#WHERE DID YOU PUT THE SPARE ANTIHISTAMINES

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

No Hiding In Plain Sight - LN

Summary: Lando makes no secret of his feelings but y/n knows his reputation that McLaren tries to hide from the public and tries to deny him, but it's hard to deny when she feels the same. Insecurities can break a lot of people, is Lando willing to do whatever it takes to show that his eyes are only on her?

Part 2

"For you." Lando grins handing y/n a bouquet of flowers as soon as she's out of her car nearly knocking her back into the passenger seat.

"Christ, Lando. What the hell?" Y/n splutters holding the heavy bouquet of tiger lilies and the action of them being practically shoved into her arms, she quickly follows her shock with several sneezes as the pollen hits her sinuses like a slap.

"Oh shit." Lando mumbles staking them back from her as she moves to grab tissues from her car and continues sneezing till her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is a sore red. "Bless you?"

Y/n sneezes again clearly in need of some allergy medication to ease her reaction to the flowers.

"So maybe next time not flowers?" Lando questions earning a sigh.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you. I'm not interested, Lando." Y/n states then pausing to sneeze again.

"I think when it stop sounding like such a lie then you can stop telling me." Lando smirks which earns an immediate eye roll before she heads off, uninterested in playing the game with him and very much interested in get out of close proximity to the flowers. "I'll get something in place of the flowers!"

"Please don't!" Y/n calls back to him sniffling and wiping at her eyes. She needs to get to the medical centre and see if they've got any spare antihistamines.

-

Y/n works in McLaren HR who travels with them, thanks to the matter of Daniel exiting and there being a matter of fans accusing McLaren or mistreatment. Zak wanted someone in HR on the road so everyone felt there was someone safe and trusted to go to.

"So, yesterday wasn't good but...today it's a different bouquet. No flowers." Lando states walking into her office. "You like strawberries. You put it on your Instagram the other day."

Y/n is in awe of Lando's doing. He has no intentions to make this easy for her.

"You got me a bouquet of strawberries?" Y/n questions then leaning back in her chair with a smile that she just can't try to hide.

"I didn't want you to-you have the lilies?" Lando questions spotting them in her office. "Where did you get them from?"

"I asked around to get them because I finally got my hands on some allergy medication." Y/n mumbles unsure of what to really do since she wasn't expecting him to find out she sought out the flowers to keep for the race weekend.

"You like them?"

"Don't get cocky, I've just never been given flowers before." Y/n murmurs, face flush as she tries not to sound so pathetic when saying that. "Ok, I've embarrassed myself enough. Thank you...for both bouquets. Very kind of you."

Lando smiles, dimples indenting his cheeks since he clearly feels some sort of victory over the fact she wanted the flowers.

"You're cute." Lando smiles while she flushes and sighs.

"You know this is boarding workplace harassment."

"Since you are HR then maybe we should sit down and have a talk." Lando smirks moving to the seat across from her own. "I've got some free time if you think it's important."

"As if you need the opportunity of spending anymore time with me. As much as I'm sure it's a dream come true." Y/n hums then sighing as she looks at Lando. "You should go, Lando. Thank you for the strawberries."

There's a grumble of defeat as he stands up, making sure to steal a strawberry which makes her smile a little but keep her eyes trained on the screen.

-

Y/n sighs rubbing her temples as she receives another report from the marketing team about online rumours of Lando's pursuits. It's none of her business but the marketing team always have to alert her because no matter how discreet Lando tries to be, these girls who know him for being an F1 driver are always too happy to let the world know they gained his attention.

"I thought the two of you had something going on?" Alice frowns as she sits in y/n's office, a friend from the marketing team who is rooting for y/n to date the young driver.

"He got me flowers which made me sneeze so hard I think I gave myself concussion and strawberries which...he stole one of." Y/n states trying to find any reason.

"Y/n...why won't you just give him a chance?" Alice whispers almost looking like she doesn't really want an answer.

"Because of issues like this that you bring to me. Alice, I don't want to have to constantly be insecure or jealous about every girl he takes to or comes into contact with. He's a very wanted man and he has no shortage of women who want him...I think that much is pretty obvious given the fact you just brought these rumours about him talking to multiple women online."

"But he's bringing you flowers-and it's not as if you don't hook up with guys on the road."

"Alice!" Y/n gasps since she hardly needs her dirty laundry aired. The walls have ears in the paddock and all it takes is saying one thing too loud even with the door closed.

"I don't know what you're ashamed about. If I got a night with Alex Albon while he was single, I wouldn't be apologetic about it. I mean you slept with him during his Red Bull days. That's...so impressive."

"Thank you. But please stop talking." Y/n groans then sighing wanting to get back to business. "Look, if anything serious comes out of these rumours. Like...allegations of something that needs to be handled. Then please tell me but unless that's the case, feel free to keep all of Lando's romantic-"

"Please they're purely sexually motivated-"

"Away from me. I don't need to know them and I don't need any of them to be at the top of my priorities."

"You only say that because you like him too and you're just...scared."

"Ok, do you not have other things to be doing?" Y/n huffs beginning to get irritated by the fact she's being hounded by the marketing team as well as Lando himself.

"Have you ever just told him?" Alice asks apparently not taking the hint to drink it.

Y/n grumbles muttering that she needs air and is going for a walk. Though in her marching out of her office and the McLaren unit she managed to crash into a body.

"Ah fuck-Jon, I'm so sorry." Y/n hisses as he manages to catch the young woman quickly. Though she quickly sighs when she catches the gaze of the driver who is always with Jon since the man is his trainer.

"It's alright, y/n." Jon smiles patting her shoulder.

"You in a rush to get somewhere?"

"Yes, actually. Away from the marketing team who have been venting to me about how you managed to get your DMs to random girls and your requests of them coming to meet you in hotel rooms. I got a bit bored so I wanted to get some air." Y/n huffs watching his face drop and while she thought it would give her satisfaction. She actually feels the opposite, she feels guilty. "But really it's the end of the day and I'm tired. You guys have a good night."

Y/n grimaces since she's left all but her phone in her office which means she has to go back. But for now she'll wander around the paddock, hopefully Lando will be gone soon and then she can run back grab her things and leave.

She does exactly that spending nearly half an hour biding her time before she returns moves into her office. Though she doesn't expect to be scared half to death when her chair spins around quickly facing her.

"You were mean." Lando states when she jumps bumping into he edge of the door.

"I-"

"You were mean." Lando reinforces since there was no apology coming and he could tell that but she softens and he doesn't feel the need to cut in again.

"I'm sorry. But being pestered about not accepting your constant attention then hearing you're constantly talking to other girls holds no appeal to me." Y/n grumbles shaking her head before she sucks in a breath looking at the ground. "Lando, you are...a sweetheart."

"Then let me take you on a date." Lando tries leaning forward in eagerness.

"Alice made a point earlier and it fucking hurt to hear it but she was right...I'm scared, Lando. Because you have options-a hell of a lot of options and I'm not willing to risk a short-lived relationship that ends badly because of my insecurities and then makes the workplace so uncomfortable that I can't stay here." Y/n rambles then deflating. "I'm sorry."

"So I don't even get a chance?" Lando sighs slumping back into the chair while she sighs finally meeting his gaze. "Those messages were from last year...before you started working here."

"You're not going to stop trying to win me over, are you?" Y/n smiles lightly watching him flash him a grin those dimples making her insides melt slightly.

"No. So you can say that you're too insecure for me, but it's not going to stop me from trying to change that. As long as it takes." Lando shrugs making her nod a little.

"Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow." Y/n sighs moving around to pick up her bag from beside the desk, smiling as she leans over him to grab it. Placing a gentle kiss on his cheek as she does so. "Good luck for tomorrow, Lando."

"Sleep well, I'll see you tomorrow." Lando smirks marking another score under his name.

-

Lando stuck to his word, now knowing what the problem was for as to why she wasn't giving him a chance. And to say he's been publicly making it obvious that he is not interested in any other women.

It's been 5 race weekends, well over a month of her slowly feeling more at ease when she thinks about it. Today Lando apparently decided that he wants to finally make a big step forward of progress.

"Come on." Lando states grabbing her on her way out of the paddock after the race, his hand locking around her wrist as he drags her suddenly.

"Ah, where the hell are you taking me?" Y/n gasps being pulled through the garage and all the way up onto the pit straight where a bright pink McLaren sits. "What-"

"I remember a while ago, you mentioned one day you wanted to drive a car around the track and so I've arranged for a pink McLaren-"

"Why pink?"

"Because it's your favourite colour." Lando smiles with an innocent shrug, unknowingly just completely melting her heart.

"You know my favourite colour?" Y/n murmurs as he places a slightly more open helmet on her head.

"Yeah. Only because you asked me once as a test and I got it wrong when I said papaya."

"Well for employment reasons, my favourite colour is papaya."

"But barbie pink is the official favourite colour." Lando smiles clipping the helmet strap. "Don't worry, I'm going to be in the passenger seat."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. I'm a backseat driver." Lando grins patting the top of her helmet before he picks up his helmet and puts it on. "I can take us on the first go around if you want a lesson."

Y/n raises an eyebrow before clearing her throat, her eyes flick to the car smiling a little at the colour. She thought initially it was a vinyl wrap but on second look the car is just pink and truly pink.

"I think I've got it." Y/n murmurs while Lando nods gesturing for her to go ahead.

After some talking through, Lando does gesture for her to go ahead. The engine roaring to life before settling into a humming purr. Y/n breathes out softly, testing her grip on the steering before she nods revving the engine before finally pulling the clutch up and in an impressive speed, they shoot forward.

Y/n's abilities to move up through the gears, speeding up before managing to drop gears again for the corners then speeding up again.

Lando looks on the verge of sickness by the time they come to s screeching halt. It was nowhere near the speed of an F1 car but he had no idea she would manage to go those speeds without messing up.

"Where-Where the fuck did you learn to drive like that?" Lando chokes out making her look at him.

"I would tell you but it wasn't exactly legal. So probably best not to-"

"No, come on. I'm taking you on a drive around. Even if I don't think it'll be as impressive as that was." Lando declares stopping her from getting the helmet off.

So they go around and while Lando's driving is cleaner with less drifting, they do get around quicker.

When the stop comes, y/n gets out also looking less easy in her footing after Lando's driving. But eventually the two are walking off and Lando thanks the team who helped to pull it all together.

"So, who taught you to drive like that?" Lando asks making her look at him for a moment seeming to consider her choices. "I won't report you to the police."

"...My brother is a rally driver, but my family aren't millionaires. It cost a lot to get him there. We used to street race for money. As part of a plan to help however I could and have the least risk towards tainting his career aspects. It fell on me to really be the one handling the wheel in the races that got us the money." Y/n explains with a small smile. "Broke bones to get him there. Cracked ribs, broken collarbone...shattered my kneecap after flying off a very DIY'd fixed-up motorbike when I was 16 and our parents found out."

"So you stopped?"

"No. Although my brother started trying to force me to stop. Told me it wouldn't be worth it if he lost his sister while she tried to support him to the point of dying to do it." Y/n smiles then sighing. "Eventually he got enough sponsors that he didn't need to money when I was 18. Worked out well to let me redirect and focus on my own life. He helped me to get this job. Had a friend of a friend who worked in McLaren."

Now Lando doesn't want to admit that his attraction towards y/n has altered with this information but it definitely has. He's even more hooked on her. Mainly because for her to go so far to help her brother achieve his dream is incredible to him. Her not wanting to risk leaving this job because it's her brother's way of repaying her for everything she did is now much more understandable of why she just won't risk it.

"I'd quite like to meet your brother. What's his name?"

"Christopher y/l/n."

The name is familiar now Lando thinks about it, after all he likes watching all sorts of motorsports. Including rallying.

"He's talented, won last years championship. I'm surprised he lets you work."

"What would I do with all the free time if I was living off my brother's income and not working...Plus right now I get a free ticket all around the world. Hardly as if it's costly to me." Y/n shrugs then smiling as she looks at Lando. "Don't tell me my sob story just made me more appealing. A shattered kneecap wasn't ever meant to be a reason for someone to want to date me."

"Really I just wish that I could see you street race. Even if it is illegal."

"Those days a long behind me." Y/n sighs softly before she looks at him for a moment. "Anyway, from the complete terror that was in your eyes in that passenger seat was nice to see but I have a feeling you couldn't handle me crashing and I did...a lot. That's why it took so long to get money for my brother."

The two continue walking and talking till y/n finds she's been walked all the way to her car door.

"Thank you. That was actually...really fun." Y/n smiles making a move that she might regret later but for now she can't imagine withholding herself from it.

Her hand goes up to his cheek, closing the space between them and pressing their lips together in a moment of weakness. An action that Lando is all too eager to return before she breaks the the kiss.

"I'm sure I'll regret that." She whispers pressing her forehead to his own. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Way too late for that." Lando grins flashing those dimples which weaken her exterior. "Maybe...we could get ourselves back to the hotel and then you can let me take you to dinner. I'd offer you a ride but I don't know whether you just want to drive the car back to the hotel. It's a rental right?"

"Yeah, plus I think a bit of a race back to the hotel isn't illegal." Y/n smirks earning a laugh.

"I race for a living. You're setting yourself up for failure."

"We'll see."

Rumours moved quicker than the young couple and whispers make it to online F1 gossip accounts before the two are even on their date. But for once, y/n doesn't feel so compelled to grimace and wince as she is tagged in posts questioning the validity of the rumours.

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando #norris #lando norris one shot #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #ln4 one shot #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff #ln4 x you #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris mclaren #mclaren racing #ln4 #mclaren formula 1

[aealrizen]

The rest of the meal was spent with idle chatter between the hosts and Ian, with Whip chiming in mostly only when he was addressed. Midas remained quiet, though not because the others were ignoring him. It had been easy to tell he was overwhelmed already, so Chipo had thought just having time to watch, listen, and not have to respond would have been nice for him. As Benjamin took care of cleaning up the dishes, Chipo led their guests back up the stairs, Olie in her arms and Berko obediently holding onto her skirt. Despite already yawning, Berko kept looking back to make sure the others were following which caused Ian to chuckle softly and wave to him.

“Sorry in advance,” Chipo apologized once they reached the top of the stairs, turning slightly to talk to them without having to raise her voice too much. “We don’t usually have a lot of guests, so we only have one room with two beds-”

She broke off when Berko threw his hands up, reaching towards Ian while also remembering to stay near his mom. “Grandpa can stay with me then!” he chimed abruptly, then his excitement grew too great and he reached over to latch onto Ian’s hand and pull him towards the door with his nameplate on it. Whip couldn’t hold back a sputter of amusement, but refrained from commenting.

“...Honey, I think your bed is too small for him…,” Chipo tried to decline gently, giving Ian an easy way out if he didn’t want to spend the night dealing with a younger child. They had an escort job to get to early in the morning afterall. Ian didn’t need to be kept up late by her son’s chattering, and incessant wiggling in his sleep.

To her surprise though, Ian just chuckled softly, allowing Berko to drag him around. “It’s alright. I’ve slept in worse situations. If it’s alright with mom I don’t mind staying the night with him,” he agreed, putting the condition that Chipo had to be okay with it since he wasn’t sure how she would feel about an essential stranger staying with her son. Family or not, they had only met that afternoon. He wouldn’t blame her at all for not trusting him.

It seemed it was Ian’s turn to be surprised though, for after getting past her initial shock Chipo just gave a relenting sigh and smile. “It’s fine,” she agreed, a strange softness in her expression. “He doesn’t get to see family much, and it’s been awhile since he’s gotten so attached to someone. If you don’t mind, it would be nice for him to get to enjoy himself for a change.”

It was unexpected for Chipo to comment about Berko not getting attached to people, and Ian was stunned silent until his memories could supply a possible answer. “...Military life can be quite stifling, huh,” Ian sympathized, shifting his grip to give Berko’s hand a gentle squeeze. It was common for those who lived with people in the military to have a more isolated life. What with having secrets to keep and eyes boring holes through their walls to make sure they did so. He wouldn’t be surprised if Berko didn’t have a lot of friends simply because other kids were subconsciously scared of him, channeling their parent’s unease. “There are kids where we usually stay that use me as a pillow all the time. I don’t mind letting him do the same,” Ian assured, giving Berko a warm smile. Anything to give comfort to others in this barren world.

The comments earned a chuckle from Chipo, and she leaned over slightly to address Berko. “Go get your pajamas and come to mommy and daddy’s room for a bath. We’ll let the guests use the bath in the hallway tonight.”

“Yay! Big bath!” Berko cheered, swinging his hands up for a moment once more before rushing into his room. The childish antics earned chuckles from the adults aside from Midas, who was too busy zoning out in a daze from the antihistamines while following Whip around.

