#theasteriae

[omniishambles]

Trick or treat!

        Ask Box Trick-or-Treat

        * * *

Don’t play games with me. Don’t ever, ever think you’re capable of that.

[kit-just-kit]

(closed EvilKit starter for @theasteriae)

“Miss Adler, how kind of you to come. And right on time too” she said, though it wasn’t so much the punctuality that was appreciated, more that anyone daring to be late when she had summoned them, needed a very strict correction. Kit had neither the patience nor energy to provide that today.

 “Let’s take a seat, open a bottle of Petrus and get down to business, shall we?”.

[consultingsister-aa]

five times kissed / bash ( any verse )

this meme for: @theasteriae​ verse: happy verse

I. 

Celia has never seriously dated before. There were boys but they had little to no interest in getting to know her. They just wanted to fuck her. People were always saying she was too pretty for her own good and she was starting to think that was true. 

Only Basher Moran didn’t seem that bothered about how pretty she was. Although she assumed, that was what drew him to her in the first place. It was silly and unrealistic to say otherwise and she certainly fancied him from the moment she saw him. It had nothing to do with her laugh and everything to do with his jawline. It wasn’t true anymore now. 

It had been one of the best summers of her life. She could hardly believe she had been tempted to turn Alex down, to return to Surrey, alone and melancholy. Sherlock has said he would come up but would have likely cancelled last minute. Cee has never spent so much time with people apart from at school and it took a while to get used to all the sibling and cousin dynamics. It was like something from one of her books; The Chronicles of Narnia or The Famous Five. They all had inside jokes and pet names and moved around each other like a choreographed dance. She knew her bothers well enough but she rarely had to deal with a cramped kitchen and sharing bedrooms. They knew each other differently than the Morans. 

It had been a fantasy of hers to live like this. When she was young and it was just her alone in that big house, she would daydream about having lots of brother’s and sister’s and cousins to play with. Adventures at the beach; caves and pirate treasure. She imagined herself into their childhood and al of a sudden, felt a lump in her throat. It was more than jealousy; it was something like grief. Greif for that lonely little girl who would always aways be alone. 

“What’s up?” Bash interrupted her thoughts. Clearly, her state of mind has shown on her face. 

“Nothing. I’m just a little sad to go back to school after all this.” 

Bash sighed knowingly, turning back to look out over the water. Even though she had come with Alex, Celia was spending more and more time on the beach with Bash. They sat in the dunes, a blanket around their shoulders, watching the sun fall into the freezing water. Even in the height of summer, the water was freezing. “Yeah, I’ll miss the beach,” he agrees. 

She turns to look at his profile, shoulder bumping into his. “I’ll miss you.” She didn’t quite mean you individually, she meant you as a family, but she was glad he took it that way. 

He turned to look at her and then leant in to kiss her for the first time, both their heads moving in the opposite way so they didn’t bump noses, as if it has been rehearsed. Cee had never been kissed like that before but it was almost exactly how the songs and books and poems described it. It was like seeing fireworks. But perhaps more wonderfully, when he kissed her like that, she didn’t feel so alone. 

II.

It had felt like a long time since that first kiss, although it has only been seven years. In the prospect of a lifetime together, that was short. But she couldn’t help but think about that moment, as she stood at the waters edge, champagne glass in hand, breathing deeply in the cool evening air. Behind her, her specially built carnival glows, reflecting in the dark waters. 

She’s changed from her wedding dress into a short ballet style tutu skirt, which stopped a little north of where her father, new husband and aunt-in-law might have liked. Long legs end in bare feet and she lets the water lap up against her ankles. 

“Hey, Mrs Moran-- there about twenty million people wanting to see you back there.” 

She turns back with a smile, just in time to see Bash - messy hair, jacket long gone, shirt sleeved rolled up - before he wraps his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss into the side of her face. “There are not twenty million people, you’re such a drama queen.” 

He laughs. She does too. Then they relax into silence and both watch the waves. After a moment, Cee begins to cry. 

“Hey, hey,” Bash moves to turn her round, concern on his face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing-- I’m just-- I’m just so--” 

“What? Oh god, you’re regretting it already. I said, if you weren’t ready, that we could--”

“Happy!” Cee interupsts him with laugh, “Bash, I’m happy. I am so happy.” 

