#sooooo about a minute and a half when you open a new tab

[wewontbesleeping]

btw the hardest part of my classes is trying to do it on a laptop from 2012 lol

[barry-j-blupjeans]

oooh 16 (So I’ve been trying to be less chronically online and you know, find my People out in the public. Because real human beings are way more important than numbers on a screen. It’s just that this dating app is full of guys holding fish and/or guns, and I’m so, so ready to quit, so I have to know right now immediately what your whole deal is because I’m absolutely enchanted already) and taakitz maybe?

Get off dating apps, Lup said. Go outside and touch grass, Lup said. Maybe your dream man will rise from the depths of hell to serenade you, Lup said. Well, no, she didn't say that part, but she didn't object when Taako had suggested that outcome. And honestly? Honestly?? Taako had tried. He really had. Not the "perfect man will come out of hell to fall in love with you" thing- well, not exactly. But he had tried to actually go places and meet people instead of just scrolling through WizardsOnly.com for hours on end. Half those chucklefucks weren't even real wizards, anyway.

Logging on today had been- a distraction. A coping mechanism, if you will. It was an "I had a shitty day and I'm all out of ice cream" kind of day. The profiles on here were awful and downright embarrassing to read through sometimes and usually, they'd do a great job of making Taako feel much better about himself. He couldn't be worse than the sixteenth guy holding a bass. Like, c'mon. At least Taako had a salmon in his!

But then- then! Maybe the fiery gates of hell did open briefly because no one was allowed to be this good-looking with committing some kind of death crime. Mr. High cheekbones and half-pinned up hair, with a cool and dark aesthetic about him. There were no fishing pictures. There was no bragging about being voted into the local wizard consul.

There was, however, several photos of him amongst a group of old woman, all of whom were wearing bright, colorful clothes. The first picture of him was obviously a cropped selfie where someone had zoomed in on his face. The description was as followed:

Kravitz. 27.

And that was it. No introduction, no explanation from the gaggle of grandmas, no nothing. Taako was- well, Taako was delighted. Lup always said he had a tendency to go for people who seemed sort of aggressive but if something about this worked out, then he had physical proof that this man was not violently aggressive and/or mean. Old ladies didn't vibe with that. Fuck yes.

Taako opened up a new message.

sooooo I’ve been trying to be less chronically online and you know, find my People out in the public bc real human beings are way more important than numbers on a screen. it’s just that this dating website is full of guys holding fish and/or guns and I’m so, so ready to quit so I have to know right now immediately what your whole deal is because I’m absolutely enchanted already

He sat back, satisfied. Take that, Lup! He moved to click away from the tab but a bubble popped up under his messages, showing that Kravitz was already responding. Taako scooted his chair forward. It took a rather long time for him to type the message, so Taako did think, for a minute, that he was going to be offended. But when it finally popped up, it wasn't like that at all.

Message from Kravitz: I run a knitting circle.

Taako: A knitting circle?? go on

Kravitz: It's like... a grief thing. Like, "I'm so sorry your husband died, Susan, do you want to knit a blanket about it" kind of thing.

Taako: Delightful.

Taako paused, stretching his fingers over the keyboard. Go big or go home. This was a dating website, after all.

Taako: so listen. ur vv hot but I need to know if ur like, a murdered or if you have like,,, anger issues. bc my history is Not Great. please don't be a murderer

Kravitz: I don't think I'm a murderer? And that's a no on the anger issues. I think. Maybe? Should I ask someone?

Taako: I trust you.

Kravitz: Bold words from the guy who dated a murderer with anger issues.

Taako snorted, smiling for the first time all day. He cracked his knuckles and shook his hands out, setting them back on the keyboard.

Taako: You've got no idea, my dude.

[ddagent]

I know we just got it, but is there a chance of a follow-up to Brienne being able to read people's minds? It's sooooo good.

I have been absolutely overwhelmed by the response to telepathic!Brienne, and I truly hope you enjoy this follow-up! Thank you to @resthefuture​ for this AMAZING moodboard! 

Part One, “Noise” can be read here.

Brienne’s elbow jerked, and a nearby coffee cup tipped to the side; brown liquid spilling across the conference room table. Her colleagues scrambled to clear away the papers littering the surface; a flurry of thoughts bombarding Brienne as she suddenly became the focal point of the meeting. 

What a klutz. 

You’d think someone with arms that long would have better control over them. 

What is Tarth even doing here? She hasn’t worked on a proper case in months. 

Fuck; thanks a lot, Tarth! Why don’t you go back to the bridge you crawled out from?

She shouldn’t be here. She probably has a concussion. 

Brienne looked up at that last thought; Jaime Lannister’s voice cutting clear across the din. Despite the concern in every syllable, the senior partner sat in his chair, scrolling through his phone with disinterest. He seemed utterly oblivious to her mishap at the other end of the table. And, yet, Brienne was sure it was him. Sure it was his voice, filled with longing, that had called out for her to look at him for once. And, yet—

“Are you finished, Ms Tarth?” Brienne opened her mouth to respond, but Lannister didn’t allow her the opportunity. “Good. Stone: update on the Greyjoy case.” 

As one of her fellow associates launched into the latest legal battle between the brothers warring over their father’s will, Brienne dropped to her seat; cheeks flushed. On a normal day, knocking over a coffee cup and drawing the ire of a senior partner would rank amongst one of her worst. But her newfound...ability pushed it to the very top. Her colleagues barely tolerated her. Renly Baratheon used her. And Jaime Lannister— Well, Brienne wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him just yet. 

The meeting finally drew to a close, and her colleagues filed out one-by-one. Renly was the first to leave; he had an appointment with an intern at the advertising agency on five for some illicit fun in the men’s bathroom. Her colleagues had casework, calls to make, games to play. Brienne was the last to rise, and almost the last to leave. Jaime Lannister remained sitting; his manicured fingertips tracing the grain in the wood. 

“We don’t do injury claims here, Ms Tarth.” 

Her forehead furrowed. “I’m–I’m sorry?” 

He pointed at her face. “The bump on your head. This is a serious firm, taking on serious cases. You won’t find anyone here to take your case if you decide to sue.” A lawsuit is too good for whatever animal did that to you, anyway. A broken jaw would be better. 

“I—” Brienne was tired of half-finishing her sentences; so overwhelmed was she that words were far beyond her grasp. So she swallowed, straightened, and said: “I don’t intend to sue, Mister Lannister, but I do intend to press charges when the gold cloaks catch whoever was responsible.”

If she hadn’t heard his soft, aching thoughts, Brienne would have missed the taut line of his shoulders; the tightening of his grasp around the table. “You were attacked?” A broken jaw is far too good. I’ll call Tyrion; he knows people. We’ll have him buried by day’s end. 

“No!” Brienne blurted; Lannister’s eyes widening at her sudden outburst. Fuck. “I mean, I was attacked, but only because I was trying to save someone else from being mugged.” 

“Well, aren’t you the gallant knight.” Like Ser Blue. Tall, strong; I bet you could pin me–no, Jaime, not in the workplace. “We have an excellent healthcare policy, Ms Tarth; we here at Lannister, Baratheon, and Targaryen pride ourselves on it, in fact. I suggest you use it.” Please go home, Brienne. Get some rest. 

“Thank you, but I’m fine.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But this was me covering my own arse; if you decide to sue us later for breach of care or...whatever, your case won’t hold water. I’d get some ice for your head, though. That bruise makes you look even uglier than usual.” 

Lannister rose from his seat and made his departure from the conference room. He looked like the Warrior as he departed: expensive suit, well-cut mane, golden grin. But Brienne could hear his thoughts, and they betrayed a different kind of man. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did you say that, you idiot? Now she’s going to think you think she’s ugly, and judging from last night’s— Brienne was grateful when Lannister disappeared from her eye-line, and she could no longer hear him. If she had any doubts that his thoughts were about her, they had evaporated some ago. Jaime Lannister, the most eligible bachelor in King’s Landing and a disgrace to the legal profession, liked her. 

Too many thoughts. Too many questions. Too loud. Too much noise. 

Brienne retreated to her office, adjusted the blinds and shut the door. She logged onto her company laptop and pulled up a search engine, deciding to start at the beginning. Hearing people’s thoughts brought up more than a few results about mental illness. Telepathy was a more prosperous search, although Brienne was led to more than one site promising to teach people how to read thoughts for a monthly fee. Her search came up with nothing as to how to control or stop it; the most useful advice she saw was not telling a maester she could hear other people’s thoughts. 

After a while, Brienne opened a new window and typed in Jaime Lannister. 

As expected, there was the firm’s website; a series of tabloid articles detailing his well-publicised affair with his step-sister. The images tab revealed numerous photoshoots for various magazines, including a charity calendar of various attorneys in the city. Renly’s month had been in Brienne’s kitchen all year round. The news tab made mention of cases he’d won – and the Aerys Targaryen debacle. He’d wrecked Targaryen’s defence on purpose; had almost been disbarred had his father not come to his aid. Jaime Lannister was deplorable. And he liked her. 

Before Brienne could fall down a rabbit hole about what that said about her, there were two knocks at the door. Renly didn’t even wait to be invited in before he came inside, throwing her that winning smile. “Hey, you.”

She quickly pulled down the lid of her laptop before he could see the pictures of Jaime and jump to the wrong conclusion. “Hello yourself.”

“So, earlier, I mentioned that very special job for you?” 

“Right.”

“Shall we head to my office? We can talk about the case, one-on-one.” Come on, you never miss the opportunity for some alone time with me, Brienne. Take my special job, so I can get some jobs of my own down at the Club. “I’ll get the tea – no coffee.” 

“I–I can’t.” Are you serious? Brienne was serious. She was better than this; a better lawyer than this. Now she knew the truth, she would not let herself be used in such fashion. “I’m afraid I’m working on another case already.”

Renly chuckled. “Well, as a senior partner, I’m sure we can move a few people around.” Are you really trying to play hard to get, Brienne?

“The case I’m working on is for a senior partner. Mister Lannister asked for my help.” 

Oh, fuck off he did. He can’t stand you. “He did?” At that exact moment, as if the Gods wished to test Brienne further, Lannister walked by her office. “Jaime, can I bother you for a minute?”

“Why stop at a minute?” Why couldn’t you have run the Storm’s End office? Your brother is a bore, but at least you know where you stand with him. “What’s wrong, Renly?”

“Brienne here says you’ve asked for her help on a case? I was rather hoping she could help with mine.” 

Lannister’s head swivelled towards her; one eyebrow raised, intrigued. “She did, hmm?” Don’t tell me you’ve finally wised up to this arse, Tarth. She had. And if it came down to it, she’d rather listen to his thoughts than Renly’s. What a sorry state her life had become. “Well, she is. Working with me on a case.”

Renly spluttered. “But–but Brienne and I have a special working relationship.”

Oh, I know all about your relationship. She does all the work while you galavant around town. “Well, this case requires Ms Tarth’s special skillset. Sorry, Renly. Guess she’s mine now.”

Brienne was about to voice an objection over being treated like property when she heard Jaime’s inaudible sigh. If only. 

[captainillogical]

Devil’s Ballroom Ch.7

A year after the events from the earth’s final attack, Little Homeworld is finally complete, and there’s a new jazz bar where gems and humans mingle and drink. - As you’re typing back a reply, someone pulls the stool out next to you and takes a seat. You see a sliver of pink out of the corner of your eye as you try not to actually Look. Oh god. It’s her. God can’t help us now.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants​

ya’ll im sorry lmao

You spend the rest of your evening doing exactly none of the errands that you needed to deal with today. Instead, you're laying on your couch and texting your friends.

         Y/N: I'm so tornnnn.

     Y/N: Do I say something about the cheek smooch?

     Y/N: Should I leave it be?

     Y/N: Because she's texting like nothing happened.

     Y/N: What if I'm reading too much into it??

     Y/N: What if that's just how she shows friendship affection???

     Y/N: I might make it so fucking awkward if I assume something!

     Y/N: This entire ordeal is mortifying!!!

     Y/N: I want nothing more than to dig a big hole and lie in it forever.

     Y/N: I might be low-key having a panic attack about this rn but what's new.

     Harper: Y/N. chill. you're way overreacting to this.

     Harper: even if it meant nothing, she still likes you as a friend right?

     Harper: i think it would take a lot for her to like.. not wanna stay friends lol.

     Alex: im just saying you could probably kiss her and she'd be ok with it

     Alex: cheek kisses are pretty forward

     Harper: don't listen to him. all of his relationships ended in failure.

     Alex: wow

     Alex: im seriously hurt

     Harper: am I wrong?

     Alex: no..

     Harper: my point exactly.

