#eton shirts

[oldcountrybear1955]

Eton Shirts - Alberto Perazzolo

[dippedanddripped]

Eton X Frantzén: Taste defined. Style Refined.

[greatcombinations]

[ineffableigh]

The costume details in Good Omens never cease to amaze me

I was working on cosplay research and looked up 'men's dress shirt rounded collar' since I noticed Aziraphale's blue dress shirt collar is rounded, not pointed:

So it turns out...

"The rounded collar was part of Eton College‘s dress code beginning in the mid-1800s. Because men wanted to be perceived as belonging to this exclusive club, the rounded, or “club” collar was copied by the masses." (Source)

Between that and the fact that Aziraphale's waistcoat, from what I can find, most closely matches shawl collar waistcoat designs from the 1830s, and his waistcoat at Saint James Park in 1862 is the first one we see him wear that most closely resembles his 'modern day' one, it's safe to say our lad is stuck at the start of the 19th century.

Which COULD be hilarious given undergarment styles of the time:

Through the late 19th century - union suits! Lovely for cold London winters.

1907...

However, I suspect 1940s style to be most likely, as it seems to be what he emulated when pretending to be Crowley at the end of Season 1.

1940s undergarments:

Anyway this has been your fashion history dork brain dump LOL

[taskmastercaps]

[ID: Three screencaps from Taskmaster. Mae Martin says, "Can I just point out that Ivo and I have a really similar year? And Ivo went to Eton, and I spent high school on acid." Ivo Graham says, "Odd to look at our two outfits and think that you're the acid one." Mae is wearing a plain dark sweater and trousers, while Ivo is wearing a blue shirt patterned with geese and trousers with a squiggly psychedelic print. End ID.]

[mognamon]

What if-

Jade winglet as Lackadaisy cats

ID: A character lineup with the Jade winglet as anthropomorphized cats from Lackadaisy. They are wearing 1920s clothing. From left to right Peril is a ginger tabby cat with sharp features, wears her hair is an messy eton crop style. She is wearing a blue coat over a teal striped dress and brown brogue oxford shoes. Turtle is a gray tabby british shorthair with round features. He is wearing a green sweater vest over a long sleeved button up shirt topped with a dark green bowtie. He has brown pants and dark leather slippers. Moonwatcher is a black/dark gray cat with white markings around her eyes, wears a blue cloche hat with moon decor over her Charleston bob. She wears a cardigan and dark teal sailor dress with two tone edwardian button boots. Kinkajou is a fluffy abyssinian cat and she wears a pink floral headband misplaced over her red dyed windswept bob. Wears a fuschia sailor dress with fuchsia mary janes shoes. Qibli is a brown tabby cat with curly hair that's covered by a blue newsboy cap. He wears a button up with suspenders and patched up denim pants and cowboy boots. Winter is a gray tabby point maine coon with slicked back hair. Wears a black coat over a waistcoat and white dress shirt with dark work pants and black wingtip shoes.

[sparklepocalypse]

Thanks to @porcelainmortal, @onthewaytosomewhere, and @thesleepyskipper for today's tags! My tag is, as always, extremely open since, according to my clock, it's nearing the end of today.

If you thought I might post sentences from my upcoming @aroyallybigbangrwrb fic, Meet Me on the Other Side today, you'd be correct! Today, you get a bit of Henry having a minor existential crisis about Alex being hot in a tent in chapter 4.

It has been, Henry reflects as he removes his outer layer of clothing, an age since he’s shared close sleeping quarters with anyone else. As children, he and Pip and Bea had occupied the same nursery for a time. But Pip had aged out, and then it’d been decided that Henry and Bea had been too old to share, and that’d been that until he’d been sent away to school. Even at Eton, he’d been placed in a single room while the majority of his schoolmates had doubled up. At Oxford, he’d been assigned several rooms to himself — far more space than he’d needed — and in the Army, his tent had been better appointed than some commoners’ flats. This tent is… small. Smaller now, he thinks, than when he’d set it up as the first pink and violet and gold fingers of dusk had crept up from the horizon. Smaller now that their belongings are stowed within and night has fallen around them. Certainly smaller now that he’s settled into a bedroll, feet pointed toward the entrance, his jacket pillowed beneath his head. His shirt and trousers are folded neatly atop his rucksack, and he’s almost too warm in his drawers and undershirt beneath a blanket that smells more than a little of horse. The bedroll is comfortable, at least. Henry drums his fingertips lightly on his belly through the woolen blanket and his undershirt and wills sleep to take him. It does not. Alex crawls into the tent beside him. Henry resolutely keeps his gaze fixed on the canvas ceiling as Alex settles into the other bedroll. Alex’s chest and feet are bare, his drawers are rucked up to his knees, revealing finely muscled calves, and he’s holding a pistol. A pistol? Henry rolls to his side on the bedroll to face Alex. In the soft glow of a single lantern, Alex is terribly scrumptious, and Henry looks down at his own hand where it rests on his bedroll and asks, “You’re not planning on using that on me, I hope?” “Depends, you gonna try to murder me in my sleep?” Alex asks with a wink. It’s irritating, Henry decides, how effortlessly attractive the man is. Henry is irritated. So he murmurs, “Now that you mention it…” just to see how Alex will react. Alex snorts in amusement, and Henry feels his lips twitch up into the hint of a smile in response.

[talesfromthesnogbox]

The East Bedroom, Eleven O'Clock

Summary: Henry meets Alex up in his bedroom. Henry’s POV of Red, White & Royal Blue, Chapter Six, pages 135-146

Word Count: 5,240

Rating: Explicit

AO3 Link

Part 1 | Part 2

Unfortunately for Henry, the gala continued in the Red Room. Every time he glanced over at that damn photo of Alexander Hamilton, his mind wandered back to that kiss. He checked his watch every few minutes, the time seemed to creep forward at a glacial pace. Finally, at quarter to eleven, he decided he’d been there long enough, it was time to meet Alex. 

“Shaan, the evening is winding down now, and Mr. Claremont-Diaz has requested an audience with me in his quarters…” 

Shaan had been Henry’s PPO from the time he’d started at Eton, and was no stranger to Henry’s late night trysts. He’d prepared numerous NDA’s for a variety of different young men from the time Henry was seventeen, and apart from Pez and Beatrice, was probably his closest confidant. He gave Henry a pointed look, a question in his gaze as they stepped out of the room.

“Sir, if you’re sure?”

Henry nodded. “Quite sure.”

He stopped to ask the woman from the Red Room, Amy, how to get to Alex’s private quarters, and she helpfully gave him directions. The two of them walked silently down to the First Family’s private quarters, and stopped abruptly down the hall from where Alex’s bedroom door was. “If I may, sir, please do be careful.”

Henry furrowed his brows. “Always are, mate.”

“No, Henry, I know you are. But Alex is… I just don’t want to see you get hurt, sir.”

He gave his equerry a curt nod. “Thank you Shaan, I shall see you in the morning.” 

Shaan, understanding their conversation was over, gave a short bow, and turned back to his own guest room. Henry pulled his phone out of his pocket, it was still only 10:50, plenty of time. He pulled up his conversation with Emily first.

I think we’re going to be okay after all.

 Short and to the point, he’d tell her the edited version when he saw her next. Pez however…

Mate, much to tell you when I’m back.

 Pez Okonjo [10:51 P.M.]

Hazza you sly dog!

congrats_on_the_sex.gif

Yes well… not quite yet, but he’s invited me up to his room so we shall see.

Pez Okonjo [10:53 P.M.]

keep_your_secrets.gif

Henry rolled his eyes, pocketed his phone and walked up to the East Bedroom. Alex had said 11, but 10:54 was close enough, right? He lifted his hand in a fist, pausing for only a moment, then finally made contact in a series of short knocks. 

The door flew open, and there stood Alex, looking like the epitome of the all-American boy next door. His shirt was still tucked, although not as tightly as before, and his bowtie hung undone on either side of his collar. The first few buttons on his shirt lay open, giving Henry a delectable view of his sharp clavicle and the brown skin that lay atop it. He didn’t look as nervous as Henry surely did, in fact his eyes seemed to rove over Henry’s body with ease. 

“Sorry I’m early.” Henry broke the silence, and hopefully cut the tension a bit.

“Find your way here okay?” 

He nodded. “There was a very helpful Secret Service agent, I think her name was Amy?”

Alex’s nonchalant expression shifted to a genuine grin, and he stepped aside. “Get in here.” 

Before the door even had a chance to fully close, Henry’s lips were on Alex’s. This time, he was controlling the situation. There were no five minute limits, no parties to get back to… they had all night if they really wanted it, and Henry was going to take it slow.

He slid his hands up Alex’s chest to cradle his neck. Anytime Alex sped up, or nipped too hard, Henry slowed them right back down until their mouths moved together sensually, and deliberately. Henry pushed Alex up against the back of the couch that faced away from his bed, making Alex lean up into his kisses as he teased hints of tongue. His nimble fingers went straight for the buttons on Alex’s shirt, unveiling miles of smooth skin stretched over the most ridiculous set of abs he’d ever seen on a political figure. His mouth watered.

Henry’s teasing slowed gradually; he was falling too deeply into the what if territory. Their kisses suddenly too soft, too romantic, too close to what Henry pictured them doing before whispering sweet nothings to each other in bed. “How do you want to do this?” He asked abruptly, trying to break himself out of a fantasy.

Alex had begun unbuttoning Henry as well, his bowtie now hanging around his neck, but he’d only managed to get two buttons undone. “Get on the couch.” 

He sucks in a breath, knees going weak at the dominant tone of Alex’s request, and complies, laying back against the arm of the couch. His eyes go dark as Alex stands over him, he feels the taller man’s eyes scan his body, and when their eyes meet, Henry cocks an eyebrow, inviting him in. 

“You’ve been dodging me for weeks,” Henry’s eyes glaze over as Alex swings a leg over his own, and braces himself against the armrest next to his head. “You went out with a girl.”

He blinks up at Alex, and states what he thinks should be obvious. “I’m gay.” His hands finally reach out to spread across Alex’s body. He looked hungry, ready to take what he could get from Henry, and he hoped he’d finally made it clear enough what he wants from Alex in return. “Not something wise to pursue as a member of the royal family, and I wasn’t sure you weren’t going to murder me for kissing you.” The vulnerability was almost too much for him to bear, but Alex didn’t look angry, or upset, no, he looked intrigued. He looked aroused. He looked like he only had eyes for Henry.

“Then why’d you do it?”

Henry opened his mouth to talk, but then Alex’s lips were on his neck, dragging up and pressing kisses to the sensitive spot behind his ear, the one that drove him crazy, and he hadn’t even had to tell him about it because somehow Alex just knew. His breath hitched, and he very nearly let out an embarrassing noise. “Because I—I hoped you wouldn’t. Murder me.” Alex was distracting. His words were getting jumbled as the blood rushed from his brain straight to his cock. Luckily Alex wasn’t close enough to feel it yet. He thought over what he might say next before opening his mouth, lest he say something entirely incoherent. “I had… suspicious you might want me too.” He must have taken Alex off-guard, or maybe he’d actually meant to bite his neck. Whatever the case, Henry was very much into it. “Or I thought, until I saw you with Nora, and then I was…” oh fuck, word vomit, “jealous… and I was drunk and an idiot who got sick of waiting for the answer to present itself.” 

He could feel the colour rising in his cheeks, an ice bucket of vulnerability and truth slashed through the steamy moment. But Alex was relentless.

“You were jealous. You want me.”

Henry looked up at Alex, the vulnerability suddenly nowhere to be found. They were on the same level, Alex was teasing him, but not for being a jealous imbecile, Alex was turned on but Henry’s possessiveness. A fire burned through him, and suddenly, he couldn’t stand how far apart they were. He hauled Alex down by the hips, his breath hitching as they came together. “Yes, you preening arse, I’ve wanted you long enough that I won’t have you tease me for another fucking second.” Pez would be so proud of Henry calling it back to his slut phase.

He hauls Alex into another bruising kiss, feeling every spot they’re connected, and enjoying it more freely. Their kisses shift from the sweet, slow, sensual thing they had moments earlier to a more animalistic pace. He wasn’t sure what Alex was looking for from their time tonight, sure he’d said he was going to do bad things to him, but was that said in the heat of the moment? When they really got down to it, was Alex going to be okay with the fact that Henry is a man? He knew realistically this could stop at any moment, so he wasn’t taking any chances, he’d get what he could.

Unfortunately for Henry, it had been a while since his last time sharing a bed with a man, and even the heated kisses between the two had him half-hard in his well tailored trousers. Henry knew what he’d been gifted with, he’d heard the remark more than once about it being such a shame he preferred bottoming because of his particularly sizeable gift. Judging by the combination of Alex’s groan, and the heated weight of his own erection grinding down on Henry, he would have a similar mindset. “Fuck.”

Neither were sure who uttered those words, perhaps it was both of them as their kisses grew sloppy, and their hips rutted together until they were simply breathing and groaning into the other’s mouth. With that came the promise of more… Henry had eyed Alex’s partially open shirt when he first got to the room, and now he wanted it off. He snaked his arms down Alex’s body and hurriedly untucked the shirt from his waistband, then with no coordination or finesse, pulled the offending garment over Alex’s head. The miles of gorgeous skin above him makes his mouth water with want, and quickly, Henry is fumbling with his own buttons and yanking his—now wrinkled—pressed shirt off of himself. He wants nothing more than to be chest to chest with Alex with no barriers between them, but Alex seems too in his own world to continue what they were doing. The removal of shirts seemed like a definite answer of where the night was going for Henry, and he was quite certain Alex was on the same page as he was, so his first order of business as the leader of what he was sure was Alex’s first gay hookup, was to make them both more comfortable.

“Hang on,” He pressed his finger to Alex’s lips, effectively shutting him up as he tried to lean in. Brat, Henry thought, knowing he had a million ways he could take Alex apart, break him, then hold him as he pulled himself back together. “I want—” he sucked in a breath, inwardly cringing at how terribly depraved his own internal monologue had gotten. “I want you on the bed.” His chin lowers so he can stare at Alex through his lashes as he cocks an eyebrow suggestively. 

Henry catches what seems to be a slight moment of realization for Alex as he grinds down one more time, a low whine nearly escaping. “Well, come on, Your Highness.” His smile was beautiful as he stood, offering his hand out to pull Henry up. 

He mirrors Alex’s smile, muttering under his breath as he follows him to the large, inviting looking bed. He can feel Alex’s eyes on him as he hesitates off the edge of it, taking the time to unlace his shoes and chuck off his socks. The whole night had been like this, heated moments followed by hesitant, almost timid breathers. Henry knew he had a streak of dominance in him, and he’d never admit it to Alex, but every time he’d called him Your Highness, it sent a rush of blood straight to his cock. But this… this moment was one he’d been waiting for for as long as he could remember. The panic he felt at the Rio Olympics when they’d first met, the way he had to brace himself before welcoming him at Philip’s wedding… this moment was big. Henry had always been unwaveringly drawn to Alex, attracted, entranced, enamoured, annoyed… he was a moth and Alex was the flame. And now that he had him, he wasn’t sure he could ever let him go.