He looks so relived, it only makes Cee laugh again; more happy tears spilling onto her cheeks. He pulls her close, a deep kiss, just them. Maybe the big party was too much. She was danced out; talked out; laughed out. She just wanted this. And the best bit was, she had it, and she had it forever. 

III. 

“Twins!?” 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

Cee can tell the nurse wasn’t expecintg that reaction from her, but she couldn’t care less. One more baby was enough of a shock, but two more? She looks over at Bash, who’s grinning and offers a look as if to say ‘what are you smiling about, you bastard’. 

“I am very serious Mrs Moran. You can see one heart beat here,” the nurse points to a black mass on the monitor, “and the second,” another black mass, “here.” Cee will just have to take her word for it. She got very upset when she couldn’t see what the nurse was talking about with Beua but she’s over it this time. She’s already over being pregnant this time and now it’s just going to be two times worse? Well, it was always two times worse but now she knows about it. “I’ll leave this up and give you a minute,” the nurse smiles at the parents and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Cee’s face is full of panic. 

“What?” Bash moves into the side of the hospital bed, taking Cee’s hand in his. 

“What do you mean, what? Bash-- I can’t handle three kids. You’re away all the time. I didn’t even know if I could do two but three babies? I’m out of my depth here.” 

“So what are you saying? You want to-- not--” 

“No, no, I’m just-- it’s a lot, Bash. Twins. That’s twice the baby!” 

“And you,” now he moves his hands to her face. Eye contact is key with Cecelia, pyshical contact and looking her in the eye. “Are twice the woman. You can do this. You can do anything.” 

Cee takes a calming breath and nods. “I love you,” she manages and leans forward to kiss him softly, just in time for the door to reopen. They never get a moments peace anymore. 

IV. 

Celia closes the bedroom door very gentle behind her. It feels like having babies again; a house full she doesn’t want to wake up. Bash just smiles up at her, taking off his glasses. He’s only been in the job four hours and he’s already bringing work to bed. 

“Do they love their new rooms?” 

Celia pulls an apoletic look, pulling off her dressing gown. “Immy says she wants to go home.” 

“To Suffolk?” 

“Yeah.”

“She’s knows she’s now living in Downing Street, right?” 

“You know that a ten year old could not care less, right?” 

Bash just laughs, laying his arm out over her pillows so she can snuggle in next to him. For a moment, they just sit there, head leant back against the headboard, drinking it all in. They had been working towards this for over ten years and now? The real work was just beginning. She can already feel her eyes getting heavy. “You’re happy here though, right?”

“Mm,” she hums. She’s not sure yet. Suffolk is her home, more than she ever though it would be. It was where the boys all grew up, their childhood rooms even though they were all grown up and out the house now. It was where Immy was born, where they played capture the flag and five aside football when the rest of the family came over. 

Downing Street might be a symbol of how far they had come, but it wasn’t home and she doubted, no matter how long they were here, it would ever feel like one. She already had plans to nip back to Suffolk the first weekend they could. “Yeah, this is what we’ve wanted for so long. We just need to settle into it.” Cee looks up to Bash, smiling at the fine lines already marking his face. But his eyes look the same as they did when he kissed her for that very first time on the beach. He’s so good to her, always. 

She kisses him, the sort of kiss they haven’t had in a while. Five kids, two demanding careers and a whole country wanting his attention tends to lead to pecks of affection and quickies whenever they can get it. But they have a moment now. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, lips still touching his. “I’m so proud of us. For everything, not just this job. I love you.” 

V. 

They had been in rooms like this so many times over the years. The bad lighting, the round tables, the stage. Only, rarely for her. She had, happily, she wanted to add, taken a back seat for most of her life. Her skillset was better suited to a life of support and planning; organising and committing herself to the task at hand. Whether they was her husband’s career, or her children’s lives. How could she call them children now though? Immy sat next to her, one arm lazily draped across her own baby bump, the other reached out to hold her mother’s hand. 

All heads had turned to the stage as a larger man in a ill-fitting suit took to the podium. His welcome speech was short and sweet, something Cee appreciated. She had told anyone who she could that she wasn’t bothered; even to be nominated was an honour but she was bothered. Her stomach swam with anxiety in a way it hadn’t done in years. 

“And the winner, of the twenty-forty-eight Booker Prize goes to... Cecelia Holmes.”

