#christmas musing

Christmas Musing

Gotham Surviving the Pandemic 2021

Summary: Roman is fluffy. It’s Christmas. (There may be a part 2)

Note: References last year’s Christmas fluff/comfort Roman story —-

Christmas Cuddles and Magic

Roman, stopped just short of the living room and watched you. He loved just how focused your were as strung the last strand of lights. When you did all the radiance of the lights illuminated at you. A smile curled his lips.

When you entered his life not only did you bring a breath of love to his dark heart but this, you made him also feel magical sprinkle of Christmas.

You turned and caught his eye and he watched as you smiled seeing him.

“Hey there handsome.”

He chuckled. “Hi beautiful.” He ran his gloved fingers through his hair.

Reaching out, he easily dimmed the lights so tree was even more radiant. Finally, then he came over to where you stood on the step stool and holding out a gloved hand he helped as you stepped down.

Your soft warmth was against him then and he wrapped an arm around you. The lights from the tree danced in your eyes as you looked up at him.

“I was starting to worry, you were going to be holes up in your office all day.”

“Nah, nothing was going to keep me from my girl on Christmas eve.”

He looked you over. Your lips were soft and pink as ever, a flush dusted your cheeks from probably going up and down those steps, and the ever so subtle wave in your hair framed your face. Though best of all he would never tire of the warmth in your eyes. Sure he loved…

I don’t have kids, this limits my Christmas shopping. As the season starts to get going, I start looking for people I can buy things for (though I generally dodge the MOST obvious children’s hospital ones because those already have a lot of interest and attention.)

So far the options I’ve turned up in the UK have only been for companies, not individuals (the charities don’t want the overhead of dealing with individual gifts). And most places are really seeking donations, not presents. Which makes sense, they can redistribute money more efficiently, but there’s still this emotional desire to be able to buy a present for an individual who actually wants it (blame nesting instinct or something). I’ve found a few places that accept actual gifts or have wish-tag programs but they’re all local-specific, haven’t found one around where I am yet.

So far the only easy “buy a thing online” options I’ve turned up:

Ali Forney Center Wishlist - providing basic supplies to homeless LGBT youth. It’s not ‘christmas presents’ really but it’s needed.

Haven House - a children’s hospice service

Is in question asking; desperation too often masking, to find so inclined?

To know how canst thou? Emotions can tumble, rumble does rhyme tell?

At least tell feasts of hopes to be; can order hide disorder? Holidays tempt thee with frenzy.

my friend, who's the most beautiful girl I've known. my friend who's going to be a doctor one day, has won every scholarship since we were both in junior high, does ballet and jazz and runs every day and climbs real fucking mountains every year and speaks three languages and currently lives in another country because she's on an internship there.

my friend, who calls herself fat and ugly and looks at me with honest, open and slightly scared eyes when she asks me how do I love myself.

this girl in me, the one I buried long time ago and waved goodbye, wants to say oh no, I don't, stop it.

I catch this thought before it reaches my mouth. it's not true, not anymore.

you want to know how I love myself so much? here's the secret for you: I taught myself how to do it.

my mother loves me but she tells me I should wear dresses so boys will like me. my fathers loves me but he tells me I should speak quietly and not raise my voice so people will like me. my brother loves me but he says I don't look good in red lipstick.

other people love me, they do. I thought that listening to them and being who they wanted me to be will make me love myself too. it didn't.

I was at a family party today. I wore my favourite jeans and lipstick called pleasure me red and black thick eyeliner.

isn't it a bit too much, my mother asked.

no, I answered.

you don't look good, my brother said.

I think I look great, I replied.

I don't like this lipstick, my brother insisted.

I do, I said, looking him straight in the eye.

I went to the bathroom at some point of the party. I looked at myself in the mirror. I saw a beautiful, confident woman looking back at me, smiling with her red lips.

so when my friend asks me again how I love myself so much, I want to answer her: