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devsash · 4 years ago

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Orders for the Ball

(A collaboration with @tindomielsilverthorn for the Candy Cane Ball)

The walls of the shop flickered with light from the candles as the Ren’dorei pulled a new bolt of fabric down from the rack. Dropping it onto the cutting table with a thud, she pushed it, sending it down the length. The rippling silk shone in the dim light, reflecting it with a soft shimmer.

She slipped her glasses from her face with a tendril and rubbed her eyes. Blinking a few times, she set the frames back in place and began to smooth it out. “Do you have some chalk, big brother? Mine is...well, I need to get a new one.”

"I'll lend you mine," Anas responded. He pulled one out from the drawer and offered it to her with a smile.

“Oh, good. Thank you.” She moved to him and took the wafer of chalk. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she peered down at his work. “That’s going to be beautiful,” she said gently.

"It'll be better once you've embroidered it." He chuckled, continuing his stitching.

“My embroidery only looks that good because it’s on your designs,” she countered. Giving his shoulder a squeeze, she returned to the cutting table. Flipping through the order book, she found the appropriate measurements. “Is this right? Is Lady Genevieve really that long in the torso?”

Anas glanced over. "It should be right. I took those measurements myself."

“I never would have guessed,” she replied, her expression awed. “Let me see...” she moved to the pattern wall and pulled down a few bodice options before selecting one. Carrying it to the table, she set it on the silk and topped it with a couple of weights.

Her thin fingers moved the chalk over the fabric, tracing out the shape. Once she had repeated that for the other side, she began making adjustments. She stepped back and pulled out her measuring tape, checking each section, rubbing off a few lines and reworking them.

Anas smiled at the Ren'dorei. "I'm glad we can work on these orders together."

“Me too. I am so glad to be back,” she murmured, studying her work. “I get to make your designs and then you let me embellish them.”

He chuckled. "Your designs are lovely too, Niqi."

Niqi beamed. She finished out the first section and put the chalk in her pocket. “Thank you, Anas.” Pulling out a pair of scissors, she started carefully cutting the first pieces. The blades moved carefully through the cloth, a soft grind, then a click as they came together repeated until she finished. Holding the first section up, she laughed. “I’m so short, the bodice for her is almost a dress on me.” She whirled around, holding the silk to her chest.

"It would make a lovely dress for you," Anas commented. He snipped off the final bit of thread before leaning back. "I think I'm done with the collar here."

“What’s left?” She set the front bodice sections aside and began tracing out the back.

"Just the left sleeve." He held it up. "Then it'll be ready for your embroidery."

She peered over at him, smiling. “Then I better hurry and get these cut so you can start assembling while I work on that one.” She slipped her glasses off again, setting them on the table. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed at them with her fingers. Glancing around the shop, she shook her head. “I cannot believe we finished four gowns already this week. How many more before the ball?”

"Quite a few to go. Still, I think we should be able to finish them in time for..." He trailed off, noticing her expression. "What's wrong, Niqi?"

“I’m going cross eyed. I think I need a little break. You want some tea?” She moved towards the door to the back room. “We’ve been at it non-stop for hours.”

"Tea sounds wonderful." He smiled at her affectionately.

Niqi stepped through and set the kettle on the stove. “White tea or green?” she called out to him. She placed a couple of tea cups on the tray along with the tea pot.

"Green for me," he called, not lifting his eyes from his work.

She measured out the tea leaves, and returned the jar to the shelf. It didn’t take long for the kettle to start whistling away. Grasping a towel, she lifted it and filled the teapot with the steaming water. Placing the lid on top, she carried the tray out and set it on the table by the sofa. “Take a break with me, Anas. You need it too.”

He set his work down, chuckling. "Okay, little one." Rising from his workstation, he stepped to the sofa and sat down beside her. "I think we're coming along quite nicely," he observed, glancing at the finished dresses.

“I am amazed, to be honest. Would be nice if we had some help, but so far, it’s moving the way it should. Light help us if someone else wants a gown though. I don’t think my fingers will hold out,” she laughed. Her tendrils curled up along her hair and pulled it back from her face.

"Maybe we could ask Dergaux for help," Anas mused. "I daresay he might like it. It would be a nice break from spinning silk all the time."

“Do you think he could keep his illusion in place for that long?” she asked. She began to pour the tea, carefully straining it as she filled each cup.

"We'd have to ask him," he responded. "But still. Another pair of hands would be useful."

“Very,” she agreed, sliding a cup over to him. She picked up her own and took a sip, allowing her eyes to close as she savored it.

"Thank you, little one." Anas sipped from his own, smiling at the taste.

“You’re welcome,” she murmured. “Are you and Mehe going?” She glanced over at him, curious.

"To the ball?" He chuckled, shrugging. "Maybe. It depends on if he feels comfortable being out there."

“Why wouldn’t he?” She sipped her tea again, pulling her legs up to curl beneath her.

"Mehe isn't fully at ease with being part of the Alliance yet," he explained. "I think it'll take him some time to adjust."

“Maybe if I offered to stay close?” she asked, hopeful.

"That could help." Anas smiled at her.

“Well, I want you both there. So, we better figure it out.” Her tone left no room for debate. “Right after I figure out what I am going to wear...” she added, tapping her chin with the tip of a finger.

"Will you make something?" he asked.

Niqi shrugged. “Why? I’ve a closet full of things no one really notices me in anyway. I’ll just alter one,” she said simply. A hint of uncharacteristic bitterness colored her words, coming on suddenly. She finished her tea and set the cup down, refilling it.

"I notice you in them." He nudged her gently, his gaze gentle, soothing. "You've a lovely sense of fashion, little one."

Niqi took a deep breath. “Thanks, Anas,” she chuckled, her normal sweetness returning.

"You're most welcome." He smiled, taking another sip. "Perhaps we could pay Dergaux a visit after closing up today? Unless Æl wants you home at once."

“Æl probably wants a breather,” she chuffed. “Apparently I’m...too excitable for him lately.” She shook her head.

"Excitable?" He arched an eyebrow. "Really? In a good way, I hope?"

“I get home and I just want to be with my husband. And he says I’m...what was it...” Her eyebrows knit together as she tried to recall the phrase he had used.

Anas's cheeks darkened. "He... what?"

“Well, he says...oh... sorry...you probably don’t want to know that,” she answered, her own face coloring.

Anas chuckled, shaking his head. "Still. I'm glad to have you back, little one."

Niqi smiled up at him. "Me too, big brother."

He glanced over at the book. "I think we'll finish the orders in time."

"Not if I keep sitting here drinking tea,” she chuckled. She tipped her cup back again. “I better get back to cutting.”

"Once we're done with tea," Anas said firmly. "Don't push yourself too hard, little one."

“Me? Push myself? I never do that,” she replied, laughing.

"Just a reminder." He drained his cup and set it aside. "Wouldn't want Æl accusing me of working you to the bone," he teased.

“Fair enough,” she replied. She took another sip and relaxed for a bit longer. “If I had time, what would I make myself?”

"A gown for the ball?" he suggested.

Niqi nodded, finishing her tea. “I doubt I will have time, but it’s nice to think about.”

Anas chuckled. "Who knows? If Dergaux pitched in, you might be able to."

“But you are dodging my question. What do I wear??” She smirked at him, flipping through one of the design books.

"What about one of your designs?" he asked. "I know you have a few lovely ones."

“Maybe?” She set his book down and picked up her own. “What about this? One shoulder, design work here and here,” she pointed out.

"That will look beautiful on you," he said, smiling.

She smiled, tracing a fingertip over the page. “Let’s see if we can finish the orders first,” she said softly. Her voice carried hopeful tones, her expression betraying the fact that she had already started planning in her head.

"Of course." Anas gathered the cups and moved over to the back room.

“What would you wear?” Heading back to the table, she pulled out the chalk again. She looked over his design and started to trace one of the panels.

He frowned in thought. "Maybe a set of robes?" he mused.

“You should create something as part of a set. You and Mehe fully coordinated,” she suggested.

The Kaldorei man chuckled. "That's a good idea."

“Either you’ll have to wear green, or convince Mehe to try something else though,” she mumbled as she worked.

"Green isn't a bad colour," he stated, rinsing the cups and setting them aside. "But maybe I could convince him to try blue."

“Blue would be gorgeous with his hair and skin,” she agreed. “Why does this look...oh..” she chuckled, picking up her glasses. Setting them back on her face, she laughed at herself.

Anas dried his hands and returned to his workstation. "Forgot your glasses again?" he chuckled.

“I did. I think I’d forget my head some days,” she murmured.

He laughed. "Not to worry. You know why I keep my pencil here?" He gestured at the one behind his ear.

“I’m guessing so it doesn’t end up like your measuring tape,” she teased.

He blinked before letting out a guffaw. "Well, there's that, and also because I used to lose them all the time." He grinned at her.

“I have no idea what to do so I stop forgetting them,” she chuckled.

"It's okay. I'm sure it happens a lot to people who wear them." He smiled.

“Probably,” she agreed, as they both resumed their work. She slid the scissors through the fabric again, cutting the back panels carefully. “What did you want to line this gown with?”

"The linen should be good." Anas returned his attention to his work.

Niqi nodded and rolled up the first bolt. Heading back to the rack, she lifted away a linen in a similar hue. Adjusting it in her grip, she got both arms under the bolt to cross the room.

"What do you think of this sleeve, little one?" Anas peered at his work with a frown. "I feel it looks a little too tight on this side."

“Let me see.” She crossed to his worktable, setting the bolt down for a moment. Taking the sleeve up in her hands, she tipped her head to the side as she examined it. “It is. It will pinch the fabric up when she moves.”

He nodded. "Thanks, Niqi. I've been looking so long at it, I couldn't tell exactly what was off." He carefully began to remove the stitches.

“Maybe we should call it a night. It’s late and we are going to make more mistakes as we go,” she suggested, picking up the bolt again.

He smiled. "Okay then. I do think it's time for some rest."

Dropping the bolt on the table with a thump, she picked up the broom to start cleaning.

He laughed. "Eager to tidy up?" He rose as well, setting the gown on the table.

“Honestly? I want to go lay down. I’m tired,” she chuckled. Sweeping everything around their workstations, she created a tidy pile. “I still have my evening exercises to do as well. As much as I’d like to avoid them.”

He nodded. "Well, I won't keep you. Go on, I'll tidy up."

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving all this for you,” she replied. Picking up the pan, she gathered the mess up and dumped it into a bin. “It never takes us long. We don’t work like slobs.”

"That's true." He chuckled, picking up a tiny brush and sweeping the bits of cloth and thread from their workstations into a small pan.

Setting the pan aside, she went into the back room and started to rinse out the teapot. “Is Mehe meeting you up here tonight, or will you be heading home alone,” she called out to him.

"Home alone for me today," he responded. "Mehe said he'd cook something good."

She returned to the main room, smiling. “That sounds nice,” she murmured.

Gathering up their books, she arranged them neatly on the counter.

"It does! I can't wait to see what he comes up with." He smiled gently.

Niqi sat down on the sofa and leaned her head against the wall. “I bet it will be wonderful.” She closed her eyes, relaxing. “I can’t believe we finished two gowns today. If I could do magic, we could have even more done.”

"You're doing wonderfully as is." Anas sat down beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I suppose I am. Else, we wouldn’t be doing so well,” she admitted, sliding over to lean on him.

He chuckled, hugging her close. "People know we do good work."

Niqi smiled. “And that you are actually capable of adapting designs depending on the person. They really love how each piece feels like theirs.”

"Well, it sort of is." He smiled.

“Very true,” she grinned. “Æl should be here any moment. I’ll start dousing the lights,” she said quietly, pushing herself upright.

Anas nodded. He stood as well, closing the windows and keeping Mehe's pressed flowers in a small box. He watched as Niqi extinguished the flames in the lamps one by one until only the one by the door remained. He picked up the key. "Make sure you have your things with you," he reminded her.

“You mean like my glasses,” she chuckled. Removing her apron, she hung it by her workstation and picked up her bag.

"Quite right." He laughed. "Okay, let's lock it up."

Niqi nodded and opened the door. She stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. “Oh, there’s Æl coming up the path. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow? We can go see Dergaux sometime after lunch.”

Anas nodded. "Take care, little one." He stepped out as well and bent to lock the door.

“You too, big brother. Be careful going home.” She stepped out to the street and reached for her husband’s hand. Æl took it and pulled her to him, hugging her tightly before guiding her away.

Anas smiled after them. Pocketing the key, he turned to make his way back to his home under the glittering lights of the Winter Veil decorations.

#world of warcraft #wow #oc #roleplay #short story #Reianas Starmane #night elf #priest #tailor #Niquisse Greythorn #void elf #warlock

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greendaleshistorian · 5 years ago

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20 Questions!

⛥ I was tagged by @paradox-n-bedrock! Thanks, v much!!

Do you make your bed: Sometimes. If it’s a chill day, usually? If I have to rush anywhere, no. And I make it hard for myself by falling asleep with art supplies sometimes, so sometimes it’s a task to gather pens in the morning before making it.

Favorite number: Favourite? Maybe 213? I like 1812 and 1871 as numbers to impulsively type.

Your job: Student; Tech Retail

If you could go back to school: I'm still in school and have just swapped my major so I’m still here.

Can you parallel park: Yes. It may take me a failed attempt first, though, if it is on campus.

A job you had that would surprise people: I haven’t had any surprising jobs, really? I mean, I did graphic design for a local coffee shop once?

Are aliens real: Yes. Maybe not martians, but aliens of some kind.

Can you drive a manual car: No. Not well.

Guilty pleasures: Um, I wouldn’t know, really. Is cooking savoury foods a guilty pleasure?

Tattoos: Haven’t gotten one, but I’d love one and I even have an idea of what I want. A spring or two of lavender found by a small, coiling snake. Small, wrist tattoo in a thin line style. That is what I’d like.

Favorite color: um, pastel yellow, pastel sage green, and black? I’m a sucker for lavender as a colour, but rarely do I see it done how I’d love (a soft, pastel and muted colour) in retail materials.

Things people do that drive you crazy: Being insensitive about audience in conversation. Talking (aggresively) over others in an argument. Not putting in footnotes or endnotes in academic papers. Putting books back on the wrong shelf in the library/book shops. Starbucks cups left scattered about everywhere.

Phobias: yes, but i won’t say. i just tried to look it up to spellcheck, and nearly had a breakdown.

Favorite childhood sport: martial arts.

Do you talk to yourself: Yes, often.

What movies do you adore: Many of the studio ghibli films, some disney films (specifically for the visuals, even if the story isn’t entirely gripping), dark horse (entirely for donna murphy), imagine me and you-- i’m sure there are others i just can’t think of them now, sorry!

Do you like doing puzzles: I like problem solving games? Like the Professor Layton series? Or tactile puzzles or physical assembly games? But if I were asked to sit and to a 2D puzzle? No.

Favorite kind of music: Um, I like show tunes... which isn’t a surprise. But I also like some alternative, some pop, some rock and classic rock, new world or new age celtic... I don’t know. I’m pretty basic sometimes, but I like a mix of artists like Relient K, Panic! At the Disco, Creedence Clearwater Revival (I did like them before my aesthetic was to have Bad Moon Rising be the soundtrack to my eventual possession), Shakira, The Lumineers, Eden Espinosa, some Halsey?, Emma Blackery, Brittain Ashford, Florence + The Machine, Ruelle, Dodie, Hozier, Laura Michelle Kelly, Celtic Woman, Lisa Hannigan, Heather Dale... and actually, I’m in love with a lot of the Post Modern Jukebox covers. Like, that list is not all the artists I like, but there is a little bit of diversity there in style.

Tea or coffee: Both. Been trying to drink more tea lately, though.

The first thing you wanted to be when you grew up: A teacher, or a doctor. (Not so much doctor anymore. I have a lot of health issues and so I’ve grown more afraid of hospitals.

⛥Tagging!: @alexusonfire @panicatthedalek @its-a-goode-day @lastonestanding1 @claire-de-macarune @mary-wardwell-is-a-lesbian @danaedaniels @jyou-no-sonoko19

#about me.#tam talks #tagged.#tagging.

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shakib-posts · 4 years ago

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Did someone say "glow-in-the-dark unicorn blanket"? Sold.

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You, after seeing all of these products. ABC

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pebblesinyourshoe · 5 years ago

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Bookshelves, Befuddlement, and Brotherhood

There are three bookshelves with sliding glass doors and a crisp, black finish that stand proudly in my living room at home. These bookshelves were eye-catching on the showroom floor and seemed perfect for the spot my wife and I had designated in our living space. We anxiously awaited their arrival and when they did, we realized that the words “Assembly Required” meant many pieces both large and small needed to be put together in order to possess what we sought for our home.

Like most things “Assembly Required”, I am at a bit of a loss. I don’t see the world spatially and I find that one piece looks correct in the instructions, but doesn’t always fit into place nicely as the diagram shows. Like all things new and with the opportunity for something different, I attacked the book shelf project along with my wife and a friend. Like most projects, the first few moves are usually the simplest, but before long frustration and befuddlement took over for me. What I thought went one place didn’t. What didn’t seem to go another, actually did. Thank goodness for the brotherhood and help at my side as this construction project at this point. Otherwise, the book shelf would have ended with either broken pieces or several extras left behind on shelves that weren’t level and whose doors didn’t slide properly without it. It’s like that with projects. It takes time, patience, a large learning curve, and brotherhood of others to help.

