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i actually finished in about two years ago, eh. but only just remembered last night. Title: When Love and Death Embrace - Part II. Author: xpussywhippedx , ms. tukru betamax mord bad dream noir warhola wire obscene at your service. except back then i was still howlhowl Fandom: The Mighty Boosh Pairing: Ebola/Anthrax, as in the Goth Girls off Nanageddon. Rating: i don't know. there's a bit of lesbian filth filth with rude words in there. Lenght: 2,188 words. Beta: girlintheband & silvaa to the rescue, thank you darlings. Notes: Well, it's apparently taken me 10 months to finish this second and final part and it's not even that long or anything. i did sort of misplace the memory stick it was living on after the laptop keeled over and died in june and i didn't find it again until... well about two months ago. so, i guess that's some kind of an excuse. i'm just generally rubbish at finishing anything. especially if there be filth in it. i apologise if it's a bit akward or anything, i'm foreign after all you know. When Love and Death Embrace Part I One night when they were 17, (24th of November to be exact) they had been chugging a shot of vodka every time there was sexual innuendo between Lestat and Louis in Interview With The Vampire, which they were watching for the umpteenth time for the lack of anything better to occupy their time, and as a simple excuse for some underage drinking. By the end of the film they were both off their faces, and giggling like a pair of mentalists when they had turned to each other, and their faces were so close. Ebola had felt the electricity holding Anthrax in one piece on her lips and cheeks, as well as her breath. The alcohol was playing games with Ebola's judgement and well... But before she did anything stupid, Anthrax had kissed her. Pushed her body against hers and hungry lips smudging the eyeliner they had blackened their lips with. And Ebola kissed her back, more than happily. The kiss had been clumsy at first and laced with vodka and a dash of cranberry juice, but not much more. Their tongues performed a seductive dance with each other's in their mouths as their lips collided again and again. They fell into drunken slumber in each other's arms on the floor, and that's how they were still when Ebola woke up few hours later. She had never been able to sleep long when drunk. She looked at her friend and panicked. She quickly got off the floor, still in yesterday's clothes, and ran into the bathroom where she slammed her hands on the sink and leaned over to stare at herself in the mirror for what seemed like hours. But it must have not been quite that long, as when she got back in her room, Anthrax was still asleep, curled up on the floor like a baby. Ebola watched her friend resting on the cream carpet reaching out for something that wasn't there. After what again seemed like forever, she lay down on next to her friend, with her back to her. Just in case. As she was dropping off again, she could feel arms wrapping around her. They never talked about it, or mentioned it. It did however happen again, every once and a while, when inebriated by too much vodka. And every time Anthrax's drunken lips kissed Ebola's, her heart broke a little bit more, because in her heart she knew it was the vodka or the red wine kissing her, not her best friend. She never stopped it from happening, because even if it wasn't real, it was still better than nothing. She beat herself up every time for not having even an ounce of self control. But this time, she wasn't going to let it happen. She was going to just say no. - - She didn't kiss Anthrax back. This time she was going to be strong. Her lips were completely inanimate, frozen, and she took a step back, causing Anthrax to lose her grip on her face and her balance too. "Don't do that," Ebola's voice was cold. Anthrax looked confused and was just about to express it verbally when Ebola spoke again. "I'm sick of being your back up plan. Something you turn to when you don't manage to entice some idiot in black leather and mesh combination or purple velvet. Or the third wheel of a Gothic Three-way. I'm sick and tired of it." "Oh." It looked like Anthrax was now holding back tears. She lowered her head and stared at her boots. Ebola could feel another blurb of honesty crawling up and out of her throat and mouth. "I want to be the main attraction." It came out as a whisper, barely audible. But still a lot louder than she had meant. She hadn't meant to put her feelings on a plate like that, open for rejection. She closed her eyes and hoped her friend hadn't heard her. But she had. "Did you... What?" Came out of Anthrax's mouth. "Nothing." Ebola