completely relaxed again, his curly trainers have joined Saboo’s snowboots on the floor, and the two shamen are lying on the bed wrapped around each other, kissing deep and slow. Saboo’s big body is warm now, and he’s not troubling to conceal his arousal, not that that costume has much potential for concealing anything anyway. Naboo can’t help pressing closer and closer, until Saboo pulls away, props himself on one elbow and grins. ‘Would you like your present now?’ ‘But I’ve been bad,’ Naboo says seriously. ‘That’s not what I heard.’ Saboo puts a hand on Naboo’s cheek. ‘I heard you were very good indeed…’ That smile is infectious. And it seems that Saboo is genuinely prepared to take last night’s events in his stride. Naboo plucks up courage to untie the furry belt from around Saboo’s waist and and draw it out from under him; growing bolder, he reaches for the zip tag at Saboo’s throat. The zip comes open with a faint ripping sound. Naboo keeps on pulling gently, mesmerised by the gradual revelation of Saboo’s brown skin, his neat nipples, the curling dark hairs around his navel… ‘Hey.’ He gets to his knees to ease the red suit off over Saboo’s feet. ‘I like your giftwrapping.’ ‘I thought you might.’ Saboo stands up and turns round, slowly. Now that is the sort of package everybody should find on (or preferably in) the bed on Christmas morning. It’s a red patent leather posing pouch with a white fur trim and a very small thong, and it’s only just managing to do the job for which it was designed… Naboo stands up too, all breathless and light-headed, and reaches for the very small clip that is struggling to hold it all together. ‘Not yet.’ Saboo shakes his head. ‘I think it’s my turn to unwrap something, don’t you?’ Without waiting for a reply, he lifts Naboo’s robes off over his head, pushes his trousers down and turns him round, his gaze burning Naboo’s shaman-senses. ‘Oh, that is beautiful.’ Saboo’s voice is a hoarse whisper, and the raw longing in his words makes Naboo’s skin prickle all over. Saboo reaches for him; strokes a thumb over one taut nipple. ‘Cold in here.’ Naboo grins; the air is cold, but that’s not what’s giving him goosebumps. ‘Soon warm you up,’ he says, and reaches again for that stupidly small clip. It gives way stupidly easily, and the thong falls to the floor. The room goes very quiet. Saboo stands still, trying not to shiver, watching Naboo watching him. His heartbeats are shaking his body, his erection standing proud. And it’s an erection that anybody would be proud of, perhaps not as big as Dennis’s but strong and straight and elegantly shaped and very, very hard. ‘Can I…?’ Naboo asks dreamily, and puts out a hand. Saboo tuts impatiently. ‘That was the idea, you Christmas pudding. If I didn’t want you to, then I wouldn’t have let you take all my clothes off, would I?’ ‘S’pose not.’ Naboo moves a step closer. He can feel the warmth of Saboo’s body, hear the soft sounds of his breathing, smell the musk of him. This is the best Christmas present ever. ‘Your hand’s cold,’ Saboo complains, as Naboo reaches up to caress his throat, his chest, his lean ribcage. Naboo grins. ‘I know how to warm it up.’ He strokes down the black curls on Saboo’s belly, reaches that glorious hot hardness and wraps his cold hand around it… And Saboo is coming. There was no warning, but he’s gasping and shaking and spilling warm and wet over Naboo’s hand and over both of them; Naboo can do nothing but hold on, aroused and surprised and a bit anxious. Abruptly Saboo pulls away; turns his back. ‘That never happens.’ He sounds angry. Embarrassed. Naboo doesn’t know what to do, this isn’t how it was meant to be. ‘I don’t mind.’ He touches Saboo cautiously on the arm. ‘There’s plenty of time to get it right.’ ‘I wanted it to be perfect,’ Saboo snarls. ‘Not fucking humiliating.’ He looks down at himself, his chest heaving. Wordlessly, Naboo passes him the new box of tissues that someone – Bollo, presumably – has thoughtfully placed on the bedside table. Saboo scrubs at his damp groin, curses, and hurls the dirty tissues angrily at the bin, without looking round. No, oh no, this can’t all be going wrong already. There’s a lump in Naboo’s throat; his body aches with tension. At any moment Saboo is going to grab his clothes and leave, and this Christmas dream will be over. The magic has to be still working, it has to be… Saboo stands with his back turned for what feels like about ten years before he heaves a huge sigh and chokes out: ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘I’m not.’ Weak with relief, Naboo stands behind him; puts his arms round him. ‘You’re here, an’ I never thought you would be… an’ it was a compliment, I didn’t know you wanted me that much.’ ‘Neither did I.’ Saboo is shivering, his skin clammy. ‘Come to bed. It’s too cold to discuss it out here with no clothes on.’ Naboo takes Saboo’s hand and pulls him across the room; he doesn’t resist. Oh, and Bollo’s put clean sheets on the bed as well. Truly a familiar in a million. Naboo tucks them both in and lies quietly beside Saboo; when the shivering finally stops, he lays his hand over Saboo’s, linking their fingers together. ‘Thank you.’ Saboo’s face is still turned away. Naboo leans over and kisses him behind the ear. ‘Ready to start again, then?’ Saboo meets his eyes and smiles, a bit shyly. ‘I suppose so, if you are.’ ‘Course I am.’ Naboo grins. ‘You plum.’ ‘Oi, that’s my line.’ Saboo pins Naboo down by the shoulders and kisses him on the mouth until they’re both breathless and Saboo is hard again. ‘Well?’ Naboo looks up into Saboo’s dark eyes. ‘D’you want to…?’ Saboo looks away. ‘Actually, you know, I’m not sure, not yet.’ ‘This is sure.’ Naboo strokes a fingertip along Saboo’s rigid prick. ‘And I am too now.’ Saboo fidgets uneasily. ‘Well, yes, I know, but we haven’t… there hasn’t been time. We hardly know each other.’ ‘Bollocks, we’ve known each other for three centuries.’ There’s an ironic twist to Saboo’s mouth. ‘Yes, as professional colleagues who don’t like each other very much. Not as…’ ‘Lovers?’ Naboo goes on stroking, the hot skin satin-smooth against his fingers. Saboo half-laughs, and buries his face in Naboo’s shoulder. ‘I’m just not certain we’re ready to have full-on sex yet.’ ‘Because I was with Dennis last night?’ ‘No, that’s not it.’ Saboo rolls away, and stares at the ceiling. ‘I meant it when I said I didn’t mind. And it’s up to you how quickly you recover. If you say you’re ready, then you’re ready.’ ‘But you’re not sure that you are.’ ‘No, I’m not, Naboo, I’m not sure at all.’ Even though they’re not touching, Naboo can feel that Saboo is tense all over as he struggles to explain himself. ‘It’s not that I don’t want you. I do. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life. But…’ ‘ ’S’alright, I promise not to laugh.’ Naboo does his best to ignore his own rising worry and disappointment, and just listen. Perhaps it’ll be something he can do something about. ‘You’d better not fucking well laugh. It’s not funny.’ Saboo hesitates, clears his throat, and plunges in. ‘Alright, I’ve only ever done it once, and that was with a woman, a long time ago, and it was an utter disaster. And… I’ve never seen a thirdsex before except in textbooks.’ ‘An’ you don’t deal with unfamiliar situations well, they make you nervous, an’ that makes you get angry an’ behave like a total ballbag. I know that from bein’ a professional colleague of yours that you didn’t like very much.’ Naboo is relieved; this is something he can do something about, and he’s going to start right now. ‘Gimme your hand.’ ‘What for?’ ‘So I can show you where to start, OK? The stuff that the textbooks don’t tell you. Thirdsex ain’t so different really, it just looks a bit unusual.’ He kisses Saboo on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, take your time, an’ if you’ve got questions just ask ’em, I don’t mind.’ He lies down again, flat on his back, and waits for what seems an age until he feels Saboo lay a hand on his stomach. ‘Now what?’ Saboo sounds nervous; his fingers are cold. ‘Naboo, I don’t – ’ ‘Shush.’ Naboo takes hold of Saboo’s wrist and guides him further down, until his palm is cupped over the slight mound that covers Naboo’s internalised genitals. ‘So smooth,’ Saboo murmurs, moving his hand cautiously from side to side. ‘Is that… good?’ Naboo shudders and arches his back, unable to keep still. ‘What do you think?’ ‘I don’t know quite what to think. Not sure thinking has much to do with this. What happens if I… Oh.’ ‘Yeah, it’s wet. Can’t help it that you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, can I? It’s OK, keep going, there’s only one way in and you’re half way in already.’ Naboo keeps his own hand over Saboo’s, guiding and encouraging him, until Saboo’s long fingers, warm now and slippery, are inside him and pressing up against… With a sudden shrill yelp, Naboo comes on the spot, keening and whimpering and totally unable to help himself. To his surprise, Saboo keeps his hand there through the aftershocks, despite the flood of warm stickiness spreading over his wrist and between Naboo’s thighs and down onto the sheets. ‘That never happens either,’ Naboo says faintly, as Saboo withdraws his hand and looks with amazement at his wet fingers. Saboo just smiles at him, and suddenly they are both laughing, and when they stop laughing and look at each other, Naboo has an idea. ‘Got it.’ ‘Got what?’ ‘The next step.' He rolls over onto his side, facing away from Saboo. ‘Don’t turn your back on me. Please.’ ‘I’m not, don’t worry, you get the music when I’m doin’ that. No, look.’ Naboo parts his thighs, and spreads the slippery wetness over them. ‘One step short of goin’ all the way… but it’ll feel just as good.’ ‘In there?’ Saboo sounds intrigued. ‘Well, that’s a new one on me, but I’ll try anything once.’ ‘’S’nice,’ Naboo reassures him, ‘an’ I can touch you too, an’ we can stop anytime you want –’ ‘You must be joking.’ Saboo pushes carefully into the space between Naboo’s legs. ‘Why would I want to stop this?’ Naboo feels around until he’s holding Saboo’s wet, hot cockhead lightly between his fingertips, stroking and caressing as the other man thrusts against him, pressed tight against his back and his arse. He can feel Saboo’s balls down there, the slight tickle of hair, and it’s all strange and a bit uncomfortable, but it’s completely magic and Naboo can’t think of a reason he’d want to stop, either. ‘Oh.’ Saboo picks up the rhythm, his prick hardening, sliding smoothly back and forth. ‘Oh, that is just beautiful. I can’t…’ Naboo tightens his grip slightly; thrusts back against Saboo’s big warm body. ‘So it’s OK then?’ ‘Little one.’ Saboo nuzzles into the curve of Naboo’s neck. ‘It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I never… wanted… anyone… the way I… oh, Naboo…’ And then he’s coming, into Naboo’s hand and all over his front and… sorry Bollo, that’s another sheet that’ll have to go down the laundrette later. Afterwards Saboo lies limp and heaving while Naboo cleans him up. The theme tune to ‘Colobos the Crab’ comes drifting through the door: someone’s turned the volume up on the telly. Naboo smiles to himself as he wonders when that happened, and whether it was Howard or Bollo who muttered ‘we don’t need to hear this.’ Saboo stretches out on the dry side of the bed, and pulls Naboo down beside him, comfortably entwined, skin to skin. ‘I think, maybe, next time…’ ‘We can go all the way?’ Naboo kisses him chastely on the cheek. ‘Only when you’re ready for it, there’s no rush and I’m not giving you marks out of ten. An’ there’s lots of other ways we can get to know each other a bit better.’ ‘I’d say we’ve made a good start.’ Saboo pulls him just a bit nearer. ‘I’d say you were right,’ Naboo agrees sleepily. ‘Even though it was a bit rubbish?’ ‘Don’t knock it,’ Naboo says, ‘it worked fine.’ Saboo chuckles. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ ‘Thanks…’ Naboo’s eyes are closing. He rests his head on Saboo’s shoulder and surrenders to the closeness and the warmth and the happy feeling of having everything he ever wanted. He hopes Dennis is feeling like this right now too… A touch on his cheek rouses him from a blurred dream of red leather and warm white fur. ‘What…?’ ‘Sorry to wake you,’ Saboo mutters in his ear, ‘but I need to… and I haven’t got any other clothes… You got a dressing gown or something?’ Naboo wriggles out of the complicated tangle of limbs they seem to have formed in their shared sleep. ‘Cloak on the back of the door,’ he mumbles. ‘Bit exotic, isn’t it?’ Naboo looks up and grins. ‘Suits you though. An’ don’t worry, it’s machine washable.’ Saboo wraps the swirl of glittery purple-and-blue fabric around himself and shuts the door behind him. Naboo snuggles down under the sex-scented bedclothes for a spot more kip. It seems only seconds later that Saboo is shaking him awake again. ‘Naboo…’ ‘Now what?’ ‘I didn’t have any breakfast. Is there anything to eat in this place?’ Naboo sighs, hauls himself out of bed and pulls his robes back on. Now he comes to think of it, he’s pretty hollow himself; this morning’s porridge has finally worn off. ‘Not in here, but there’s stuff in the kitchen. What time is it?’ ‘Half past three in the afternoon.’ ‘Lunchtime,’ Naboo says cheerfully. ‘Let’s go and see what the others have left.’ Saboo’s face falls. ‘Do we have to go and join them?’ ‘Why not?’ ‘They’ll take the piss.’ ‘Well, yeah. But let’s face it, they don’t get a lot of other entertainment round here, they have to make their own.’ Naboo goes to stand face to face with Saboo; takes both his hands. ‘Don’t worry, they’re on our side.’ ‘Even that familiar of yours?’ ‘Bollo’s happy if I’m happy,’ Naboo declares stoutly, ‘an’ I am happy… I got exactly what I wanted for Christmas, in the end.’ ‘So did I, little one.’ Saboo leans down to kiss him softly on the mouth. ‘So did I.’’

…….

It’s a beautiful Xooberon spring day: the suns high and clear, the blue fronds of the featherpalms fluttering and rustling in the ocean breeze. Naboo drains the last mouthful of his purple cocktail. Fuck, that’s good.  Good to be warm, good to be back home, good to be at a party... and this is quite some party. Way better than that Christmas disaster, although that did turn out OK in the end. I suppose. Good thing we didn’t invite all this lot, though... The gardens of the Head Shaman’s official residence are thronged with people of all sizes, shapes, genders and colours. It looks as though the entire Shaman Academy has turned up, and then there are all Methuselah’s friends, fans, photographers, stylists and hangers-on... many of them young and handsome men, or pretty girls, but today Dennis and his wife have no eyes for anyone but each other. Dennis looks great, don’t think I’ve ever seen him so relaxed and confident. And Methuselah is much less scary when she’s smiling, and now she’s grown her hair longer that flowing dress suits her, even though it’s sort-of brown... the sort of colour that Howard would’ve chosen. There’s probably a name for it, I’ll have to ask him. Naboo glances across the lawn to where Howard and Vince are standing by the fountain. Howard has a big daft grin plastered permanently across his face; occasionally he glances down at the ring on his left hand, and then at Vince, as if either of them might disappear at any moment. Vince is in his element, of course. He loves parties. He’s chatting away to anyone and everyone, his hair immaculately root-boosted and feathered and tinted (it took him a week), his hand never letting go of Howard’s arm. ‘They look happy,’ a gruff voice says in Naboo’s ear. ‘That good to see.’ ‘Yeah.’ Naboo turns and smiles at his familiar. ‘Yeah, it is...’ ‘Bollo!’ a high voice squeaks. ‘Haven’t seen you in ages. Come an’ meet the girlfriend.’ A bat is flittering round the gorilla’s ears. ‘Not now, Chrissy. Now not a good time.’ Bollo’s face creases into a worried frown. ‘Go on, ya berk,’ Naboo tells him. ‘I’m fine. Saboo’ll be back in a minute, he won’t wanna miss the boss’s speech. Say hi to Barry for me.’ ‘Alright then.’ Bollo shambles off towards a bunch of bespectacled, red-haired shamen whose familiars – all airborne – range from the tiny bat to a twelve-foot red dragon. And here comes Saboo making his way back from the bar, his tall figure weaving gracefully through the crowd. A little twinge of anxiety gnaws at Naboo’s insides. Bollo isn’t the only one who’s worried. Saboo’s been so quiet lately. Something’s on his mind. Didn’t pick up on it for a while, what with all the excitement of Howard and Vince announcing their engagement and then Dennis convening this gathering. Maybe when the party’s over I might suggest he and I stay on here for a couple more days, spend some time together, maybe rent one of the cabins by the beach and just enjoy the warmth and the quiet. Perhaps Saboo’s just in need of some downtime: there’s been a fuck of a lot of organizing to do on Dennis’s behalf to get this event to actually happen. The big man may be magic, but he’s hopeless at practicalities... ‘Whoever suggested we let Tony Harrison run the bar must have been out of his fucking mind.’ Saboo is fuming as he hands Naboo another glass. Naboo giggles. ‘Yeah. You were. I remember that planning meeting. Parts of it anyway... Cheers.’ Saboo smiles as they clink glasses, but he won’t meet Naboo’s eyes. Naboo takes a deep breath. ‘Saboo...’ But he is interrupted by a squeal of feedback from the loudspeakers of the public address system. ‘Is this thing on?’ Dennis’s voice booms anxiously. Dennis and Methuselah are standing hand-in-hand on the terrace in front of the house; Dennis is peering at the microphone in his hand as though afraid it might bite him. Methuselah whispers something in his ear, and he smiles. ‘Ah. Apparently it is. Ladies and gentlemen and all those in between – Friends – I bid you welcome.’ There is a short silence while the Head Shaman rummages through the pockets of his voluminous ceremonial robe and produces a crumpled handkerchief. ‘Ah.’ He wipes his brow and puts the handkerchief away again. ‘I had, um, written a substantial speech for this important occasion but I, er, seem to have mislaid my notes.’ ‘Well, there’s a surprise,’ Saboo mutters. ‘But no matter. Now that I see you all, I realise that what I have to say is actually very simple.’ ‘Like you, D-Man,’ Tony cackles. A ripple of laughter runs through the crowd, but Dennis is unperturbed. ‘I am a simple man, yes. And I am simply very fortunate to have so many friends, and most fortunate of all to have such a beautiful and patient wife. My dear’ – he turns to her – ‘you were generous enough to give me a second chance. A new start. In token of which I would like to renew the vows we made when first we bound ourselves to each other – the vows I bent and broke and brushed aside – if you are willing – ’ He chokes a little. Naboo brushes away a tear. I was a part of that bending and breaking... I’m just glad I was part of the mending as well. Methuselah puts a finger to Dennis’s lips. ‘Of course I will. A new start, yes. Leave the past in the past, and with all our friends to bear witness, let us remake our bond. Where is our Moderator?’ The ancient ex-Head Shaman shuffles forward to officiate. Just as well the secular ceremony is short and simple. Poor old sod doesn’t look as though he’d make it to the end of anything long and complicated. Needs a trip to the Fountain of Youth if you ask me. Everybody cheers as Dennis and Methuselah seal their re-made bond, first with a formal kiss, and then with a much longer and more informal one. I remember how that feels... Naboo sighs, and looks away. He can see Howard and Vince holding hands and smiling; Vince notices him watching them, and grins. Then Methuselah takes the microphone and steps forward. ‘Thank you, Dennis. And thank you all for being with us. I will not waste much of your time. I know some of you have serious drinking to do, don’t you, Tony?’ She waits for the laughter and catcalls to subside. ‘We have one more announcement to make. Another new start. My Dennis and I, we are expecting our firstborn in the autumn...’ Whatever else she was going to say is drowned out by a burst of cheering and applause from the audience. Then the band is playing, the champagne is flowing, and Dennis, looking proud but slightly stunned, takes Methuselah’s arm and leads her around the garden, circulating through the crowd of guests, accepting their congratulations. Even Saboo is smiling. Dennis looms up beside them; Naboo hugs him, hard. ‘Nice one, big man. Listen, lemme know anytime you need a babysitter.’ Saboo snorts derisively. ‘Seriously,’ Naboo says, giving Saboo the finger behind Dennis’s back, ‘I’m a bit of an expert, I ’ad to rear those two human idiots over there, remember? Six soddin’ weeks of changin’ nappies an’ four-hourly feeds before I found an incantation to get ’em back to their proper ages... so anytime, just call me, OK?’ ‘Thank you,’ Dennis says gravely. ‘No worries.’ Naboo hugs him again. ‘So happy for ya...’ Dennis feels big and warm and solid. He feels like coming home, like safety and comfort... Dennis takes a step back, and looks down; his voice is pitched for Naboo’s ears alone. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Dunno exactly.’ There’s no point lying to someone who can see right through you, literally. ‘Man trouble?’ ‘Somefink like that.’ ‘I thought so. Could see it from across the room.’ Naboo looks up into those knowing pale-blue eyes. ‘You got any magic to fix it?’ Dennis smiles gently. ‘You don’t need magic. It’s very simple, Naboo. Just ask him.’ Before he can explain what this pronouncement means – if he even knows himself – Dennis is hailed by someone else, and lets Naboo go. Ask Saboo? Ask him what’s wrong? But he might deny that anything’s wrong at all, in which case he’d be lying, and then we’re stuffed; or worse, he might actually tell me what’s wrong, and it might be something that can’t be fixed... Saboo puts a hand on Naboo’s shoulder. ‘Oh, dry up, you idiot, this is supposed to be a happy day.’ He snorts again. ‘Never thought the D-Man was parent material. Nor the D-Man’s woman, come to that.’ ‘Just shows that even the perfect Saboo can be sometimes wrong,’ Methuselah says drily from right beside him, making him jump and look sheepish. ‘I’m sorry,’ he stammers, ‘I – I didn’t mean...’ Naboo winces, waiting for the inevitable blow to fall. But she is laughing; patting Saboo on the arm. ‘I am not offended, I never thought of myself as mother, either. Even I can be sometimes wrong also. Now, if you do not mind, I should like to borrow your Naboo for a short while, there is something I need to discuss with him. No, not about last Christmas’ – she laughs again – ‘do not look so dismayed, I meant it when I said the past is in the past. I need to ask a favour, that is all. Naboo, if you will please come with me...’ ‘Sure.’ Naboo shrugs. ‘Whatever.’ He thinks he hears Saboo mutter something at the same time: ‘he’s not mine,’ perhaps? But there’s no time to ask, Methuselah is taking his arm and leading him firmly out of the crowd. ‘Somewhere quiet,’ she says, ‘let us try the rose garden. This way.’ Naboo follows her through a gate in the hedge and across a green, sunlit lawn edged with flowering rosetrees. I wonder what the fuck this is about. I know she said the past is past, but...We haven’t talked about that Christmas party, ever. Better try not to say the wrong thing, or she might lose it and hit me. My glass is empty, too... I wonder whether I’m going to get another drink or a decent smoke anytime soon... There’s a double seat under an archway at the far end, canopied with heavily scented climbing roses; Methuselah sits down and motions Naboo to sit beside her. ‘I know I said this was not to talk about last Christmas.’ She plucks a leaf, twirls it nervously between her slender fingers. ‘But... I do want to thank you, Naboo, thank you for saving our marriage, for showing my Dennis how to be honest with me.’ Naboo sighs inwardly with relief. She’s not going to hit me, then. ‘I’m glad I helped, but I didn’t really do anything.’ ‘No.’ She shakes her head vehemently. ‘If it were not for you, we would be separated by now, and this baby that is on the way, he would not be on the way, he would not exist at all.’ ‘That’s... quite a responsibility.’ ‘It is also a wonderful gift.’ She is smiling now. ‘And in appreciation, we would like to ask you, will you stand mentor to our son when he is born?’ Well. Wasn’t expecting that one. That’ll offend a lot of well-connected Xooberon nobility who will have been hoping for the honour. And am I really up to the job? But if it’s Dennis’s choice... ‘I – well, yes, course I will, but – there’s plenty of other shamen who’ll do a better job, I mean, I don’t even live on-planet and I’m not exactly...’ ‘There is no other shaman who has such a link to our family. No-one else we would rather ask. You gave Dennis such good advice. I am certain you will do the same again when it is needed.’ ‘I’ll do my best.’ Naboo is slightly choked. Must be the perfume from all those flowers. ‘There is something else also.’ ‘What?’ ‘We would like to name him for you, if you have no objection.’ Naboo chews on his bottom lip. ‘Depends which name. The universe don’t need two Naboos, an’ I’m not bein’ mentor to a boy called Roppity-Poppity...’ ‘But Randolph, that is a good name, a fine name.’ ‘Yeah, that’d be OK, I s’pose.’ ‘Thank you. It is settled, then.’ She puts a hand over her stomach. ‘Randolph it is.’ Then she giggles. ‘I am very pleased, but Dennis’s family will not be. They are so traditional, they disapprove of him marrying extreme sports calendar model, and every firstborn male is always named Dennis. Father, grandfather, great grandfather, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis... But not this time. This time, we break tradition... Oh.’ She catches her breath suddenly. ‘You OK?’ ‘I’m fine. Just the baby kicking, I think he hears us. You want to feel him?’ ‘Well, I –’ I do want to feel, I want it very much indeed, contact with that small new life that is somehow in some weird way linked with mine. But touching the Head Shaman’s wife... might that be crossing the line? She grasps his wrist; places his hand on her belly. ‘There. Can you feel him?’ ‘I can feel...’ Yes. Yes. The kicking comes again, and oh, I can, I can feel it, can feel everything that’s going on in there, every twitch and heartbeat and... Blimey. ‘What is it?’ She’s looking anxiously into his face. ‘Naboo, what can you feel?’ With regret, he takes his hand away, and is surprised to find his cheeks are wet with tears. ‘I fink, you’re going to be able to make Dennis’s family happy too.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I mean...’ He sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his party robe. ‘There’s two in there. Twins. Two boys.’ Methuselah’s eyes are wide. ‘Are you certain?’ ‘Absolutely. So you can call one of ’em Dennis after all. The big one.’ ‘Dennis Junior and Randolph.’ She is laughing with sheer delight. ‘Randolph and DJ. Oh, Naboo, this is wonderful, we have to go and tell Papa Dennis right now.’ ‘Make sure he’s sitting down first.’ ‘Do you think your Saboo would stand mentor to DJ?’ ‘Dunno. S’pose we could just ask him.’ Just ask him... oh, fuck, of course, how could I be such a blind numpty? I know what Dennis meant now, the question I’ve got to ask Saboo, should have asked him already really, cos he’s been waiting for me to ask it, and hopefully he’ll say yes to her and yes to me and then everything will be all right... ‘Come on, then.’ Methuselah jumps to her feet. Naboo takes her hand, and together they run back through the sunlit rose garden.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #saboo #naboo #naboo the enigma #naboo/saboo #naboo/dennis #dennis the head shaman #dennis/methuselah #saboo/methuselah #howince #vince noir #howard moon #vince noir/howard moon #vince/howard #howard moon/vince noir #bollo