Remote Learning was thrust upon you all as parents and grandparents a month ago as the coronavirus caused state and local governments to make hard decisions. The first round included an extended spring break followed by three days of remote learning. Doable. What’s three days? Before those three days could even commence the three days became four weeks as the virus spread and factors were put into place to ensure the safety of the children, staff, and families served by schools. Four weeks is a challenge, but it’s doable. As events continued to unfold, the governor made the difficult decision to close schools for the remainder of the school year. We were now well into a project that started in one direction and then became much larger in its scope.

Like any project there was the need to gather supplies and information. Emails were sent by the school corporation, the school, and the teachers. Packets were made available for those needing them. Remote learning with technology as the primary platform was the levee that kept the waters of your child’s education from flooding without control. The teachers reached out and held virtual meetings. These were fun because we got a chance to connect and to see our friends and classmates. Social media pages filled with pictures of “Google Meets” and “Zoom” classes with little boxes showing the bright faces of the children like Brady Bunch or Hollywood Squares in a nice array. We had momentum. Hey, this is doable and it’s kind of fun! Building this bookshelf isn’t so bad after all.

As the weeks have moved forward, the teachers continue to do their solid best. There are assignments shared, comments being given to work and feedback provided by Google Meets and through other exchanges. But just like what happens when the pieces to the bookshelf are laid out in front of you, sometimes, it’s hard to find the proper piece or the correct next step in the puzzle. Befuddlement from home has occurred a bit. Teaching is hard. Teaching while running your home and also trying to work is even harder. It can be overwhelming. For everyone, thank you for your efforts with children. You as parents and grandparents are making a huge difference. As we move forward into the stage where remote learning is our temporary normal, here are some thoughts to help you build that bookshelf and avoid befuddlement.

Follow your teacher’s lead: The teachers have built this program from the ground up and are trying to make the process as simple for you as possible. They are reaching out to you by email, phone, and messaging to check in. They are offering virtual meetings. Understand they are guiding as best as they can from afar. When your child fights you on completing work, hunker down. Share with your child’s teacher. Stay the course. Follow your child’s teacher’s lead. They won’t lead you astray.

Establish a Schedule and a Routine: Remote learning has allowed us a ‘pause’. In many cases it has allowed us to not have to rush out to meet the bus or to hurry to childcare. This extra time offers us a chance for our child to stay up a bit later or sleep in a bit longer. However, a routine is crucial. Get out of bed. Get dressed. Stick to a schedule. Remote Learning occurs M,W, F with teacher guidance, but you may be better off having your child stick to a five-day/week M-F schedule. It will help your flow and keep routine.

Look Toward the Sun: We are trapped inside for long hours a day. April weather is fickle any year, but we notice it a lot right now. One day could be sunny and shorts weather. The next could have gusting winds and temperatures in the 40s. When the sun peeks out from the clouds, warm your face with it. Warm your children’s face with it. Plant a garden. Goodness will come later from your efforts. Your dirty hands and tanned arms will be refreshing. The sun offers you Vitamin D. It also offers you a good, warm feeling.

Acknowledge Your Feelings: These are unique and different times - unprecedented times. Stressful times. We’ve never seen anything like this before. Acknowledge this time for what it is. Also acknowledge that the virus has scary implications for ourselves and for our families. Stores are closed. Ballfields and playgrounds are taped off. Festivals are canceled and our life has become smaller. There is good to this, but there is also a claustrophobic feeling that comes as well. When you feel this way, take a walk or a drive. Change your environment - even for a little bit of time. You will feel better. But also offer yourself ‘grace’ that you are living through scary and challenging times and with this might come fears, tears, anxiety, and feelings of being overwhelmed.

Show Yourself Patience and Grace: It is difficult to have ourselves away from others. It’s hard for us not to see family and friends. Virtual meetings are fine, but we are exhausted at the end of the day. I read recently that the cause of this is that our minds are feeling tricked by these meetings of being together when our bodies feel we are not. It’s easier to be in each other’s presence or in each other’s absence than it is to be in the constant presence of each other’s absence. We need to show ourselves patience and grace. We also have to set screens aside and do other projects, hobbies, and diversions. We need to give ourselves grace that what we are experiencing is both real and tiring.

Hope: We will get through this current situation. We have it in us. We come from good stock. Life will have tilted a bit when it returns to what we feel is more normal, but thankfully this isn’t going to last forever. Have hope. Look for the good in life, not just the bad. If you are a social media person, post humor, beauty, and love. Try to find gratitude in your day and realize that tomorrow will come.

Help: Ask for help. Ask for help from me. Ask for help from your child’s teacher. Ask for help from a person in your home. Ask for help from a neighbor. Brotherhood means we are in this together. We truly are. Know that you are not alone and that when you are feeling befuddled and overwhelmed, you have others in your midst who will help. We as a school community are a brotherhood of sorts. Don’t feel alone because you are not.

The bookshelves in my home stand completed and are used every day. Like any good task, there were moments of frustration and moments of befuddlement. But what looked at times to be an overwhelming task, wasn’t. And in the end, something good, solid, practical and useful was the result. Know that we are here for you like brothers and sisters. If you need us, ask. You’ve got this. Hug your child for me and hugs to you from afar. Stay safe.

Michael Pinto

Principal

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beanjuice-duh · 7 years ago

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a/n: someone go request Johsnavi building an IKEA shelf to @midnigtartist so I can cry over this crossover ship (maybe one of 2 crossovers I actually really love). Also for my dear @lilldov; love what you love boo. Summary: Johsnavi gets a new shelf, Johan is not impressed. warning: implied ending ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) w/c:~1.4

“Its here.” Usnavi smiled opening the door, there was a large brown box about the same height as he was sitting there. He patted the Ikea box a few times before dragging it inside while Johan sat on the couch. “Babe!” He called out struggling with the heavy contents of the box. “Babe?” Usnavi called huffing and breaking a soft sweat. Johan didn’t answer; he was concentrating on his next big Etsy item. He was stringing hand blown glass beads through recycled wire and was going to sell them as part of an elaborate light fixture.

Aka, the house smelled like hot ass because Johan was using the stovetop to blow glass. Usnavi mumbled a soft ‘cono’ as he heaved the box inside. Which a lot of struggle and his already overly strained back aching he managed to get it in, and he wasn’t going to lie. It felt kind of good to get it in on his own, “Who needs a six foot boyfriend, cuando soy el machismo! (when I am the most macho!)” Even to that, Usnavi got no answer. Finally he walked over to Johan watching as he struggled to string a bead on to the wire several times before he grabbed his hands. “You’re helping me put together the cabinet, bello~”

Johan’s face turned into a pout. “You know I don’t support the mass production of wood products without sourcing where and how they got their lumber and materials. For all I know the Sweds are going to rainforests and outsourcing their products to countries where small children and women are paid half a cent in factories.”

A deadpanned silence formed between them as Usnavi’s brain worked for an answer that wasn’t just confused Spanish. “Well…Ikea shit is pretty crappy sometimes; I don’t even think its real wood. I think they just wet and mush up sawdust and make it into wood.”

Johan rubbed his chin for a second, “that is an alternative I can get behind I suppose.” Not really but Johan loved his man plus when Usnavi got handy that meant.

Usnavi chucked his hat off. Oh yes, Johan did like that.

Usnavi shrugged off his button up and was left in a white tank top. Large arms exposed as he hoisted his pants a little higher and started unboxing their new, soon to be bookshelf to hold all of Usnavi’s albums he inherited off Abuela that were collecting dust under the bed and all of Johan’s yoga and healthy living magazines.

While Johan enjoyed the view; Usnavi started meticulously setting the pieces that seemed to match in piles, the bags of screws and bolts together. He started to dig around for a bit then paused. “Johan mind pulling the rest of it out, I gotta find the screwdriver. From the looks of it we’re going to need one.”

While Usnavi went hunting for his tools, Johan started pulling out the pieces, he didn’t think to take the paper at the bottom of the box before folding the box up to be recycled later. When Usnavi returned with screwdriver in hand, Johan had to admit the small man looked exceedingly handsome with his tools of masculinity. “Alright, babe hand me the instructions.”

“Hm?” Johan muttered sitting crossed leggied on the floor. “Oh… I dunno I didn’t see it in the box.”

“Ok, where’s the box”

“I took it to the recycle” Johan beamed, having done a chore and correctly without being told. Surely Usnavi would praise him—

“…you…threw out the box and the instructions? CONO JOHAN HOW—“ He began to raise his voice and immediately Johan’s beaming smile melted into a somber frown, his eyes seemed to grow five times their usual shape. Usnavi was weak to that puppy dog pout, his angry insides unfurled and he slowly exhaled. “Its fine, I mean how hard could Ikea furniture be without…instructions…”

3 hours and Usnavi was beside himself.

The pieces were all over the place, he broke 2 sweats in the process of trying to force to pieces together. Johan stayed out of his hair, once Usnavi was determined there wasn’t much for him to do other than pass him pieces and screws as he growled between Spanish curses. Finally when he had something that looked like a desk frame rather than a bookshelf, Usnavi had stopped for a second. “-N-Not bad…” He placed the screwdriver on the top of the ‘desk’ of a bookshelf they had going and watched as the compromising frame shook…then collapsed like a Jenga tower. “MALDITA SEA, CONASO!” He swore and kicked a piece out of frustration. His anger only spiked when he found he kicked a corner and felt the sharp pains shoot up his leg. “FFF—“ He clenched a fist and started to limp to the kitchen. He needed a drink, immediately.

Johan stared for a second and then calmly and silently crawled up to the pile of wood panels and lifted one up. He ran his hand up and down the smooth surface and nodded. He kept rubbing the wood for some time, Usnavi eventually after taking a few sips of Presidente beer caught him and was …slightly confused. “Did I just interrupt you having an affair with a shitty piece of wood?”

“Shh, I’m concentrating, feeling what this panel wants to be, where they want to go.” He hummed softly, closing his eyes as he got a little too sensual with the wood for Usnavi’s taste.

“Anja.” He blinked, “Look I’m thinking of just googling instructions. I’m giving myself a headache and…you’re freaking me out.” Usnavi sighed a bit defeated, time to search at the mercy of the internet and all of its answers. While Usnavi went to the bedroom, pulling up his old Dell laptop to his lap he wondered how long it would take Johan to stop being weird? He hoped it was before he got a splinter on his cheek.

A few minutes of typing and Johan leaned up against the door frame holding a couple of books. “Babe, do you want the books to be arranged in a certain order?”

Usnavi looked up from the laptop, “Um…what are you talking about?” He eyed Johan a bit.

“The books” he held up on of the albums. “This one is Nina’s do you want this next to the others or?”

“Where are you going to put them we need a bookshelf.”

“We have one, the Ikea one? Remember?” Johan arched an eyebrow somewhat confused where this conversation was going.

“Yes, the one I’m trying to look for instructions but the damn name is in Swedish.” Usnavi made a hand motion towards his computer screen.

“Oh…well I got it more or less.” Johan shrugged then left to figure out the book arrangement on his own. Usnavi stared at the doorway for a good long second, the gears in his brain trying to process what exactly was being said right now. He got up, his mind and body moving through the haze of disbelief.

“Holy shit.” Usnavi blinked finding the nice, white bookshelf completely assembled. He walked over to it and gave it a shake feeling how sturdy it was. “Johan…you did this?”

The man nodded, having pulled his fro back into a bun with a screwdiver promptly sticking out of it to keep it from getting in the way. Johan did enjoy his pocketless, tight yoga pants too much to change into more build-suitable attire. “Yup, once I calmed down and tried to make sense of the pieces it all came together harmoniously.”

Usnavi felt a rush of emotion, mostly heat, flood his face. Johan…for all his puppy dog eyes and weird eccentrics he was a fairly capable man when Usnavi needed him the most. He was strong…dependable, all of his oddities were charming cherries on top of a very big catch on Usnavi’s part. “Heh…” He smirked. “So…you took out the recycle, you built a bookshelf and you’re arranging the books for me?” Usnavi counted off the tasks with his fingers. “Are you asking for a good time or are you just being a tease?”

“Hm?” Johan arched his brow unsure what he meant, “a good time, what do you mean…” he took notice Usnavi’s expression was half lidded, his smile coy. He knew exactly what that expression was. “Ah, well I also made the bed this morning.”

“Oh really~?”

“Yes, I can…show you how I made the bed.”

Johan abandoned his books and went in for a kiss, “thank you” Usnavi muttered between his lips.

#johsnavi #the soft boys #fic for friends #oneshot #drabble #johan johnson #crossover ship #I indulge the people I love the most <3 <3 <3 #unedited #and ues I know I don't have my accents; blame my american keyboard and my laziness

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saahiika-blog · 7 years ago

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Akakuro OneShot - "Rain makes Me fall in love with You" Pt.2

-One day before the camp day-

Akashi coughed when standing on the wall, watching his teammates on basketball doing their training. "Are you allright, Akashi?" Akashi tilt his head and looking at the green head and eyes asking him with worry tone. Akashi smiled as the answer.

"Yeah." The training ended as when as the players take a rest. Kuroko walking to the redhead with sweat and fast breathing also his poker face. "Kuroko, take your drinks and towel, wipe your sweat first." Kuroko stopped and nodded when Akashi pointing to the sweat that falling down on his white neck.

"But as I thought, Akashi-kun catch a cold." the others surprised when Kuroko touch Akashi's cheeks and touch his forehead to Akashi's.

"I guess so." Akashi nodded in agreement. "Please take care of me then." Kuroko nodded and walking away to take his towel and drinks with the happy face. Midorima tremble besides the redhead when their captain turn away his head to him. "What's wrong, Midorima?"

"Since when you and Kuroko that close nanodayo?" asked him still with trembling body. Akashi blinked before answering with innocent face.

"Since yesterday under the shelter because rain won't even stop."

"I WON'T BELIEVE IT NANODAYO!!" Kuroko blinked in confuse when he heard Midorima screaming besides Akashi who surprised too.

"What happen to Midorima-kun?" he asked when he drinks his sport drink. Momoi, their girl manager blinked in unbelievable face to Kuroko.

"I guess it goes the same to you, Tetsu-kun." The light blue hair looking at her in confuse.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you that close with Akashi, Tetsu?" Both of them looking up and saw the blue hair asking while put his hand onto Momoi pink's head. "Since I never saw you spend time with Akashi more than with us." add Aomine, when Momoi nodded fast in agreement like a kid. Kuroko blinked before answering the question with the same answer like Akashi did.

"Since yesterday under the shelter because rain won't even stop."

"Kuroko-cchi said the same thing that Akashi-cchi said!!" Both of them looking at each other in confused, before they smiling together.

"Because it's true."

"Aomine-cchi! Kuroko-cchi is love-dovey with Akashi-cchi!"

"Ah, Midorin collapsed." Momoi and the others looking at the green head already passed out on the ground. Momoi panicked and walking to him right away.

"Rain made both of you close now huh?" said Aomine while stroking his own head and sighing. Kuroko looking up at him with wide smile.

"Yes!"

After the training, Kuroko come home with Akashi who in bad condition. "Are you all right, Akashi-kun?" Kuroko said with worry when he pat his lover shoulder. Akashi coughed but he still keep smiling.

"Yeah. I'm sorry that I made you worry, Kuroko." the sky blue shook his head.

"I know you do your best, but sick is not something you can predict." Akashi smiling when he heard Kuroko said that in worry about him.

"Yeah, I agree with that." Kuroko smiling.

"I'll buy something for you. What Akashi-kun likes?"

"Hm? I like you."

"Akashi-kun!" Akashi chuckled when he saw Kuroko blushing now because of his tease. "I'd like to eat tofu." Kuroko smiled.

"Let's eat it together!" Akashi nodded in agreement.

In Akashi's house, Akashi's father, Masaomi, surprised when Akashi brought new friend to home. "I don't know that you have that much friend, Seijuurou." Akashi smiled when he introduce Kuroko to him.

"I'm not everyone's friends, Father. But at least, they are my friends who give their best together with me, in study also in basket." Masaomi silence for a while, before nodding his head in agreement of Seijuurou's statement. "All right. Have fun."

"Thank you, Father." Akashi said and invite Kuroko to his room.

"I'm sorry, Akashi-kun. Looks like I bother your family..." Akashi shook his head.

"Until now, just Midorima who had come to my house. But now, I want you to come here too." Akashi looked a flush pink on his lover cheeks, before Kuroko nodded like a shy kid. They enter Seijuurou's room.

"Midorima-kun often come here?" he said when his eyes sparkling after see many books on the shelf. "You have so much books, Akashi-kun!" The redhead blinking in surprise when he saw Kuroko's eyes sparkling and his gesture looks so happy and couldn't hold himself to see the books right away.

"I guess you love books do you? Go ahead."

"Really?!" Akashi nodded when he saw sparkling and cloudless eyes of Kuroko. The light blue put his bag and walking into the shelf that have many books which Kuroko never seen before. Akashi smiling when he saw his lover so happy when he touch some books and read the synopsis first before looking at the other one. His expression is really cute and interesting, said Akashi inside his heart. Akashi put down his bag on the desk and sit on his chair. He is enjoying his scenery when Kuroko takes and puts down the books. He already chose five books that Akashi thought it interesting him. Akashi stand up and walking to his bed, and throw himself down. Kuroko stopped when he saw Akashi did that.

"Ah, sorry I bothering your joy time." said Akashi when he saw Kuroko under his own hand. Kuroko shook his head.

"Are you all right, Akashi-kun?" Kuroko come closer to touch his forehead. Akashi smiling when he saw that anxious face of him.

"Yeah." Akashi close his eyes and surprised when he felt something warm touching his lips. Akashi widen his eyes, move his hand and saw Kuroko blushing.