“Quit stalling.” 

Henry drew his attention back to the object of his attraction, sprawled enticingly on the bed. He looked comfortable—of course he was comfortable it was his own bed—but more than just physically, he looked confident in the position he’d put himself in tonight with Henry. Any indication that Henry would be another straight boy’s experiment went out the window with the sultry look in Alex’s eyes, the way he’d watched Henry undress, it was heated with desire.

“Bossy.” Henry teased, and finally joined him on the bed. There was a lot more room here than there was on the couch, and Henry used that to his advantage, pushing Alex back against his pillows and settling himself over the other man. His mouth watered as he drew one of his hands up Alex’s stomach, feeling his muscles contract under him. Henry thumbed the piece of jewelry he wore around his neck, a shiny silver key.

“What’s this?”

“The key to my mom’s house in Texas,” Henry didn’t mean to stall, but he could tell Alex was impatient, and he was too much fun to tease. “I started wearing it when I moved here, I guess I thought it would remind me of where I came from or something—did I or did I not tell you to quit stalling?”

Oh so he really wants it. Henry thought to himself, letting out a low chuckle. When Alex pulls him into another kiss, he couldn’t help himself from finally pressing him into the sheets, letting their whole bodies connect in a way that lit him up from the inside. He groaned into Alex’s mouth as he felt him slide a hand up to his waist, holding him so reverently, more reverently than what this tryst called for. The whimper that escapes his throat as Alex moves away from his lips to bite down on the sensitive skin of his neck is not at all voluntary, and he knows he’d be shooting Alex an angry text the next morning when the hickey is more visible. But despite that, longing and need shoot through him, and finally, he starts to unbutton Alex’s trousers.

He can feel Alex’s whine of protest as Henry pulls away, but then he’s yanking the rest of his clothing down, and Alex lay mostly naked beneath. Done with convincing himself he can be cool about this, Henry allows himself a look at the beautiful boy beneath him. Alex was all smooth bronzed skin, with smatterings of dark hair that he just wanted to breathe in. The way his waist was trim, his stomach tightening in anticipation, the prominent V of his hips leading to the most gorgeous cock Henry had the pleasure of seeing up close and in person. Thick, and hard, and wet… Henry was done with waiting.

Without taking his eyes off Alex, Henry spit delicately into his hand, and brought it to touch Alex. He was velvety and smooth in his hand, and Alex was responding to him beautifully.

“Oh my fucking God.” Henry smirked, knowing deep down this was just the tip of the iceberg. “Fuck,” wordlessly, he worked alongside Henry, rutting his hips up into his hand as Henry twisted his wrist at the base of Alex’s cock, thumbing under the head on the upstroke. Alex’s blissed out babble went straight to Henry’s own cock, his eyes darkened as he imagined this is what Alex would look like writhing under him as he rode him into the mattress. 

“Do you ever stop talking?” Henry tutted. “Such a mouth on you.” He cocked his head, smiling as Alex’s hips stilled, but Henry’s hand didn’t. A roll of satisfaction flooded over him at how Alex was now speechless. He opened his mouth to continue, but…

“Wait.” Alex’s fists were clenched in the sheets, a look of distress crossing his features. They weren’t doing anything heavy, and he didn’t think a simple hand job would require safe words, but maybe Henry should have gone over the stoplight system with him just in case… He stopped his movements, hand still gripping the base of Alex’s cock. “I mean, yes, obviously, oh my God, but, like, if you keep doing that I’m gonna—” Oh! “It’s, that’s just—that’s not allowed before I get to see you naked.”

Good catch. 

Henry contemplates bringing his hand up to lick away some of the precum that had dripped onto his fingers, but he didn’t want to push Alex over the edge just yet. “All right.” 

With a jolt of surprise, Henry is being shoved onto his back by Alex, who, in one motion, managed to push both their pants off fully, and climb back up to meet him. It was different with no barriers, he was quite literally laid out body and soul for Alex’s viewing pleasure. And for the first time since his early uni days, before his Oxford slut era, Henry felt vulnerable.

He could feel Alex’s eyes on every inch of him, and he couldn’t hide the smugness in his expression as their eyes met. Alex looked wrecked. His body was taut with anticipation, clearly a little unsure of where to go, but desperately wanting to touch. Henry pulled him down atop him again, groaning as their cocks brushed finally. Alex’s lips start again on Henry’s neck, and he had half a mind to tell him not to leave any marks, but they didn’t stay there for long. No, Henry glanced down his body to find Alex, the man who’d been haunting his dreams for the past five years, kissing his way down his body. He felt his cock jump in anticipation, knowing he didn’t expect Alex to attempt to use his mouth, but my God did he ever want him to try… 

“I’ve uh, I’ve never actually done this before.”

“Alex,” Henry starts, brushing the curly locks back off his face, “you don’t have to, I’m—“

“No, I want to. I just need you to tell me if it’s awful.”

Henry’s mouth went dry. In all the times he’d pictured himself with Alex, he never pictured him to be shy. Even tonight, he’d been forward, and aggressive until now. But under all the nervousness, he looked eager, and who was Henry to deny him. “Okay. Of course.” 

The responding smile Alex gives him makes his insides twist with fondness. Henry would have been okay with just making out lazily in Alex’s bed after getting him off, he really didn’t expect any of this to go as far as it had. But here he was, in Alex’s bed, watching him excitedly touch Henry for the first time.

The first touch of Alex’s hand to his cock lit him up inside. His breath hitched, and the sound of it made Alex’s smile harden into something more devious. Henry could tell he was trying to replicate what he’d done earlier; it was a little dry, and his grip not quite tight enough for Henry’s liking, but there was no doubt Alex was enjoying himself. Finally, after what felt like forever, Alex kissed the tip of his cock. 

“That’s it, love.” Henry encouraged him, his voice sounding broken, as Alex parted his lips and took him in his mouth. The velvety heat had Henry shuddering, his hand fell atop Alex’s, holding on for dear life as he took him as deep as he could. “Breathe through your nose, I promise it gets easier.” He chuckled, understanding the familiar invasive feeling. 

Alex pulled off, his eyes watering slightly. “Oh yeah? Suck a lot of dicks Your Highness?”

Henry spluttered. “A man doesn’t kiss and tell, but I’ve enough experience to know how to do it well. Now, I seem to remember you putting that mouth of yours to good use?” 

Alex ducked his head, a breathy laugh hitting the soft hairs on Henry’s upper thighs. He went back to work, gaining confidence with every bob of his head, taking encouragement from Henry. A feeling of bliss washed over Henry, and he groans when Alex’s tongue hits a particularly sensitive spot on the underside of his cock. He looks down, biting his lip, and threads his fingers through Alex’s dark hair, prompting him to look up. That single look nearly tipped Henry over the edge, “fucking eyelashes” he mutters, throwing his head back, and tightening the grip on Alex’s hair. A groan reverberates from the man below, and Henry chuckles. “Yeah, you like that? Having your hair pulled?” He assumed the answer was yes from the way Alex’s responding whine came from deep in his throat. The vibrations from his groans had Henry’s hips grinding against the mattress, it was all too much and not enough simultaneously. “Jesus Christ, Alex, I’m close.” He whined, shifting so he could throw a leg over Alex’s shoulder. His breathing became erratic, he knew he probably looked like a mess, but he didn’t care, and after only a second of Alex gently cradling his balls, Henry was coming down Alex’s throat with a breathy laugh.