The table around her, well dressed and well mannered, rose with celebration; clapping together hands together and whooping. Immy kissed her cheek, Beua was quick to follow but she wouldn't get around them all. Although, she couldn’t forget one of them. 

Bash had sat across from her for most of the night. Although it was her night, it was also the first time in months all the family had been together in one place. Well, not all the family. You could fill the whole room with all the family. They were on stand-by, waiting for the news. They could have a party anyway, Immy had said, but they’d take down the banners if she didn’t win, though she suspected they wouldn’t have to. That had made Cee laugh. All the family tonight mean the six kids. Beua, Cass, Edmund, Perc, Immy and Hugo, ranging in ages from early forties, to twenty-two. Her children. Fuck the books, these wonderful, clever, funny, thoughtful kids were the best thing she had ever done with her life. And it was all thanks to Bash. They had caught each others eyes all night and it had made her feel young again. Like when they used to catch each other eyes over the dinner table at Nettle Cottage. 

She was aware there was a room full of people waiting for her but she was hungry for the kiss. Her hands reached for his face and she wasn’t that surprised to see a tear in his eye. “I’m so proud of you,” Bash managed, although years of shouting in Westminster had left his voice a little hoarse. She kissed him again, although she could feel the ever secible and dependable Beua trying to take her arm towards the stage. 

“Of us,” Cee corrected him, before allowing her oldest son to resort her to the edge of the stage. She hadn’t prepared a speech but she thought she might mention that first kiss, under a tartan blanket, on a beach in Suffolk that inspired a lifetime of literary work. 

[lordcarlisle]

Visiting | Closed

@theasteriae liked this post for a starter

As the car pulled to a stop in the gravel drive and harry engaged the parking break, the looming shape of Hawthorn House grew to its full height. He looked out from the windshield and sighed, straightening his tie and pulling down on his jumper subconsciously.

“Now the thing is,” he said as he turned to the passenger next to him to repeat what he’d already said three times on the drive down and twice in London before they had left. “You can’t take what that say to heart. Both father and Theo will try to get under your skin but please-” He reached over to clasp both of Xandra’s hands in his own. “Please don’t believe a word they say.” He lifted their entwined hands and placed a kiss on the back of Xandra’s knuckles gently. “And remember that I love you.”

[libdemdisaster]

@theasteriae  [ASKED:] ‘Oh shit, Bash is making a speech. I strongly recommend you put a stop to that immediately for everyone’s sake.’ ( Adam, meet Leo )

THIS PARTY BLOWS // STARTERS

“Again?” Adam turned his head to look over his shoulder to scan the room. It took him all of two seconds to spot Bash, standing at their table, glass in hand and talking to whatever guests were forced to listen. 

Chuckling, Adam shook his head. “Let him,” he said and turned back to the bar to accept his glass of rum and coke, the one he’d mostly ordered because they’d paid too much for the whole thing to only stick to beer. “Looks like he’s having fun. And right now I’m not one of the poor bastards who have to listen, am I?”

God knew that with a few drinks in him, this wouldn’t be his husband’s last toast. His husband... Adam wondered when he would get used to saying that. Hopefully not anytime soon. 

“So,” he paused to take a sip from his drink, “enjoying yourself?”

[povvertaken]

for @theasteriae​ / from a meme i cannot find / not accepting / below the cut for length

Jacob can’t remember the start of the night. It was probably Cee’s flat, because most things start at Cee’s flat. The other night, Ford sent him some snippy little text about liking one of Ram’s photos on Instagram. Maybe that’s why he went headfirst into a bottle of whiskey as soon as he arrived. Cee knows better than to get in between her friend and her twin, and he’s sure that if she had managed to corner him he’d get an ear full. Who gives a fuck, he thinks aggressively. Everyone in their friendship has fucked each other once, and Ford has done the same or worse to Jacob before.

But now he’s out in the smoking area of some members club or other. He’s pretty sure it isn’t the Ned or one of the SoHo houses. He sulks, leaning against a wall and occasionally tapping out ash. Somewhere inside, Ford is probably leaning up against Lex, whispering in her ear. He rolls his eyes, can’t stop himself thinking about it even as it twists his mood into something ungainly and mean. His phone buzzes, and he pulls it from his pocket, eyeing it blearily. A text from Ram, asking where he is.