"...I'm sorry if you don't like it, Akashi-kun..." Kuroko close his lips with his hand. Akashi stand up and blinking.

"What are you doing?"

"Eh?" Now both of them looking at each other in silence. "...Sorry," Akashi reach Kuroko hands and pull him closer. Their face so close now.

"What are you doing?" Kuroko blinked in surprised before his face become redden.

"I-I kissed you..." Akashi blinked in surprise before smiling.

"I want more then."

"Eh?" Akashi smiled.

"I know maybe you will catch cold by doing that, but I want more." Kuroko widen his eyes before nodded. Kuroko walk closer and Akashi pull his wrist. They kissing softly and deeply once again.

Akashi's Father invite Kuroko to stay at his house with Seijuurou and treat him before the camp training tomorrow. Kuroko agreed and treat Akashi who sleeping with red face now. His breath is fast. "Akashi-kun..." Kuroko strokes his head softly with anxious face.

"Go sleep...Kuroko..." Akashi opened his eyes and meet the blue gaze looking at him.

"But..."

"I can't have you catch cold too tomorrow. I'll be fine, please." he said in low and hoarse voice. "I love you." Kuroko widen his eyes in surprised, before smiling with tears on his eyes.

"I love you too, Akashi-kun." Kuroko get sleep after kiss Akashi on his forehead. Kuroko opened his eyes and saw Akashi still asleep on his own bed, so soundly. Kuroko stroke his eyes and stand up. It's still 7 a.m. before the time assembly to the camp training. He takes a peak to his lover that sleeping with cute face. Kuroko smiling when he stroke Akashi red hair.

"...ng...Kuro..." sky blue widen his eyes. "...ko..." Smile painted on his face.

"Yes, Akashi-kun."

The redhead opens his eyes and stand up. He stroke his eyes when he saw Kuroko talking with cheerful expression with one of the maid of his house. Kuroko holds towel and nodded before the maid walking towards the door. "Ah, Seijuurou-sama is wake up." Kuroko turned his head and saw the redhead blinking in sleepy expression. Kuroko chuckled. "Good morning, Seijuurou-sama, Kuroko-sama. We have breakfast at 8 a.m." The maid said before closing the door. Kuroko put down the towel and walking towards Akashi.

"Are you all right?" Akashi nodded with weak smile. Kuroko touches his forehead before smiling. "I'm glad." Akashi stand up but he still weak so Kuroko catch him. "Don't force yourself." Akashi nodded as agreement.

"Would you call me by my name?"

"Eh?" Akashi turn away.

"If you don't mind." Kuroko saw blush on his lover face, following on his own. Kuroko blinked before smiling.

"I'll try my best, Seijuurou-kun." Akashi widen his eyes as surprised, before smiling.

"Thank you, Tetsuya."

Akashi felt better after breakfast. His father prohibit him to join the camp training, but he agreed after Kuroko make sure that he will take care of Akashi. They came late one hour than the promised time to assemble in school. Kuroko sure that Momoi will mad at both of them. "Don't worry Tetsuya, I already told Midorima and Momoi about this."

"Said it earlier Sei-kun!" Akashi blinked before smiling.

"Sorry." They arrived at 10 a.m, one hour late from the promised time. Their teammates already there waiting for them.

"I'm sick of waiting, Akashi, Tetsu!" the blue head, Aomine looks pissed.

"Are you all right, Akashi-cchi, Kuroko-cchi?" Kise approaching both of them who breathing hard.

"...Yes..." Kuroko answered in the part of Akashi. That redhead trying to calm himself down after running together with Kuroko. "Are you all right, Sei-kun?" Kuroko walk approach him with worry. Akashi took a long breath and let it out.

"I guess so." Kuroko touch his forehead.

"It's running high again." Kuroko reach his bag. "I don't know if I bring the medicine or not..." Momoi approaching them when Kuroko panicked.

"I bring some, Tetsu-kun. Don't worry." Momoi made Kuroko sigh in relieve. "Are you okay, Akashi-kun?" the redhead gave them weak smile before nodding.

"You catch a cold, Akashi?" asked Aomine.

"Ah. Although it's coming down this morning." Akashi looking at Kuroko who nodded in agreement.

"It's because both of you running to here." Aomine stroke his head with regret expression.

"Make sure you rest on the bus before training, Akashi-kun." said Momoi when he reach Akashi hand. "Tetsu-kun also." the light blue head blinked in confuse before nodded. He reach the other Akashi's hand. "Everyone! Akashi-kun and Tetsu-kun already here! Let's head out!" Momoi takes Akashi place to get ready to the training camp. Akashi sit beside Kuroko and the light blue head let Akashi rest on his shoulder. His teammates looking at him with worry face.

"I'm fine, so don't put that face, you guys." Akashi smiled when he saw Aomine's worry face, Kise also Midorima even the greenhead hide it by his glasses.

"Sorry, Akashi. I don't know that you-" Akashi shook his head softly.

"Tetsuya is here for me, also all of you and Momoi," they saw the pink hair girl did her best in Akashi's position. "I'll thank her later." Kuroko smiled and Akashi close his eyes. Aomine turn his eyes to Kuroko.

"Tetsu, since when Akashi call you by your name?" Kuroko blinked with that question.

"Yes! I heard Kuroko-cchi call Akashi-cchi by his name too!" Kuroko blushing when they asking that question.

"Akashi-kun wants me to call him by his name, if I don't mind." They blinked in surprise when Kuroko smile.

"Then I'll call him too!"

"Eh?"

"It's unfair, Aomine-cchi!" Kuroko panicked when both of them want to call Akashi by his name too.

"Dai-chan, Ki-chan!" both of them surprised. "Akashi-kun is resting now. Please don't make a noise!" both of them blinked twice looking at mad Momoi. They sit and stop bothering Akashi and Kuroko. After they arrived at the training camp, Akashi blinked in confused when their friend's unique expressions looking at him.

"Why?" Kuroko gave Akashi weak smile that he doesn't know what to do.

"I want to call you by name too, Akashi!" said Aomine while grinning. Akashi sighing before looking at them in sharp eyes.

"Allright then, Daiki." Aomine surprised.

"I'll call all of you by your name too."

"A-Akashi-cchi looks scary..." Akashi blinked twice.

"Is that so?"

"Ah, he is come back." Kuroko smiling when he saw Akashi and his friend’s reaction.

"Did you tell them about this?" asked Akashi and made Kuroko surprised.

"Aomine-kun and Kise-kun looks so curious so..." Akashi sighed when Aomine and Kise in panic when they remember Kuroko told them about it.

"Although I doubt all of you could call me by my name." They froze. Akashi smirked and Kuroko chuckled. "As I said." Aomine gritted his teeth with red face. He doesn't like being underestimated.

"I-I'll call you by that name, S-Seijuurou!!!" But after one day, they give up after try call Akashi by his name. Akashi sighing in relieve also feel his friends being unbelievable. "Is calling someone's name that embarrassing?" asked Akashi when he saw his friends now passing out of embarrassed. Kuroko chuckled.

"I guess they have their own way to call you and respect you, Sei-kun." Akashi turn his head.

"And you're not embarrassed?" Kuroko blinked twice.

"It's because I love Sei-kun, I want to call you by your name and also sideways." Akashi blinked before smiling.

"I guess so."

- TO BE CONTINUED -

#fanfic #doujinshi #akakuro #akashi seijirou #kuroko no basket #kuroko tetsuya #kiseki no sedai #momoi satsuki #aomine daiki #kise ryouta #midorima shintarou #murasakibara atsushi #anime #manga #akashi masaomi

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artificialqueens · 8 years ago

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This could happen (Trixya) - Toki

AN: First submission! A little one shot real-world Trixya for your nerves ft. a touch of smut. TW: Drink, drugs, swearing.

It was the longest leg of the journey, a boiling hot summer’s morning, and Trixie was already bored. On a day like this she should be out on the beach, eyes half closed in the dazzling light, sun pouring over her skin and drawing shadows across her slowly hardening abs. She loved going to the gym. She loved showing off her muscles, as if she had no idea anyone was watching her smooth skin ripple when she flexed. She loved being athletic, feeling adult. Getting a smoothie. Now she was folded over the central table of the tour bus, listlessly checking the latest Instagram posts she’d been tagged in from the show the night before. Nothing stood out as she scrolled. The usual thirty meet and greet selfies, the three photos of her grimacing and presenting a gifted copy of Contact, a photo of her with her arm draped over the shoulder of a slight twink sporting a hastily-bought merch T. Everyone wants to stand out. Form a lasting connection, make an impression, linger in the sleepy next-day mind of the famous drag queen. No one did. She turned off her phone.

The bus was an ageing one, more fitting for a medium-low budget tour. The outlets didn’t work. Battery must be conserved, and that meant socialising. Trixie pushed herself up from the couch and took a moment to stretch, flexing her biceps as the sun flashed through the windows. “Ooh girl,” Violet piped up from the front. “Get it mama. Bring those arms up here.” Trixie yawned as she paced forward to where a few of her tourmates were curled up. It was the tenth morning of the Summer of Drag tour, a long bill spanning fifteen states over twenty-four days. Trixie, Violet, Bianca, Alaska, Aja, Max, Pandora Boxx and Michelle Visage were all on the roster.. for most of the time, anyway. The Summer of Drag lineup varied several times between states to accommodate the busy schedules of the stars, although Trixie, Michelle and Pandora were permanent fixtures. From tomorrow Pearl would be around for a few days, Adore after that, and Sasha V at some point in future. Trixie dropped down next to Violet and put an arm around her. The mood was definitely low energy, a droning song on the radio as endless fields rolled by outside. The sky was an impossible blue. Thousands of tiny scratchmarks on the windows caught the sun and frosted the windows gold. Most of the queens dozed. A gradual click, click waded into Trixie’s consciousness. She couldn’t place it. “Look at this bullshit.” Violet pushed her phone into Trixie’s hand and slid her sunglasses down over her eyes, shifting a little sideways to get more comfortable. Trixie glanced at the screen, an open text conversation dancing before her eyes as she tried to steady it against the pitch of the bus.

From: PURL bitch I know

From: PURL but like

From: PURL they said they’d find someone else

From: PURL so

Sent: ok but people are gonna talk shit about it cause you did this before (seen)

From: PURL yeah

Sent: I hope they send someone fun (seen)

Sent: this tour is dull af without you (seen)

Sent: did they say who (seen)

Sent: i am sooooo oooo oooo boredd (seen)

From: PURL no

From: PURL sorry purp

“Oh, that sucks.“ Trixie tried to pass the phone back to Violet, but her friend had fallen asleep. She missed Pearl. It was weird how such a chill person could make everything so much more interesting. They hadn’t seen each other since a show in Boston that spring, and she’d been looking forward to catching up. Getting drunk together maybe. Goofing off. Trixie glanced down at Violet, now snoring slightly. Tiny dark hairs had begun to pepper the skinny queen’s upper lip. A spot of drool was threatening to fall onto Trixie’s shirt. She shifted away slowly, willing it not to move until she was out of its path. Violet was always so confident. It dripped off her just like that drool drop. She seemed so permanently at ease, sometimes making Trixie feel awkward and misplaced against her backdrop of casual droll glamour. No big though. Not really. She was learning to let go of a little of that tightly woven country-boy background that kept her careful in life and love.

I guess we’ll see what the future holds. Maybe I’ll meet someone soon.

Her relationship with David had gone the invitable way of all the rest. Intense half-year honeymoon made stronger by the absences, but eventual scraps over missed dates and finally long silences, a few attempts to resurrect their romance, and a pretty inevitable break up. She didn’t blame him. It’s hard being in love with someone constantly on the go, and David had never been particularly interested in her drag. They’d shared a love of video games and a few music interests, but it hadn’t proven enough to last.

Trixie glanced up at the other queens spread around the bus. Aja was next to Violet, sound asleep. Beyond her Pandora, asleep too. Michelle was on the other side of the aisleway, tapping at her phone carefully with inch-long fake nails. Click, click. Oh, that was the noise. Beyond her was Max, deep in a book. Trixie shifted position and studied her for a minute. The morning sun played across the outline of the boy’s aquiline nose, casting a liquid silhouette across the pages as she turned them slowly. Crazy bone-structured baby bitch. Damn. She resumed count subconsciously. Alaska was somewhere in the back, probably napping in her bunk. Bianca nonexistent. She’d opted to take flights between stops instead. Hated tour buses. The tour manager was probably up front with the driver. And that made nine. "Okay. Okay okay.” Trixie had finally freed herself from Violet. She rose to her feet and swung herself back towards the table where her phone lay, pushing the power button as she continued towards the bunks at the back. She scanned the rows for her nametag, mostly out of habit by now. Her bed was on the middle shelf, towards the back on the right-hand side. It wasn’t too bad, considering. Older buses seemed to have roomier bunks, and the external wall of hers was just one huge window with a rolling shade to block out the light. She slid it up halfway to let the sun pour in, mostly so she could watch the fields slide by as she rested her head on her warm pink pillow. The landscape really made her think of home. Occasional farmhouses baking in the hot sun, one or two with their aluminium windmill blades turning slowly. Somewhere a fan whirred softly. No birdsong, just the whisper of grass shifting. The quiet purr of the engine. Time slowing. Her eyelids drooped as the details began to blur. This was a nice moment. Tour wasn’t so bad.

“Rest stop ladies!”

Sweaty neck. Dry mouth. Possibly sunburn. Trixie shifted and reached for her phone as she felt the bus slowing down.

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Mom (9) Katya (6) Kim (3) More…

From: Katya idiot

From: Katya barb

From: Katya deb

From: Katya shelby

Ugh.

Sent: Hey

Sent: What’s up

…

(seen)

Katya is typing

“TRIXIEE” came the roar of Violet’s voice, startling the sleepy queen. “GET UP ASSHOLE.” “Oh my god.” “Come on! I need vodka!” “Violet,” Trixie slid out of the bunk and stretched, pacing slowly towards the front. “You don’t need me to fund your alcohol problem girl. Work it out.” Violet had already disappeared through the door. Honestly, Trixie was glad for a break from the drive. She was the last one off the bus, stepping out into the scorching heat as the sunlight landed almost physically onto her skin. She could smell the hot tarmac of the rest-stop parking lot baking in the heat. A bird was croaking somewhere. Time to head for the gas station. She wanted something to drink, some snacks, and definitely something to read. Her phone battery was nearly dead, so she knew she’d be bored as hell for the next five hours. The cool of the airconditioned store was immediately soothing as Aja’s dry laugh hit her ears. She was a cool kid. Her fanbase after her season aired had grown pretty fast, everyone fascinated by her naomi meets kim aesthetic. She was so honest, too. Easy to like. “Trixie.” Violet broke into her thoughts suddenly, rounding the aisle with a bottle of alcohol in each hand. She bore down on Trixie, offering one as she started to chatter. “Vodka’s two for one. I have no cash though and my wallet’s on the bus. If you get me this I’ll let you have the other one.” Trixie didn’t even bother to protest the deal. “Sure girl. Get me a mixer, Coke’s fine.” She glanced down at the magazine rack in front of her. It was the usual assembly of shitty gossip editions, packed with fake headlines and the kind of exaggerated celebrity nonsense news that bordered on slander. She’d read all of them. A small side section of arts and crafts books caught her eye though, and she reached for a book of guitar tabs peeking out from the rack. It proved to be an out-of-print collection of 2000-2005 country song arrangements by local state musicians, the poorly printed cover a photo of an older man sitting on his porch with a scrappy looking dog. Looked dumb. Maybe she’d pick up some inspiration for her next tune. A couple of songs from her recently-released album had proven pretty popular, not just with the Drag Race fanbase but also the general public, even charting on the country music billboard. Since then she’d started working on new material, but her creativity had kind of dried up. Nothing stuck. Trixie headed for the counter, grabbing a bag of chips along the way. Violet was waiting for her and passing time making idle conversation with the clerk. He’d clearly recognised the queen, and was not-so-subtly attempting to swing a selfie. “I’ll take a photo with you if you give me cigarettes,” Violet purred. That’s weird. “You started smoking, girl?” Violet shrugged. The cashier’s face had fallen a little, and he started to explain that giving out store goods could get him fired. “I got ‘em. I’m not supporting your habit though. You owe me. This is blood money.” “Yeah yeah, I’ll pay you in show money tonight.” Violet laughed. “I always get more than you, so.” “You don’t even need it, cunt. You’re the rich one.” Trixie swiped her card as Violet gathered up their shopping. Her gaze fell on the songbook and she started to mention it, but Trixie’s less than playful shrug stopped her from cracking a joke. “I’m bored,” she offered by way of explanation. “I figured I’d learn some uh… Backyard Bill and the Moonshines.” “Sounds cool, girl.” Violet shoved the cigarette pack into her back pocket. “I wanna do shots when we get on the bus though. If Pearl’s not coming I’m gonna just get drunk without her.”

Two hours later, Violet set about making good on her promise. Trixie stared at the row of shot glasses Aja was setting up on the table as Violet made sure they were quickly filled. Alaska was next to her on the couch, slowly peeling nail glue off her fingernails with her characteristic bored langour. She was droning on about the new fashion label venture Sasha Velour was collaborating on. It was interesting, but Trixie wasn’t interested. Max was tucked up on the rear sofa at the table, deep in conversation with the side of Michelle’s face as she continued texting whoever it was she was always talking to. “Yeah honey,” Trixie heard her murmur, “yeah yeah. Yep.” Aja pushed a shot into her eyeline. “Time to drink, Trixita.” Shots right after lunch. Three hours to go until the venue. Why not? “Cheers.” She downed the vodka easily, Violet a second behind her. Max glanced up from her seat but shook her head at Aja’s offer of a shot. “Guess it’s just the three of us. Move up.” As she started to squeeze onto the couch next to Aja, Violet’s phone lit up for a brief moment. “How are you getting charge, girl?” “I have a battery pack, a girl gave it to me last night after I tweeted about this dump truck not having power.” “Work.” Trixie dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She checked the screen to see her battery level. 2%.