He wasted no time, dragging Alex back up his body, and kissing him deeply. The taste of himself on Alex’s lips was something he’d never forget, erotic and messy and perverse. 

“Not awful?”

He laughs, high and airy. “Definitely adequate.” More than, he thinks, but he’d never let that get to Alex’s head. 

Henry brings his lips back to Alex’s, needing to feel close again so quickly after coming. He hooks his arms around Alex’s neck, bringing him down for a sloppy kiss only to discover that Alex was still hard. His erection hadn’t flagged, and Henry was sure Alex was as desperate for an orgasm as he had been. Hooking his leg over Alex’s hip, he flipped them, a shocked “Oof” leaving Alex’s lips as his back hit the mattress. Much like he’d felt Alex do earlier, Henry kissed his way down Alex’s body, paying special attention to the swells of his pecs, his belly button, and the crease of his hip. “Take what you need, love.” He says, meeting Alex’s eyes, before taking him between his lips, and down to the hilt.

Something he’d hoped Alex would appreciate, was that Henry was a world class cocksucker. He’d had countless men from various parts of the globe during his time at Oxford, on a few occasions, more than one at a time, and if there was one thing Henry excelled at, it was blow jobs. He’d long since trained away his gag reflex in the dormitories of Eton, he knew just the right touch and was able to tailor it to the man he was with. 

In no time at all, Alex was writhing beneath him. “Sweetheart.” He’d groaned, as Henry guided Alex’s hand to his own blond hair. He pulled out all the stops, changing up his rhythm, pulling off to kiss his way down the shaft and over his balls, flicking his tongue just under the head… with Alex was a babbling mess underneath him, and Henry’s heart swelled with pride. 

He could tell Alex was close, he’d already been close earlier when Henry used his hand on him, and now after the rest of the night had progressed, he definitely wouldn’t last long. For his final trick, he breathed in deep and took Alex into his throat, glancing up at him through his eyelashes as his nose hit his pubic bone. “Motherfucker.” Henry swallowed around his cock, spurring Alex’s hold on his har to tighten painfully. “Dios mio,” his breath was ragged, “I’m so fucking close Hen, I’m gonna—” Henry cupped his balls and rubbed the tips of his fingers against his perineum in a ‘come hither’ motion, and Alex was suddenly spilling down his throat. 

He pulled away from Alex’s cock, pressing a sticky kiss to the crease of his thigh, and moved back up his body. Henry was definitely a cuddler, he’d had enough one off hookups to know that not everyone wanted that, but when he was feeling floaty with the rush of post-sex hormones, he really just wanted to be close to someone. He nuzzled his nose in Alex’s neck, not wanting this feeling to end, when Alex wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in close. He could hear the other man’s heart thrumming in his chest, strong and fast, and he smiled in content, still in disbelief of where he was and who he was with. The silence dragged on comfortably, neither man wanting to move, but Henry knew he needed to assess the situation, see where Alex’s head was at. He lifted his own head, seeing Alex’s face peering down at him with a soft expression, and moved back up so they were eye to eye.

“Hmm,” Henry started, eyes shifting between Alex’s and his lips. “If I had known this was all it took to shut you up, I’d have done it ages ago.” His voice was low and gravelly, a byproduct of giving head. He always thought it was sexy on other men, and hoped Alex would think so too.

“Fuck you.” 

Henry chuckled lowly, smiling as his lips met Alex’s in a lazy kiss. It was too wet, uncoordinated and totally messy, and it was an absolutely perfect way to end their first experience wrapped up in each other’s bodies. Henry pulled away from the kiss, hoping Alex would follow him over, but he’d stayed on his back, staring at the ceiling, and the panic hit. Fuck. I just had sex with a straight man. I was some weird gay experiment, and now that he’s tried it, he’ll never want to see me again. I’ve just ruined our friendship, you can’t be friends with someone who’s had your dick in their mouth. Or… even worse… what if we do stay friends but never do this again? I don’t think I can get the look of his face, taste of his lips, feel of his touch out of my head… we can never go back.

  “Hey,” he feels a sharp poke to his bicep. “Don’t freak out.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “I’m not freaking out.” He was.

From beside him, Henry could feel Alex scoot a touch closer. “It was fun. I had fun, you had fun, right?”

Fun, understatement of the century. “Definitely.” He replies, in a cool, blissed out way, closing his eyes and wiggling further into Alex’s downy mattress.

“And you know this doesn’t, like, change anything between us, right?” Henry’s eyes shot open. “We’re still… whatever we were before, just, you know. With blowjobs.” Whatever they were before was entirely open to interpretation. Sure, they were friends, maybe even best friends, but Henry had definitely been flirting quite openly, and after the events of tonight, he was fairly positive Alex had been too, even if he wasn’t entirely aware of it. Henry was sure Alex was talking a friends with benefits situation, not exactly top of the ‘Intelligent ways to continue a friendly relationship with your lifelong crush after having sex with them’ list. He’d never been in that kind of relationship, but he knew for sure they never end well. But on the other hand, disagreeing to it would mean never getting to see Alex like this again, and possibly having to confess the whole damn way, so… maybe it was the safest option.

“Right.” He drags a hand down his face, knowing he’d just hammered the final nail in his own coffin. Here lies His Royal Highness Henry George Edward James Fox Mountchristen-Windsor, died as he lived, a gay, horny disaster. R.I.P.

  “So, I guess I should tell you, I’m bisexual.”

Henry’s mind hit the brakes entirely. Bisexual, OH. This was a coming out. They’d never really gotten into each other’s sexualities, Henry figured Alex knew he was gay from their New Years kiss, but Henry had always assumed Alex was straight, had he not always been straight…

He turned onto his side again, facing Alex. Alex’s head was turned, watching Henry, almost too intimately. “Good to know,” he allowed himself to rove his eyes over Alex’s body, taking him in again now that they were both blissfully sated. “I am very, very gay.” He smiles, feeling a little silly saying it again after he’d basically hurled it at Alex earlier in the heat of the moment. Alex’s responding chuckle sent a thrill down his spine, his insides turned to goop as the moment grew softer and more intimate. He couldn’t help himself from closing the distance between them and bringing Alex into another, too tender kiss. 

“Hey,” Henry’s eyes were still closed as Alex pulled back a hair, his breath still fanning over his lips. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I should warn you it’s probably in both of our best interests if you go back to your room before morning. Unless you want the PPOs to lock the Residence down and come requisition you from my boudoir.”

“Ah.” He pulled away, resting on his back once more. He knew this too intimate night would have to end, but the longer he stayed wrapped up in Alex, the less he wanted to leave. “You’re right.” 

“You can stay for another round if you want to.” Henry nearly chokes as Alex offers this up. Desperately, against his best interest, he wants to say yes, wants to pin Alex down and straddle him, ride him until dawn with Alex’s huge hands leaving bruises on his thighs, his hips, his asscheeks… But one of them had to be the practical one now, and unfortunately, Alex was right about his PPOs probably locking this place down, despite Shaan knowing exactly where he was, who he was with, and what (who) he was doing. 

“I rather think I’d—I’d better get back to my room.” With a shuddering breath, Henry rises from the bed. He could feel Alex’s eyes watch him move around the bed, collecting his clothes from where they were strewn around, pulling them on haphazardly. Alex eventually followed, and of course Henry watched his shoulder blades ripple the skin of his back as he pulled on a pair of grey sweat shorts, with nothing on underneath. His mouth watered as the man turned around; he needed a deep breath to compose himself and remind himself why he knew he had to leave. 