He taps out a reply and then goes on Instagram, to like another picture that Ram’s posted, one from a couple of days ago. Fuck you, Ford, he thinks violently. It’s not his fault that Ram gives him puppy eyes and smiles like that when he enters a room. And Ford’s been playing around with Lex for longer than Jacob’s even known Ram. His entrance into the entire group began the summer he dropped out of Cambridge and crashed with Cee’s family, drawn into her parties and friendship group.

Lost in thought and memory, he doesn’t notice Ram until he’s standing in front of him.

“Alright?”

He mumbles around a cigarette, releasing it from clamped lips to hand over to Ram. Ram nods, and Jacob tilts his head. Usually, Ram is the more talkative of the two. He looks him over, gaze lingering on that mouth, the column of his neck. There’s no denying that Ram is attractive, but something puts the dampeners on Jacob’s plan. Ram doesn’t seem entirely himself.

“You sure about that?” He asks again, easing off the wall to stand a little closer.

Ram hums an unclear response, and Jacob notices the way his head lolls slightly.

“I’m fuckin’ not, champ. How much have you drunk?” They’ve only been here a few hours, two tops, and he knows that Ram can hold his drink better than this.

“No’ much,” Ram slurs.

Jacob reaches out, grips the top of Ram’s arm and pulls him closer.

“You taken something? Cee give you something different?” His tone is hard, inquiring, and he watches as Ram’s brows knit together. With no answer forthcoming, he tries a new approach. “It’s okay, luv. You’re not in trouble, but I’ll look after you if you’re on a bad high, yeah?” He croons in Ram’s ear, conscious of the growing weight of the other’s body, sagging against his own. Ram manages a pitiful hum in response, and Jacob angles himself to better support Ram’s weight.

Phone in hand, he orders a cab before trying to get Ram back into the club and out the front door. He knows how it will look, pap shots of Ram’s head nuzzling into his neck, his arms slung around Ram’s waist. Well, fuck the paps. He barges past people who get in his way as he makes his way out the club, shielding Ram wit his own body. By the time they make it out the front door, it’s a few steps into the cab and Jacob has the foresight to click the seatbelt into place for Ram.

“Fuckin’ hell, Ram,” he mumbles, as Ram leans heavily against him. “Don’t worry, we’ll get back to mine soon.” The only perk of paying exorbitant amounts for London rent is the speedy return home after a night out, and Jacob is grateful for it when the cab pulls up. The driver pretends not to watch Jacob as he unlocks the doors and scoops Ram up, carrying him bridal style into his building.

His fury at Ford dissipates as he looks down at Ram, nestled into his arms, eyes rolling back in his skull. All Jacob feels is fear, fear that this is one trip the drummer might not return from. It’s not like he’s in love with Ram, but seeing him so vulnerable sends a sick panic through Jacob. He kicks his own front door open with more force than is strictly necessary, laying Ram down in his own bed.

The first thing he grabs is a bucket, setting it by the edge of the bed, and then pillows to help keep Ram propped up on his side. It’s only after that Jacob back away and reaches for his phone, dialing Cee.

“It’s Ram, did you give him something? Are you okay?” The questions come out rapid fire as soon as she picks up.

Of course I didn’t give him anything, I’m fine. Why? Why? Jacob, has something happened? Her voice crackles on the other end of the phone, and Jacob’s lip curls up, a ghost of his anger from earlier in the night.

“He’s in my bed, fuckin’ nearly unconscious. I’m gonna call an ambulance, I think he’s been spiked. Let Lex know.” He ends the call abruptly. Still drunk, still angry, he’s not sure how he’s suddenly become the responsible adult, but he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like any of it. Ram moans quietly, and Jacob moves to his side, kneeling by the bucket which is thankfully empty. 

“Hey luv, how’re you feeling? Something’s messed you up good and proper, you know.” He smooths hair from Ram’s forehead, damp with sweat.

Ram mumbles something that sounds like feel bad, and Jacob blows air out his noise. He’s not built for nursing people, but he’ll make a go of it.

“I know, I know. Listen, I might have to call someone, I don’t know what you’ve had, Ram.”

Ram slowly shakes his head, cracking one eye to look at Jacob. He reaches up, fingers brushing Jacob’s cheek. He catches Ram’s hand, folding it beneath the blanket he’s drawn up around Ram’s shoulders.

“I have to call someone, but listen, I’ll stay with you the whole time.” He hovers for a moment, and tucks hair behind the shell of Ram’s ear. He presses a kiss to Ram’s temple before standing and moving to the doorway. Fear roils in his gut with the whiskey he drank earlier, and he fires off a text to Cee.

Calling ambulance, Ram’s fucked up. Will you bring Lex if I tell you which hospital?

Without waiting for a reply, he dials the emergency services.

[hatilead]

❛❛ The shores respond in song to the waves. ❜❜      @theasteriae​     +     kate

           SHORE AND SEA     .        NEITHER OWNS ONE ANOTHER          ;         forever locked in eternal longing ,        what is the sea if not in love with the land    ?       how else would one explain the endless gifts placed ‘pon sand and rocks .       life offered as a token of affection ,        shells the pearls in the necklace around mother earth’s neck .            AWFULLY ROMANTIC ,       TRUTHFULLY     .         laughter rises easily ,       oranges and honey ,      the determination to see another day .       arm draped across other woman’s shoulder ,       a gentle squeeze of fingers clawing into flesh        (       but for once it isn’t obsessive .       not a gem which needs to be held tightly in her grasp .     )          a lean closer ,       mug raised effortlessly ,     drunk on another victory more so than stale rum .    

❝    was that supposed to be a metaphor    ?    ❞        accent dips in the realms of the south ,      a slip of the tongue ,     a pull on companion’s sleeve .       wordless request to be followed to open space ‘pon well loved deck .        she ship offers splinters to bare feet more often than not        ;            BUT IT IS A HOME ALL THE SAME        and which home these days does not leave you scarred after you burn it to the ground    ?          ❝   i hate metaphors .   ❞       twirl of her finger to the man with the violin .       wordless command to show both shore and waves the song of the survivors .       ❝  or let me rephrase .     i hate metaphors of    words  .      bodies speaking like them ,      now ,     that is something interesting ,     isn’t it    ?   ❞      

[epiitaphs]

“I’m not going to leave you behind. If need be, I’ll carry you.” / Bash

“Too much like last time?” To be honest, Sebastian doesn’t want to say it. This isn’t a fight. This is probably the last fucking time Bash is going to see him. And yet, here he is, trying to grin at Bash through the blood and pain of it all. He doesn’t know why he’s trying. It’s not one of those moments. It won’t make anything better, and it hurts. “You need to go. Without me.” He’d say it’s not worth it, but Bash is sentimental and would argue the point. Sebastian‘s never believed in going back for people, but no one else around him does, and especially not when it comes to family. He doesn’t have the energy for this, but he’d much rather Bash make it out of here than try to save him. It’s easier to be unwilling to save someone than to try and lose them anyway. He can’t think about David till Bash is gone, though, because Seb really doesn’t want to cry.

He grits his teeth, keeps pressure on the biggest wound, and knows that there’s no way out of this. You get lucky till you don’t. Bash didn’t get caught in the worst of it - he’s uninjured enough to be able to get out of there. Sebastian wouldn’t just lie down and die for any reason, but there is too much out of place for him to have even a chance. He’s got a hand on the biggest wound, but there’s so many others, and he’s pretty sure if he moves, he’s going to feel shrapnel in places that he can’t see from the angle he’s settled himself at. “If you want to do anything for me, put a fucking bullet in me before someone else does. And go.” It’s not ideal, but it’s a much better way to die.

Sebastian really doesn’t want to die. When it’s so stark and inevitable, he doesn’t want it. But he’s known something like this was in fact inevitable from the start. This is his five year plan, in all honesty. But that doesn’t make it feel any better to be here. If this was an active fight, he’d be firing his weapon until the blood loss got to him - but this is a calm before a storm and Seb’s not going to make it to the first lightning strike. He draws in a shuddering breath - there’s too much on his mind. He takes a hand off the wound to press against his face for a second before returning it. “You’ve been following me,” he says, trying to figure out the right way to phrase this, “all your life. And I fucking regret it for every shitty thing that’s happened because of it.” Deathbed speeches aren’t as easy as they make them look, he thinks. “You’re going to have to go on your own now, though. Get out of here. Add me to the list of people you couldn’t save, but don’t you fucking dare get yourself on there. Okay? You can’t save me, but you can do that, okay?” He always knew he’d die alone and that’s okay. It’s preferable. The pain will stop at some point and then it’ll just be over.