#shrixie

So Much Love in this Fandom. Thank you for reading, liking, reblogging and making such generous comments.

Just to reassure @tangledupinmist this is definitely not another “Trixie & Marianne do Oxford Street.” 😉

I don't mind, I will continue to write because I loved learning to do short things :)

“That’s it, just lean into me Trixie and breathe,” Trixie sagged further forwards into Shelagh’s embrace at her words and lay her head on her shoulder.  Shelagh rocked Trixie back and forth gently and began to rub circles on the bottom of her back in an attempt to alleviate the pain of the oncoming contraction.  

“You failed to warn me it was going to be this painful,” Trixie attempted to joke as the contraction finally passed, it had been an unfortunately long labour but Shelagh had refused to leave Trixie’s side from the moment her contractions started. Despite her tone Shelagh could tell Trixie was starting to falter and tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes, her own experience told her that Trixie needed every last ounce of strength to make it through the final stages. 

“Unfortunately there are not enough words in the dictionary to describe the pain of childbirth,” Shelagh said as she dabbed Trixie’s eyes with her handkerchief, “but there is also not a single word on earth that can describe the joy when your child is passed to you for the first time.”  Shelagh’s words caused a fresh onslaught of tears from Trixie, she’d longed for that moment for months and now it seemed it would never come, she was fighting a losing battle against the pain. Sensing her words hadn’t brought Trixie as much comfort as anticipated Shelagh decided to try a technique that had got her through her own labour. 

“When I was in labour Sister Julienne suggested I try singing to distract me from the pain,” Shealgh started, though she decided not to tell Trixie about Patrick singing from the other side of the door, that was something that seemed to precious to share, “Perhaps it would work for you to?” she continued. 

“I hardly know any appropriate songs for child birth, I’ll never be able to listen to Elvis again!”

“Oh but I know the most appropriate song,” Shelagh responded with a hint of mischief in her tone, “You’re a pink toothbrush, I’m a blue toothbrush.” Finally Trixie’s sobs were replaced with laughter as she sang along with Shelagh, all pain forgotten for a few precious minutes. 

“What I wanted to ask, and I’m asking you because I feel you would give me an honest answer: is it normal…” Trixie started, then blushed a deep crimson and trained her eyes on her cup of tea, fiddling with her wedding ring, twisting it up and down her finger.

Shelagh poured herself a new cup and waited patiently, knowing that giving Trixie a little time to find the right words would probably be best.

However, when the young nurse still didn’t say anything, Shelagh took a different approach by taking Trixie’s perfectly manicured hand in hers, squeezing it, and saying: “Trixie, you can ask me anything, and I won’t be shocked or offended, I swear.”

“Alright; is it normal if Christopher kisses me, well… there,” Trixie said, colouring an even deeper shade of red, “and is it normal for me to like it?”

Oh dear, Shelagh thought, feeling herself blush, too, before pushing away the somewhat hysterical giggle that tickled her throat by saying: “There are many ways to make love, Trixie, and as long as you enjoy it and as long as Christopher enjoys it, it is perfectly alright. Making love is not about what others would think of it, because those other people are not in the bedroom with you. Making love is about love, not shame.”

“I guess it is gentlemanly conduct in a very different way than what we normally mean with those two words,” Trixie said.

well you sent this to me a month and I am the worst™ but here it is! be nice to me because i haven’t written in like 2 months 😂😭  sorry it took so long! 

Shrixie: “No one has a heart of stone” 

The minutes had gone by dreadfully slow. Trixie had become so aware of the slow passage of time that she had blocked out all noise save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. She watched intently as the second hand rhythmically made it’s way around the clock. She had been sitting on her bed for what felt like hours. The bottle had long been finished, and her eyes ran out of tears to cry. Emotional exhaustion had begun to set in now, and Trixie couldn’t muster the energy to even move a muscle. Her mind was a constant loop of the events that occurred that day. The agonizing memory of walking away from the man she loved as he called her name repeated over and over again like a broken record. All Trixie could do was stare at the wall, and even that was becoming too taxing. She glanced forlornly over to the empty bottle of gin on the bedside table, wishing that there was even a sip left.

Photo Source: @awakeandwondering