Henry made his way to the door, feeling Alex hover closely behind him. He’d usually been great at leaving after a clandestine hookup, zero attachment, a quick nod from the door, and he was on his merry way. But this wasn’t any normal hookup, this was Alex. “Well, er…”

Alex looked smug as he rolled his eyes, trapping Henry against the door. “For fuck’s sake, man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me goodnight.” 

Could he? Could casual intimacy be part of their arrangement? He thought about all the friends-to-lovers tropes he’d read that started the exact same way, and let out a full belly laugh.  Henry presses a sweet kiss to Alex’s lips, lingering only for a second too long, before he was out the door.

Perhaps he could make this work.

[javelinbk]

Spend a shitload of money this Christmas, and you too could have all the men in your life dress like the Beatles…

[oldcountrybear1955]

Eton Shirts - Alberto Perazzolo

[pentopaper23]

One-shots about Anthony attending school events for his siblings.

CHAPTER ONE: Benedict - Chopin’s - Nocturne No. 20 in C# Minor

2003

Late was something that Anthony hated being, but here he was running down a school hallway with Hyacinth on one arm and Gregory resting on his opposite hip. Daphne and Eloise were running beside him, and Colin had Francesca tucked under his arm. Not one of them was fully dressed, Hyacinth had lost her baby socks somewhere in the carpark, Colins was in half of his school uniform; shirt untucked and tie missing, Daphne and Fran were still in their school uniforms and Gregory was in some kind of children’s dress up costume. Anthony himself was still in what the children called his ‘work clothes’, a pair of slacks and a button-down shirt that he should have changed before rushing out the door this afternoon and he had a baby bag slung over his shoulder.

They had been late leaving Kent after lunch to make it to Benedict’s piano recital on time at Eton. Anthony has business in London and meetings with his lawyers, so he decided to pull the children out of school and make a weekend of it. Between finishing his morning work, picking up the girls and readying the babies they left Kent at the unacceptable time of 4:30pm for Benedict’s performance at 6pm.

Cutting it fine was an understatement when Colin met them in the carpark at 5:40, underdressed for a boy who lived where they were visiting.

“I see you dressed up,” Anthony had snipped as he struggled to open the buckle of Gregory’s car seat.

“It’s after hours,” Colin has replied moving around to help the other children out of the car.

Using his fading memory of the school lay out Anthony rushed through the semi familiar halls of Eton Collage his sibling trailing after him like ducklings. He checked his watch when the concert hall doors come into view, 5:50pm. Swinging the doors open with a bang several heads turned to look at him with disapproving eyes, but the looks faded when they saw it was the Viscount and his family. Quickly they moved down the middle aisle under the watchful eyes of the parents and families and settled into their seats in the front row. Colin said he would be right back and would let Benedict know they where here and he slipped away though some curtains to the back of the stage. Anthony got the children settled, Daphne and Fran were happily chatting and El was flicking through a program that he hadn’t realised she had grabbed on the way in. Hyacinth was contently resting her little head against his shoulder and Gregory was sitting on his lap looking around the grand room excitedly.

“Ben!” El yelled waving her hands towards the stage, the siblings all looked in the direction that she was waving and saw Colin and Benedict sticking their heads around wings of the stage. They both gave a small wave and Anthony smiled at his brother. With a pat on Benedict’s shoulder Colin disappeared from view and emerged back out on the side of the stage and walked back to his seat. He reached out his arms for Gregory who Anthony was struggling to keep a hold off ever since the little boy had seen Benedict.

“Pass the devil here” he said gesturing to his baby brother. With practiced movements the siblings passed the toddler down the line and Daphne handed him to Colin who placed him on his lap facing the stage.

“Which one did he pick El,” Anthony asked nodding at the program she was still reading. Eloise squinted at the page and soundless sounded out the letters before speaking.

“Chopin - Nocturne No. 20 in C# Minor” El said showing the program to Anthony who sighed in relief. For the last few weeks, he had been gifted late night calls from Benedict in various states of panic over his choice of song. Each one he had played over the phone has been note perfect but nothing he had said had seemed to calm the boy.

The lights of the hall flicker announcing the start of the concert and several people rushed to their seats before the MC graced the stage.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My Lord,” he said bowing to Anthony when he noticed him sitting the in the front row. Anthony simply nodded his head in acknowledgement and moved Hyacinth, who had fallen asleep to his other shoulder.

“I am very happy to welcome you to Eton College’s Music and Drama department’s exhibition night. We have a full night planned for this evening so please if I could drag your attention to the stage, please welcome grade 4 music class with a “Ba Ba Black sheep” played on the recorder”. A small group of boys were ushered onto the stage by a male teacher and what came next was 10mins of pure hell. Not one of them poor lads played a note in time or on key and many of the parents surrounding him were trying and mostly failing to hide their smiles and laughs. To his siblings credit not one of them broke and he put it down to all of them being used to each other bad singing or failed hobbies that nothing relating to lack of musical talent shocked them anymore. Over the next three hours Anthony excused himself a few times to change Hyacinth and Gregory and each time he felt the stares of the other parents.

He was not the only man of nobility to have children enrolled in the school, far from it really. There are children of barons, other viscounts, a duke or two and not the mention the crown prince that has just started in Colin’s year. But he was one of the very few that rarely missed a school event; sports days, music events like tonight, parent teacher conferences and a smattering of other events that parents would normally attend. Whispers still followed him whenever he attended an event in place of his parents.

“Did you hear? Yes, both of them now, such a sad future for them.”

“I hear he is struggling. My husband does business with the estate, and he is pushing meeting left right and centre. I give it a year.”

He had gotten good at ignoring the voices and concentrating on his siblings and the little smiles and waves that were gifted to him when they noticed him sitting the crowd at their events.

He kept an eagle ear on the program in El’s and could see that Benedict was one of the last to preform that night. The MC introduced a 10th grader that recited a Shakespeare sonnet that would rival any that were being preformed at the National theatre and a boy that played the classical guitar effortless with fingers flying over the strings. Anthony was glad when Benedict was called to the stage, Hyacinth and the other younger siblings were starting to get restless having been seated for almost three hours and he could feel a tantrum coming from Eloise after he told her that no she couldn’t go and find the library.

“Please give a round of applause for Mr Benedict Bridgerton, who will be preforming Chopin’s  - Nocturne No. 20 in C# Minor,” the MC said and Benedict walked somewhat shyly onto the stage his eyes searching the darkness for his family. When his eyes locked with Anthony he smiled and gave a small wave and Anthony locked away the memory with the others his siblings had gifted him. Anthony’s nerves kicked in when Benedict sat down at the piano. He always felt like this when watching his siblings do something in public; not for him but for them, he wanted them to succeed in everything they did and watching them fail was heart-breaking to him. He held his breath as Benedict played the first few notes and he left it out when he saw that Benedict had gotten into the zone and his fingers were flying across the keys with learnt and practiced precision. The song came to a close and Benedict turned to the crowd and like they always did Anthony and his sibling jumped to their feet clapping and cheering. Anthony who was still holding Hyacinth and couldn’t clap put his fingers between his lips and let out a loud wolf whistle not caring if it drew disapproving looks from some of the other people around him. His siblings on the other hand were loudly cheering and clapping; Colin had raised Gregory in the air and the toddler was clapping with all his little might. Benedict looked a little embarrassed but took a bow and shook his head at his family antics and left the stage.