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Agent (29) BTDQ (10) Kim (9) Katya (4) Mom (2) More…

Oh yeah, what did Katya want? Trixie swiped her phone, but let out an exasperated sigh as the screen froze and then faded to black. “Violet, can I use your charger?” “Sorry girl.” The skinny brunette shrugged as she tied her long hair into a ponytail. “It’s out. Only lasted for like an hour. Hey, round two.”

By the time the tour bus pulled into the venue parking lot it was already starting to get dark. Red stripes scored the early evening sky as the last of the golden sun painted the city skyscrapers. Lights were flicking on all around, late workers hunched over desks as everyone poured into the streets to begin their various evening plans. So many lonely people. I’m super romantic. And super drunk. Fuuck. Trisie slid her bag otno her shoulder andd stagered down theh bus gangway. STTUUPID. shouldnt get tshi drunk before a show buit theres no meet and greet tonigth it'sl be fine she’d alreday put on her makuep evne though it wasn'r completetly as good as usuual. last shot was anhour ago and she was actually startig to sober up. she jstu needed some fresh air. pulling her hood up, she stpped into the cooling evenign air and took a deep breath. that’s goood. not so bad. ACtually, startig to feel a lottt better. Pandora put an arm around her shoulders as her head stopped spinning. “You ok?” “Yeah girl. Just shouldn’t drink on the bus. I’m good.” They shared a moment’s laughter as they heard the sudden roar from the line snaking around the side of the building, ripples of excitement spreading as the fans caught sight of the famous queens. “Let’s get inside.” Trixie followed the other queens as the group of prearranged roadies and assistants flooded out from the building. She greeted her assigned aid Toby and pointed out her suitcases amongst the pile being quickly unloaded from the bus, before stepping into the venue and narrowing her eyes to accommodate the dim lighting in the hallway. She was definitely still feeling drunk. Probably needed to touch up her makeup before getting on stage. She checked her watch, peering in the low light. The opening number was in an hour. Trixie turned the corner of the hallway to see the dressing room doorway and soon spotted the familiar line of mirrors and lights. She plopped herself next to Aja, the newer queen of the pack looking a little more drunk than she was. “Which order are you on?” Aja glanced at the sheet on the countertop as she quickly unloaded her makeup. “Uhh.. Second, right after.. does that say Pandora?” Trixie leaned closer and nodded. “Yeah. Before Max. Then me. There’s no meet and greet tonight though, right?” Aja screwed up her eyes to make out the difference between her foundation powder shades. She held up a brush in a wobbly hand and took a stab at reaching for her base shade. She knocked it off the table. “Yeah. I think Bianca’s first and last and she usually stays on, right?” “Up to her, girl.” Trixie found to her surprise that her makeup was actually pretty on point. She reached for her set of preprepared lashes and twisted the cap off her Duo tube, running a line of the glue down the middle of each dark clump. “I can’t wait to get out tonight after this. I want a nap. I’m so fucking tired of the heat. I can’t ever sleep properly, it’s like I just get cramps and have these weird dreams about being late for this summer camp I went to when I was a kid. Except I never went to this one, so it’s like my head just came up with this weird.. place..” Trixie trailed off as she noticed how skillfully and deliberately Aja was painting her face. The younger queen had quickly transformed her cheeks into a distinctive contour, lining her nose with cream shades as she scrunched her eyes up to focus her vision. “Girl how are you so good at this when you’re drunk?” Aja laughed. “I’ve done this so many times. Like too many.” “Worrrk, what do you use to highlight?” “Twin Cake with Ice Angel and Kitten Parade, I’m doing shimmery fairy fantasy tonight.” Trixie glanced over in surprise as she held one set of lashes to her eyelids to let the glue dry. “Seriously? I haven’t met anyone else who uses those two together.” Aja laughed. “I learned it from you! You did a Periscope once ages ago and I asked you what you used. I still use it for my pink look.” “No way.” Trixie blinked a few times to check her lashes were fully attached. All good. “Well girl, I’m gonna go find something to keep my buzz going.” She reached into her bag and yanked out her phone charger, hammering it into the wall and hooking up her phone as she stopped to glance around. Where’s Violet? A sudden rise in volume hit her as Bianca swept into the room. Immediately her head began to ache and she slipped out the door behind the tiny comedian queen, pausing to give her a quick air kiss. She knew roughly where the stage was, so she started down the hallway to the left hoping to run into an assistant who could grab her a whiskey from the bar. The pounding of the bass from the club filled the air. Trixie paused for a moment to identify the song. It’s.. yeah, it’s Sissy That Walk. Would she ever get away from the Ru Girl fame? She knew she should be grateful. Oh, she really was. But it was wearing to travel for weeks on end with people she couldn’t completely bond with, medicating with alcohol to pass the hours. She definitely needed to slow down on that. Except for now. She just wanted to get to the end of this corridor and find the club staff.

Instead, she turned the corner and ran straight into Katya. It took her a few seconds to adjust. The shorter queen was fully made up, double Courtney wig pinned on top in an effortless sweeping blonde style that looked a far stretch from her usual careless ‘ugly drag’. She was wearing her red cheerleader outfit, KATYA spelled out across her chest in black letters. Her bright blue eyes shone out from their smokey black makeup, teeth flashing a perfect white in the low light as she roared with laughter at Violet, the brunette hanging off her arm with a happy devotion. Trixie sucked in her breath in total surprise.

“Katya!” she shrieked, a little too excitedly for her own taste. Her comedy partner’s head whipped around and she was met with an enormous grin. Immediately she reached for her friend’s tiny frame. Hugging Katya was always like taking a little bag of bones into her arms, all frenzy and energy and joy. “What are you doing here?” “They booked me, mama! I’m the surprise guest!” Trixie was flooded with a wave of half-drunk affection. Right when she needed someone to feel close to, here’s this idiot. The pair shared an unbelievable connection, always had. She suddenly found she could bear the thought of the tour. Felt excited, even. “Are you doing any other nights? How long are you staying for?” she asked into Katya’s wig, before pulling out of the hug. “Just tomorrow!” Their eyes were locked, a moment Trixie didn’t want to break out of. Characteristically, Katya turned away first. “Christ, I need a cigarette.” “I gotcha girl.” Trixie narrowed her eyes as Violet reached into her back pocket and prized out the pack of Camels. She waved it in front of Katya’s face, grinning slyly. “Trade you. Sexual favours.” Oh right. Now it makes sense. She knew. Violet always flirted with Katya. Ever since they’d slept together on tour ages ago, Trixie had definitely felt the sexual tension whenever the queens got in the same room. It was pretty one-sided though, right? Katya laughed and reached for the cigarettes. “You beast! Using my addiction against me Barbara? Are you coming out?" Violet tightened her grip on Katya’s arm and began tugging her toward the fire exit further down the hallway. As Trixie turned to head in the opposite direction she heard the brunette cackle, "Of course! I’m gonna suck your dick in the alley. Let’s go, bitch.” Eye roll. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here Katya. I’m boooored. You know Pearl dropped the tour?” An insistant flower of anger tugged at Trixie’s throat as she finally reached the backstage area. “Hey someone, can I get a Fireball?” So Violet had known since that morning. Katya was supposed to be Trixie’s comedy partner. They could’ve arranged something. Thrown together an impromptu UNHhhh. Knocked something up to completely eclipse everyone else. To be honest with herself, she’d had been feeling a little overshadowed on the tour. So many gigs and dates had left her little time to work on anything new, so she’d fallen back on Candy Man and a guitar piece from one of her more popular recent songs. Everyone laughed a little flat at her jokes, they’d heard them a thousand times before on social media. And Katya was this.. this catalyst of unpredictable humour, like some explosion of random parts of a thousand cultural references and bit-parts mashed through her perfect set of teeth. She was always, always a surprise. Her stupid goofball humour reached into Trixie and yanked out the best parts of her. Framed them in the spotlight. Made her so cuttingly funny, every joke landing like an old classic, met with shrieks of laughter. Trixie and Katya the Comedy Duo were a force, and they could outshine absolutely anyone. “Here you go,” Toby showed up out of nowhere, slipping a glass of whiskey into her hand. “Straight up, on us.” “Thanks.”

Two hours later, her buzz was still going strong as she sat down to take off her makeup. Her performances had gone well, met with a level of appreciation and such a genuine response from the fans that she was left a little humbled. This was what it was about, right? Being an entertainer. Trixie lifted the heavy wig off her head and let out an enormous groan. “Suck it up, queen.” Bianca slid down into the chair next to her, quickly touching up her lipliner with an expert eye. “At least you can go to bed. I’m on meet and greet for an hour.” “I’m not going to bed yet girl. Have you seen Katya?” Bianca glanced round and lifted a finger to point at the sky. “What do you think?” Oh yeah. The familiar trap beat opening of Same Parts filtered through the doorway, met with the deafening roar of the already-energised crowd. As Alaska piped up across the room about how much in royalties Katya must have earned for Tatianna, Trixie suddenly remembered her phone. She swiped it on and opened her messages.

From: Katya i’m booked with you!

From: Katya see you tonight

From: Katya lets do a double? I’ve got some new material

From: Katya call me call me

From: Katya deb?

From: Katya see you soon mama

The five mixed drinks Trixie had consumed since reaching the venue quickly welled up in her throat as she suddenly felt regretful about those nasty little thoughts she’d haboured about her friend. Poor Katya, she’d tried to get in touch. She was actually such a good person. And this momentary feeling of elation definitely has nothing to do with feeling jealous before. Jealous of what? I mean it’s normal to want to spend time with Katya. But Violet draping herself on her is so fucking gross. Give me a chance to talk to her. Trixie suddenly felt a pang of nostalgia for their Australia tour. They’d shared the limelight 50-50 and had spent a couple wonderful days and nights goofing off so far from the usual routine of the big US tours. It’d been so great. Katya’s great. Where’s Katya? Katya’s on stage. Katya’ll be out soon. Katya’s sleeping on the bus tonight. Trixie paused her thought train to sweep her towering pile of black-smudged facewipes into the trash. She quickly slid out her contacts, dumped everything into her bags and shouldered the lightest. Toby, who’d been texting in the corner, immediately jumped to his feet and started ferrying her cases out to the back. “See you on the bus boo,” Violet piped up, quickly taking down her hair. Alaska was sprawling next to her, texting frantically. No reason to stay here. Trixie nodded and zipped up her jacket, heading out into the cold air. A pair of fans beyond the fence about forty feet off spotted her and started howling her name, so she gave them a little halfhearted wave before climbing up into the bus. She felt pretty drunk, still. It’d be a shame to waste it. “SHOT.” “Oh my god.” As her heart returned to normal, Frank the tour manager slid a shot glass across the table. It was still smudged with Aja’s lipstick. “This is my last night. Pete’s taking over tomorrow.” “Where are we going next again?” “Houston, then Austin.” “And after?” “Tulsa.” “Mhmm.” Trixie skulled the shot and winced. “That’s me for the night.” “No way, everyone’s doing a round when they get on board.” “Well Katya won’t.” “Oh right, I forgot. Was she like an alcoholic before?” “No. She just has an addictive personality and she doesn’t want it. She’s not really into doing things unless it’s a super serious blackout, yknow?” Frank whistled quietly. “Must be tough. You know a lot about her.” Trixie shrugged. “Well, we spend a lot of time talking.” “Do you ever run out of things to talk about?” “No.” Trixie ran her fingertip around the rim of her shot glass. She felt herself click into an automatic Talk-About-Katya mode. It was pretty familiar - she’d probably mentioned her comedy partner in 8/10 interviews. “She’s so funny. I’d marry her if it’d ever actually work between us. But you have to be attracted to someone before you’d want to spend that amount of time with them.” She paused for a second to think. “Either that, or not attracted to them at all. That’s why we get on so well.” Frank reached out and took the glass from between her fingers. “So you’re saying you’re completely 100% platonic?” “I mean..” Trixie started to hear the vague chatter of a few of her tourmates as they approached the bus. “Katya says attraction’s a spectrum. Like it’s such a fluid thing that changes from day to day. There’s definitely times when she’s into me sexually.” The alcohol loosened her lips for a moment. “I liked her too, at first. But I had a boyfriend and the shooting schedule was so intense, we weren’t really allowed to talk in private cause they wanted to film everything. So nothing ever happened.” “Right, yeah.” Frank leaned back to glance out of the window at the approaching queens. “But nothing after it wrapped?” Trixie shrugged. “I mean I definitely liked her. You can’t not like her. But we work so well as business partners that I never let anything happen between us, so I guess..” She shrugged. “That whole physical thing just died out. For me, anyway. I’m all or nothing, emotionally.” Pandora’s face appeared through the doorway, followed by Michelle. “She isn’t much for romance, though. As you could guess.” “Who?” barked Michelle, sliding in next to Trixie. She reached out and took one of the shot glasses Frank had finished refilling. “Who are we talking about?” “Katya.” “Ohh.” Downing the vodka with an expert flick of the wrist, Michelle pulled out her phone and immediately started to text. “The whole Ross-Rachel thing. Don’t you ever get tired of talking about it?" Trixie shrugged. "It’s pretty good for business. It can get weird though.” She leaned forward. “You know fans write stories about us getting together?” “Mm-hmm.” “They’re elaborate, too. There’s this whole demographic of underaged girls that want us to get together. I don’t get it at all.” Michelle glanced up. “Honey, it’s obvious. Everyone needs a lovestory to believe in. Writing it makes them feel like a part of it.” “You’re right.” “WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW.” Katya’s familiar sex-noise echoed out from her parted grinning lips as the blonde queen burst onto the bus with Violet quickly in tow. “Drinks, ladies? God, I’m so hot. Is there a shower here?” Michelle gestured towards the rear of the coach. “Help yourself. Use one of the guest towels on the shelf.” “Thanks mama. Nice doing business." As she swept past the table, Katya glanced down at the line of shot glasses and grabbed one. She slid it over to Trixie before anyone could react and winked. "Trixie’s having mine.” “No, girl. I’m about to be passing out.” “Wouldn’t be the first tiiiime,” Katya half-sang as she disappeared into the bus bathroom. Trixie slid hers over to Michelle who accepted it without comment. They locked eyes for a brief moment, and the motherly brunette gave a smirk. “You like it when she pays attention to you though, right?” “Oh yeah, she’s great. She makes you feel like the only person in the world.” Violet dropped her phone on the table and slid in next to Michelle. “Oh yeah,” she laughed. “And I’m gonna make HER feel like the only person in the world tonight.” Trixie suddenly snapped into focus. “Wait, yeah. Where’s she sleeping? All the beds are full.” “With me!” Violet rolled her eyes. “Duh. Literally. Literally!” “Yeah, we get it.” Frank broke into the conversation. “You want to fuck him. But not on this bus. Everyone needs sleep and you can hear everything, you know that.” “Shut up, Frank.” “No, he’s right.” Trixie spun around to face Violet, head swimming slightly. “I need to sleep this off, girl. You and Katya can fuck as much as you want, but not in your bunk. It’s above mine, and you know I hate noise like that.” Violet shrugged. “Fine. I’ll get a hotel in.. Where are we next?” “Austin.” “No, Houston. And you can’t, we have to get across to Austin by lunch. We’re driving all night.” “Fuck, I’m never getting laid.” The chat subsided into casual remarks about the evening, but it was always crazy how much everyone loved to talk about Katya. Trixie absentmindedly chewed a fingernail as she tried to understand her friend’s intense charm. It’s like people just wanted to experience her through conversation. Like even if she wasn’t around, she was on people’s minds. She’d even won over- “Alasssssssssssska!” Violet hooted, as the sleepy-eyed queen stepped onto the bus. “Bitch c'mere, we’re toasting Fred. Frank.” “Coming purple monster,” Alaska replied in her gutteral vocal fry. “Were you waiting for me?” “You wish girl. Here.” “Thanks girl. Where’s Kattie sleeping tonight?” “In with me,” Trixie blurted suddenly. She wasn’t taking the chance of Katya and Alaska hooking up. Everyone had half been expecting it since their Aspen snapchats and resulting intense fast friendship. Since those stupid Pure commercials they’d been talking on the phone a lot too. Katya had a theory about separation of sex and soul. She’d gone into great exploratory detail a few times: wild-eyed, arms waving happily as she burned through cigarettes and spilled thoughts from that great endless mind of hers at a million miles an hour. She loved the idea of anchorless love. She couldn’t see it as a minefield, or anything but a way to tie everything together. She wanted to have sex with the entire world. But sort of with her heart. And brain. And dick. Anyway, she insisted that a successful business partnership could happen even when you were sleeping together. But not with feelings involved - she’d put her foot down about that immediately. Trixie couldn’t separate emotions and physicality like that. She meant it when she said all or nothing. But maybe Alaska would give Katya what she wanted, and they’d be the next hot new comedy pairing. Maybe that’s what Katya was after. And now she was heading back down the aisle of the bus, makeup gone, towelling off her short blonde hair in a pair of black shorts and a Tshirt that said сука. “Hiiieee,” she grinned. “What’d I miss. Oh, we’re driving.” Several of the queens around the table turned to check that yes, the bus had smoothly pulled out and was now making its way down an orange-lit road. “Move over,” Katya squeezed onto the very full seat next to Alaska. Their legs tangled up and she fluidly threw an arm around her shoulders. “Tell me about the tour so far mama. How’s this pit of dusty rusty snakes treating you?” “Oh we’re fiiine.” Alaska dropped her phone onto the table and turned her full attention to her friend. No one gets her away from that phone but Katya. Trixie leaned forward to join the conversation, but became suddenly aware her head had seriously begun to spin. “Violet’s up to her her usual antics. Max has read every single book, or maybe just one long book, and Michelle’s been doing my nails. We’re nail friends. I hate this god damn bus though." "Shit.” Alaska and Katya turned to glance at Trixie, who’d turned pale and started to sweat. “Guys, I need to get out.” They quickly made space for her to clamber towards the bathroom, where she slid the door shut and dropped to her knees by the toilet. Everything was super swimmy. Ugh. She rested her forehead on the seat and closed her eyes. It’d pass. It was mostly the movement of the bus anyhow. She just needed a minute.