     Harper: i’m not saying you have nothing to lose or anything.

     Harper: because i myself had to tread very carefully with leah..

     Harper: but i think you should just see where it goes and not like

     Harper: put too much emphasis on this incase it was nothing.

     Y/N: Yeah see now you have me worried it WAS nothing!!

     Alex: oh my goooooooddddddddddddddd

     Alex: the both of you approach women so.. pathetically

     Alex: take a risk

     Alex: live a little

     Alex: what is seriously the worst that could happen

     Alex: she kills you??

     Alex: lmao

     Alex: its funny cuz of.. you know

     Harper: i can’t wait to be home and smothering him with a pillow instead of affection.

     Y/N: You and me both.

     Y/N: Try being the only one available to play games with him.

     Alex: both of you fucking love me okay

     Alex: alsooooooo i get to be home the day after tomorrow

     Alex: the alex is back, babieeeeee

     Y/N: Harper please come home I’m BEGGING you.

     Harper: sorry you gotta deal with him alone for another month lmao.

     Y/N: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

     Alex: can i get a fucking crumb of love here please

         You swipe over to the couple of messages Spinel has left you in the past couple of minutes while you were talking to your friends.

         Spinel: It’s another stupid ball, I just found out.

     Spinel: I told her that I’m sitting this one out this time.

     Spinel: She has so many others that would absolutely love to help her, and yet, still absolutely insists that I must be there.

     Spinel: I don’t want to go back to homeworld right now, and not for this.

     Y/N: And you put your foot down? Hell yeah, dude.

     Y/N: Planning a ball for a bunch of gems sounds like a chore anyway.

     Spinel: oh, it is, believe me.

     Spinel: And they need everything to be PERFECT.

     Spinel: Which isn’t realistic anymore now that they don’t expect any of the gems to stay in line with their gem class nowadays.

     Spinel: The last ball they threw almost 4 months ago was utterly chaotic.

     Y/N: For thousands of years y'all as a race never pushed to deviate from the norm, and now that you guys are allowed to? I’d go batshit with it too.

     Y/N: Being stifled in everyday life, and finally you’re free?

     Y/N: Fuck, I’d go around fusing with anyone!

     Spinel: That is precisely what too many of them did.

     Y/N: Lmao. I wish I could’ve seen that.

         You tab back over to your group chat for a moment to see what they’re talking about.

         Harper: see? they’re everywhere.

     Harper: i wasn’t expecting the campsite to have so many.

     Alex: you could have built an army and instead you took pictures

     Alex: do you know how easy it is to lure chipmunks?

     Alex: oh that lil guy on the bottom right is so fucking chunky i love him

     Harper: that’s the one that got the closest when i fed them. :3

     Alex: oh i fuckin BET

     Alex: you dont get that chubby in the wild without takin a few risks

     Alex: if u know what i mean ;)

     Harper: i hate whatever you just implied.

     Y/N: It’s not a conversation with Alex unless you roll your eyes at least 3 times.

     Alex: hey i thought it was 4 times

     Alex: dont insult me

     Alex: anyway, y/n

     Alex: are you workin the day i come back

     Y/N: Yeah I’m actually scheduled a double.

     Alex: scheduled

     Y/N: Yes.

     Alex: a double

     Y/N: Yes.

     Alex: he can’t SCHEDULE you a DOUBLE

     Y/N: He can if he asks me ahead of time as a favor.

     Alex: that fuckin bastard

     Alex: always ruining my plans

     Harper: you’re still mad at him for firing you last summer, huh.

     Alex: OF COURSE I AM

     Y/N: Bro you stole like $300 of cotton candy sugar that summer.

     Y/N: It’s only fair.

     Y/N: Besides, I’m only doing this because he said he’d give me a long weekend for it.

     Alex: kay well

     Alex: i guess i’ll just go bug you at work and wait for you to get off that day :'(

     Y/N: Get me written up again, I swear to god.

         Your phone chimes several times, and you swipe down to see messages from both Spinel and Steven. You check Spinel's first.

         Spinel: Do me a favor and ignore any messages Steven has sent you.

     Y/N: What are you, my boss?

     Spinel: I MEAN IT

         You quickly switch over to Steven's texts.

         Steven: I was going to ask you if your date with Spinel went okay, but I'm assuming it went fine considering she hasn't really stopped talking about you.

         Ohhhh my god, this is wild. You reply to him.

         Y/N: It wasn't a date as far as I know.

     Y/N: I had fun.

     Y/N: She's telling me to not read your messages, lmao.

     Y/N: Also what do you mean she hasn't stopped talking about me??

     Steven: She’s been lying on my floor for the last hour basically gushing about you.

     Steven: But you didn’t hear that from me!

     Steven: :D

     Y/N: Haha thanks, kid.

         You switch back over to text Spinel, and get up off the couch to make yourself some tea. Pulling out your kettle, you turn the stove on and grab some raspberry flavored abomination tea bag that your dad loves more than any of the other good tea flavors.

         Y/N: Sooooo.

     Spinel: You talked to him, didn’t you.

     Y/N: Hahaha noooo. :)

     Spinel: The fuck did he say?

     Y/N: Absolutely nothing.

     Spinel: Seriously? I was sure he’d reveal something embarrassing.

     Y/N: Nope! You should probably get off his floor eventually, though.

         Your kettle goes off and you grab a clean mug, and pour the boiling water into it along with the tea packet. You look down at your phone, and grin.

         Spinel: goddammit.

         You let the bag steep for a little bit, and add in a small amount of sugar. Walking up to your bedroom you take a snap of Jellybean half lounging, half falling off the stairs and send it to Spinel. She replies with a couple heart emojis, and you wonder if Steven was the one to show her the proper use of them. You set your cup of tea down on your desk, and turn your computer on. It’s evening now, and it’s much too late to do anything left with the rest of your day productivity-wise, so you settle in on playing more minecraft. Your thoughts wander quite a bit, and you find yourself stuck on thinking about Spinel. Naturally. You wonder about a lot of things she’s learned while staying on earth, from things like - does she pay rent? Does she have a job? Does she know what taxes are? Does she know what a relationship with a human looks like? She said she watched a movie, but didn’t exactly elaborate. You don’t know what human-norms she’s been exposed to. You can’t even concentrate enough to mine any of this redstone for Alex, and you nearly die in-game when the thought of ‘does she know what sex is?’ pops into your mind. You grab your phone and shoot Spinel another message.

         Y/N: Quick question.

     Y/N: If you don’t mind me asking.

         It takes her a few minutes to reply.

         Spinel: Sure?

     Y/N: Do you know how humans are made?

     Spinel: w

     Spinel: Yes?

     Spinel: Steven told me about it a few weeks ago actually.

     Spinel: Why are you asking?

     Y/N: No reason! Just curious is all.

     Spinel: Hm.

         Yeah you’re not too confident that she actually knows, and you’re too chickenshit to elaborate right now. You’ll enlighten her later. You spend the rest of the night browsing memes on your phone, and texting your friends and Spinel on occasion. Before you know it, your eyes drift close with your phone in hand.

     You wake up when your alarm goes off for your morning shift, and curse at yourself for not charging it last night. It’s at a solid 32%, which isn’t really enough to go about your day, but you’ll have to make do. You get ready for a hopefully not shitty day, lock up the house, and head in to work.

     It’s a complete shitshow when you come in, and you turn your phone off to save battery and concentrate on dealing with more than an average amount of tourists. You find Mr. Smiley sleeping in the breakroom/office/supply closet, and have half a mind to lock him in there from the outside for the rest of your shift. It’s pretty busy, and messy, and it isn’t until you’re there for several exhausting hours that you finally have enough time for a break. You turn your phone on, and instantly you’re flooded with messages from several different people. Ugh.

           A couple from your dad - just checking in, really. Group chat too as usual, but none of it seems overly important. One from Spinel, and several from Steven. You open up Spinel’s message first.

         Spinel: Do you think we could talk about a couple of things later?

         Vague, and a little concerning. You text back an apology for getting back to her so late, and open the messages from Steven.

         Steven: Hey are you busy?

     Steven: I’m dealing with a bit of a situation right now, and could use your help.

     Steven: Spinel locked herself in my bathroom, and she won’t come out.

     Steven: She refuses to answer to anyone, and several of us have tried.

     Steven: I’m just really worried about her, and you guys seemed to bond, so I was hoping..

     Steven: That maybe you could come over?

     Steven: Thanks regardless.

         You check the timestamp, and that was over an hour ago. Jesus christ.

         Y/N: Steven I’m so sorry, my phone was off and I’m at work, give me a few and I’ll be right over, okay?

     Y/N: I’ll be quick.

         He replies almost immediately with a “please” and you pocket your phone. You try not to worry too hard about Spinel as you rush over to grab your things, and knock on Mr. Smiley’s office/broom closet door. He opens it groggily, clearly just waking up.

     “Yeah?” he slowly blinks at you.

     “I gotta leave early. Emergency.” You stare at him, trying to not be pissed at his lack of work ethic.

     “Are you for real? You’ve got another 3 hours left.” He says and crosses his arms, and you glare at him.

     “I’ve been working my ass off while you’ve been sleeping this whole time, AND I’m covering your ass tomorrow so you can go meet your old friend! So the LEAST you can do is let me go early when I have an emergency!!!” You almost yell out at him, and he holds his hands up in defense.

     “Okay, okay! Fine. Only because you’re a good worker.” He says, and has the gall to look at least a little ashamed of himself.

     “Damn right I am.” You spin around and head out of the building, practically running.

     You almost trip and bite it several times on the way over to Steven’s place, but you’re more worried about Spinel. You’ve only been to his place twice, but once you’re there you run up the stairs and open the door without knocking. You’re greeted by the only two people in the living room, Pearl, and Steven.

         “Oh, she’s here!” Pearl says and nudges Steven, who looks up from typing on his phone.

     “Y/N! Thank god you’re here.” He says with furrowed eyebrows.

     “What happened?” You say and shut the door, and cross the room over to him.

     “I’m not sure! We were just working on something together for Amethyst, and she got a call from Blue and Yellow. She’s been ignoring them lately, and they’ve been bothering me in turn because of that, so I asked her to take the call just see what they want.” He runs his hand through his brown curls, and just for a moment, you see that 12 year old him in again. The obvious stress masks just how young he really is, and you feel bad that he can’t live life like a normal kid. “She went outside to take the call, and was out there for quite a while. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I did hear some yelling. And just when I was going over to make sure they were alright, she comes back in tears, eyes spiraling like months ago, and nearly knocks Pearl over rushing into the bathroom.”

     “And nothing since?” You inquire, fidgeting with your hands.

     “No,” He says, frustratedly. “I’ve been trying to reach the diamonds to see what this is all about, but I’ve only been getting the pearls. I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t been like this in months. What were they talking about to make her this upset?”

     “Maybe I can find out. You said she’s in your bathroom?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

     “Yeah, the one right over here.” He says and points to it.

     “Is it locked?” You ask.

     “No,” Pearl glances towards the bathroom door and crosses her arms. “The lock has been broken on it for a while, since Peridot joined us actually. Both Garnet and I tried opening it, but I think once Spinel hears someone trying to come in she blocks the door.”

     Hm.

     “I’m gonna try something, but you guys are gonna wanna stay away.” You say to the two of them. “I don’t want to overwhelm her with more than one person.”

     “Let us know if we can do anything?” Steven makes to pass by you and gives your arm a light squeeze. “And thanks for coming to help.”

     “Anytime, dude.” You give him a half smile, and walk over to his bathroom. You turn to take a look back at the other two, and they’re already in the kitchen discussing something in soft tones. You move to knock at the door, make two light taps against the frame, and wait for an answer.

     A couple seconds pass, and nothing. Not even any movement. Nervously, you knock again, a little louder this time, and wait for a good ten seconds.

     Still nothing.

     You take a deep breath, reach out to grab the door handle, and very slowly and quietly open the bathroom door. You see nothing but absolute darkness, and step in. You feel around the wall to your right and flip a switch just as you close the door behind you with an audible click. The room instantly floods with the dark red light of the heat lamp, and before you can even think about finding another light source, you find yourself slammed up against the wall and let out a surprised yelp. You open your eyes to see Spinel’s face inches from yours, pupils wild, her hands splayed against your shoulders.

     “U-um,” Your voice cracks a little. “Hey.”

     You watch her eyes take a second to find yours, and almost instantly, she lets you go, arms trembling.