“He’s gonna hate us” Colin laughed in a sing song voice trying to wrangle a now over excited Gregory back into his lap and Anthony laughed, he probably would, but the next event they attend he would get pay back on his siblings.

Slowly the night came to a close and the MC thanked everyone for attending and people started to exit the hall. Several people came up and spoke to Anthony about business, these he brushed off and told them to call the Estate in the coming week and several more passed on their praise for Ben’s performance and cooed at Hyacinth who stared back at them with wide eyes and a gummy smile.

“Wait a second girls!” Anthony yelled to his sisters who made to run towards large crowd that was streaming towards the exit, “We need to collect Benedict for the weekend. Here Daph take Hyacinth, I need to run backstage. Colin you’re in charge.” He said before ducking through the curtains and backstage.

He spotted Benedict talking with some of his friends and noticed how happy the young boy looked when he threw his head back and laugh along with the other boys. He had grown in the last year and was resembling their father more then every before. His long chestnut hair was falling into his eyes, and he brushed it away. It was this action that reminded Anthony that he needs to have it cut over the coming break and filed it away in his mental calendar.

“My Lord?” A voice said from behind him, and he turned to find Benedict’s music teacher Mr James standing here. Anthony reached his hand out to shake the mans.

“Mr James, pleasure. He was good tonight.” Anthony said looking back at Benedict who was yet to notice him and was still laughing and fooling around with his friends.

“He is very gifted, one of my best. I was actually hoping we could talk about something.” Mr James said nodding his head to a quite corner.

“Of course, is there something wrong with his work?” Anthony asked trying to remember if he had received any mail or calls about Benedict in the last few months.

“Nothing of the sort, as I said he is one of my best students. It regarding to an advanced music course taking place in Paris over the summer break and I was hoping that Benedict would be interested in taking part. I mentioned it to him, but he seemed apprehensive about travelling and mentioned that he would be needed at home. I understand my Lord that this last year has been difficult, but I really feel that it would be very beneficial for him.” Mr James said trying to be as sensitive at possible.

“Um…of course. I will speak to him about it thank you for bringing it to my attention.” Anthony said looking back over at Benedict who was no looking at them with worry on his face. Mr James nodded and left to speak to some other parents and Benedict walked over looking more worried than before.

“What did Mr James want?” Benedict asked before Anthony was even able to greet him.

“We’ll talk about it later. You did so well!” Anthony said pulling Benedict into a deep tight hug. Benedict returned it burying his face into his brother’s chest and taking a deep breath.

“I missed a couple of notes in the middle,” He mumbled into his brother’s shirt causing Anthony to tighten his hold on him. “I was perfect Ben, no one but you noticed.” Anthony said pushing Benedict away so that he could look at the young boy, “I promise.” Benedict nodded and gave Anthony another hug.

“I need to get back out there I left Colin in charge of the troops. I fear he will be overrun if I leave them for too long. Have you packed your bag for the weekend?” Anthony asked fixing the collar of Benedict’s dress shirt. Benedict nodded, “Yep, I just need to go and change, and I will meet you at the car. I’ll be ten minutes.” He said before running off towards the dorms.

Colin was indeed overrun by the time Anthony got back to the main hall; Gregory was hanging off his pant leg while he balanced Hyacinth in one arm while holding the back of Eloise's jumper to stop her from running away.

Anthony scooped up Gregory and placed him on his hip, picked up the baby bag and hung it over his shoulder, “All good? Where are Daph and Fran?” he asked Colin looking around for their missing sisters. “They ran to the bathroom. It’s just outside the door I told them to wait for us there” he replied letting go of Eliseo’s jumper and taking her hand. They were stopped several times by parents remarking on Benedict’s performance and only made there escape when Hyacinth started to fuss, “It’s well passed her bedtime” Anthony had joked when one mothers looked at him with a hint of pity in her eyes. Daphne and Francesca where right where Colin said they would be, waiting by the woman’s bathroom door playing a hand clap game and laughing to each other.

“Take Greg’s hand Daphne please,’ Anthony said passing the little boy over his sister. With his extra free hand, he was able to open and search through the baby bag for the insulated bag that held Hyacinth’s warm bottles of milk. Walking and feeding had become a necessary skill he had perfected in the last year, and he was please to say he could balance Hyacinth, feed her, talk on the phone and pace the study if he needed to.

Benedict, like his sisters, was also where he said he would be. He was leaning against the car in a fresh set of clothes with an overnight bag at his feet. He smiled and squatted down as Gregory took off towards him as fast as his little legs could carry him, their sisters rushing after him. Anthony would have yelled out, “Don’t run in a carpark!” if he felt it would do anything. Benedict was bowled over by his siblings and they all tumbled to the ground in sounds of happy laugher. “My little menaces!” Anthony heard his brother shout from under the pile of little limbs on top of him.

“All right! Get off the ground and in the car please!” Anthony shouted as he gently pulled the bottle away from Hyacinth’s lips and burped her before placing her in the car seat and buckling her in tight and safe; he tucked the baby bag under the front seat making sure it wouldn’t move but was still within reach if it was needed. Benedict had climbed in and was in the process of trying to buckle in Gregory who seemed to have turned to a snake and was fighting his way back out of the car. With quick thinking Anthony shut the back door trapping the little by inside, at least he couldn’t escape he thought to himself as he heard the little boys angry yells from inside the car and saw his little face looking at him from the window as if expecting him to save him from Benedict. He went around to the back of the car where is sisters were waiting patiently and helped them all climb into the third row

The car ride to London was quiet, Gregory and Hyacinth had fallen asleep almost instantly in the middle row with Benedict dosing in-between them. After his mother died Anthony had attended some parenting classes with Hyacinth and was forever traumatised by stories about baby car seats being stuck in the third row after accidents. Even since then one of the older boys was always seated in the middle row with the babies and Fran, Daphne and El were exiled to the third row, where they were now sitting quietly with the light on reading and finishing homework. Colin was sitting next to him in the front with a journal resting on his lap as she wrote quickly across the pages. What had started as a grief journal that a child counsellor had recommend after the death of their parents has turned into a daily release for the young boy and Colin was routinely asking for extra money for stationary and new journals when he filled his old one. Anthony never asked what the boy was writing in them but from the drivers he could glance over and catch random words like he and his siblings names, things about school and London all written out in Colin’s annoyingly neat handwriting.

By the time they reached the outskirts of London, Anthony was the only one awake in the car, the radio had been turned down to a soft hum and he was contently steering the car through the familiar streets of his childhood. He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other was resting on the open window that was letting in cool summer air. The streets were empty, and the streetlamps were casting a soft orange glow over the landscape.

Turning the car into the tree lined Grosvenor Square the family Bridgerton House loomed at the end of the street. Still covered in purple wisteria the house looked untouched as if frozen in time. There were lights on inside indicating that the staff where still awake and waiting to greet the family. They hadn’t been here since the death of their parents; Anthony preferred the stay in a hotel that was close to his office if he ever needed to stay in London as the other children has shown little to no interest in visiting. So, it had stayed locked up, the gardens were kept in order and the inside looked over by the gardeners when they visited. But it was unlived in and empty. Until last week his parents’ bedroom was still untouched; their clothes still hanging in the wardrobe and shoes still tucked just inside their bedroom door. Family pictures had still hung on the walls, smiling faces looking back at all those who visited.

But not anymore, the pictures had been taken down and their parents room locked and sealed away. He wasn’t sure how his siblings would react to being back at the house and he was hoping that with less reminders of what had been, that it would be easier for them to settle in for the night. Staff from the estate had travelled in that morning to make ready the house, bedrooms had been aired out and bedsheets changed; the kitchen was reopened by their cook Mr Datson and Mrs Wilson had overseen the reopening and cleaning of the property.