“TRIXIE!!” The barbie queen’s eyes snapped open. How long had she been asleep? She reached up and unlatched the door, and immediately Violet spilled in. “Oh my god. Oh my god I’ve been needing to pee so bad. You fuckin asshole. Get out of here.” “Sorry girl. I passed out for a sec.” Trixie pulled herself unsteadily to her feet and navigated past her friend. She glanced at a few of the empty bunks before swinging herself carefully into her own, head beginning to pound. “Why do I do this? Fuck.” Time to get some rest. Trixie brought the glowing dial of her watch up to her face and screwed up her eyes in hope of making some sense of the time. 1:12 AM. She’d been out for half an hour. Down the hallway the queens were still going strong. She could hear Michelle, Aja and Alaska ribbing back and forth, Katya’s shriek of laughter rippling out from time to time. Pandora and Max were deep in conversation, but she couldn’t hear what about. It didn’t matter. Time for sleep.

Neon.

Neon green. Soft. A smoky heavy texture in the air, summer night lonely. Darkness and neon and green. Still. Two blurry little figures.

Trixie opened her eyes properly and peered out of the window. The bus was parked up at a gas station. The lights of the pumps were shining out into the dark, and by the edge of the clearing Katya and Alaska were sharing what looked like a joint and talking to each other quietly. As Trixie watched, Alaska reached up to touch Katya’s arm for just a second. They had their backs turned, and Katya exhaled in a long slow stream of smoke that faded softly into the darkness beyond. Everything was mostly silent on the bus. A few snores filtered through intro Trixie’s consciousness. She checked the time again - 3:54 AM. And she suddenly felt lonely. That was the thing with her and Katya. The lines were so blurry they had to be made completely clear and concrete. But Katya was right - attraction was fluid. And right now, Trixie’s heart hurt with jealousy and a touch of confusion. The way Alaska and Katya were talking in a calm, quiet way made her a little nervous, too. Alaska could cut so easily through to Katya’s more serious side, the vulnerable bit she kept hidden away for the most part. She showed it on Periscope sometimes. Trixie had watched them all. So what if those two start doing more together? And UNHhhh gets even less of Katya’s time? Whatever they do’ll never be as successful. She had to admit it felt great working with Katya. She loved how everything seemed to be a predictable hit; platinum star fanbase gold. Their joint videos immediately climbed to most viewed, any minute interaction on social media prized and screencapped and retweeted and obsessed over. Financially, it was a winning combo. And.. And it made her feel special being half of Trixie and Katya when the other half was somewhere nearby being loved by the whole world. Cause there was that connection. It was implied. Katya was in some very unspoken, very platonic way - mostly platonic way - a little bit Trixie’s. Now the silent late-night duo were turning and walking slowly back towards the bus. Alaska linked arms with Katya, their movements slow and easy. Trixie stared out into the darkness, letting them walk beyond her gaze. She heard the hiss of the door, their muted footsteps as they climbed onboard. She heard their motions as they passed by her in the dark. She heard a stifled giggle as they awkwardly climbed into Alaska’s bunk. She closed her eyes.

It was a boiling hot summer’s morning, Trixie’s mouth was stuck shut, and her eyes felt like little fireballs. Ugh fuck, Fireball. For the past twenty minutes she’d been willing herself to get back to sleep, but it wasn’t coming. She was still her in sweats from the night before with the bus heating up pretty fast in the baking morning sun. She needed a shower. Swinging one leg out of the bunk, she suddenly realised she’d slept in her shoes. Great. Mess. She kicked them off and padded quietly into the bathroom, careful not to disturb the other sleeping queens. A glance at her watch showed it to be 7 something AM. She quickly pulled the door shut and shed her clothes, stepping into the stream of lukewarm water with relief. What a rough night. Was it? She cycled through the events from the evening before as she soaped up. That gas station scene had felt like a dream, but Katya’s absence in her bed was all too real this morning. Maybe this was it. The start of a new comedy partnership. One that didn’t involve her. What kind of stuff would they make? Probably something arty. They’d make fun of high concept fashion ads from the 90s and thrill the New York crowd to death. She could see why it’d be funny, too. Trixie turned off the water and started towelling off as she began to think about her own performance for the coming evening. Maybe a Dolly Parton song to change things up a little. She still needed to check out that stupid country song book. She stepped into a fresh pair of boxers and pulled a shirt over her head. Clean clothes felt amazing. Stretching felt super good, too - even though the little bathroom was too small to really get a good reach. She stepped out into the aisle and tossed her dirty clothes on top of the full laundry basket, reaching out to steady herself as she swung her body into her bunk and dropped down straight on top of Katya.

“WHAT the fuck?” Trixie rapidly hushed her voice as the little queen giggled, squirming underneath her weight. Above her Violet gave a grumpy moan and kicked a foot out into the alley. “You scared me motherfucker,” Trixie hissed. Katya extracted herself and rolled towards the window, squishing herself up against the cool glass. She rested her head on one hand and struck a jaunty paint-me-like-your-french-girls pose. “Hi mama. Miss me?” “No. Where were you? I thought you were supposed to sleep in here last night.” Katya shrugged. “Was I? I slept in with Alaska. I mean I didn’t really sleep. She takes up all the room. Can we cuddle?” Trixie extended an arm without comment and Katya immediately swung her head up into her neck. It always felt so easy. An arm snaked over her stomach and Katya’s little bony hand tucked itself lightly under her hip. “MMmm.” “Shhh.” Trixie felt her friend sneak a knee over hers, pushing in between her legs. “Let me in mama. Let me in, I’m not gonna try anything. Promise. I just want to sleep.” “No!” “Please? Are you sure?” “Katya.” “Mmmm. Mmm-mm.” “Katya.” “Mmmmm.” “Fine. But you’re gonna sleep and I’m too awake now. I need music. Do you have any?” Without a word, Katya reached into the pocket of her shorts and yanked out her phone, white earbuds tightly wrapped around it. She plopped it on her friend’s chest and rested her hand just below, fingertips in the dip between Trixie’s ribs. Trixie’s neck tickled as she inhaled happily. “You smell good, mama.” Trixie didn’t reply. With one arm around Katya she was finding it tricky to unwind the headphones, lifting the wires as the phone tumbled over onto her chest. It thwapped Katya’s fingers, the little queen mumbled in protest and moved her hand lower down. Halfway onto Trixie’s stomach. And then a touch lower. “Katya.” “Mmmmmm.” She shifted her weight and slid her knee fully between Trixie’s legs. Their bare thighs settled tightly together, skin to skin. It might have been her imagination, but for a very brief second Trixie felt a completely unexpected twinge. Fuck, not now. “I’m not trying anything.” “You better not.” “Mmm. Night.” A moment passed before she felt the subtle shift of Katya’s body relaxing. She always fell asleep immediately. It had been a relief last summer when they’d stayed together, Katya aggressively hitting on Trixie in an effort to culminate their friendshp. Nothing had happened beyond a similar snuggle close to how they lay now, tangled up in a warm embrace. Attraction is such a spectrum. Trixie was pretty sure Katya wasn’t into her at the moment. But you never knew, she never clung at all. No signals. Her thigh, between my thighs. Trixie needed a distraction. It was biological, right? A response to stimulation. It’d been a long, long time. She tucked an earbud into her left ear and swiped the phone on. It was locked. Katya was already snoring, and her hand was too awkward to tease a finger onto the home button. Stuck with your crazy Russian musical soundtrack, or whatever. Or t.A.T.u. Or the background white noise track of a meat packing plant or something, you little weirdo. She pressed play from the lock menu. A surprisingly pretty muted synth track flooded her ears. Far off echoed drums. A slightly tuneless Swedish-sounding voice, breaking from odd melodics to soft whispers, phasing between uncomfortable and really beautiful as the chords shifted. This was so Katya. Nothing was ever straightforward. She looked for the odd in everything. Everything came together. Trixie turned her head to rest her chin on Katya’s warm forehead, eyes half focused on the gold fields rolling past the window. She felt their bodies together, locked tight. Watched the light play over their skin. Their breathing had subconsciously synced, and she spent a few minutes zoning out into the way their chests rose and fell together. She could see Katya’s heartbeat pulsing along the golden skin on the back of her hand. She thought about their skin contact. Katya and Alaska would never snuggle like us. But if they start working together all the time, it’s pretty much the end of us. At least.. in a business sense. She knew she was being ridiculous. But she always leapt to conclusions. It was just her mind. Katya mumbled softly in her sleep, pushing her face a little closer into Trixie’s neck. At least now, even if only for now, Trixie had her friend’s body wrapped up in her arms. She wondered if there’d ever be an event horizon - a moment where Katya’s phenomenal fame kept growing and she drifted away, just out of reach. Didn’t have time for filming. Couldn’t return calls. Didn’t text back. She’d expected that thought to trigger some kind of business plan in her head. A way to make it work. A plot to keep filming and collaborating on everything that kept their duo going. But instead, Trixie was surprised by how strongly her chest opened up and a wave of intense attachment rushed out, threatening to overwhelm her. Her fingers tightened imperceptibly on Katya’s skin. Don’t go. She bit her tongue to clamp down on that thought, but feelings were hitting her. Hard. No, something else was hitting her. She glanced down. The crotch of Katya’s shorts had begun to bulge, pressed lightly against Trixie’s thigh. She glanced at Katya’s eyelids and found them still firmly shut, the queen apparently deep in sleep. Ugh, shit. What do I do now? The strength of her recent unspoken realisations were enough to deal with at the moment. She definitely didn’t need any physical complications. She should push Katya off her and demand some space. Wake her up. Reestablish those boundaries. Except.. The blonde queen had started to grind down slowly against her thigh, and for some reason Trixie couldn’t stop staring at the hardening bulge between her legs. Her heart began to pound. Her body began to respond. She could feel the blood starting an inevitable rush downwards, a familiar tingle growing faster than she’d like. They’d sort of done this before, one time. An intense snuggle, some slow grinding. Katya called it frottage. Trixie thought that sounded like a kind of cheese. She’d cracked a joke and they’d broken it off, Katya rolling quickly off the couch to go find a cigarette. That was before David, before Palm Springs, when they’d had to shut anything like that down due to the budding new relationship. Trixie would be lying if she hadn’t briefly wondered about what would’ve happened in its place. What might have happened one of those vacation nights, maybe after their naked photoshoot. But that was then, and this was now, and honestly she was starting to lose focus on anything but the now-visible outline of Katya’s erection through her pants. “Katya,” she whispered. This wasn’t going to happen while anyone was asleep. She felt the queen’s eyelids open sleepily. “Mm?” This is it. Do or die. ..Fuck it.

“Come here.” Heart pounding, she took Katya’s hand from her chest and moved it slowly downwards, inch by inch, until Katya’s fingers were just about to brush the rise of her swollen boxers. She lifted her hand away and held her breath as the blonde queen paused for a moment. And then, without comment, Katya dropped her fingertips lightly onto the shaft of her hard dick. As jolts of electricity pounded through Trixie’s body, Katya began to trace the outline of her erection, moving slowly with two probing fingers before sliding her whole hand over and around her girth, glancing up to meet Trixie’s eyes. “You were right, mama.” “What?” Trixie whispered, caught off-guard. “About the size. I didn’t believe you. You’re big.” “I tol-” Trixie’s breath caught suddenly in her throat as Katya tightened her grip. She began to squeeze with a little more pressure, grinding herself harder against Trixie’s leg. “You’re too big for me. But maybe I’m right for you.” Trixie felt Katya’s free hand slide down to her hip, pulling her insistently onto her side to face her. She felt her fingers begin to tug her boxers down, the other hand still slowly moving up and down her dick with the kind of pressure that felt unbelievable through the material. It was too much. And then she was free, and Katya’s fingers were sliding around her shaft, and Katya was pushing her own pants down with a quick movement from her spare hand. “Touch me,” she whispered, bring her lips up to Trixie’s. The skin was barely grazing, and Katya kept it that way. Trixie could smell her. Could almost taste her. Her lips started to ache, anticipating their kiss. Katya read her mind, and reached out for her hand. “Touch me first.” Trixie complied, letting Katya guide her down to her dick. She felt the warm skin touch her fingertips, and before she had a moment to think she’d already wrapped her hand around the girth of it, eliciting a tiny moan from Katya. They began to pump each other slowly, the hot breath between their lips mingling as they tried to stay silent. Trixie could feel herself melting into the sensation, her eyes closing in the warm sun, disappearing completely into the way her heart wrapped about Katya’s touch. She leaned forward to break the desperate tension but Katya leaned back, just out of reach. “Not yet.” “Katya? Where’s Katya?” Shit. Frank. Fuck. Trixie opened her eyes to meet Katya’s blue-eyed surprise. “Oh shit.” Trixie quickly scooted over to the bunk curtain, tugging her boxers up with one hand and pulling her shirt down with the other. She had no idea why she felt so guilty, but the way Katya was grinning made her jump all over. Now she could see Frank, barefoot and sleepy-eyed, some papers in his hands. “She’s here. What’s up?” “She has to sign these insurance forms. I should’ve had her do it last night but I need her to do it now before we cross state lines.” “I’m coming.” Katya finished buttoning up her shorts and propped herself up on one elbow. “I’ll be there in a sec.” “I’m leaving them on the table.” Trixie glanced over and watched as her newfound crush checked her pockets for her cigarettes. She finally found the crushed pack and teased one out, sliding it between her lips with a little smile. “Hey, do you know I bought those for you?” Trixie whispered. Katya flashed her a look of surprise. “Well.. I paid for them.” Made sense. Katya pulled the cigarette from her mouth and leaned in towards her. “Do you want a small kiss, mama?” Fuck yes. But maybe.. “Tonight.” Gotta maintain some boundaries. A flash of a grin, the tiniest linger of her hand against Trixie’s chest as she clambered over her, and Katya was gone. Trixie knew she wouldn’t be back. It wasn’t her style. But they had one more night to figure it out.

It was the second longest leg of the journey, a boiling hot summer’s morning, and Trixie was writing a song.

#trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #smut #tw alcohol #tw drugs #tw swearing #toki #rpdr fanfiction #submission #canon compliant #this could happen

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hellacluttered · 8 years ago

Text

One Thousand Miles (Goodnight Robicheaux)

Requested by anon (THANK YOU for requesting this!! it was so much fun to write)

Prompts: “I can’t carry on this way anymore, I can’t live like this.” + “I’m pregnant.”

A/N: So, this starts in winter of 1861-62, the first year of the Civil War (or the War of Northern Aggression, as I suppose the Southerners in Mag7 would have called it). Goody’s 29 at this point (if I make out Goodnight to be the same age in the movie as Ethan Hawke is). I'm writing in third-person instead of second-person because this is something I got super inspired to write and I'm trying to write it as a formal work which is also much longer than my usual fics (it’s almost 10k words!). I intentionally didn’t describe Eliza’s appearance so you guys can do a little self-inserting on that front if you please. I love writing about these guys’ backstories and I hope this has come out as good on paper as it sounds in my head, and that you guys will enjoy it! S/O to @coachboom for beta-ing and to @ithoughtyoumightcall for sending Ethan Hawke pictures which inspired me to write when I was getting stuck XD Btw, this is what Ethan looked like at the age Goody would have been here, so if you’re picturing him, picture that ;)

Goodnight looked up at the old manor house, its candle-lit windows welcoming in the chilly night. It had been a long week of marching, and though he was sure he would not get a bed, he was exceedingly grateful that he would have a roof over his head and maybe some decent food. He estimated the temperature was close to freezing, and the pace of their march had slowed as they grew tired; he was shivering under the dark blue wool uniform jacket.

The company came to a halt when they reached the front of the house, and just as Captain Stevenson started up the steps, the front door opened and a stately-looking older man stepped out, the heels of his shoes clicking lightly on the wood of the porch. “I’m James Cox. Welcome to our home,” he said simply. “And thank you for your service. Please come in.”

The silence and order of the company broke as they ascended the stairs in a jumble, filing through the door and into the well-lit house. Goodnight looked around in some awe as they passed through the entrance hall; the soaring ceiling, the elaborate chandelier, the walls adorned with paintings and relics of the Revolutionary War- he’d never been in so ornate a house before. He didn’t know exactly where they were headed, but he just kept following the men ahead of him, finally coming to a stop in what he guessed was a ballroom- he hadn’t seen one in person before, but it fit the criteria of what he’d read in novels. The other soldiers were already beginning to put down their things, unrolling bedrolls and starting on late-night snacks.