     “W.. what are YOU DOING HERE!?” She cries, large tears pouring down her face, eyebrows raised in confusion, mouth trembling. Her hair is in loose pigtails, strands untamed around her face, cheeks stained with tear tracks. She looks like a mess, and your heart breaks, just a little. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt y-”

     “I’m fine.” You cut her off. “I should have said who it was outside the door, I’m sorry. And um.. Steven texted me while I was at work, and told me what was going on so I rushed over..” You trail off as you watch Spinel’s entire body shake, and she covers her face with both of her hands.

     “I can’t believe I just did that.” You hear her wavering voice, muffled behind her fists, and she lets out a choked sob. “Maybe they were right. M-maybe I’m not meant to-” She quickly moves her hands down to look at the floor with wide, vulnerable eyes, and struggles to form the rest of her words. You hear her breathing pick up pace, and you’re starting to realize she’s hyperventilating.

     “Spinel, look at me.” Her eyes shoot up to yours, lips trembling. “I need you to breathe.” You do what your friends have always done with you, and gently grab both of her hands and hold them with yours, thumbs stroking her palms in slow circles. She freezes up instantly, and you’re about to panic, because while a familiar touch helps ground you, you register that maybe it’ll make it worse for her. But before you can pull your hands away, her hands relax ever so slightly, and she lets out a shaky breath. “Good. Just like that.” You motion for her to follow your breathing inverals, and she copies you, hands still shaking in yours.

     It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with something like this, but you’re thankful for having similar life experiences. After a solid minute or two of this her breathing is back to a normal pace, but she’s still crying, and now not meeting your eyes. Almost like she’s avoiding them.

     “Look, I.. I don’t know what happened with you and the diamonds, but you can talk to me about it if you’d like. No pressure, though.” You give her hands a small squeeze, and she whimpers, looking up to meet your gaze. Tears are still actively streaming down her face, and you have no idea how to make any of this better. It physically hurts you to see her like this.

     “C-can I not talk about it? I don’t think I’m ready..” She pulls a hand from yours, and wipes at her face. She just kind of smeared half of her face with wetness, and she looks miserable.

     “You don’t have to talk about anything, Spinel.” You look at her, making sure she sees it in your eyes. You slowly let go of her other hand, and hold your arms out in a silent question instead. Her mouth opens slightly, the red glow of the light around her making her look extremely vulnerable and soft, and she looks at your open arms with a blank face for a moment before understanding. Almost instantaneously, she throws herself against you and wraps her arms around your shoulders, shoving her face into the cradle of your neck. You envelop your arms around her tightly, giving her sides a squeeze, and you feel her start to shake again.

     She lets out an unsteady sigh, and hiccups out another small sob. You pull her to lean fully against you as you stand there, bracing your back against the bathroom door. She lets you maneuver her, and you rest the side of your face against her temple while she cries. You resign yourself to letting her cry on you until she’s done, if she needs to.

       You feel her sniffle against your neck, and try not to mind that she’s getting your shirt soaked. You give her back a few gentle rubs, feeling her body quiver against yours as she’s trying to control her choked breathing. You’re not really counting the minutes, as right now you’re currently having way too many rampant thoughts about what the fuck the diamonds could’ve said to her. You’re mad as hell, honestly, and if you could say shit to them, you would in a heartbeat. You don’t want to make anything worse for her though, as much as you want to steal her phone and video call them to curse them out. It takes a few more minutes, but eventually her crying dies down, and you feel her breathing even out. Slowly, she dislodges her arms from twisting around you two, and you feel a sigh, her breath hot against your neck. You do your best to school your facial expression as you’re realize just how close you are to her, and she pulls her face from its resting position to look at you. She looks awful.

       “U-um,” She lifts up her hand to attempt to wipe her face, failing to rub half the tears away. “I don’t really want to go out there yet..”

       “You don’t have to.” You say, quietly. “I can leave if you’d like some quiet to yourself.” Her face looks panicked for a second, and she grabs your wrist.

       “Please don’t leave me.” She says, voice wavering again. You try not to let your heart shatter at her tone.

     “I won’t if you want me here.” You say, and sigh softly. “Here, hold on a second.”

     She lets your wrist go as you move slightly over to the sink, turn the hot water on, and grab a clean hand towel from the counter. You soak it in water, and squeeze out all the excess. Towel in hand, you turn back to her, and she’s looking at you cautiously. You lift the towel slightly, motioning to her face.

     “May I?” You ask, and she nods slightly.

     Tenderly, you brush a couple strands of hair away from her face, grasp her chin with your left hand and pull her forward, gently pressing the towel to her cheek. She closes her eyes, and her shoulders sag a little as she lets you dab at her face, cleaning her of any tear stain marks. She sighs into your touch, and it strikes you that it would be so easy to just.. lean in and kiss her.

       Your brain almost short circuits and you snap your thoughts back to reality. There’s a time and place for everything. This is not the time, nor the place.

       Once you’re satisfied that she looks a lot better than before, you pull your hands away to toss the rag in the sink, and Spinel, for a brief moment, looks disappointed that you had stopped. Which.. kind of gives you an idea.

       “Can I try something? Harper used to do this thing with me when I.. had similar breakdowns.” You ask her. She raises her eyebrow in response, clearly exhausted from crying so much. “Here.” You say, and take her hand and lead her over to the rim of the bathtub. You sit down on the edge, and motion for her to sit in front of you on the floor. She takes a seat in front of you, still confused, but obeys nonetheless. “Can I touch you?” You ask her, watching her face to make sure she’s alright.

       She looks up at you, the red light in the room flooding the entirety of her face, making her hair darker, and the whites of her eyes a bit more dramatic.

     “Yeah.” She says in reply, voice tired.

     You reach out to her hair, and stop for a moment.

     “Can I have you face the other direction, actually? Come over here.” You move to open your knees, making enough room for Spinel to turn around and lean against the bathtub. She’s close to you again.

     “What are you..” She trails off as you start to take the hair ties out of her pigtails, one after the other. It takes a second, as it’s a bit tangled, but you manage to get both out, and let her hair fall down. You comb out her hair with your fingers, gently, and she sighs audibly while leaning into your touch. You run your short nails along her scalp, scratching and massaging as you smooth out her hair, attempting to pull all the tangles out.

     “Touch used to calm me down, and Harper was really good at it, honestly.” You say while pulling out a particularly difficult tangle without hurting her. Her hair is long like this, and you like it. You wish you could grow your hair this long, but it’s kind of a pain to deal with, and the longest you’ve ever had yours wasn’t even to your mid back, you think to yourself. “Sometimes she’d give me shoulder and neck massages, but I preferred that she’d just play with my hair. There’s just something different about another person touching your hair.”

     “I kind of get what you mean.” She says, tiredly.

     “Can I braid your hair?” You lean closer to look at her face.

     “Do what you want.” She says, looking fairly relaxed.

     “Cool. Anyway, while Harper was good at that, Alex, on the other hand, was just terrible at any kind of physical comfort. He’s genuine, and he tries, but he’s an idiot. He’s a lot better at distractions, for the most part.” You run your fingers through her hair one more time, before starting to separate her hair into three parts for a french braid. “He’s funny, and comes from a large family, so he always has stories and jokes. Whenever I’d have a panic attack, those two were always so good about being there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

     You notice that Spinel‘s shoulders have lost most of the tension in them, and you’re secretly relieved. You keep talking to fill the quietness around you two, because you’ve always hated the quiet during moments like these. Your friends aren’t here, so it’s up to you to make up for it.

     “It was kind of hard, at first though,” You say, and start looping the chunks of hair around your fingers, starting at the top of her head. “Because for a while there, back when I was 16 and dealing with the worst of my abandonment issues, I clung onto Harper like a baby koala. I had this super weird crush on her even though we had been friends since we were practically babies. I think I idolized her because she was just.. good to me.” You accidentally tug a little too hard on a strand of hair, wince and utter an apology while massaging the spot on her scalp. “I’m glad that didn’t ruin our friendship, but for a while there I really pushed my feelings onto her, which was kinda fucked up on my part.”

     “Hm..” Spinel mumbles. “I kind of had a thing for Pink, I think. Which ended up screwing with me even more after what she did.” You stare at the back of her head and pause your hands for a second. Huh. Yeah, you had a hunch.

     “If she were still alive, I’d punch her in the face for you, I hope you know.” You state, in full seriousness. This gets the first chuckle that you’ve heard from her today, and you’re secretly overjoyed.

     “I’d pay to watch that.” She says, and you laugh out loud. You see her smile, just barely.

     “So,” You continue, with both your hands and conversation. “A week or so after my 17th birthday, right after Harper talked to me about this guy at school that she liked, I confess to her. And not like a, ‘oh hey, you’re my best friend and I really like you’ kind of way, either. It was more like a, ‘have a mental breakdown over your best friend liking someone else and make them feel like shit about it on your walk home from school’ kind of confession.” Your hands reach the nape of her neck now, braid mostly done on her head, but you’ve got around another 20 inches of length before being finished.

     “Harper avoided me for nearly a week after that. I was absolutely pathetic, and inconsolable. Alex was fed up with my shit after a few days, and nearly slapped me over it. He would’ve been in the right, doing so, honestly. I was a selfish asshole who only thought about her own feelings, and not about her best friends.” Your eyes drift to Spinel’s face, and her eyes are closed, eyebrows unfurrowed.

     “Anyway,” You’re nearly done with the entire braid now. “She did end up forgiving me. Thankfully. I don’t know what I’d do if it were my fault that I’d split up our friend group.” You pick up the discarded hair tie from earlier, and tie it around the end of the braid.

     “I’m all done, by the way.” You say to her. She opens her eyes tentatively, and she looks sleepy. You stand up, and stretch your back. She also gets up on wobbly legs, and turns to look at you.

     “Um.” She’s avoiding your eyes. “Thank you. For this.” She’s twisting her hands together, nervously. You lean your face closer to get at eye-level with her.

     “Anytime.. and for the record, you look really cute in a braid.” You say and smile, giving her a cheeky wink. You watch her entire face from the neck up turn bright red, and think that you could probably do this forever, and never get tired. She gives you a noncommittal grunt, halfheartedly smacks your arm and you grin at her.

     You hear a quiet knock at the door, and look over to Spinel. She shrugs, so I guess it’s okay now.

     “You can come in!” You say to the door. It opens slowly, and you see Steven peek his head in.

     “Um.. are we okay?” He asks, clearly very worried about her.

     “I’ll be okay.” She says, and you think that maybe she should lay down and sleep. You verbalize this immediately.

     “Spinel. I think you should go take a nap.” You look at her, and she blinks at you. “I’m serious.”

     “She’s kind of right.” Steven says in agreement with you. Spinel gives the both of you a shrug, and even that seems like it’s taking a lot out of her.

     “Okay.” She says, and turns to walk out of the bathroom. Steven opens the door wider, and you can see Pearl in the kitchen leaning against the counter, trying to not seem like she’s intently watching all of you.

     Spinel makes her way over to the couch and takes a seat, sitting up rigidly. You walk over to her to make sure she’s okay before you leave for home.

     “You know you can text me, right? And if you need me, I’ll be available. I’ll leave my volume turned on.” She gives you a nod. “Oh, and.. take this,” You say, and pull off the pullover hoodie you’re wearing right now, and hand it over to her. “Alex used to let me wear his oversized sweaters, and they used to help me sleep, so..”

     She tentatively reaches out, and takes it from your hands.

     “Thanks.” She says, and gives you a small smile. With her hair pulled back like this she almost looks human, for a fleeting moment. You sometimes forget she’s a gem. You return the smile back at her, and turn around to leave.

     After grabbing your bag that you set down earlier from beside the couch, you head over to the front door and open it. Shouldering the bag, you start to shut the door and see Steven behind you. He closes the door behind him, his face searching yours for something you don’t quite know.

     “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.” He says, completely genuine.

     “You don’t have to thank me. I’d do it for you, too, you know.” You say to him, and he smiles.

     “That’s why I like you, Y/N. You’re sweet.”

     “Yeahhhh, don’t tell anyone, though. You’ll ruin my reputation.” You smirk, giving him the side-eye. He laughs and pats your back.

     “Ohhhhhh no! Whatever will you do!?” He rolls his eyes in jest. “Get home safe, okay?”

     “No promises.” You reply, and jump down his steps, two at a time.  

     It doesn’t take you long to get home, and you’re pretty tired yourself. You make yourself busy by preparing dinner, cleaning the kitchen a little, and calling your dad for another check-in. Before you know it, it’s nearly 11, and you need to sleep for your double shift tomorrow that you almost forgot about. You’re laying in bed browsing social media before drifting off, and you receive a text from Spinel. You swipe down and open the message.

         Spinel: Thanks again for today.

     Spinel: I baked some new cookies with Steven, and would like to give you some tomorrow if that’s okay?