Putting the car into park Anthony sat and stared at the house and took a deep breath. He could feel tears welling in his eyes and hastily wiped them before his siblings could wake up and see them. But he wasn’t quick enough and felt Benedict’s hand on his shoulder giving a comforting squeeze. He reached back and placed his hand over his brothers and gave it a tight squeeze back and mentally readied himself to leave the car.

[greatcombinations]

[aloysiavirgata]

Scully comes out to Mulder as bisexual he responds by also coming out as bisexual

They’re kicked back in Adirondacks by the fire circle, the logs popping and sparking when the flames lick dried sap. The air is just crisp enough to make the heat cozy. Scully brought home cider donuts from the farm stand along her commute, which they wash down with a pitcher of sangria. A cinnamon-sugar crust coats her lips.

It’s been two minutes since he asked her and she hasn’t answered.

“So?” he prods, nudging her foot with his. “It’s been long enough all the sin’s gone out of it, Dana Katherine. Fess up, did you experiment some in college? I’ll absolve you if you did.”

He puts the lewdest possible edge on “experiment” so that she can’t in good faith make a quip about organic chemistry or the effects of acetylcholine on Rana pipiens.

Scully flops her head back against the heavy wooden chair; who cares at this point? The meanest nuns are dead. “Yeah,” she says. “I did.”

She turns to him for a reaction

His eyebrows are up, but he looks genuinely interested rather than smirking. “Oh? Do tell.”

She stares up at the rising column of smoke, tracks it to Polaris. Tracks it decades back. “This girl, Elizabeth. Roommate’s boyfriend’s sister. We…um. We all went out to a bar one night while she was visiting.”

Scully leans into the memory. Calgon and ski sweaters and Aqua Net. Layered bangs, Jordache jeans. Liz’s rum and Coke.

Liz’s hazel eyes, Liz’s blue mascara.

“Anyway. We all had a lot to drink and Claire - that was my roommate - Claire and Elizabeth’s brother were making out in his Cutlass Ciera.”

Liz’s mouth like a taut August plum, the taste of her frosted Revlon lips…

“There was this couch in the back of the bar, some coffee tables, you know the feeling. Anyway, Liz pulled me over. We’d been dancing some, Fleetwood Mac I think, and she kissed me. I was shocked, good Catholic girl that I was. But I was three shots in, and it was college, you know? We settled on the couch, kind of drunk I guess….”

She swallows hard, looks at Mulder. “Is this weird? It seems kind of weird.”

He shakes his head, eyes bright in the flames. “Go on.”

“We were kissing, mostly. She touched my breasts through my shirt, slipped her hands down my jeans but not my underwear. It was pretty innocent, I don’t know. I didn’t see her again after that but it definitely changed my perspective some. I began noticing if I found a woman attractive. Got at least a bit more comfortable with the idea, anyway. Stopped telling myself I just liked her hair or her outfit.”

She hears his breathing thicken. Just a little, but it’s there.

“And never after?” he asks.

Scully wonders what else he isn’t asking her. Wonders what it must be like to be young now. She shakes her head, takes a pull of sangria. Chews a chunk of macerated pineapple.

“No,” she says. “I came close a couple of times, but no.”

She wishes she had a cigarette or a joint. Something to do with her hands and her mouth even after so many years. And even after so many years she doesn’t tell him about what she thought of Esther Nairn, about whether she wanted to kill Diana or be Diana or fuck Diana.

They watch the fire for a time. Hear it crackle, gaze into a vast and endless sky. There are old gods there, older than hers. She knows that now. She embraces it.

“What about you?” Scully asks. “All those posh Eton boys at Oxford, surely one struck your fancy.”

She doesn’t really expect anything of it, but she asks to make him confirm or deny. To deflect. It’s how she’s been trained. And she’s endlessly intrigued by his formative years, her well-bred, prep-school lover. They’d practically invented sodomy, hadn’t they?

Mulder makes a soft, throaty noise. Grabs a donut and takes a huge bite.

She turns to him. “Oh my god,” she says. “Did you sleep with Alex Krycek?” Where had THAT come from?

He coughs donut crumbs everywhere. “Scully!”

She clamps on to it. “Did you?”

His turn for the sangria now, blushing. Blushing! Fox Mulder, did you really? she thinks, oddly turned on.

Mulder clears his throat. “He kissed me, but no. He kissed me twice, actually. But no, I didn’t…” he trails off, shaking his head.

“Did you like it?” she asks, her voice sex and sandpaper. Arousing herself further, Jesus.

“Yes,” he says. Holds her stare. Runs his tongue over the lips she’s kissed so many times. That Alex Krycek and Diana Fowley had kissed. The sting is gone, only the fascination left.

All the sin’s gone out of it, he’d said. Yes, it had. Over fifty, of course it had.

“But it wasn’t your first time.” A little breathless, that.

“No.” Licks his lips again. “You guessed right, Agent Scullly, brava. This guy, at uni…we. We didn’t sleep together, but we’d. You know. Touch.”

Agent Scully.

The father of her child looks unimaginably shy. “Ourselves. Each other.”

She knows about Phoebe, all the details. She knows about the cemetery and the gothic drama and the kind of sex that feels like a revelation instead of a mind game.

He knows about Daniel. She sees the child she was then, has long since forgiven the silly girl.

But this is different and, in her mind, sweet. Two boys, lonely, away from home. She hopes they were comforted. Happy.

“Did you…keep up with him?”

Mulder shakes his head, mouth a little swollen in the primal orange glow. “It only lasted a term before he graduated. Never spoke after that. Phoebe, you know. Other women.”

“Alex.”

He grins at her. “You have to admit he was awfully pretty, especially for a complete piece of shit.”

Scully laughs. “That he was.”

She reaches for his fingers in the dark.

In the light.

[masterhallmark]

I'm really sick of the "Pirates are Lost Boys who grew up and escaped Pan" theory

1) The book is a children's story, not a horror novel.

2) The idea Peter kills boys who grow up is based on one throwaway line that says he "thins them out" if there are too many, which can mean several different things.

3) HOOK WAS A PIRATE WITH A CREW BEFORE LANDING IN NEVERLAND! He literally has a backstory in the book and several speeches J.M. Barrie gave about going to Eton, running away, and becoming a pirate. The crew arrived in Neverland AS IS.

4) The book mentions Peter will travel with the souls of dying kids halfway to the afterlife so they aren't scared. He also desperately begs children to save Tinkerbell, tries to sacrifice himself for Wendy, saves Tiger Lilly while commenting that the pirates were being unfair when capturing her, even tries to help Hook regain his footing during a fight, and saves the Neverbird's eggs from being destroyed. Does that sound like a psychopath to you?

5) The ONLY TIME we see Peter try to kill a Lost Boy is when he mistakenly thinks said Lost Boy killed Wendy, and said Lost Boy told Peter to kill him. Once it turns out Wendy is alive, not only is the boy forgiven, but the only punishment Tinkerbell (the actual culprit) gets is banishment.

The entire purpose of the book is to contrast the innocence of youth with the responsibilities of adulthood. The negative traits Peter has are meant to show the dangers of refusing to grow up, while Hook is meant to show the dangers of growing up TOO much. Hook OBSESSES over good form and acting proper to the point he almost FAINTS when Wendy sees a stain on his shirt.