shook her head and stared at her feet. She hadn't said it. Maybe if she said it enough times in her head, "I didn't say it. I didn't fucking say it", it would become true, and the memory of it being said would be forever erased. But that wasn't how the world worked. "What did you say?" Anthrax tried again. "Nothing," Ebola muttered as she shook her head and stared at her feet. She had not said it. She had not fucking said it. But unfortunately she had, and nothing she told herself could change the fact or that Anthrax had heard it. Shit. Suddenly she felt her friend's fingers on her chin trying to pull lips closer to lips. "No!" Ebola exclaimed, slightly louder than she had meant, making Anthrax stumble back a few steps. "Did you not hear what I said?" She continued frustrated and angry. Why was she trying to kiss her again? Did she have something fundamentally wrong with her ears? "I did," Anthrax said quietly. "Then why are you trying to kiss me again when I told you not to?" Anthrax turned her head away and mumbled something Ebola couldn't make out. "Sorry, what?" "Because I want you." She said a bit louder, still hiding from Ebola's stern cold stare. She was shaken by these words, but she had decided to not budge or giving into her friend's charms. Why was she toying with her heart like that? The bitch. She may have been a Goth but Goths are people too, and Goths cry and hurt and want to be happy too. Just not smile or laugh. That wasn't gothic. But looking miserable took a lot of energy, and so did being miserable. She couldn't go on much longer both looking and feeling the part. "Then why do you drag pathetic males in black and purple velvet from the Black Spider to our flat for a Gothic Three-Way?" Anthrax turned back and stared straight into her best friend's different colour eyes. "I thought it was the only way..." She let out a deep sigh. "It was always you. Always you." Ebola was flabbergasted. She must have heard her friend wrong. Surely Anthrax hadn't just said that the wannabe Lestats had just been an excuse to taste of Ebola's pale skin. She sighed, thinking about all the time they had wasted with this stupid game. She looked at Anthrax who was peeking from underneath her black fringe and veil and top hat combo, licking her fangs nervously. Ebola straightened her own hat; the feather was tilting it too much to the right again. She took a deep, sigh-like breath and pushed her friend against the brick wall of the alley behind them. She pressed her black clad body against Anthrax's and kissed her. First gently, just nibbling at the black lips, then much harder, almost bruising, banging her partner's head against the wall. She tasted like black cherries. She always did. Even that very first time on her bedroom floor. - - Suddenly Anthrax grabbed Ebola by the shoulders and spun them around so it was Ebola against the wall with Anthrax hungrily going straight for her neck with her vampire teeth. They were sharp and painful to a degree, but Ebola was the kind of a girl who liked pain. As long as it was physical, and sexual. And caused by Anthrax. She had never been too keen on those third wheels of those Gothic Three Ways getting rough on her. She had once kicked one in the ghoulies for grabbing her too hard for her liking. She was no push over for the male sex. The foolish fuck twits. But Anthrax, she could get just as rough as she liked. Her long black as the night fingernails were digging into Ebola's shoulders; she was almost sure they were drawing blood. Anthrax's right hand started wandering down Ebola's left arm, slowly, getting a little bit lost around her chest, giving it a little squeeze that made Ebola gasp of pleasure, and then continuing its journey downwards. It ruffled about in her black skirt area, between the satin and the tulle, searching. It snaked into her black spider lace knickers to caress her labia and make her gasp yet again and wither from pleasure to the degree that her legs almost gave in underneath her. Anthrax's kisses were both harsh and gentle at the same time. Her sharp teeth nibbled into Ebola's lower lip every other kiss, dragging a bit and then letting go. Ebola could taste a trickle of blood in her mouth. She clung to Anthrax's shoulders to keep upright as her friend reached even further and grabbed her buttocks. Physically it was pretty much the same as before; Anthrax's teeth still dug into her skin just as deep, almost painful, and fuck, her fingertips sent those tingles up and down Ebola's making her hardly able to stand up. If there hadn't been a wall to lean, to fall against and Anthrax hadn't been holding her like that, she would have surely been on the floor making a dirty watery mess of