Goodnight did the same, wrapping himself up in his coarse wool blanket and preparing to sleep. Within a quarter of an hour the tired company had quieted down and the candles had been put out. The quiet was frequently interrupted by the sound of shifting material as someone rolled over or snores (which usually ended by the perpetrator getting elbowed by their neighbor), but neither were loud. Yet still, Goodnight couldn’t sleep.

He rolled from one side to the other, his eyelids closed, but his mind and his eyes were both quite alert, and and tiredness would not come. Finally he stood, not quite sure where he was going, but sure that he didn’t want to lie there any longer. He carefully crept through the sleeping bodies, and he was nearly to the door when a sharp whisper rung out. “Robicheaux!”

He jumped, startled, and looked down to see his friend looking back up at him. “Good Lord, Jeeves, you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Jeeves chuckled. “Nah, just wondered where you’re headed.”

“Can’t sleep,” Goodnight said. “I’m gonna walk around. Explore this place a little.”

“Knock yourself out,” Jeeves said. “Just don’t wake me up again.” But there was a good-humored sparkle in his eyes despite his words.

“Will do,” Goodnight said, and then slipped through the door.

The halls were deserted as he walked through them, occasionally taking a peek through an open door. He spotted a piano in one room, and the sight of the keys drew him- it had been far too long since he'd been able to play- but it was too late in the night to do so and he resisted the temptation. Instead, he walked on, finally entering what looked like a small library, where a fire burned in the hearth. He dearly hoped he was allowed to be there as he picked a book off the shelf and settled down on the hearth with Great Expectations in his hand.

Warm and comfortable, his mind engaged and unworried, he slowly began to grow drowsy, but kept reading- the book was an old favorite of his- and he didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he woke to someone shaking his shoulder.

“Excuse me.”

But this wasn't the voice of Sergeant Kipling, who always woke them up. This was a woman’s voice. His eyes shot open and he looked up to see her leaning over him, her expression tentative as she said, “Sorry to wake you, but…”

“Not to worry,” he said. “I didn't mean to fall asleep in here.” He picked up the book, which was still propped open on his chest, and stood.

“It's hard to put down Dickens, isn't it?” she said, a small smile dancing around the corner of her lips.

“It is,” Goodnight said, looking around for where he'd gotten the book from.

“Here,” the young woman said, taking the book from his hand and sliding it into the spot on the shelf that had eluded Goodnight’s still-sleepy eyes.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You're welcome,” she replied. “Probably been awhile since you've gotten a chance to read, eh?”

He nodded. “It has. Couldn't stop myself from coming in here last night. Wasn't sure if I was allowed, so I guess it's a good thing you woke me instead of the master of the house. Wouldn't want to get in trouble my first night here.”

“Not to worry,” she said. “My father said everything we have is open to your company. I understand he knows the captain.”

“Your father?” Goodnight said, his brain assembling the pieces quickly. “Then you're…”

“Eliza Cox,” she said, extending a hand.

He took it and raised it to his lips, brushing a light kiss against her knuckles. “Corporal Robicheaux at your service, but you can call me Goodnight.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said.

“The pleasure is mine,” he said warmly. “I’d better get back to the company, but…”

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure,” she said.

“Good.” He left her with a fleeting wave and a charming smile.

Goodnight leveled his rifle, sighting at the target he’d set up on a haybale 1500 yards or so away in the now-desolate fields. It was a closer range than he usually shot at, but he figured he’d start close and move the target farther out later on. He eased back on the trigger, readying for the kick as the gun released. The shot rang out in the dull silence, dying without echo in the cold. He set down the gun on his blanket, which he’d brought out with him, and checked the shot through his spotting scope. Bullseye.

When he went back inside he was shivering- he was always focusing too hard when he shot to notice whether he was cold or not- and after returning his gun to his little sleeping space in the ballroom, he returned to the library, hoping the fire would still be lit. To his relief, it was, and he hurried across the room to sit down, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw the top of a head protruding above the back of one of the two armchairs that faced the fireplace. He immediately began to back away as silently as he could, not wanting to bother the person without knowing who they were, but one of the floorboards creaked under his boot and he froze, watching as the top of the head turned and then the person stood. “Corporal Robicheaux!” Eliza said cheerfully and he relaxed. “Can’t say I’m too surprised to see you in here.”

“No?” he said, and she shook her head. “Were you hoping I’d show up?” he added teasingly and she just laughed.

“I saw you shooting out there. It’s a cold day; no wonder you’re shivering. Come sit by the fire and warm up.”

He took her up on the offer gladly, opting to sit on the hearth again instead of the other armchair as it was closer to the heat. “What do you do around here all winter?” he asked.

“Read,” she said. “Walk. Shoot.”

“You shoot?” he asked.

“My father said I should learn, so I did. I like it.”

“It’s a good skill to have,” Goodnight commented. “I saw a piano somewhere; do you play?”

“Only a little,” she said. “I’m trying to learn, but… It’s not going too well. Do you?”

“Yes,” he said. “I made a few dollars as a kid playing in saloons.” He chuckled, thinking back. “I had a bit of a reputation back then; everyone around town knew me.” Eliza smiled warmly, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly as she did. “I can imagine. Where are you from?”

“New Orleans,” he said. “Have you always lived here?”

She nodded. “I was born in this house.”

Goodnight nodded slowly. “Seems like a nice way to live.”

“Yes,” she said, but something in her voice was hesitant and Goodnight prompted,

“But?”

“Well, it’s… It’s quiet,” Eliza said. “Which isn’t always bad of course, but…”

“I understand,” Goodnight said.

Just then Goodnight heard footsteps in the hall and a familiar voice called, “Corporal Robicheaux.”

Goodnight shot to his feet, standing at attention. “Yessir.”

“Everyone’s wanted in the ballroom, forthwith. Move out.” The lieutenant moved on and Goodnight’s posture relaxed.

“Well, I guess that means I should go,” he said, and Eliza nodded.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” she said and he smiled, tipping the brim of his cap to her.

“Until then m’lady.”

Her laugh at the title followed him out the door.

The next day was busy with drills and shooting practice, but the day after he decided to go back to the library. He did genuinely feel like reading a book, but he realized that he had ulterior motives when he found the room deserted and disappointment tugged the corners of his lips down. Oh well. He grabbed a book off the shelf, this one a history volume, and sat down in one of the armchairs to read, the heat of the fire like a blanket over his legs. He was learing about John Adams when he heard the door creak and looked up to see Eliza entering. “Here again?” she said, crossing the room to take a seat.

“It would seem that way,” he replied with a smile.

And so the days began to pass, a sort of pattern forming. On days that they didn’t drill all afternoon, Goodnight would spend a few hours in the library, and if Eliza wasn’t there first, she usually showed up eventually. They didn’t always talk, usually ending up reading in comfortable silence, occasionally stopping to share a passage of their book with the other. Goodnight enjoyed Eliza’s company and their discussions of whatever books they were reading, be it British classics, history, science, or any range of topics. She was sharp, quick-witted and thoughtful, an insight or theory Goodnight hadn’t thought of always on the tip of her tongue. He came to look forward to his time in the library just as much as his shooting practice, and sometimes he let himself consider the idea that he looked forward to it more.

The company had been staying in the house for just over a month when the captain received a letter. Goodnight was out shooting when some instinct told him there was someone behind him and he turned between shots, almost dropping his gun in his hurry to stand when he saw the captain standing there. “Sir,” he said, the heels of his boots clicking together as he straightened his shoulders, his hands resting, balled loosely, against the seam of his pants.

“The Union forces have begun to advance. They’re calling for sharpshooters in Tennessee. You’re being deployed, Corporal.”

Excitement, pride, trepidation tightened his chest. “Yes, sir. When do I leave, sir?”

“As soon as possible. Go pack your things. Sergeant Kipling will accompany you.” “Yes, sir.”

As Goodnight and Kipling rode at a quick trot down the road away from the house barely fifteen minutes later, Goodnight glanced back, his gaze alighting on a familiar figure in an upstairs window. He gave a playful salute and Eliza waved back.

A month and a half later, Goodnight Robicheaux rode wearily back up the road to the Cox estate, his left arm secured in a sling and his right limp, his fingers weakly grasping the reins. The weather was cold but he was hot with fever, rivulets of sweat running down his spine, his uniform unpleasantly damp. He’d been on the road for nearly twenty hours straight, and both he and his horse were on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion, but the end was in sight, and the news had to be brought, and he urged the horse on for the last hundred yards, sliding off at the steps of the porch. His knees buckled under him as he landed, and he barely managed to catch himself before he hit the ground. He staggered up the front steps, fingers grabbing clumsily at the door knob. Goodnight stumbled inside, almost tripping over the doorstep, feeling a sense of peace accompanying his single-minded goal when his blurring vision brought Captain Stevenson into focus. “Corporal Robicheaux!” He heard the captain’s voice as if through a pillow, hushed and edgeless. “Someone get a medic!”

“Captain,” he gasped. “Lieutenant General Jackson needs reinforcements.” Then the woozy, spinning feeling in his head took over, the unfocused edges of his vision spreading across his whole line of sight, and he pitched forward, dropping out of consciousness.

Goodnight awoke, unsurprisingly, in pain, but a very different kind than before. Before, it had been a feverish, ceaseless throbbing, rhythmic and violent as the beating of a drum, emanating in waves from the bullet wound in his shoulder. Now it was an even ache, dull and foggy. It felt healthier than the other kind. He raised a hand to touch his forehead. The skin was cool, the fever dispersed. He looked around, finding he was in a bedroom, and though he didn’t individually recognize it, the style of decor was consistent with the Cox manor, which made sense as he vaguely remembered drawing near it on his ride. But… A bolt of panic shot through him and he jerked upright, cursing under his breath at the increased pain in his shoulder. His shirt was gone, but his uniform pants were still on and he stood out of bed, placing a hand on the nightstand and leaning on it for a moment until his head stopped pitching. Then he hurried across the room, ignoring the jolts that each uneven step sent through his shoulder, and burst through the door into the hall, shuffling toward the staircase as fast as he could. He was nearly to the steps when a voice rang out behind him. “Corporal Robicheaux!”

He turned to see a middle-aged woman in a plain dress and apron quickly walking toward him. “I… I need to get to the Captain; is he still here?” he asked. “No, he and the rest of the company left two nights ago.”

Goodnight relaxed, resting a hand on the banister as his head began to reel again. “They’re going West? To join General Jackson?”

She nodded. “Captain Stevenson said you were to come after them as soon as you are well enough to ride and shoot. But until then, I’m to help take care of you, and you, young man, should be in bed.”

He smiled weakly. “All right, I’m coming. What time of day is it?”

“Around noon,” she said. “You were out cold for almost two days. You must be starving!”

He nodded, beginning the return journey to his room, trailing one hand along the wall for extra support. “Come to think of it, I am.”

“Well, once you’re back in bed, I’ll get you some soup.”

“Thank you,” he said genuinely. “What’s your name?”

“Martha,” she said.

“Goodnight’s my name,” he said. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Well it wasn’t me that cleaned out your wound. It had festered; you’re lucky you were unconscious when it got reopened. It wasn’t a pretty sight and it would have hurt bad.”

“Who fixed me up?” Goodnight asked.

“Mr. Wilson, the doctor from town, oversaw the whole thing, but it was mostly Miss Cox,” Martha said. “She’s in training to be a nurse.”

“Ahh, I see,” Goodnight said.

He made it back to bed and Martha disappeared to get him some food. After wolfing down the bowl of soup, he settled in to get some rest as sleepiness began to descend over him.

When he woke, his head was turned toward the wall, and he didn’t feel like moving it, until he heard the creak of the door opening and turned to see who it was. “Miss Cox!” his voice came out weak and rough from sleep.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked, entering the room but leaving a few feet of space between herself and his bed.

“Not too bad, considering,” he said. “I hear you used me for practice.”

She colored slightly. “Everything went fine and Doctor Wilson was overseeing; if anything had gone wrong, he-” “I’m just teasing you,” he said. “Seems you did a good job. Everything works all right, at least.” “Good,” she said, seeming relieved. “Martha brought you food, I hope?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind me asking… what was it like over there?” she asked.

“Fighting?”

Eliza nodded.

“It’s not my first fight, but…” he shook his head. “It was harsh. So many dying.” His brow furrowed, images flashing behind his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m quite ready to talk about it yet.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry I asked.” “Don’t worry about it,” Goodnight said, forcing a small smile in an attempt to reassure her.

“All right,” she said hesitantly. “I also came in here to give you this.” She held out a book he didn’t realize she’d been holding. He didn’t recognize the title and looked up at her questioningly. “They’re short stories, some of them fairytales. I don’t know if you like fantasy, but I thought you might want something to get your mind off things.”

“Thank you,” he said, and his smile was genuine this time. He was about to extract his arm from under the blankets when another idea came to mind. “Actually… Would you by any chance mind reading to me?” He knew it was a forward thing to ask, and he wouldn’t have said it if he’d thought about it much in advance, and he swallowed hard, nervous, as he waited for her answer.

To his relief, she smiled, lowering the book again, and nodded. “Of course.”

She sat down in the chair at the end of the bed, opening the book to the first page.

“It was a cloudy day in Glasgow when the first fairy appeared…”

Her storytelling was animated and engaging, and thought Goodnight wasn’t normally a particularly large fan of fairytales, he enjoyed this one greatly, and he had a feeling it had a good deal more to do with its conveyor than the story itself.

It was to the sound of her voice that he peacefully fell asleep.

That night, he slept heavily, the exhaustion easily subduing his memories. In the morning, he woke to find a stack of books on the night stand, and knew without a doubt who they were from. He was several chapters into the first when Martha and Eliza came in together.

“Good morning, Corporal Robicheaux,” Martha said cheerfully. “How are you doing? Did you get any sleep?”

“I slept very well, thank you,” he said. He was starting to push himself up into a sitting position when Martha said,

“No, no, stay as you are. We’re going to check on your wound.”

“Ah, okay,” he said, relaxing again, his fingers quickly unbuttoning his shirt as Eliza set a basket of supplies on the night stand next to the books and sat down on the edge of the bed. Goodnight looked up at her, their eyes meeting for just a moment before his gaze darted away; the connection had been too sudden, too bright, like the flare of flame from a lighting match. Goodnight fixed his gaze on the ceiling, hoping the pounding of his heart wasn’t visible in his now-bared chest. Eliza eased off the sleeve of his shirt, apologizing quietly when he winced. Once the sleeve was off, she unwound the bandage, and then examined the wound for a few moments, her expression unreadable.

“How’s it look?” Goodnight asked.

“Good,” she said. “The swelling has come down, and it seems to be closing nicely.”

“Thank the Lord,” Goodnight said. Despite that judging by the way he felt, he was sure he was making progress, he had been harboring a worry deep down that something would go wrong and cause permanent damage.

“You’re very fortunate this didn’t come out worse.”

“I am,” he agreed.

She wound a new strip of bandage around his shoulder, tying it off neatly, and then helped him get the sleeve back on. “When do you think I’ll be fit to ride again?” he asked.

“As soon as the risk of infection is down, I’d say,” she said. “I think the wound will have closed enough in three, four days.”

“That long?” he asked.

“You were shot, Goodnight,” she said firmly, her tone demanding respect. “You almost died. Spending a week in recovery isn’t unreasonable.”

“Can’t argue with that, can I?” Goodnight said to Martha, and the older woman chuckled, shaking her head.

“That you can’t.”

The two had just left when Goodnight realized Eliza had used his first name for the first time.

Goodnight couldn’t get to sleep that night. He’d been lying still for far too long and his legs were restless, but the biggest factor keeping him awake, though he didn’t want to admit it, was his mind. He’d always been prone to nightmares as a child, and with the gruesome, wrackingly raw images of the war running through his mind in a constant current behind his conscious thought, he knew he would not sleep easily or well.

He needed to get rid of some energy, so he sat up, restraining a grunt at the renewed throbbing in his shoulder, and reached for his jacket with his good arm, draping it messily around his shoulders. His boots were at the foot of the bed and he slid them on before standing. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room read 12:45, and the moon, which he could see through the window, whose curtains he had left open, was high in the sky. His footsteps seemed loud in the silent house, but no one had come out by the time he reached the front door, and he slipped out into the chill night, sure he hadn’t woken anybody.

The air was clammy but the sky was clear, scattered with stars like speckles from a paintbrush. The full moon was bright enough to cast his shadow on the ground as he descended the steps, and he began to walk, starting slowly at first, and then moving into a more even, normal pace as his shoulder began to loosen and adjust to the movement. He took one turn around the house, making sure he wasn’t going to grow lightheaded or pass out, and then turned toward the fields.

It was just then that he heard the distinct click of the door closing and turned to see Eliza descending the steps, a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders over her nightdress. He turned, walking back toward her. “What are you doing out here?” he asked. “It’s cold!” He slipped off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders and holding it there until she stopped trying to resist.

“I came out here to ask you the same thing,” she said. “You really should be sleeping- you need good rest to heal. And the more you jar that wound, the slower it’ll be to mend.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Goodnight said.

“How come?” Eliza asked, her sternness diminishing somewhat.

“I couldn’t hold still, and… Given the things that go through my head during the day, Lord knows what I’d dream about once I haven’t got control of my thoughts anymore.”

“Nightmares?” she asked, her expression now filled with sympathy.

“Memories… Nightmares… It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes. Either way, I’ll do what I can to pass them up.”

Eliza just looked at him for a moment, considering, and then offered him an arm. “For support,” she explained when he looked at the proffered arm confusedly. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Your daddy wouldn’t approve of this, would he?” Goodnight asked, attempting to bring some lightheartedness into the dark moments.

“My daddy’s asleep, and I’m a grown woman anyway,” she said, and then nudged his arm with her elbow, prompting him to slip his own through it. “And take back your jacket,” she added, briefly disconnecting their arms to put his coat back around him before putting her arm through his again.

“But you’ll get cold!” he protested, struggling to get his arm free of her again, but she didn’t let him, saying calmly,

“I’ll be fine.”

“As soon as I feel you shivering, you’re taking the jacket and we’re going back to the house.”

She laughed. “Fine.”

They walked in silence, the quiet rustles of their feet and the occasional howls of distant coyotes the only noises.

Goodnight closed his eyes for a moment, letting Eliza’s arm guide him. Slowly the pain and anxiety and restlessness was working its way out of his muscles, letting his mind return to a dull sense of peace and tiredness. When they finished their turn around the cornfield, Goodnight said, “Well, I think that did the trick. Thank you for keeping me company.”

“Sure,” she said. “Let me walk you up.”

“Very chivalrous of you,” he said and she laughed as they walked up the porch steps.

He gently tugged his arm out of hers to open the door, and held it for her, replying with a nod of his own to her nod of thanks. Goodnight had still not recovered from the missed days of eating and all the time lying down, and he felt thoroughly weary by the time they had reached the top of the staircase and walked down the hall to his room. “Well,” he said, resting his good forearm against the doorframe and leaning on it. “Good night, Miss Eliza.”

“Good night,” she replied.

“Yes?” he said, knowing full well she hadn’t been saying his name.

She laughed, shaking her head at the ill-formed pun. “Sleep well.”

“You too.” He watched for a moment as she walked down the hall, her posture graceful and proud, and then he went into his own room to sleep.

The next afternoon, Martha came in to tell him he was invited to eat dinner with the Cox family if he felt up to it; he assured her that he did but he really had nothing to wear, and she quickly returned with a suit, saying it belonged to one of Eliza’s uncles who visited rarely and wouldn't mind.

Goodnight checked his appearance in the mirror one last time, pushing back a strand of hair and hoping it didn't look too scraggly; it was starting to get overly long. Then he descended the steps and walked toward the dining room, where he found the Cox family already seated at one end of their long table, Mr. Cox at the head, and Mrs. Cox and Eliza at his right and left, respectively. A maid pulled out the chair next to Mrs. Cox as Goodnight approached, and he sat down, tucking the the tails of the coat under him as he did. “Good evening, Corporal Robicheaux,” Mr. Cox said, giving the younger man a small, welcoming smile.

“Good evening, sir,” he said, “Thank you for inviting me to join your family for dinner.”

“You're most welcome,” Mr. Cox said, “Although I must admit, I have a bit of an ulterior motive.”

“Oh?” Goodnight asked curiously.

“Yes,” Mr. Cox confirmed. “But let us eat first and we will speak of serious matters later.”

The dinner passed quickly in cheerful talk of times gone by, of stories of life in the manor, family history, and a discussion of the differences between Little Rock, on the outskirts of which the Coxes’ land was, and New Orleans. The Coxes were a warm, welcoming family, and as he started to get to know Eliza’s parents, Goodnight began to see where part of her personality came from.

It was when they retreated to the parlor and Mr. Cox sat down with Goodnight in front of the fireplace, his strong features growing serious, that Goodnight’s easiness began to slip away. “So tell me, how is the war effort going?”

Goodnight swallowed, swirling the glass of brandy in his hand. His eyes involuntarily glanced at Eliza, immediately picking out the look of concern in her eyes. He shook his head infinitesimally to discourage her from saying anything, and turned to reply to Mr. Cox, trying to compose his answer as he did. “It’s… We're holding up. It's a horrible place, but so far, things are going as they should.”

“Good,” Mr. Cox said. “So, General Jackson must be launching quite an offensive; sounds from what I heard that he's mustering all the troops he can.”

“That's correct. We were in Shenandoah Valley, sir, won a few small fights. The rush for everyone to get there paid off,” Goodnight explained.

“Good,” Mr. Cox said. “How’d you fare, Corporal Robicheaux? Before you got shot, that is. Damn Yankees.”

“I-” Goodnight swallowed, that dark undercurrent of his mind starting to rise to the fore. “I shot well. I’m a sharpshooter, so I wasn’t at the front of fight much. But I did my job.”

“Good for you, son,” Mr. Cox said, nodding encouragingly in his direction.

When Goodnight was preparing for bed that night, he was shaky, restless, his thoughts moving faster even than his agile fingers as he changed into his nightclothes and prepared to sleep.

His rest was heavy, deep, and to his relief, only occasionally troubled by dreams.

The next morning, Eliza came to check on his wound, and her expression seemed quite satisfied when she examined it. “Well?” he said.

“It’s healing fast,” she said. “You’ll be all set soon.”

“Good,” Goodnight said. “Then I’ll plan on leaving tomorrow.”

Her eyebrows dropped, the slight upturn of her lips straightening. “Even despite...”

He shrugged, saying simply, “I have to. Moreover, I should.”

She sighed. “All right.”

“What?” he said, his tone turning teasing. “You gonna miss me?”

“Of course I am!” she said, surprising him with her genuineness. “You better come back here and stay here again when you’re not needed in the war.”

He smiled. “I’ll try.”

She looked down, her fingers playing with the quilt. “Do you think you’ll… make it… that long?”

“I can’t say,” Goodnight said. “I’ll try my best.”

“Good,” her fingers ghosted over his arm as she stood, taking the basket of medical supplies off the night stand before she left.

Goodnight spent much of the day reading, some alone, and some with Eliza (which resulted in an intense discussion of Revolutionary War tactics), and went to bed early, wanting to be well-rested before he left the next day.

When he sat up in the morning, stretching stiffly, his bleary eyes focused on something foreign hanging on the door. A uniform, a different one than his own. He could hear footsteps in the hall and he called, “Martha?” as he got out of bed.

The head that came through the door wasn’t Martha, however, it was Eliza. “Oh, good morning,” he said.

“‘Morning,” she replied. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded. “But that’s not my uniform.”

“It is now,” she said. “It was delivered last night.”

“But that’s…” Goodnight trailed off, confusion starting to be replaced with excitement. “That’s a lieutenant’s uniform.”

There was a grin on Eliza’s face as she handed him a sheet of paper. “This came too. Maybe it’ll clarify things.”

Goodnight broke the seal, his eyes skimming over the words contained inside. “I got promoted!” he said. “The Captain said he’s going to keep me on as a sharpshooter but considering how I fought he thought I deserved the rank and the pay raise.” He looked up at Eliza, who was beaming almost as big as him.

“Congratulations!” she exclaimed.

Goodnight didn’t know who had taken the first step, but he found the distance between them disappearing as their arms wrapped around each other, tight in their joy. Goodnight rested his chin on her shoulder, the subtle scent of her hair reaching his nostrils, and when she stepped back, he was grudging to let her go. “Well done, Lieutenant Robicheaux,” she said and he smiled.

“Thank you, Miss Eliza.”

“You’re welcome. You get dressed and come down when you’re ready. There’s breakfast.”

“Thank you,” he said again.

She slipped back through the door, closing it behind her, and then his gaze shifted back to the uniform, clean and well-pressed, the red sash hanging over the shoulder of the dark blue jacket, the trousers dark and neatly creased. Lieutenant Robicheaux…

“Safe travels, Lieutenant,” Mr. Cox said, looking up at Goodnight, who, even at the foot of the steps, was still, on horseback, taller than him. “To victory!”

“To victory,” Goodnight echoed. “Thank you all for letting me stay, and for taking care of me.” By the end of the sentence, his eyes had fixed on Eliza, who stood next to her mother.

“It was our pleasure, Lieutenant Robicheaux,” Mr. Cox said. “If there is anything we can do to help in the future, you and your company are always welcome.”

“Godspeed,” Mrs. Cox said.

“Thank you,” Goodnight replied, and he truly did mean it from the heart.

“Stay safe, Lieutenant,” Eliza said, and though he missed hearing her say his first name, he understood why she didn’t.

“Thank you, Miss Cox,” he said, tilting the brim of his hat to her. “Until next time.”

Then he wheeled his horse, calling his last farewell over his shoulder as the Coxes waved.

He was going to where he needed to be, so why did he feel that he was leaving it? He knew there were many words unspoken, knew from the heaviness of his heart what he should have said, but also knew that it wouldn’t have been right to say just before leaving for war. He forced her out of his mind as best he could.

Shiloh, the Battle of Seven Pines, Second Manassas, Antietam- the battles had begun to meld into a single reddish blur in Goodnight’s mind by the time winter came and his company- what few had been left of the Tigers and other men of the Pelican Brigade they had joined with- were allowed to travel west for the winter. They had taken heavy casualties, and most of them were injured in some way or another, though the most lasting marks on Goodnight were now in his head rather than his body.

Memories stabbed through his thoughts unbidden, nightmares riddled his sleep, he was jumpy and irritable. He had already lost most of his friends and made no effort to make new ones in case they should perish, so alone he struggled, grateful only for the blank spots in his memories of the battles, though he knew not why they existed.

He had long looked forward to seeing Eliza, yet he found little joy in it when the company rode up the lane that led to the Cox manor and he saw the bustle of the family and servants arranging themselves on the porch to greet them. His eyes were fixed on Eliza as he watched her gaze search for him, but when her attention grew close, he looked down, not truly knowing why.

Arranging his blankets in the ballroom brought a few fonder memories back, memories of lighter times, times when everyone fell asleep within minutes, but now it was nearly an hour before the sounds of waking men trailed off to be replaced by the sounds of sleep. They had all seen too much to sleep easy. Goodnight finally rose, creeping out of the room like last year, following the familiar halls to the front door and then out of it. Instead of walking, tonight he merely sat down on the porch swing, watching the tranquil moon rise. How would it be to be so far from the chaos…

The door creaked and then clicked shut, and he looked up to see Eliza approaching, a tentative smile on her lips. “How are you, Goodnight?” she asked softly.

His smile, though small, was genuine. “Care to sit down?” he asked, delaying having to answer the question.

She did so, leaving a respectable few inches of space between them.

“I’m doing… I-,” He broke off, unable to look her in the eye. “Tell me how you are first.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “There isn’t really much to say. Your turn now.” Her voice was gentle, encouraging and Goodnight swallowed hard, trying to think of how to articulate his thoughts in a way that she could understand without having seen what he spoke of.

“War… war is brutal, unspeakably brutal. There’s… So much killing. I can’t seem to shake it.” He wasn’t cold, but he shivered, his shoulders hunching in on themselves a little more. “I can’t sleep, can’t focus, it sticks with me all day; it’s lodged in my head just as surely as that bullet was in my shoulder.” His voice caught and he stopped, his eyes locked on his lap, wondering if he had said too much.

Her hand moved into his line of sight, gently resting over his own, stable, comforting, warm. A lifeline. “If it helps you to talk, talk.”

“I…” he trailed off, unsure what he wanted or needed. “I lost my friends,” he continued haltingly. “And I killed… I killed my own countrymen. I watched men slaughter each other like animals, I-” he couldn’t continue, there were helpless tears forming in his eyes. Eliza’s hand tightened around his, gently pulling him toward her. Her arms went around him and he melted into her embrace, his forehead resting on her shoulder as his body was wracked with silent sobs. “I’m sorry,” he gasped but she shook her head, her hand moving methodically up and down his back and the whirl of his mind began to gradually slow.

“Any better?” she asked as he finally sat back, roughly mopping off his face with his sleeve.

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“I know this isn't important right now, but… I missed you, Goodnight. You don't know how relieved I was to see you get back here alive.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, and he truly did. The words made his heart feel warmer than it had in months. “But I'm not the same man you knew then.”

She shook her head. “That’s not true. Scars change you. They don't transform you.”

“You think so?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Who could go through what you have and not be changed by it? I can't even come close to imagining what it must be like but I can't imagine someone coming out on the other side exactly the same as they were going in. But you’re still Goodnight Robicheaux, still… my friend.”

Goodnight considered her words, weighing them. “I suppose.”

“Are you at all tired?” she asked.

“A bit,” he said.

Her hand, which had been resting in her lap, returned to his, her fingers gently lacing through his. “Good. Soon as you think you could sleep, let me know. I'll stay with you until then.”

He glanced at her, surprised. He had returned just a shell of the cheerful and talkative young man he had been the previous year. “Why…?” She looked at him and he nodded at their joined hands.

She hesitated, her lips parted slightly. And then she leaned in, pressing her lips to his cheek in the gentlest of kisses. He just stared at her when she sat back, a dumbstruck smile spreading across his lips, the fluttering of his heart overriding the heaviness of his mind. “I… I kept thinking after you left that you might not come back, and the more I thought about it the more I came to know my own mind, and I promised myself that if you returned, I wouldn't miss the opportunity again.” She looked away. “Well, that is, if you'll have me.”

He shook his head in wonderment. “‘Course I will.”

Her eyes met his again and her lips curved into a smile as he pulled her into another embrace, but this one different from the last- hopeful, not desolate; affectionate, not protective.

“But I won’t hold you to it until I’m sure you know how I am now,” he said as she finally pulled back.

“All right,” she said, but the tone of her voice told him she was sure nothing would change.

Through the tempests of memories that plagued his mind, through explosive moods and times when Goodnight couldn’t bring himself to even speak- Eliza was there through it all. He had garnered the nickname Angel of Death, but she was an angel of hope, comforting and caring for him when he hadn’t the will to do it himself, understanding and patient, putting up with him even through the worst of his moods.

“I don’t deserve you, you know,” he said one tranquil night as they sat in the library, she in an armchair and he at the foot of it, preferring to sit on the ground closer to the fire, and closer to her, than he would be in the other chair.

She shook her head. “It’s not me you don’t deserve, it’s the War.”

He considered. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

“The right one,” she said lightly, squeezing his shoulder.

December turned to January, then January to February, and Goodnight spent as much time as he could with Eliza, not knowing when exactly his company would be deployed, and whether he would see her again once they were. Nighttime walks, reading sessions, midnight raids on the kitchen- they shared as much time as they could, and Eliza’s presence was therapeutic to Goodnight, she was an anchor, helping keep his sanity one with his mind. One evening as they sat together in the library, Goodnight said, “Your parents wouldn’t approve of us, would they?” He already knew the answer; Eliza had never told Mr. and Mrs. Cox and they were never public with their affection, which was indication enough. Yet he wanted to hear Eliza’s opinion.

She considered, putting down her book. “They really like you, Goodnight. They enjoy your company. They know you’re smart, personable, kind- that’s why they invite you to eat with us so much.”

“But as soon as the war’s over, I’m not a lieutenant anymore, I’m just a poor boy from New Orleans,” Goodnight said.

Eliza hesitated. “That would probably be what they’d think.”

Goodnight nodded. “I understand.”

“I don’t care,” Eliza said, and he looked up sharply. “I don’t care about whether you’re not well-off or any of that. I…” she paused, looking down at her lap. “I want to stay in your life.”

Something deep in Goodnight’s chest snapped and he stood, walking over to the other chair to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in his own. “I’ll allow that, darlin.’”

She smiled, the uncertainty fading from her face, and Goodnight stretched up to kiss her, letting the caress of her lips disintegrate his worries for the time being.

News came in the third week of February. The company would be leaving in four days for Virginia to join General Lee’s army. “I’ve got an idea,” Goodnight said one night as he and Eliza took a turn around the cornfield.

“Yes?”

“Do you have plans tomorrow?”

Eliza shook her head. “Why?”

“I think I’d like to marry you.”

She turned to him, her mouth hanging open. “You… what?”

He smiled, dropping to one knee and taking her hand in his. “I couldn’t afford a ring, but… Eliza Abbie Cox, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes. “Yes,” she finally managed to choke out and Goodnight stood, his arms wrapping around her waist, and he spun her around as joyous tears began to form in his eyes too. He finally set her down, pressing a long kiss to her lips under the silver light of the moon.

“I was thinking,” Goodnight said as they reached the house again. Eliza looked up at him, her smile radiant.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be right to marry you without telling your parents.”

Her smile disappeared. “Goodnight…”

“I know, they won’t approve. And I’m not going to change my mind if they don’t. But it seems cowardly to sneak off and get married and not tell them. I’m thankful to them for a lot, most of all for you, and it just seems wrong.”

“I… I guess you’re right,” Eliza said. “You’re not going to back out, no matter what they say?”

“Nothing could make me,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose before opening the door to go inside.

“All right,” she said, her features relaxing. “Then I’m doing it with you.”

The next morning, a very nervous Goodnight with an equally on-edge Eliza knocked on the door of Mr. Cox’s study. “Come in,” the familiar voice called. Goodnight turned the doorknob, holding the door open for Eliza and then stepping in behind her.

“Pray tell, what are the pair of you doing here together?” asked Mr. Cox, perplexed.

“Well, we…” Goodnight hesitated, not sure how to start. Just then Eliza’s hand crept into his, giving his fingers a comforting squeeze, and he blazed ahead, even as Mr. Cox’s eyes looked on their linked fingers with confusion. “Last spring, after I went to war, sir,” he began, and Mr. Cox’s eyes returned to his. “I realized that I had fallen in love with your daughter Eliza.” Saying the words aloud gave him clarity, and his voice was even and controlled, his nerves diminishing as he continued. “When I came back in December, my feelings were renewed and as it happened, she felt the same way. Last night, I proposed to her, and today, we’re going to town to be married.”

Mr. Cox just stared at them dumbfounded, his eyes fixing on Goodnight, then moving to Eliza, and back to Goodnight. “And…” he cleared his throat. “How do you plan on providing for my daughter once the war is over?”