         You smile to yourself. Ughhhhhhhh, you’re catching the feelings disease, and you swat the air around you like it somehow physically manifested around you.

         Y/N: I work literally all day, but feel free to stop by and give them to me.

     Y/N: Then I get to see a pretty familiar face to break up all the lame tourists.

     Y/N: Cuz that sounds super nice. ;)

     Spinel: I’ll see you tomorrow, then.

         She didn’t react to your obvious teasing, but you won’t let that discourage you. You fall asleep thinking of the many different ways you can poke fun at her, and this time, you charge your phone.

     You wake up the next morning feeling well-rested for once, and get ready for work. Alex has sent you a couple texts about when his flight will arrive, and when he’ll roughly come to meet you. Sometime around 4pm, apparently. You shoot Spinel a good morning text, and she replies almost instantly with the same, which makes you smile.

     You head to work, texting your group chat about what happened yesterday with Spinel, and give them basically all the details. Alex makes fun of you for a bit, so you curse him out and pocket your phone as you clock in. Today’s going to suck, but you’ve got a few things to look forward to.

     You make it a couple hours into your shift before you finally get a break, and Spinel texts you that she’ll drop by sometime in the afternoon once she’s done helping Bismuth with something. God you hope it’s not when Alex gets here, because you are so not fucking ready for that interaction. You eat your lunch and pray to any god out there that you could have one more day of peace.

     You’re outside the main building repairing a couple parts on the carousel, ignoring the bulk of the tourists to focus on work. You don’t realize that quite a while has passed by, because someone walks up to you as you’ve got your head in a small door, and kicks you slightly on your ass. You jolt and bump your head against the opening, and you hear Alex burst out into laughter as you groan in pain.

     God fucking dammit, this guy. You pull your head out to glare at him, screwdriver pointing at him threateningly.

     “Do you want this up your ass? Because I can do that.” You say to him, and he laughs even harder. You roll your eyes at him.

     “Don’t promise me with a good time, Y/N.” He says, and you stand up to smack him.

     “I don’t think the pointy end would be a good time, idiot.” You deadpan stare at him. He grins.

     “You don’t know what I’m into.” He shrugs, and flips his hair dramatically. You hate that he’s stupid and charming, and you love him so much.

     “I know I haven’t seen you in 2 months, but like, I feel like you’ve grown taller?” You stare at him, a little mournfully. You’re the shortest one out of your friends, and you’re of average height. He also seems.. handsomer. You think he definitely got a lot more tan. He’s definitely grown into his looks, his dark curly hair and recently shaved face making him look older than you’re used to.

     “I don’t think I did, but I think you’ve grown shorter.” He laughs obnoxiously, and you smack his arm again, which makes him laugh harder.

     “You’re so mean to me, like all the time. Why do I love you?” You cross your arms and pout, because you know it gets a rise out of him.

     “Youuuuuuu knowww, because I’m just so loveable and gorgeous and the smartest one in the group??” He flutters his eyelashes at you like he thinks he’s cute.

     “Wow, you are none of these things.” You reply, smirking at him. He puts his hand over his heart in mock offense.

     “Y/N, I’m offended. I’ve been here for like, five minutes, and I’ve received absolutely no affection from you. If I don’t get love, I will wilt and die. Do you want to be responsible for my death?” He opens his arms wide, and you roll your eyes dramatically, and stand there.

     “We’re not doing this in public.” You say, standing your ground.

     “Ohhh, YES we are, Y/N.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Prepare yourself for the onslaught.”

     You take a couple steps back, prepared to run. He grabs your arms, wraps his around your torso, and picks you up, swinging you around.

     “Nooooooooooooooooo!!” You cry. “Put me down you oaf!”

     “No! I want love!” He all but shouts, and spins you around. He grabs your cheek with one hand and starts giving you big ‘ol smooches all over your face, and you’re giggling and trying to push him away, when you hear something drop and spill on the pavement a good twenty feet from you. You look up.

     It’s Spinel.

       Her face is twisted with heartbreak, and before you can even speak up, she bolts.

       You look down, and see the cookies she made you scattered on the ground.

[elo-kodon]

Untitled Iwaoi Short Story #1

(Part 1 here)                             

                                                        PART 2

           “That was such a great dinner, Auntie! I’m completely stuffed, right Iwa-chan?” Oikawa exclaims happily, his voice carrying through the small house in bright, musical tones.

           Iwaizumi receives a short but painful jab to his side with Oikawa’s elbow. The movement almost makes him drop the dinner plate he’s scrubbing into the soapy water. He gives Oikawa a short, annoyed look before responding. “Yes, thanks so much!” he calls out hurriedly.

           “Ohh it was no trouble at all boys,” Oikawa’s aunt says, gracefully gliding down the stairs in her long, summery-red pleated skirt.

           Once Iwaizumi had met Oikawa’s aunt, her sophisticated and bubbly personality was one of the first things he noticed about her. She gave the boys a warm hug, welcomed them in, and immediately turned to Iwaizumi. “Now Iwaizumi dear, let’s do away with the formalities for now. Why don’t you just call me Hisako? Goodness knows all my colleagues already do.” Hisako waved her left hand air in a quick flourish and lead the boys into her house. She showed Oikawa and Iwaizumi to their room upstairs. “I’ll leave you two to unpack for a while. I’ve got to head back downstairs to finish up dinner. Feel free to join me whenever you boys are ready to eat!”

           “She’s great, isn’t she?” Oikawa threw his duffel bag onto the ground, turning back to Iwaizumi proudly, “Mom says she’s a spitfire, but I like her a lot! She’s always been there for me, ya know?”

           Iwaizumi considers Oikawa’s past words as he continues to work on the last of the dinner plates. It’s no surprise that Oikawa would like her. Hisako had a lot of qualities that reminded him of his best friend. Their determined attitudes and boundless energy were practically the same. No wonder Oikawa was so excited to make the trip up here.

           Hisako calls out from the other room. “If you two are about done with the dishes, would you mind meeting me in the living room in a bit? I’d love to show you a few of my designs for the show on Sunday. Tooru, you also need to hear the rundown of the itinerary so you know what to expect.”

           Once the boys get done cleaning up, they join Hisako on her pink and blue floral patterned couch. It’s a cozy fit with all three of them, Hisako on the far left, Iwaizumi on the far right, and Oikawa snugly in the middle.

           Tucking a loose strand her wavy black hair behind her ear, Hisako reaches down to the side of the couch, picks up a thick shiny black binder and hands it to Oikawa to open. He carefully takes the huge binder from her and opens to one of the first tabbed pages.

           “So for this particular show, since it’s still only my second one, I really wanted to focus on kids’ streetwear. I’ve noticed that a lot of students like to have clothing that’s still modern and practical, but also wear things that fit to their own unique sense of style…”

           They spend the next half hour pouring through the thick and colorful pages of Hisako’s designs. Oikawa listens with keen interest as his aunt talks to them about her ideas and underlying concepts with model’s outfit. It seems like with each particular outfit and pattern, Hisako has a wonderful remark or funny story to recount on each model.

           “You see now why I wanted you to join me on this project Oikawa? I really need students with strong personalities, since the show’s main concept is based around stories of youth. So, this is where you come in…”

            Oikawa lounges back while he listens to his aunt talk about what she has planned for his design. He loves hearing about Hisako’s stories and inspiration behind everything, but he can’t help but wonder if Iwaizumi is starting to feel a little left out. Carefully, out of the corner of his eye, he slowly and surreptitiously directs his gaze to Iwaizumi. With Hisako’s voice still in the background, he puts his hearing on autopilot for a few moments while he stares at his best friend.

           Iwaizumi has his knees brought up to his chest, his hands wrapped around them as he gazes down at the sketch of Oikawa’s proposed design for the show. Oikawa’s breath hitches softly as he scans Iwaizumi’s face. There’s a fondness to the boy’s dark eyes, his lips are slightly pursed. It reminds Oikawa of how Iwaizumi used to look at him when they were children. But there’s also something else to it… With a confused realization, it dawns on him. Iwaizumi looks like he’s concentrating on something. Like he’s drinking in the design on Hisako’s drawing, trying to memorize the curve of each pencil marking, of each splotch of color on the roughly sketched pattern. Iwaizumi’s left hand reaches down to feel the small piece of fabric stapled onto the bottom right corner of the page. Oikawa catches his eye once Iwaizumi turns to pretend to look at Hisako.

           Iwaizumi locks the back of his jaw once he realizes Oikawa’s caught him staring. The pair lock eyes for a second. The light brown irises of Oikawa fixate on his own, like a curious tiger pup. Iwaizumi ducks his head down towards his lap, knowing that the heat traveling up his neck and onto his cheeks are definitely noticeable. “Stupid idiot…” he thinks.

           Goosebumps appear on Oikawa arms as he slowly averts his eyes. “Weird…Why did Hajime blush just now?”

           Guess he’d have to tackle that question later.

———————————————————————————————————

                                                       *Saturday*

           “Here you go!” Hisako sings out, beaming down at Iwaizumi and Oikawa, setting down a plate of pancakes and two tall glasses of strawberry-and-kewi smoothies in front of them. “Now, Tooru, dear, just so you know, I’m gonna be out at the office in town for the majority of this afternoon and the evening, so you’ll have to be in charge of making sure this young man,” she gestures to Iwaizumi, “gets fed a good dinner, okay? There’s a nice little market about a few miles still outside of town that you two can drive over to pick up whatever you’d like. I’d make dinner for you both but I need to stay late at the studio tonight so we can finish paperwork and make any last minute adjustments before the show tomorrow.”

           Oikawa nods eagerly and salutes his aunt, “Of course Auntie, you can count on me! Can’t wait to see my outfit in person tomorrow, I bet it’ll make all the girls swoon!”

           Hisako lets out a sparkling laugh, “Oh, I’m sure, Tooru.” She puts her breakfast dish in the sink, walking over to the front door to grab her sweater and her large canvas bag. “Hope you two have fun hanging out today! There’s a great beach nearby that you boys should go to if you have the time. I’ve got to run, take care now!” Iwaizumi and Oikawa hear the final few clacks of her shoes as she shuts the screen door behind her and walks down the steps of the front porch towards her car. They hear her engine start and then she’s off.

           “God, you really are a putz” mutters Iwaizumi, lightly smacking the back of Tooru’s head.

           “Not my fault you don’t know how to talk to women, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says as he attempts to dodge Iwazumi, but ultimately failing.

           Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and gets up from his chair. He didn’t feel like bickering with Oikawa today. He was in too good of a mood, plus he really wanted to go somewhere with Oikawa to play volleyball anyways.

           “Sooooo Iwa-channn what’s on the agenda for today?” Oikawa asks. He stands up from his chair and stretches out his tall torso, his arms almost touching the bottom of the fan in the kitchen.

           “Wanna do a practice match somewhere?”

           “Hmmm. Yes, but I also wanted to check out that beach Auntie mentioned. Not like we really have a beach back home.”

           “Why don’t we do both? We can set up a court once we find a good spot.” Iwaizumi suggested.

           “Ohhh a beach match? You’re on, mothman.”

           Iwaizumi lets out a small, soft “Dumbass” under his breath, then quickly runs up the stairs to grab their duffels, Oikawa slowly following up after him.

———————————————————————————————————-

           Oikawa’s high-pitched falsetto voice pierces Iwaizumi’s ears while he tries to keep concentrating on the winding road in front of him. He sings out another lyric of the weird country song that they happened to discover on the local radio a few minutes ago.

           “Joooooooooooleeeenne, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Puh-LEASE don’t take my maaannn. Even though you totally caaannn-“ Oikawa drawls out in a feminine, old-lady voice, intentionally fucking up the lyrics.

           Iwaizumi lets out another round of loud barking laughter. He forgot how genuinely funny Oikawa can be once he lets his guard down. But that usually only happens when it’s just the two of them together. He scrunches up his eyes, tears of laughter pricking at the outer edges of his eyelids. He’s laughing and smiling so much that his jaw is starting to get sore. “S-stop it you bastard, you’re gonna make me crash this damn car.”

           Oikawa grins over at Iwaizumi, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He turns back forward and smiles quickly to himself. He absolutely loves Iwaizumi’s laugh. The sound never gets old. “Damn, what a stupid song. Who the fuck is Jolene??”

           “I don’t-“ Iwaizumi tries to respond but is stopped by another round of laughter. “I don’t know man, but she’s got some issues apparently. I feel kind of bad for her, honestly.”

           “Eh, not bad enough,” Oikawa grins. “Since when does Japan have American country stations? Is this a new fad or some shit?”

           “I have no idea.”

           “Oh, Iwa-chan, there’s the turn up ahead!” Oikawa says hurriedly, leaning forward in his seat.