her dress. Suddenly, there was a sudden rumble of thunder and the sky seemed to fall open. The storm had been brewing all night, and with the green mist and heavy air, Ebola had tasted a storm as well as Anthrax on her lips. She didn't mind rain; she wasn't made of fucking sugar, more like arsenic and cyanide with a pinch of salt and lime, as if she were a shot of tequila, but rain would surely ruin the magnificent feather on her head. And she liked that feather. She stumbled upright and mumbled against Anthrax' shoulder: "Maybe we should go home, and continue there.." Anthrax pulled away, looking a bit disappointed. "I'll make it up to you," she continued, raising her eyebrow cheekily. "You better." Anthrax's words had a venomous sting to them but Ebola knew that it was just the way she was. She grabbed the other girl's hand, nails digging into the pale skin and kissed it like a gentleman of the olden days before leading the innocent lady to the slaughter. Or at least loss of innocence. "Of course." - - As Anthrax and Ebola walked towards their gothic abode, they passed a line of old ladies in front of the local bingo hall. At the end of the queue there stood the Obsidian twit and his hairy faced assistant dressed as Nanas. It was a truly grotesque sight. And definitely not in a good way. Ebola shuddered as they passed them and the idiotic assistant man tried to be suave and addressed them 'Ladies'. "Nice outfit", Anthrax half giggled as a response, though the giggle wasn't of amusement at their appearance, though it easily could have been, were she not Gothic, but a result of Ebola cheekily grabbing her arse just then. As they got round the corner, Anthrax spun around and slapped her hand. "You can look, not touch," she said with an only half stern face. "Until we get home at least." "Yes, miss," Ebola grinned slightly and saluted. She hadn't even had the will to smile for years it seemed, but suddenly she wanted to do nothing but smile. It was strange, but she liked it. She spun around on her feet before continuing walking, and saw the crap warlock and his assistant rough up an old lady for a bag of cakes. She shook her head and secretly skipped along inside, but hid such an abnormal bounce on her step on the outside, because, obviously, Goths do not skip nor bounce. - - Despite her outlandish fashion sense Ebola was a modest lady. And such ladies do not kiss and tell about what happens between the sheets behind closed doors, not even to diaries or narrators of supposedly saucy stories about them. They are locked out on the other side of the door, left to listen on the other side and try to sneak a peak through the keyhole. There were moans and gasps and muffled cries of names and sudden yelps as teeth were sunk into pale skin. Afterwards Ebola just lay there in the black sheets of the double bed with decorative Victorian style black metal headboarding and large candle sticks on each side with black and red candles still burning and wax dripping down the sides like blood. She felt Anthrax creep closer for a… cuddle? Her sleepy body, half engulfed in post coital slumber mimicked the way Ebola's was curled up on the bed; the arch of her back, the angle she had bent her legs. Anthrax's face nestled in the base of Ebola's neck and her arms snaked around her belly, holding her tight, brushing against her chest. She had done this before but this time it felt right. And it wasn't making Ebola silently sob at the weakness of her mind. She smiled, and fell asleep smiling. Even thought Goths do not smile. Ever. But this time she had a reason to smile.
Avainsanat: base balance bad baby author assistant area anthrax angry alcohol against able burning body blood black bitch bingo beta bed become despite deep death days dance cry cream corner control continue colour cold clothes change case candle by ebola easily each drunk drawing double doors door diary fuck frozen friend foreign floor flat finished finish final film feet feeling face eyes express ever energy electricity rescue reason real rating purple playing plate plan piece physical people passed pale pain old november note neck nails ms miss mirror metal memory me male make main louis lost loss longer lips lime like leather leading large laptop lady ladies lace knew kiss keen juice it interview hurt herself heavy heard hear head hat hands hall guess gothic girls gentleman games game slowly sky skirt skin sides side sick shot shit she sharp sexuakl sex service sent sense second saw salt rumble result who watching warlock wall walked voice victoria velvet veil vampire truly tried towards touch tired third they taste sugar style stupid strange straight storm stories spider sort some smile you world wine