Also, the entire book "Peter and Wendy" and every other variation of the story JM Barrie wrote is FREE on the internet. Anyone can read it RIGHT HERE http://neverpedia.com/pan/Read:Peter_and_Wendy

There is no good reason for this misinformation spreading. It is easily available.

Passages from the book under cut, since last time I posted something like this someone tried to argue with me

At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back into her childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened.

-----

"It lifted Michael off the ground," he cried; "why should it not carry you?"

"Both of us!"

"It can't lift two; Michael and Curly tried."

"Let us draw lots," Wendy said bravely.

"And you a lady; never." Already he had tied the tail round her. She clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a "Good-bye, Wendy," he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutes she was borne out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon.

The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Pale rays of light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there was to be heard a sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in the world: the mermaids calling to the moon.

Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big adventure."

------

Nevertheless the bird was determined to save him if she could, and by one last mighty effort she propelled the nest against the rock. Then up she flew; deserting her eggs, so as to make her meaning clear.

Then at last he understood, and clutched the nest and waved his thanks to the bird as she fluttered overhead. It was not to receive his thanks, however, that she hung there in the sky; it was not even to watch him get into the nest; it was to see what he did with her eggs.

There were two large white eggs, and Peter lifted them up and reflected. The bird covered her face with her wings, so as not to see the last of them; but she could not help peeping between the feathers.

I forget whether I have told you that there was a stave on the rock, driven into it by some buccaneers of long ago to mark the site of buried treasure. The children had discovered the glittering hoard, and when in a mischievous mood used to fling showers of moidores, diamonds, pearls and pieces of eight to the gulls, who pounced upon them for food, and then flew away, raging at the scurvy trick that had been played upon them. The stave was still there, and on it Starkey had hung his hat, a deep tarpaulin, watertight, with a broad brim. Peter put the eggs into this hat and set it on the lagoon. It floated beautifully.

The Never bird saw at once what he was up to, and screamed her admiration of him; and, alas, Peter crowed his agreement with her. Then he got into the nest, reared the stave in it as a mast, and hung up his shirt for a sail. At the same moment the bird fluttered down upon the hat and once more sat snugly on her eggs. She drifted in one direction, and he was borne off in another, both cheering.

-----

"It was poisoned, Peter," she told him softly; "and now I am going to be dead."

"O Tink, did you drink it to save me?"

"Yes."

"But why, Tink?"

Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in reply she alighted on his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. She whispered in his ear "You silly ass," and then, tottering to her chamber, lay down on the bed.

His head almost filled the fourth wall of her little room as he knelt near her in distress. Every moment her light was growing fainter; and he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it.

Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get well again if children believed in fairies.

Peter flung out his arms. There were no children there, and it was night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Neverland, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.

"Do you believe?" he cried.

Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate.

She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again she wasn't sure.

"What do you think?" she asked Peter.

"If you believe," he shouted to them, "clap your hands; don't let Tink die."

Many clapped.

Some didn't.

A few beasts hissed.

The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed to their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; but already Tink was saved. First her voice grew strong, then she popped out of bed, then she was flashing through the room more merry and impudent than ever. She never thought of thanking those who believed, but she would have like to get at the ones who had hissed.

"And now to rescue Wendy!"

[beansidhebumbling]

In Oxford they call him the Night Prince, an inside joke transported from the hallowed halls of Eton. His resemblance to some oil painting of a long dead donor is uncanny apparently. Or so Cassian says as he inhales a meat lovers pizza, marinara sauce dripping onto crisp cotton, bloody evidence of their late-night rendevouz seeping into his white shirt.

He calls it a date, eyes soft and hands clumsy.

Nesta calls it research.

***

He has gone by many names in this liftetime alone.

His favourite is Rhys but only when moaned by the prettiest woman topside, whose bronze hair clings to damp porcelain skin now, as they lie panting between silk sheets, grey eyes turned towards the damned heavens.

It could be romantic if the stinging smell of holy silver didn't burn from seven different spots in his room alone. How rude of his mate to hide weapons at his home. How rude of his mate to look at a land he cannot enter instead of him and only him.

Only him.

***

He lights a cigarette by the corpse. The smell of death and nicotine a heady mix dampened only by disruptive notes of pepperoni.

He doesn't leave until blood has seeped deep into the cobblestones, cooling in the brisk dawn air, until the flayed skin looks less like artwork in the sobering eye of a new day with new problems- mainly her.

This will be a love story.

@ae-neon

[eirinstiva]

Point d’appui

Halloa!!! My pal Bertie Wooster is back! And with the first chapter of the novel Right Ho, Jeeves or Brinkley Manor. I will need a cuppa for this. No, I'll need lots of mate tea and alfajores for this epic gossip.

And in opening my report of the complex case of Gussie Fink-Nottle, Madeline Bassett, my Cousin Angela, my Aunt Dahlia, my Uncle Thomas, young Tuppy Glossop and the cook, Anatole, with the above spot of dialogue, I see that I have made the second of these two floaters.

This story begins in Cannes, there are some characters that we already know and... a shark?

I went to Cannes⁠—leaving Jeeves behind, he having intimated that he did not wish to miss Ascot⁠—round about the beginning of June.

Bertie! Did you travel with Aunt Dahlia and your cousin? No Jeeves?

We stayed at Cannes about two months, and except for the fact that Aunt Dahlia lost her shirt at baccarat and Angela nearly got inhaled by a shark while aquaplaning, a pleasant time was had by all.

That was a crazy holiday! At least Bertie have something fun to tell Jeeves when he's back at London. Bertie knows a lot of not-common people like Gussie Fink-Nottle

This Fink-Nottle, you see, was one of those freaks you come across from time to time during life’s journey who can’t stand London. He lived year in and year out, covered with moss, in a remote village down in Lincolnshire, never coming up even for the Eton and Harrow match. And when I asked him once if he didn’t find the time hang a bit heavy on his hands, he said, no, because he had a pond in his garden and studied the habits of newts.

Newts!!!

Conceding the fact that Gussie Fink-Nottle, against all the ruling of the form book, might have fallen in love, why should he have been haunting my flat like this? No doubt the occasion was one of those when a fellow needs a friend, but I couldn’t see what had made him pick on me.

Honestly, I still doesn't understand why Bertie's friends always ask him for love advice when Bertie's love life is less interesting than the private life of snails (Roberta was the closest to a romance until now, and we know how that ended...) oh, wait! He was looking for Jeeves!

Jeeves, the love expert

well, the one with a brain and who knows how to use it.

You can’t be the dominant male if you do that sort of thing. In this life, you can choose between two courses. You can either shut yourself up in a country house and stare into tanks, or you can be a dasher with the sex. You can’t do both.”

Bertie trying to be like a alpha male coach when he's still a bachelor is... ridiculous (?) and more when Madeline Basset leaves you like this:

You know how it is with some girls. They seem to take the stuffing right out of you. I mean to say, there is something about their personality that paralyses the vocal cords and reduces the contents of the brain to cauliflower.

Can we talk about the poetic way Bertie describes Gussie and Madeline? He knows they're made for each other! But because London is not a paradise, Jeeves and Wooster had a domestic crisis. The cause: The jacket of discord!!!

Good idea to let cool their heads. I think this jacket is nice so, use it!

And scarcely had I opened the door when I heard voices in the sitting-room, and scarcely had I entered the sitting-room when I found that these proceeded from Jeeves and what appeared at first sight to be the Devil. A closer scrutiny informed me that it was Gussie Fink-Nottle, dressed as Mephistopheles.

This Mephistopheles? Or another one? Anyway~ this novel started with a lot of flavour. See ya with the next lette!