           Iwaizumi turns off the main route onto another small, dusty dirt road. As they make a couple more turns, the truck spits up dust.

           “Oh wow, is this sand?” Oikawa tries to squint through the yellowish haze.

           “I guess so. We must be close.”

           They head around a row of trees and then make one final turn. Iwaizumi parks in one of the faded parking spots, then kills the engine. It doesn’t take too long to unpack the bed of the truck. With both duffel bags slung around Iwaizumi and Oikawa carrying the net bag, they walk down a sandy path to the beach below.

           They find a good, flat area of sand and throw down their bags. Iwaizumi sets up the volleyball net while Oikawa takes off his flip flops. He unpacks the volleyballs, water bottles, and snacks.

           “Hey, ‘kawa, the net’s done.”

           “Lit.”

           Iwaizumi throws the net bag down near the duffels and Oikawa takes a couple minutes to mark the edges of each side of the court using a stick. He squints at the line on each side, then runs over to the other side to check the dimensions.

           “It’s fine, Oikawa. Let’s play already.” Iwaizumi drawls.

           “Fine, fine.” Oikawa takes his sunglasses off and perches them neatly in his hair. He picks a light blue volleyball up from the ground and walks onto his side of the court. Iwaizumi’s already on his side, hands on his knees, ready for Oikawa to start. Using only one hand, Oikawa swiftly throws the ball high up in the air. “You know I’m totally gonna win this match, right?”

           Iwaizumi snorts and smirks at Oikawa through the holes of the net. “Not on your life, pretty boy.”

———————————————————————————————————-

           Soaring through the air over the net, the small blue volleyball heads toward Iwaizumi’s side of the court. With the quickness of a puma and the grace of a warrior, the spiky-haired male crouches down and receives the ball. The volleyball bounces back upwards, over Iwaizumi’s head and the boy looks up. He ends up timing the comedown of the ball perfectly, executing a three step approach. Calf muscles tensing, Iwaizumi swings his arms back and jumps up in the air. With a look of fierceness set in his face, eyes gleaming, his right arm whips forward and sends the ball flying straight down towards Oikawa’s side.

           Oikawa dives forward and manages to keep the ball up, but only enough to the point where it flys forward underneath the net. His sunglasses fall down crookedly onto the bridge of his nose. He groans. He almost got a mouthful of sand from this last one.

           Iwaizumi lets out a snicker, “What was that about beating me again?” He grins, watching Oikawa pick his lanky frame up off the sand.

           Dammit. Oikawa was sure his past spike wouldn’t turn into a chance ball, but somehow Iwaizumi managed to receive and turn it into a downward attack. He watches Iwaizumi take off his shirt through the lenses of his sunglasses. Iwaizumi grabs his water bottle and takes a long drink of water, his other hand resting on his hip.

           What a cocky bastard. Oikawa mentally convinces himself that he’s not taking this moment to run his eyes down the frame of Iwaizumi’s body. Nope. Definitely not taking in his wonderful, tan shoulders, and his stocky biceps, and of course that stupid lovely six pack- Wait what the hell? When did Iwa-chan get so buff??  Has he been doing extra strength training on the side or something?

           “Ready to get your ass whooped again, Shittykawa?” calls out Iwaizumi.

           Oikawa dusts the sand off his knees, sweat dripping down his bangs into his face. He takes a few ragged breaths. “You fuckin wish, biiiitttcchh.”

           Iwaizumi is about to make a retort when he notices Oikawa’s fast panting, his chest heaving in and out to try and steady his breathing back to normal. His hair is drenched, his shirt covered in sweat. Oikawa glances down worriedly at the wrap on his knee, reminding Iwaizumi of his past injury. He hastily looks at his watch.

           “On second thought, you look pretty tired, Tooru. It’s getting close to dinnertime anyways. Let’s call it a match and pack up, yeah?”

           Oikawa lets out an annoyed huff but then concedes.

———————————————————————————————————–

           They arrive back home, laughing about another funny joke Oikawa said when they were on the road. Iwaizumi and Oikawa tramp up the porch steps and through the screen door, both letting out relaxed sighs when the air conditioning hits them. They head towards the kitchen counter. Iwaizumi turns around and tosses his water bottle quickly to Oikawa, Oikawa wordlessly catching it in his hand.

           “Take this back up to the room, then we can go to the market and get some food. I’ll make dinner tonight if you want.”

           “Uh…sure Iwa-chan.” He replies, hurrying up the stairs in a daze.

           He sets both he and Iwaizumi’s water bottles on top of the dresser in their room. He takes a minute for himself, grabbing a towel and running it through his locks of hair to get the sweat out. He’s about to head out of the room when his eyes naturally find their gaze to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. He walks closer to his reflection, placing the towel around his neck.

           Oikawa inspects his appearance in the mirror. Eyebrows knitted together, he turns his face to either side, looking at his cheekbones. His wide, almond shaped brown eyes. His thin lips, still nicely rounded out for a guy’s mouth. He had okay teeth, straight and not too big.

           “Iwa-chan’s still prettier though,” he thought.

           He shakes his head, trying to regain focus. Bounding down the stairs to meet Iwaizumi, he realizes he left his flips flops somewhere in the living room.

           “Almost done Oikawa? I’m starving, we should head out now.” Iwaizumi calls from the kitchen.

           “One second!” Oikawa answers. He’s slipping his toes through his sandals he found underneath the coffee table when something black and shiny catches his eye. “Auntie’s binder?”

           He reaches over and slowly slides the binder towards him. He opens to a random tab and somehow manages to get to the exact design that’s supposed to be what he’s wearing for the show tomorrow. Running his fingertips over the drawing of his figure, it finally dawns on him. His eyes widen and snap up from the book. “I’ve figured it out! I know what I need to do!”

           “Seriously Shittykawa let’s-,” Iwaizumi walks over and stops to see Oikawa staring at the designs, “go…”

           Oikawa quickly looks up at him from his sitting position on the floor. “Oh Iwa-chan, uh-“ Iwaizumi notices his eyes flit away from him for a couple of seconds. It looks like he’s trying to come up with something to say. “Right, about dinner…uh, could you go on without me? I uh, have a stomach ache. I’ll just stay here. Pick out whatever, okay?”

           His wide orbs stare up at him nervously and Iwaizumi knows he made that last part up. “Sure….if that’s what you want…” he narrows his eyes at Oikawa. He just knows the little shit’s up to something.

           “It is, now please goooo Iwa-chaaann. Out, out, out!” Oikawa pushes him happily out the door, tossing his truck keys to him.

           When Iwaizumi’s finally gone, Oikawa sighs heavily and looks up at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was already 5pm. He does some quick math in his head, trying to see if he has enough time to leave and come back before Iwaizumi gets back home. It would probably take Iwaizumi about 20 minutes or so to get to the market Hisako had told them about.

           “There’s no way I can make it all the way into town and back without the chance of Iwa-chan knowing I was gone. Hm. Unless….yes of course! I’ll use that shortcut!”

           He grabs the house keys, changes into his running shoes, and sprints out the door. Instead of running alongside the road all the way into town like he usually would, he hops a small fence and takes a shortcut through the neighbor’s small forest. He ends up running through a wide barley field, the sun beating down on him in waves and his body starting to get sweaty all over again. The leaves of the plants in the field scrape against his calves but Tooru pays it no mind. He makes his way down to a large road on the corner of town. Once he crosses one of the main roads, he’s able to slip behind the main buildings and into a suburb which he knows will lead him to where he needs to be.

           He passes the last house in the long, narrow neighborhood street and makes another turn, leading to a small set of offices. He runs through the bronze double doors and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor, leaning back against the wall of the elevator to finally catch his breath. The door opens to a bright white hallway, giant black and white photos of models striking dramatic poses in different outfits line the walls. He gets to the end of the hallway and fast-walks into his aunt’s studio space. He scans the area and spots Hisako standing near her desk with two colleagues, leaning down and pointing to a areas on a printed photo with her pen.

           “Oh, Oikawa dear, I’m quite surprised to see you here. Where’s your friend, Hajime?” she asks curiously.

           Oikawa takes a deep breath, wringing his hands in front of him. “Yeah, about Iwa-chan… Auntie, I need you to help me out with a huge favor.”

———————————————————————————————————-

A/N: wooww wonder what happens next?? Yeah I meant to post this way earlier today since I was hella excited about it and I had already typed out the outline for this part but it ended up being pretty long lol. Anyways, thanks for reading, if you like the story so far let me know by liking and commenting on it! I’d love to hear what you think! Also stay tuned for Part 3 where we finally get to the day of the fashion show! 

Also if anyone knows how to get a quick AO3 invite/account set up, let me know. I’d love to be able to post this to that site as well. Thanks so much for all your likes and support for my first ever haikyuu fic!

-Elo

[moonwaif]

Snow Over Insomnia: ch. 1

Pairings: Gladnis, promptis

Theme: snowed in

Summary:

Once a year, Shiva blesses Insomnia with snowfall. This year's snow day finds four friends in transition. There's Noctis, who's trying his best to enjoy freshman year. With his best friend Prompto enrolled at a different college, it hasn't been easy. When a particularly controversial lecture puts Noctis on the spot, he says some things he regrets. Can he make amends before their friendship freezes over?

Meanwhile, there's Gladiolus, who's finding it increasingly difficult to deny his feelings for coworker and friend Ignis Scientia. The appearance of a mysterious figure from Ignis's past might just be the sign that it's time to come clean. Will Gladio make a move, or will he let the opportunity melt away?

PT. I: 10:12 hours

It was a good thing Noctis had remembered to mute his laptop before class started, because he received his first message from Prompto just twelve minutes into the lecture.

Prompto: brrrr! Freezing my a$$ off this morning

A selfie instantly followed: Prompto in a warm jacket and white beanie, grimacing up at the camera with a steaming coffee cup clutched in his gloved hand.

Noctis: heh. nice pic. whatcha drinking?

Prompto: mocha moogle latte. Yummm ;P

Noctis: all that sugar is gonna give you a headache

Prompto: hahaha yeah, probably. but i need some caffeine. i couldnt sleep all night thinking about that presentation!!!!  ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

Prompto: so we still getting snowed in tonight?

Noct's smile widened. It wasn’t often that Shiva graced the arid landscape of Lucis with her affections, but at least once a year, snow fell on the city of Insomnia. Sometimes it was a few flakes, sometime just sleet. On rare occasions, such as the one predicted by Insomnian weather channels on this particular day, it was a blizzard.

Noctis: heck yeah! hope you're ready to binge some King’s Knight.

Prompto: ugh am i ever. so ready to chill after getting this presentation out of the way…

Noctis leaned back in his chair, brow furrowing. He cast a quick glance at projector screen down at the front of the hall: a slide about the Lucian civil war.

Noctis: y? U nervous?’

Prompto: yeah

Prompto: stomach hurts

Prompto: p sure im gonna throw up

Noctis: relax, prom

Noctis: you've been practicing a lot, right?

Noctis: you're gonna be great

Prompto: dude you have no idea what id give to hear you say that rn

Prompto: i wish we still went to the same school

Prompto:  ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

A dull, tight ache formed in the center of Noct's chest. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the reply coming slower this time.

Noctis: me too.

Prompto: yeah...

Prompto: too bad my best friend has to go to a fancy schmancy ivy league school for geniuses (¬‿¬)

Noctis rolled his eyes.

Noctis: im not here cuz im a genius, prom

Prompto: his majesty is sooooo modest ;)

Noctis: srlsy

Noctis: im like most of the ppl here. average.

Noctis: the only genius ive met so far is specs

Prompto: lol youre just saying that to make me feel better

Noctis: nah. youre way cooler than like half of the people here

Prompto: ♥‿♥

Prompto: too bad i cant afford the tuition lol. id kill to have iggy as my teacher

Noctis glanced up from his computer. From his own seat in the center of the hall, Ignis was just a small figure behind an even smaller podium. Still, Noctis had to admit that Specs was definitely in his element at the front of a classroom. His fitted grey sweater, crisp collar and perfectly coiffed hair were every bit the image of the up-and-coming academian. The freshmen in the front row hung dreamily on every elegant gesture of his gloved hands as his voice rang out through the hall, crisp and clear as water. He said something that sent a murmur of laughter through the rows of desks. Noctis smiled.

Noctis: yeah its not bad

Prompto: duh!! hes probably way cooler than all of my professors combined

Prompto: anyway, g2g. Gonna try to run through my presentation one more time before class starts

Prompto: (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

Noctis: dont worry prom. Youre gonna kick this presentation in the ass.

Prompto: thanks dude

Prompto: catch ya later

Noctis let his gaze linger on the final message, Iggy’s melodic tones lilting in the background. He tuned in long enough just to get the gist of the topic (ugh - still on the Lucian civil war). He turned his attention back to his laptop and clicked on an open tab, which took him directly to Prompto’s ChocoGram feed. There weren’t any new updates, but that didn’t stop him from smiling as he reviewed some of the earlier posts: Prompto getting ready to dig into a steaming, greasy pizza; a #tbt selfie featuring the baby chocobo they’d helped rescue during their summer road trip to Lestallum; a prank-selfie with a drooling, sleeping Gladio. Noctis chuckled. He’d been there when Prompto had taken that one. Even Gladio had agreed that the shot was just too good not to share.

He continued scrolling. A bunch of people Noctis didn't know, probably at a party; a filtered, black-and-white shot of a glistening, neon lit alley; a selfie with some guy Noctis had never seen before; a picture of the school’s mascot, tagged #gocactuars; Prompto wearing glasses…

Wait a second.

Noctis scrolled back to the photo of Prompto and the stranger. “Hanging with the coolest TA around,” read the caption. Tagged: #whenyourfriendhasthesamemajor, #collegelife #insomniaboys.

Friend, huh?

Noct’s eyes narrowed. He silently listed off any names he’d heard Prompto mention over the past semester as he analyzed the man’s features: platinum hair; a strong chin; sharp, intelligent eyes whose color he couldn’t quite discern through the ChocoGram filter. He let the cursor hover over the smug, obnoxious grin. A tagged username appeared: “Ghiranzenator.”

Before Noctis could really stop to self-reflect, he was scrolling through Ghiranzenator’s feed. It was the kind of content you’d expect from a twenty-something with a pompadour and generic good looks. Gym selfies tagged #fitnesslifestyle; poses in scenic, well-known locations captioned with thought-provoking yet totally irrelevant quotes (ugh, so pretentious). He wondered how Prompto even knew this guy. Was he the TA for one of Prompto’s classes? Did they have mutual friends? If so, why hadn’t Prompto mentioned him before? But now that Noctis thought about it, like really thought about it, he hadn’t really heard Prompto say a whole lot about any of the new friends he was making at school.

Wasn't that kind of weird?

A crumpled wad of paper plummeted through his thoughts, ricocheting off his forehead. Noct's head snapped in the direction it had come from. His eyes were met by a vision of Gladio, squeezed into a desk barely large enough to accommodate his lanky frame.

“Pay. Attention,” he mouthed, cocking his head in Iggy’s direction.

Noctis scowled. That was the one downside of having his bodyguard disguised as a classmate. Gladio was just all too ready to make sure Noct behaved like a good little student. The plus side was that Noct had at least one friend who could commiserate with his suffering.

Like now, for instance. A fan club member from the front row was monologuing, earning exasperated looks from his classmates. Noctis and Gladio exchanged a few muffled snickers.

“Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us, Cleetus,” Ignis cut in, his voice laced with a strain so barely audible that Noct and Gladio were probably the only ones who even picked up on it. “As you have noted for us, it is quite interesting that most rebel demands would be considered centrist by modern standards. However, we should recognize one deconstructionist philosopher whose theories remain polarizing even to this day.”

Ignis went to the next slide. A portrait of a wide-jawed man with a face only a mother garula could love brooded down from the display screen.

“Oh great,” Noctis muttered, drawing a confused look from Gladio. “Not this guy…”

"Regulus Invicta," Ignis continued, "is remembered as one of the strongest advocates for freedom of speech throughout the history of Lucis. However, what is less commonly remembered are his persistent demands for the de-establishment of the monarchy in favor of what we would now refer to as a democratic socialist republic. Even during the Lucian civil war, Invicta was a controversial figure. At first his philosophies were embraced by the deconstructionists, who sought to overthrow the Lucis Caelums in favor of a fragmented nation-states ruled by regional noblemen. They were less in favor of his leanings toward a democratic socialist republic. Despite this difference of opinion, Invicta was one of the few intellectuals of his time that insisted on the right of deconstructionists to espouse their ideals without punishment or censorship. Unfortunately, this insistence, combined with his involvement with radical circles, led to his eventual imprisonment. He would die of consumption shortly thereafter.”

A hand shot up - the same wind-bag from before.

“Yes, Cleetus?” Ignis’s smile was tight.

“Professor Scientia, as you were speaking I couldn’t help but remember an essay I came across in the Lucian History Journal the other day. The article was about the evolution of Lucian collective memory of the civil war.”

Gladio chuckled. “Oh boy. Here he goes again. This guy really can’t stop himself, can he?”

Noctis wasn’t laughing. He wanted Ignis to get back on topic and finish explaining why Invicta and the deconstructionists were wrong.

“According to the arguments propounded throughout the essay” - Gladio actually snorted at this point - “collective opinion regarding Invicta and the deconstructionists split after Lucis became a constitutional monarchy. Invicta was distanced from the deconstructionists and by means of propaganda -”

Bells went off in Noct’s head. Propaganda? What was this guy trying to get at?

“ - and state sanctioned school curriculum -”

Noctis gripped the arms of his desk, knuckles whitening.

“ - Invicta gradually became celebrated as one of the fathers of free speech. Meanwhile, his links to deconstructionists were covered up, preventing further instability to Lucian society while conveniently appropriating the parts that aligned with contemporary values.”

He paused for a breath. Ignis stepped out from behind the podium, quick to seize back control of the conversation.

“Your statements indicate a very post-modern interpretation of the historical records, Cleetus,” he remarked politely. “It’s interesting that you bring up social instability. Although not as commonly espoused today, there are ideologues who from time to time self-identify as deconstructionists. However, they are often ridiculed by both leftists and conservatives, rarely gaining any political legitimacy. In this way, the general public remains largely unexposed to contemporary deconstructionism outside of the occasional satirical representation on late night TV shows or the funnies.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

There was a rustle as heads turned in Noct's direction. Ignis adjusted his glasses.

“Is there something you would like to share, Prince Noctis?”

Shit. Gladio slid down low in his seat, muttering something that sounded a lot like, “Smooth move, Noct.”

Noctis cleared his throat. His cheeks felt like two flames. “N- not particularly.”

“Very well.” Ignis returned his attention to the slides. Noctis averted his eyes, only to be met by the expectant gazes coming his way from the next row down. His gaze happened to fall on Cleetus, he shot him a particularly snide smirk from over his shoulder.

Something in Noctis snapped.

“It’s just that, you said ‘satirical.’”

Ignis stopped mid-sentence. Scandalized whispers rippled throughout the hall. Gladio was actually facepalming. Meanwhile, Noctis’s cheeks somehow managed to get even hotter. He felt the need to continue.

“I just thought - well, it sounds like you think those depictions are kind of inaccurate, or something.”

Gods, he was sounding extremely upset and defensive right now, wasn’t he? What had happened to all that training in diplomacy and public speaking? Embarrassing.

“Satire is merely a genre, your highness," Ignis demured. "One that hyperbolizes a real-life topic or theme with intent to criticize, ridicule or expose. We may identify this genre from a neutral standpoint without either validating or condemning the arguments contained within the work itself.”

Noctis schooled his expression so it’d look like he’d understood this last bit.

“But you said the satirical representation is the only representation people see. Doesn’t that imply that there’s another representation that most people don’t get to see?”

“There normally is more than one side to every story,” Ignis said lightly, and his lips curved in such a smug, handsome grin that Noctis could have chucked his laptop at him.

“Yeah, but sometimes one side has better evidence than the other one. Shouldn’t that also be part of the discussion?”

He was pressuring Ignis to agree with him, to say that the deconstructionists were “wrong” and the monarchy was “right” and therefore Noctis was right, too. That the deconstructionists were just radical, terrorist nutjobs whose hogwash theories did more harm than good, so why even bother discussing them at all? Noctis knew it. Gladio knew it. Most of all, Ignis probably knew it.

So why were they still disagreeing?

“Indeed. However, the objective of today’s lecture is merely to review the deconstructionism as an historical movement. I will leave the evaluation of the ideas espoused by said movement to all of you in your term papers.”

A smattering of chuckles. Oh yes, how adorable, how clever. Noctis opened his mouth to let loose another retort when Gladio nudged his foot.

"Let it go," he mouthed with a slight shake of his head. Noctis grit his teeth with an audible “tch,” nails biting into the surface of his palms. He deliberately avoided Gladio’s gaze, instead fixing his attention on his laptop. The Ghiranzenator taunted him from the other side of the screen, all chiseled jawline and knowing smile.

Noctis closed the laptop with a ‘snap.’

PT. II: 13:00 hours

“I was too hard on him, wasn’t I?”

The words were out of Ignis’s mouth before Gladio had even stepped through the door. The office was tiny - more like a closet, really. Gladio tossed a small paper bag onto the desk and pulled up a seat, careful not to spill the coffee in his other hand.

“What’s this?” Ignis asked, peering owlishly from behind his computer. Gladio handed over the coffee.

“Thought you could use a pick-me up," he replied. "And nah; Noct is tough. He gets worse from me during an average training session.”

“You’re just saying that,” Ignis mumbled, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip. “Mmm, Gladio, this is delicious. Thank you.”

Gladio crossed his legs, leaning back with a pleased smile. “Heh. Thought you’d like that. And no, I’m not just saying that. Noct is pissed off, but he’ll live. Try some of the scone.”

Ignis reached into the paper bag obediently. “I should have waited until after class,” he muttered. “Or warned him about the topic before hand.”

“Yeah, that probably would’ve helped.”

“I just don’t want to allow him more special privileges than I already have! How am I supposed to prepare him for his future responsibilities if I keep treating him differently from the other students? Can you imagine, just last night he actually asked me to check his homework!”

“Did you?”

“What do you think?” Ignis snapped. “We live together for Eos’s sake, of course I did!"

“Yikes. How’s the scone?”

Ignis scowled. “You really must stop bringing me sugar. This is why my skin is breaking out.”

“One bite won’t hurt, prince charming.”

Ignis broke a off a tiny piece and popped it into his mouth, but not before shooting Gladio a glare.

“Relax, Iggy. Just give Noct a little time to cool down, think things through. He’ll come around.”

Ignis gave him a doubtful look. He took another bite.

“At least this scone is palatable.”

Gladio flashed him a cheeky smile. “Does that mean you’ll raise my grade professor?”

“I’ll consider it. After all, for an auditing student you do have unusually consistent attendance.”

“Someone’s gotta show up and keep the crown prince in line. Who better than his protector and professional babysitter, the royal shield?”

“Pity you have to sit through my lectures. I imagine it’s dull.”

“Nah. You’re way more interesting than the profs I had during my undergrad.”

‘A lot easier on the eyes, too,’ he thought. His gaze lingered on Ignis’s full, rosy lips before silently flickering away.

“There’s no need for flattery, Gladio. It’s not like I can actually give you credit for the course.”

“Sorry. Guess your little front row fan club is wearing off on me.”

Ignis reddened. He took a hurried sip of coffee, obviously stalling. Gladio grinned, letting himself indulge in the rare sight of a flustered Ignis.

“If the students show enthusiasm,” Ignis began, once he’d finished composing himself, “it is merely due to the engaging nature of the subject.”

“Oh, right. Lucian history makes me blush and squeal, too.”

“Did you come here for the sole purpose of force feeding me scones and distracting me from my work?”

“Why, is it working? Just kidding,” he added quickly at the stern look he received. “Actually, I thought we should touch base on our lovely royal charge’s training schedule over the Solstice. Iris has been bugging me about plans. She wants to invite the entire Amicitia clan over for a get-together.”

“Let me pull up my calendar.” Ignis swiveled in his chair, facing the computer monitor. Gladio contemplated his profile, thrown into sharp relief by the glow of the LED back-light. A million potential lines ran through his head. ‘It should be illegal to be so gorgeous.’ ‘You ever seen an angel up close? Because those cheekbones are high enough to graze the heavens.’

“Got any plans for the Solstice, Iggy?”

“I’m hoping to finish drafting my thesis proposal,” Ignis answered, with a light click of the mouse. “I’d also like to try my hand at a leiden sweet potato casserole. See if I can get Prince Noctis to eat something other than meat for a change.”

Gladio snickered. “Good luck with that last one. By the way, what’s your thesis about again? Food politics - “

“ - with Duscae as a case study for increased multifunctionality in agricultural policy making, yes.” Ignis spared him a brief glance, eyes crinkled with amusement. “I’m impressed you remember.”

‘Course I do,’ Gladio thought dismally. ‘I’ve Moogle searched every article you’ve ever published.’

Fortunately, he was spared the need to reply. One more click of the mouse, and Ignis was tilting the monitor in his direction.

“There we are. So, which dates does Iris have in mind?”

“She’s really got her eyes set on the day of the Solstice, as well the day right before and after. She needs me to help cook, put out decorations…”

‘Basically all the stuff we used to do when mom was around,’ he thought.

“I see. Why don’t I just make a note on my calendar for now? We can continue meeting as planned for the next two weeks. When it comes time, we'll evaluate how Noct is doing. Perhaps it won’t even be necessary for us to meet over the week of the Solstice.”

“Thanks Iggy. I appreciate it.”

“Certainly. It’s imperative that you spend quality time with your family over the holidays, uninterrupted.”

His smile was sad. Of course; Ignis didn't really have any family around to celebrate with. Gladio jiggled his knee, hesitating.

“H-hey, Iggy,” he began cautiously. “Y’know, if you don’t have any plans for the Solstice, you’re always welcome to - “

“Ah, Ignis! Just the man I was looking for.”

Ignis stood as two people Gladiolus had never seen before entered the office. The first was an attractive, bespectacled woman with golden hair swept back in an elegantly casual updo. Gladio, always the gentleman, rose instantly to his feet, pushing in his chair and squeezing back against the bookshelf in an effort to free up some space for her in the tiny room. She was followed by a pale young man who stood shoulder to shoulder with Gladiolus, which was a rare enough occurrence. What was really odd was Ignis's reaction. He blanched as the man entered. Then he was turning away to face the woman, almost as if he'd never even noticed the other visitor at all.

“Dr. Trepe! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Her lips curved in a perfect cupid’s bow. “Ignis, dear, how many times must I remind you? Call me Quistis. Anyway, I was just giving Prince Ravus a tour of the department.” She gestured toward the man beside her.

Oh - so that’s why he looked familiar. Gladio had often seen the royal Nox Fleuret duo on magazine covers or on TV. Ravus cut a striking figure in person, with his wintry complexion and dual colored eyes. He seemed to resent being watched, interrupting Gladio’s examination with a peculiarly frigid glare.

“Prince Ravus will be joining our department as a research scholar next semester,” Quistis explained. “Your majesty, Ignis is a grad student and TA in our department. As you may be aware, he also serves as the royal advisor to Crown Prince Noctis. He’s quite the feather in the department’s cap.”

Gladio beamed, eyeing Ignis with pride. What he saw surprised him. Iggy’s shoulders were tense, his face frozen in a mask of false politeness.

Something was wrong.

“Thank you, Dr. Trepe. As it stands, I’ve already had the good fortune of making Mr. Scientia’s acquaintance.”

Gladio’s eyes snapped in Ravus’s direction. His expression was unreadable, but his tone of voice suggested that whatever fortune had been at play was anything but “good.”

“Indeed.” Ignis mustered a weak smile. “I’m honored his highness remembers me.”

Ravus flinched, the movement so quick it was barely perceptible. Gladio glanced between them. Whatever vibe was going on here, he didn't like it one bit. He asked the question before he could stop himself.

“How do you two know each other?”

Ignis gasped. “Oh, by the six - where are my manners? Dr. Trepe - “

“Quistis.”

“Quistis” - Ignis blushed - “and Prince Ravus, please allow me to introduce Gladiolus Amicitia, Prince Noctis’s sworn shield, as well as one of my dearest friends.”

Gladio’s chest swelled until it threatened to burst. He crossed his arms, lip quirking up into a satisfied smirk.

'Dearest friend, huh?'

“I see,” Quistis murmured, tapping her chin. Her eyes ran up and down Gladio’s frame with an openly appraising look. “I apologize for interrupting your discussion, Gladiolus. I doubt we made a very good impression.”

“Meeting a colleague of Iggy’s is never an imposition,” Gladio assured her. “Especially not when that colleague is as elegant and beautiful as yourself.”

Quistis blushed, blue eyes sparkling behind her spectacles. “I never imagined the royal shield was such a charmer. You’ll have to bring him around more often, Ignis.”

There was a momentary, infinitesimal fracture in Ignis’s facade. “Yes, well, I daren’t keep his majesty any longer," he said quickly. "I’m sure you’re both quite eager to continue the tour. Prince Ravus, it truly was a pleasure seeing you again. I look forward to our collaboration in the coming semester.”

“As do I,” Ravus snapped, his words laced with such venom that even Quistis sent him a mildly startled look. “Dr. Trepe, shall we?”

“C-certainly. Gladiolus, it was a pleasure. And Ignis, we’ll be seeing you tonight at the reception, won’t we?”

“Of course. The Grand Hotel Insomnia at six o’ clock, correct?”

“Not exactly ideal weather for an event, is it?” Gladio interjected, frowning. “The roads are supposed to freeze after seven.”

Ignis dismissed him with a breezy laugh. “Yes, well, you know what they say Gladio - the show must go on! Until tonight then, Dr. Trepe...Prince Ravus.”

He bowed at the waist. Gladio rushed to follow suit, but not before glimpsing the pain that flashed across the prince’s strange, distant eyes. Then he was gone, sweeping off down the hall without a word of acknowledgement. Quistis rushed after him. Gladio waited until he no longer heard the clicking of her high heels before he spoke.

“What was that all about?”

Ignis began fussing with the papers on his desk. “Dr. Trepe was introducing the newest addition to our department.”

“Who you just happen to already know.”

“Is that so odd? You and I often cross paths with royalty in our line of work.”

“Uh-huh.” Gladio approached the desk, leaning over and splaying both hands across the surface. “So, you gonna tell me how you two actually know each other?”

“I don’t see that it’s any concern of yours,” Ignis replied, voice unusually clipped. Gladio ignored the sting.

“I’m just curious - y’know, as a dear friend and colleague. Why so defensive?”

Ignis slammed down a folder, nostrils flaring. “Fine. Spring 752. I did a semester in Tenebrae. Prince Ravus was a student at the university. We made acquaintance.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Gladio shrugged. “Dunno. Just thought I sensed some hostility between you two.”

“Enough, Gladio!”

The outburst stunned them both. Gladio took a step back. He ran a hand through his hair, trying fiercely not to look as hurt as he felt. After a long moment of silence, Ignis heaved a sigh.

“Forgive me, Gladio. It’s just a rather...unpleasant story, if I’m being honest. I wasn’t expecting to meet him like this, and...I’d rather not talk about it all just yet.”

Gladio chuckled harshly. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one being the asshole here. Sticking my nose in your business. But if you ever do feel like talking about it, or there’s any way I can help...just let me know.”

“Thank you, Gladio,” he said softly, and the smile he turned on him was so full of warmth and relief that it hurt to look at.

Gladio hurried to change the subject.

“You sure you’re good to go to this reception thing? Ravus will probably be there, too.”

“I’ll be fine. I merely need a moment to compose myself. I do apologize I won’t be able to join you at the gym today. I was quite looking forward to showing off my new gains.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. Gladio snorted.

“Save it for next time, hot shot. But seriously, Iggy - the roads are supposed to get pretty bad tonight. Call me if you need a ride.”

“Certainly; I’m sure Dr. Trepe would just love it if you popped by.”

“Iggy.”

“Don’t worry; I promise I’ll behave myself.”

“You better. Don’t wanna go setting a bed example for Noct.”

Ignis’s smile fell. Gladio rolled his eyes, reaching for the half-eaten pastry on the desk.

“Talk to ‘im,” he said through a mouthful of scone. “Better yet, feed him and then talk. He’s always in a better mood when his stomach’s full.”

“Oh Gladio.” Ignis shook his head. “If only I could be as certain as you are.”

‘But I’m not certain,’ Gladio thought to himself. The uncertainty followed him as he took his leave, wandering through the empty halls of the department alone. Noct could be stubborn, and Ignis had a tendency to cave in. Hopefully they'd be able to come to terms without too much of a fuss.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didnt see the figure rounding the corner, hurtling straight at him. He barely managed to come to a stop before they collided.

“Whoa there!” he exclaimed, stumbling backward. “My bad, are you - ?”

The charity in his voice withered and died as he looked up into the face of the passerby.

Ravus Nox Fleuret.

“Ahem. Pardon me, your majesty.” He stepped aside, the polite gesture a reflex after so many years as a retainer. Ravus, however, stood quite still, eyes fixed on Gladio intently - almost as if he were measuring him up.

Gladio’s jaw clenched.

“There a problem, highness?”

Ravus looked away, making a soft, dismissive noise in the back of his throat. He strode past Gladio with his nose held high, sharp footsteps echoing off the walls like a hailstorm. Gladio’s eyes narrowed, gaze following him over his shoulder. The uneasy feeling was back, creeping up from the pit of his stomach like clutching vines.

Whatever history Ravus and Iggy had together, Gladio had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t the good kind.

He tore himself away with a sigh.

“Forget about it,” he muttered firmly. “Iggy can handle himself. It’s not like you have any say in the matter, anyway.”

Still, it was a good thing he kept a spare set of clothes locked up at the campus rec facility. He was gonna need an extra challenging workout today.

TBC...

[artificialqueens]

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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From: Katya idiot

From: Katya idiot

From: Katya barb

From: Katya deb

From: Katya shelby

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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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.

[gurl2irl-blog]

51 by Danny Cron

This play is ultimately about loss and the lengths we go to cope with it. I see this script as the first step in a collaborative process, one that is open ended enough to provide enough of a challenge to a creative team as to provide them with a sense of ownership.

Slashes, dashes, italics and the like: It probably means exactly what you think it does.

Note:

The house should open 45 minutes before the top of the show.

Pre-show

The audience is greeted by a Living room set so complete, so full, so…real Eugene O’Neill would have used 20 pages to describe it.  It’s American Reginal Theatre’s obscene fever dream.  Look at that couch. That couch is a couch. Is that…is that a dining room table? YOU’RE FUCKING RIGHT IT’S A DINING ROOM TABLE! Not just a family, but a family lives here. One has to marvel at all the joys and sorrows that have been experienced in this house, all the holidays, the birthday parties, the break ups, and break downs. Maybe there’s a staircase? Maybe a fireplace? Maybe it looks just like the house you grew up in…

Anyway.

In the middle of all of this is Gus, a man in his mid 20’s, packing. He doesn’t seem to notice the audience as they enter-or he notices and doesn’t care.  Music gently comes from his headphones. He is in the zone.  Over the next 45 minutes the number of boxes grow and the number of trinkets and memories shrink.  As the house lights fade the front door bangs open and floods the stage in green light. Gus, the boxes, and all the furniture become subtly weightless and start drifting towards the light.  Everything collects a few feet from the door, stopped by an invisible barrier.  The hum that started unperceivably quiet has now started to grow.  Gus tries to propel himself forward, but he’s stuck in place.  He wants nothing more in his life than what lies on the other side of the door, but he can’t get to it.  As Gus’ frustration reaches its peak, it all stops. He lands, gently, on the couch.

Devon

       Gus.

                Gus?

Gus

                          What?

Devon

      Where are you?

Gus

      Here.

Devon

    Where were you?

Gus

    What do you mean?

Devon

    I was at the airport for like an hour and a half.

Gus

    What?

     Devon?

     Oh shit, Devon!

     Oh, shit. Devon,

     Your flight was today.

Devon

    Yes, yes it was.

Gus

    Fuck me, I’m so sor/

Devon

   Dude!

Gus

   What?

Devon

    Dude!!

Gus

    Fuck! Dude!

They hug

Devon

    Fuck me up Brother!

They attempt a secret handshake only to

remember they never made one.

Gus

    Sorry for stranding you, my head’s been     all over. Airport still gross?

Devon

    I want to fucking murder that architect.  Those long slabs of bare cement make me want to kill myself.

Freeze. A bioluminescent pulse moves across the stage

A light puff of wind

Gus

Devon

  Shit. Shit, I didn’t think/

Gus

  Yeah. Um. Huh

Gus turns away, breathing heavy

Devon

  I didn’t mean/

Gus

  No, it’s fine, it’s just/

Devon

  I’m so sorry, I thought I was being funny and/

Gus

  Just give me a minute.

Devon

  I’m such an idiot

Gus

  I um, huh, I

  I just spent all day packing her, hmmmm, wow, but, um that’s why I forgot to get you. So it’s really…here. Now.

    Let me help you with your bags.

Devon

    I’ve got it

Gus puts the luggage away.

Gus

   Have you been watching the new Star Trek?

Devon

   Yeah man! I’m so glad they’re finally putting good T.V. before Roddenberry’s ideals.

Gus

   And they say fuck now, which is sooooo sweet.

Devon

   Oh! I almost forgot, I think you need to charge your phone my man.

Gus

   My phone?

Devon

    Um. Yes. Your phone.

Gus

    No, remember… I can see the tab with the Facebook message I was going to send you open on my computer. I forgot to send it. I don’t have a phone anymore.

Devon

    Um. What?

Gus

    I got rid of it a few weeks ago.

Time clicks. Devon and Gus are in slightly different positions

Devon

   Yeah, ok Black Mirror.

Gus

   I’m serious, dude.  I’ve gone rouge.

Devon

   Alright, Zebadiah.

Gus

   Why is it so hard to believe?

Devon

   I’m just happy you had the time to see me between all the D.I.Y. Kombucha classes you’ve apparently started teaching.  

Gus

  Ha fucking ha

Devon

  I do have one question.

Gus

  What?

Devon

  How do you ride your bicycle with that giant front wheel?

Gus

  Oh shit, that actually reminds me. I have something for you.

Gus begins rummaging through boxes

More time passes than should

Gus

  Ah! Here!

He pulls his middle finger out of the box

Devon slow claps

Devon

  But, actually, how do you function in society?

Gus

  Well, I wasn’t sure if I could actually go through with it, but I was cleaning out my moms closet and found This.  

Devon

  Fuck off.

                 Is that?

Gus

   Yep

Devon

   Fuck you.

   A fucking beeper!?

Gus

   Its proper name is pager, you fucking heathen.

Devon

   Gus.

Gus

             Yeah, what’s up?

Devon

                                             Why do you have a pager?

Lights. The pager vanishes to appear on the

other side of the stage. Neither notice.

Gus

   My phone was not so good for me.

Devon

   How not good?

Gus

    Right after mom, um word got out and everyone called all the time and it was really overwhelming. But as time went by everyone stopped calling and I was just so aware of how utterly alone I was. I didn’t really get out of bed. Like, at all.  I was miserable and in so much pain and I hated it so I escaped to my phone. It was like my soul was being sucked out and trapped it in tar, and if my soul was being sucked out then at least it wasn’t in me anymore.  I started having nightmares and I lost my appetite so I wouldn’t sleep I wouldn’t eat; I’d just scroll through me phone.

Devon

   I had no idea.

Gus

  Yeah, well. Why would you?

Devon

  I should have/

Gus

  I get it, you were able to run away from this and/

Devon

  It wasn’t about running away; I was/

Gus

  We both know how much you hate it here.

Devon

  It wasn’t that, it’s just that between school and the city everything/

Gus

  I’m not blaming you. You had to do what you had to do for you.

Devon

  Yeah, but, I should have checked up on you.

Gus

  Well.

  Anyway. Thankfully I had someone looking out for me when no one else was. Do you remember Sara?

Devon

   Which Sara?

Gus

   Farmer’s Market Sara?

Devon

   Oh! Sara? You mean Surah?  ‘Mint makes a great natural deodorant’ ‘I can’t work today cause my moon isn’t in the right house’ Surah?

Gus

   I forgot we called her that, yeah her.

Devon

   Are your chakras doing better now?

Gus

  That isn’t all she’s about.

Devon

   Who could forget her booming crystals business.

Gus

  Look, whatever, she took me under her wing.

Devon

   How do you breathe under/

Gus

  Sara knows more than you think dude.

A green light moves under the stage-much like a copy machine

It should sound like one too

  She’s like really connected to everything.

Devon

  I remember her getting connected behind the dumpster.

Gus

  You don’t get what she’s able to perceive.

Devon

  I’ve taken mushrooms before so I have a good guess.

Gus

  Can you stop being a dick?

Devon

   I’m not being a dick, I’m just surprised.

Gus

  There was a week where I didn’t get out of bed for five days. I had to force myself to drink water or eat something.  Suddenly there was a pounding on my front door, and Sara was on the other side.  She knew about my mom, she hadn’t seen me all week, and she got worried.

Devon

  Oh, Gus

Gus

  She just lost her husband, so she knew what it was like. She saved me. You can’t just come back and expect everything to be the same as it was when you left.

Devon

  No, I know that, but I didn’t know what was up with you.

Gus

  What did you think was happening here?

Devon

  I don’t know

Gus

  Because you never bothered to find out.

Devon

  I was terrified to call you.  I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. So. I just. didn’t call. And the more time passed the more I thought I’d missed my chance. And and It was a shitty fucking thing for me to do.  I’m so sorry.

Gus

  I needed a friend man, really badly.  I’d see everything you were posting, and like I’m so happy that you’ve met all these new people and that you’re like finally able to ‘live your best gay life’ but it was really hard to watch.

Devon

  It wasn’t that great, actually. A lot of the guys I was around just made me feel so shitty. Everyone was so hotter, or richer, or whatever than me.  I felt like the annoying little brother. Just trying to get someone to like me.  

  I don’t know. I missed you, Gus. I really missed you

They hug

Devon

  Can we be friends again?

Gus

  Please.

  You should know though. Tomorrow is going to be really hectic. You’re gonna want to be a dick, but please don’t be. She’ll get here in the morning so we can set up.

Devon

  Who?

Gus

  Sara.

BOOM

Projections somewhere between a Grateful Dead concert

And *that* scene from Willy Wonka

Fog and mist

A voice comes from the confusion

Sara

  The waving tendrils of the universe snake their way around us all, beckoning us to their whim.  Leo’s fourth moon quivers between stone of jade and stone of emerald, will you answer it’s call? Shadows of our true forbearers flirt with us, hidden in plain sight. Daring us to see the obvious. From the Great Papyrus Pyramids to the books cast from the Bible the deafening roar is knocking at your astral window-are you brave enough for its cracking? The planets are always aligned your gaze is wrong. WILL YOU STAND TO THE CALL WILL YOU FACE WHAT YOU CANNOT WILL YOU TOUCH THE FACE OF WHO YOU ARE

The boxes scatter

Lights back to normal

No one reacts to what happened

Devon

  Aliens?

Gus

  Aliens.

Sara

  Celestial forbearers.

Devon

  And they’re coming back?

Gus

  Tonight.

Devon

  Right.

Sara

  This is a waste of time. There’s no hope in him.

Devon

  What are you talking about?

Sara

     I’ve been following your soul’s journey Devon. You are at constant war with yourself.  If you cannot see the truth within you, how can I expect you to see the truth without? Gus, we have much to prepare and very little time to do it.

Devon

  Excuse me?? I came to terms with myself years ago.

Sara

   No, Devon. You did not. You are still years away from that happy day.

Devon

   You have no idea the years I spent praying at night that I wasn’t/

Sara

   Yes, yes I know how this story goes, Devon, but you are hiding behind a prescribed identity. It’s made you lazy.

Devon

  Wha/

Gus

  Sara!

Sara

  We haven’t time for this Gus.

Gus

  You can’t expect him to get it right away.

Sara

  I know a lost cause when I meet one.

Gus

  He’ll come around.

Sara

  Why should he do that?

Gus

  Because he’s my friend.

Sara

   Fine.

Pause

Devon

  What’s happening??

Sara

  He’s your friend Gus, you tell him.

Gus

  Please, just listen. Don’t interrupt it’s a lot to take/

Devon

  Ok, yeah fine/

Sara

  He just said not to interrupt.

Devon

  Yeah, ok, sorry

Gus

  Centuries/ ago when

Sara

  Eons

Gus

  Right. Eons ago when earth was still just that one big…earth thing.

Sara

  Pangea

Gus

  Right! So back when earth was all Pangea there was this…war between two alien, um, races? and they were super…wait! No! First there were monkeys. Wait. No. There was grass and/

Sara lets out an exasperated sigh and claps her hands together

Instantly the stage is plunged into the depths of The Universe

Her voice booms

Sara

  Eons after the big bang, after the constellations swam to their homes, and the order was set. After the shock of life split earth into seven, after the bacteria, and the vegetation, and the monsters great and terrible. Earth was the final battle ground of an ancient war.  A species of great power and strength sought to destroy one of great knowledge and wisdom. The war was fought without conscience, and lasted until only the strongest of the Powerful and the wisest of the Knowledgeable remained.  The wise knew it could not survive a fight and fled, but the powerful was a skilled tracker.  For many millennia the wise journeyed to far reaches of the cosmos, never given time to rest before having to flee again. The wise grew weary and crashed into earth. Barley alive.  The powerful captured the wise.  After all this time it was not enough to simply kill it. It had to suffer.  And it did.  On the eve of the seventh night an ape, pregnant with twins, heard the whimpers and found the wise, cold and bleeding.  The wise, knowing it had not long to live took the ape and transferred the gift of consciousness. The powerful saw this, and after swiftly killing the wise, forced its own consciousness into the ape.  But the ape could not handle the mighty and sudden weight of the knowledge of its own existence. Before the powerful one had time to kill the ape itself, the ape smashed its head against a near by tree until it lay unconscious and dying.  Later that night, the twin apes crawled from their mother to become the parents of humanity.

Devon

  Wow.

Sara

  Waste. Of. Time.

Devon

  Wait, it’s just a lot to process. Ok. Ok. So. Right. So. How. Um. What does this have to do with tonight?

Sara

  They’re coming.

Devon

  Coming, what do you mean coming? Who’s coming?

Sara

  Our celestial forbearers.

Devon

  The monkeys?

Sara

  Are you doing this on purpose?

Devon

  What? Doing what on purpose? What’s happening right now?

Sara

  So you really are this thick?

Gus

  Sara!

Sara

  Sorry. What is your question, Devon?

Devon

  Who are our celestial forbearers?

Gus

  The two alien races from the story.

Devon

  But wasn’t the point of the story that they’re all dead?

Gus

  No, Devon, they can’t die. Their physical forms are gone but they are not. Their energy can’t die.

Sara

  First law of thermodynamics. Energy cannot be created or destroyed-merely transferred.  Humans are made of energy.  Our energy cannot be destroyed. So where does it go? Hmm? It is transferred. Moved into another dimension.  

Gus

  So they live in like this, other dimension or whatever. And we’re linked to them. We go to the same place because we’re made of the same energy.

Sara

  Everyone who’s ever died still exists, just on a different plane.

Gus

  It’s not like heaven, it’s not about being a good person or a bad person.

Sara

  It’s energy. Its Nature. Morality doesn’t apply.

Gus

  But it exists. Like its out there, you’d be able to physically touch it. and there’s a bridge that can only be opened by these other creatures, but they hardly open it.

The same ‘copy’ effect as before,

but instead of running in a smooth line it glitches and jumps

  TONIGHT, DUDE! They’re opening it tonight, and we’ll be able to go through.

Devon

  Go through? / / What do you mean go through?

Sara

  / / The duffle bags are in the car, Gus.

Gus brings in large heavy duffle bags

Devon

  What do you mean you want to go through?

Sara

  Go through to the other side.

Gus begins laying down a tarp

Devon

  What are you doing?

Gus

  Preparing

He takes large metal pieces from the bag

Devon

  Wait, wait, wait, wait, no. You need to tell me what you’re planning right now, Gus I am not kidding. You need to tell me right now

Sara

 We’re not going to kill ourselves if that’s what you’re asking.  Small groups who participate in group suicide are able to access the great collective subconscious, that much is well documented. However, it would be counter productive to our cause. No, this is a rescue mission.

Devon

  You want to bring them back?

Sara

  My husband found a way to relay messages back to me through my dreams. It took months for me to even begin to understand.

Devon

 If they’re nothing but energy how will they be able to exist here in any recognizable form?

Sara

  We have that taken care of.

Devon

  But if they’re gone. Aren’t they gone for a reason?

Sara

  There is no such thing as reason. Reason is something we made up to stop ourselves from smothering on our own mortality. Events randomly occur for no other reason, then the fact they happened.  If Joshua were to die and if I were to bring him back, there would be the same reason behind both.

Devon

  What if they don’t want to come back?

Sara

  Don’t be foolish. Joshua told me himself.

Devon

  Gus?

Gus

  If she can leave when she wants I should be able to bring her back when I want.

Lights. In a blink the portal is set up.

There’s electricity in the air

Sara

  We are standing on the precipice! Can you feel our bodies humming in cosmic tune?

Devon

  Holy shit.

Gus

  Devon I need you to listen to me.

The portal starts to hum

  The house is yours.

Devon

  You said this was a rescue mission.

Gus

  That hum feels so good.

The hum gets louder

Devon

  Gus

Gus

  I don’t want to feel anything but this

Devon

  Gus! You’re scaring me

Sparks shoot from the portal

Sara

  Soon! Soon my Joshua!

Gus

  I’m sorry Devon

Time slows.

The portal begins to open.

The hum grows louder and louder

Sara and Gus clasp hands.

They run in slow motion

Before they reach the portal

The sound is cut

The lights flash

Blackout.