“I’ll get a job,” Goodnight said. “I can work hard. I will work hard.”

“But you have no prospects lined up.”

Goodnight hesitated. “...No.”

Mr. Cox considered, his expression severe. “Lieutenant Robicheaux, I think you know I cannot give my blessing to this match. I love my Eliza too, and I cannot approve her going until I know she will be provided for.”

“But papa,” Eliza protested, “I don’t need to be rich. I… I want to be with Goodnight. I don’t care where or how. I can’t carry on this way anymore, I can’t live like this, feeling guilty for loving Goodnight and keeping it a secret like it’s something to be ashamed of. I’m grateful for what you and mama have done for me, and I appreciate your concern, but I want to marry Goodnight, and I’m going to do it today.” Her voice was commanding, her normally relaxed persona swelling to the edges of the room.

“Then it seems I can’t stop you,” Mr. Cox said finally. “Give your mother and I some time to discuss this and prepare. What time are you planning to go to town?”

The wedding was small and simple; apart from Mr. and Mrs. Cox, Sergeant Kipling and Corporal William Johnson, Goodnight’s only close friend from the company, no one else there, but neither the bride nor groom cared.

Goodnight could not remember ever feeling such untainted and pure jubilee as when the minister declared he and Eliza man and wife and he held her in his arms with no concern, no secrecy, and every wall separating them demolished.

Mr. and Mrs. Robicheaux.

They had not time for a honeymoon, but they were given one of the house’s guest suites for the last three nights and two days before Goodnight had to go. The men of the company wanted to throw a party for him, but he turned them down to spend the last days with his wife.

The morning of his departure he awoke to find her peacefully asleep next to him, her hair laying mussed across her pillow like a halo above her head, her face peaceful in sleep. Goodnight gently slipped an arm under her neck, and one around her waist, turning her body toward him so that her cheek rested on his shoulder. “What time is it?” she asked sleepily.

“Nearly seven,” he said.

She nodded, draping an arm over his chest and wrapping a leg around his. “Don’t go.”

He kissed her forehead, his fingers playing gently through her tangled hair. “I have to.”

“Then come back quickly.”

“I’ll try.”

For ten minutes or so they lay in silence and Goodnight closed his eyes, trying to memorize the feeling of her body tucked against his, of her fingers between his own, of her head tucked under his chin, of the graceful curve of her side and the cascades of her hair. But all too soon he had to get up so he would be ready in time and Eliza rose too, silently helping him dress in his uniform. She wouldn’t look up at him when she finished buttoning his jacket, and he reached up, gently angling her chin up so she had to meet his eyes, just as a single tear overflowed, trickling down her cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, though both knew he couldn’t promise it. “I’ll write.”

She nodded, letting out a heavy sigh as she took his hands in hers, resting her forehead against his. “I love you.”

He smiled, tilting his head slightly to one side and stepping forward to kiss her. “I love you too,” he murmured against her lips.

Goodnight couldn’t stop looking back as the company rode away from the Cox Manor. There stood Eliza and her parents on the porch. He could already feel a deep hollowness in his chest- he supposed it was the part of his heart he’d left with Eliza. It was only when when they turned onto the main road, separated from the manor’s ground by a dense line of trees that he finally returned his eyes to the way ahead.

Skirmish after skirmish, battle after battle, 1863 crept by. Goodnight wrote Eliza whenever he could, letting her know in his letters when they would be staying in a place long enough for her to write back to him there. Her letters brought light to his darkest days, and he kept track of the date only to count to the winter, still hoping he would get to see her then.

But the Confederacy was struggling. All forces were needed, and it was disconsolately that he wrote to her to tell her that the company would not be coming to Arkansas that winter.

And so the second year of their separation began to pass. The initial miserableness of it had faded somewhat to be replaced by a dull ache, always present at the back of head; it grew acute when he allowed himself to think about her, which ended up being very frequently, as much as he tried to avoid it.

As 1864 began, and the months started to march by, Goodnight could see the end coming. Losses piled up, numbers shrank. The cloth from tents who had lost their owners was repurposed. The camps were smaller. September came and Fort Harrison fell. The mood of the army was dark, and Goodnight could not remember the last time he had smiled. He had hardly slept in many nights, so haunted was he by the screams of the dying, the expressions of those who lay in agony, mangled and torn; he was overwhelmed by the waves of callous death. Gunshots set him on edge, verging on panic, and he felt more tired when he got up in the morning than when he went to bed.

At last with a shaky hand, he wrote to the captain above him, asking for three weeks’ leave. He hated to admit defeat, but he knew with the condition he was in it was only a matter of time before he would start making bad calls and getting the men under him killed. He knew the captain personally, and dearly hoped that his request would be granted.

Upon receiving permission, Goodnight set out on the one thousand mile journey to Arkansas the next day, taking a train when he could, and riding when he couldn’t. He arrived at the Cox manor late at night, leaving his horse in the stable before tramping wearily up the front steps, knocking on the front door with a slow-moving hand. He heard rushed footsteps inside, their manner familiar, the door swung open, and he wrapped Eliza in his arms, hardly registering her questions and exclamations of relief or her words of affection. He didn’t want to let her go and they just stood there for close to a minute, she inside the doorstep and he out, his fingers moving agitatedly through her hair and across her back, a desperate attempt to make up for the lost time. “Thank God you’re alive,” she said, and that was when he realized he had forgotten to write her for close to two months, so enveloped in his struggle as he was.

“Good Lord, I’m so sorry, Eliza. I’ll explain everything; I-”

“Tomorrow,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”

Because of how long it would take to get back to Virginia, Goodnight was only able to stay at the Cox manor for six days. But six days spent away from the noise, from the blood, violence, and suffering, six days spent with the one who loved him more than any other person, talking, sleeping, and sometimes just sitting with her in his lap, playing with her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder, one of them dozing off from time to time, gave him new energy like nothing else could have.

He returned to the war, not fixed but rested, not invulnerable but prepared, and the last six months until the surrender passed in a rush of fight after fight and traveling from one city to the next.

His last ride from Virginia to Arkansas was a solitary and subdued one. The Confederacy had lost, countless soldiers had died, and it seemed the whole country needed rebuilding.

But the fight was over, he was still alive, and he was going home.

He had sent a letter in advance, and he pushed his horse to a gallop and the end of the lane up to Cox Manor, the warm wind blowing back his hair. The hoofbeats carried in the open air and he was almost to the house when the door swung open and Eliza ran onto the porch, a proud smile on her face. He dismounted, dashing up the steps to embrace her, his lips pressing against hers in an ardent kiss. “You made it,” she murmured as he laid his head on her shoulder, his forehead pressed to her neck, breathing in her scent, revelling in holding her again.

He just nodded, content.

“Also, Goody?” she said. “I have some news.”

“Yes?” he said, standing back enough to look her in the eyes.

“I’m… I’m pregnant.”

His lips dropped open, his brows shooting up. “You’re…”

“Pregnant,” she repeated, the grin spreading across her face only equalled by Goodnight’s. He pulled off his hat, proud, happy tears welling in his eyes.

“Eliza…” he murmured, pulling her tight against him again. She laughed from sheer joy, the sound like music in his ears and he rocked her gently, utterly overwhelmed by happiness and gratitude.

He didn’t know what the future held, though he was sure it couldn’t be more chaotic than the past. And he didn’t know how he would adjust to peace again, although he was sure it couldn’t be harder than adjusting to war. The combat with the demons in the back of his head was sure to continue, but here, with Eliza, he knew he could take it, and he had more than enough reason to. He was ready and eager to relinquish his rank of lieutenant; the titles of husband and father were plenty for him.

#i've been working on this so many hours idek if it's good XD #goodnight robicheaux #the magnificent seven #mag7 #civil war #mag7 scenario #mag7 imagine #i'm so bad at titles

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captainignatiuspigheart · 5 years ago

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Gosh time really does fly, while simultaneously flexing with all the integrity of sun-warmed chewing gum… so, yeah, it’s Friday already and I haven’t completed my sole personal task of the week – recording what the I’ve watched and done. Obviously I’ve done relatively little, except drunk spectacular quantities of beer and gazed listlessly at our blossoming lilac tree. That’s right: I’ve been outside! In fact, I spent most of last week outside. Work very kindly ordered us some desks in an attempt to aid good workspace habits, since I’ve been sitting on the sofa with my laptop on my knees for six weeks or so… It’s a nice little desk, but it does rather fill our front room. The brightening weather gave me ideas! After a day sitting under said lilac tree I got quite enthusiastic, ordering a WIFI extender thing (with antennae! Must be good.) and unfurling the gazebo. I even went so far as to lay out four of the concrete slabs that have been stacked in our garden for more than a decade, pending the creation of a patio. It was quite lovely. I spent my days in sunshine, watching the cats race around the garden, the gentle scent of lilac and roses wafting into my hardworking face. Pretty nice week all round really.

Reading: The Human (Rise of the Jain #3) by Neal Asher

I don’t often pre-order books (I know, as a publishing person I should know better…) but that’s mostly because by to-be-read stack both physical and digital is absurd. The coronavirus means I want things to look forward to! I’ve been reading Asher’s Polity books for years – fast-paced military space opera with great intergalactic conflict, high tech, terrifying aliens and engaging heroes. The set up… it’s an advanced human civilisation slowly taken over by the AIs we built, so that now Earth Central is a massively powerful AI who runs the whole show, and much better than we ever managed. The AIs do have a ruthlessly utilitarian slant though, and while mostly that means they do make life better for the majority, sometimes it means they sacrifice whole worlds to save the rest of the Polity… This is so far into the story that it’s near impossible to summarise what’s going on! Ancient alien technology – the Jain – enables nano-(and even pico-)engineering on a thrilling scale, but is horribly prone to taking over its user and sequestering every resource in sight, utterly destroying the civilisation that tried to use it. A vast array of active Jain tech has been swirling around the heart of a galaxy for millions of years. For the last few hundred years, Orlandine, a vastly upgraded “haiman”, half AI, half human who has seemingly tamed Jain tech for her own purposes, as well as the gnomic moon-sized alien entity, Dragon, have been preventing it from escaping and wreaking havoc.

That all went spectacularly tits up in the last book, and this is the final struggle to contain the Jain before it wipes out everyone. This installment really builds on the transhuman character development of Orlandine, the Polity AIs, the horrifying crab-like human-munching aliens, the Prador, and a host of other characters, many of them infected with Jain ambition among other things. It’s impossibly epic, with vast stakes, finally revealing the true dangers of the alien tech and a lot more about where it truly comes from. As a huge fan of the universe, I was delighted by this, even if the ending comes about a little quickly. Fear not though, there are plenty of hints at what is still unknown, and critical figures are conspicuously absent. Bring on the next trilogy please!

Building: LEGO Y-Wing Starfighter – LEGO 75181

Ermagherd, is I believe, how the young folk express their fondness for a thing. It is how I should like to express my fondness for this splendid build! This is the first UCS (ultimate collector series) I’ve had the chance to assemble, and I’m pretty impressed. In truth, I nicked it from work (sliced open the box and emptied it into a rucksack, walks away whistling etc), and probably would not have bought it for myself. It’s Star Wars, so it’s huge and mostly grey. The Y-Wings are rightly iconic for getting blown to pieces above various Death Stars, but they look so damned cool. I’ve already got a LEGO Y-Wing, now that I think about it – the 1999 edition that came with a tie-fighter. It was rad at the time, but this massive set comprehensively blows it out of the water and vaporises the lake it was skimming over. At a mere 1967 pieces, I was confident that I could build it in an evening, but naturally failed. Instead it dominated an entire Saturday afternoon while I watched more of season two of Agents of SHIELD (which I’ve had to pause to watch Guardians of the Galaxy and Avengers: Age of Ultron because the latter takes place around episode 20!). Rarely have I spent a Saturday afternoon so productively!

New school

Old school

Beginnings…

Like a lot of the larger LEGO vehicles I’ve built, there are plenty of time when I have no idea what I’m assembling. This one went through a canal barge to crucifix stage pretty quickly, and as soon as the cockpit clips in it’s instantly recognisable. That cockpit itself is loaded with clever building tricks to give it a smooth and curved underside as neat as the top, sneaky stuff to invert the direction of the studs. It’s stuff I’m terrible at in my own building and I’m keen to learn from it. The nacelles have simpler tactics for allowing intense greebling all the way round the square pillars. The greeblage is mighty all over the back and underside of the Y-Wing. One of the things I often admire about official LEGO sets is the masterful balance of detailing, whether it’s in a scatter of cheese slopes, a light touch in patterning brick colours, or in this – while there’s a lot of detailing, it’s not so insanely overdone that it detracts from the model at a distance. The Y-Wing looks fantastically good, such a nice version of the film designs. There are though a bunch of stickers to apply on the cockpit which stressed me out to apply neatly. Not half as much as the massive sticker for the info plaque though. It really shouldn’t generate such anxiety! Nevertheless, I think I got it on perfectly.

The minifigs are great, as you’d expect, with a finely detailed Gold leader and a shiny silver R2-BHD astromech. Yeah, I love this thing. It is way too big to put anywhere in our house, sadly, but it will come apart into three neat pieces for transporting back to work once all this is over. Lamentably, having assembled this one, I now find myself eyeing up the far smaller A-Wing that’s just been released. That’s definitely shelf-sized…

Sticker hell

This has displaced a cat

Too big

Watching: Star Trek: Picard

We’d been waiting for all the episodes to be released on Amazon Prime before we began this. Our preference is definitely bingeing hard, rather than the agonising wait till next week. I’ve not reflected much on the change in our viewing habits in the last decade, but I think I’m getting more enjoyment from being deeply embedded in a show for a couple of weeks than dipping in and out of several simultaneously. However, I fear I’m going to have to do a second watch of Picard, because unlike Discovery which I adored from beginning to end, I just don’t know what to think of this new spin-off. Perhaps we’ll find out while I ramble…

The character of Jean-Luc Picard is obviously great – Patrick Stewart made Star Trek: The Next Generation come alive, and even though a lot of it is barely watchable now, the interactions of Captain Picard and his close-knit crew are delightful. TNG set the ground for the vastly superior Deep Space Nine that followed, with its huge and rewarding story arcs advancing the previous episodic narrative. With the exception of the Borg episodes, TNG never got the opportunity to do that, and with the similar exception of First Contact, its follow up movies are dreadful, though none as bad at those of the original series. I’ve been without Picard since First Contact in 1996 (holy fuck, how long?!), though the aforementioned dodgy movies have continued. So, a twenty year or so wait to return, that’s pretty high stakes.

Picard disabuses us pretty quickly of this being a high action show like Discovery. In a curiously similar vein to the new Star Wars movies’ Luke Skywalker story, Picard is long retired from Star Fleet, having been fired/quit when Star Fleet backed away from a commitment to help resettle the peoples of Romulus after their home planet got fried. He’s spent the rest of the time chilling in his vineyard home, tended by ex-secret service Romulans and generally doing fuck all but seethe that Star Fleet let him down. He’s run away from his responsibilities, having failed to be the man he thought he was. Enter a young (spoiler) human-passing android on the run from some dudes trying to kill her. She doesn’t know she’s an android but knows a lot of stuff, is super-fast and knows she needs to find Picard. It’s no shock to discover that she’s Data’s daughter, somehow. But she gets offed by some more Romulan spec ops bad guys, and Picard’s off on a mission to find her twin sister, save the galaxy, stop the Romulans etc.

Since Picard’s no longer Star Fleet he has to assemble a rag tag crew (stop me if you’ve heard this one before) since Star Fleet really don’t like him any more. The pacing is glacial at times, and it’s hard to understand what they’re actually aiming for in this. It takes ages to get into space (which is all fabulously Star Warsy rather than the Trek we’ve seen before) where we finally catch up with a ruined Borg cube that’s being rehabilitated by Romulans (for reasons I honestly can’t recall), and on which the android twin is working, while dating an actual piece of shit Romulan secret secret secret service guy who’s part of an inner circle dedicated to wiping out all synthetic life.

There is a lot of great stuff in here – Seven of Nine’s return is a delight, Riker!, learning that Romulan assassin folk are just feudal Japanese folk, complete with haircuts and robes is peculiar, but kinda fun, and eventually a lot of things happen, quite fast. Picard nearly dies, they find more androids, he saves the day. I don’t honestly consider that to be a spoiler! The whole show is soaked in nostalgia, which is only partly rubbing off on me. If there weren’t so many people involved, and such cool design work going on I’d write it off as a vanity project. It’s definitely more than that, but I don’t know what… Watch it, if you’re into Trek, otherwise I cannot imagine this having any appeal at all.

youtube

Doing: Virtual Improv Drop-In with MissImp

Last week’s new improv workshop was with Stephen Davidson, who’s just the loveliest and most passionate guy. His workshop is a real delight! Enjoy.

youtube

Last Week: The Human, Star Trek Picard and LEGO UCS Y-Wing - fun times with new Trek, splendid Neal Asher space opera and another fun MissImp online workshop! @missimp_notts #nottgoingout @nealasher #picard #books #lego @lego Gosh time really does fly, while simultaneously flexing with all the integrity of sun-warmed chewing gum… so, yeah, it’s Friday already and I haven’t completed my sole personal task of the week – recording what the I’ve watched and done.

#nottgoingout #book review #books #lego #LEGO 75181 #LEGO UCS #LEGO Y-Wing review #MissImp: Improv Comedy Theatre Nottingham #Neal Asher #Rise of the Jain #star trek #Star Trek Picard #Stephen Davidson #the Borg #TV review #working from home

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