“Big bath tonight,” Chipo repeated with a chime, reflecting her son’s excitement as he ran off. Stopping by a sliding door closet in the hall, she used one hand to pull out a towel and spare set of sleeping clothes for her guests. “Luckily since Benny is in the military we get guests often enough that they provide us with a set of sleepwear in a couple different sizes. So hopefully some of these will be comfortable enough for you all, and I can put your clothes in the wash tonight to be ready in the morning.”

“That would be wonderful,” Ian responded, already basking in the idea of having clean clothes.

“Thanks,” Whip grinned, catching the towel and clothes Chipo handed him and also making sure Midas didn’t drop the ones that were passed his way. “Go ahead and shower first,” he directed, a mild chuckle behind his voice as he gave Midas a nudge towards the bathroom. “Before you fall asleep where you’re standing,”

He only earned a soft grunt in return as Midas waddled in a half asleep haze into the bathroom, fumbling slightly to close the door behind him. It was small, with only a shower and half bath one could only sit in, but it was still something strangely fancy to him. Something other than a bucket and a curtain over stone. It was nice though. Just turning handles and having whatever temperature of water he wanted. Not being covered in a layer of sand and dirt for once. He found that lukewarm water was the most comfortable, and this time the soap didn’t bother him as much. Chipo had mentioned something about getting a brand with a more simple ingredient mix this time, and it strangely smelled more like the soap that was used in the slums. He knew not to take too long though, there was always a line. And after he was dressed in the soft fibers of city clothing he stumbled out of the bathroom and by the other two with the towel still over his head and weapons loosely in his hands. They would have to store them somewhere the kids wouldn’t get into them, and he didn’t really feel like letting them out of his sight anyway. Not because he felt unsafe without them, but simply because it had taken a lot of effort to find the parts to build them. He didn’t fancy having to start over.

Whip and Ian had been quietly chatting in the hall while they waited, but once Midas opened the door Whip just had to snicker. A quick direction to the guest room they’d be staying in before he got his own shower, cranking the shower a little warmer than necessary to enjoy the rare experience of steam and prickly clean skin before the luxury was relinquished to Ian.

Rubbing the towel on his head, Whip came back to the room to find Midas tucked away in the corner, a plush pillow squished close to his chest, almost hidden by his curled form. Whip ended up giving yet another soft snort as he moved to the bed and plopped down with little grace. “What are you doing?” he asked, keeping quiet just in case someone in the neighboring rooms had already fallen asleep.

The question went unanswered as Midas continued to stare at the air in front of him, lost in his own thoughts like so many times before. After a stretch of time being filled by Whip massaging the water from his hair, Midas finally spoke up. “... Hey Whip?... Do you think I’m weird?”

The question caused Whip to blink, finding it rather sudden and without context. His immediate thought was to answer ‘yes’, Midas was a rather weird kid when compared to other people his age. But there weren’t any other kids Whip knew that had to deal with losing their identity on top of being turned into what half the population considered a monster. The weirdness Midas had had never bothered Whip, but he refrained from voicing his first thought out loud. Sometimes when Midas asked questions he used different words in place of what he was really asking. Unconsciously watering down the question to make it more palatable for others.

“Weird in what way?” Whip instead asked in return, keeping his focus on drying his hair. He didn’t usually like to take a shower so close to bedtime, but he was glad to have something to focus his attention on so that Midas didn’t feel stared down.

The response was slow to come, and Whip wasn’t sure if it was because Midas was reluctant, or just extremely drowsy because of the antihistamine. But eventually he drew a long breath, rolling his head slightly to the side. “...Unwanted,” he clarified. People didn’t like weird things. Unpredictable was dangerous, and therefore undesirable to have around.

“No.” Whip was quick to answer this time, brows furrowing as he was a bit perplexed what brought this up yet again. “Why do you think you’re weird this time?” So far nothing in this new environment had made Midas comfortable. While most other people Whip knew would have been ecstatic at being there, getting to experience the clean rooms, soft clothes, warm meal, and all the other luxuries the city folk took for granted, Midas just seemed either afraid or discontent. Other than the food of course. And while the response was unusual, Whip was quickly coming to learn it wasn’t unwarranted. Emotions were confusing enough as it was, and without the memories behind them Whip was starting to learn that talking Midas through his confusion seemed to help considerably.

“.... The bed,” Midas admitted succinctly, drooping gaze shifting over to the bed he was deliberately sitting away from. The floor was more closely familiar to the ground he’d slept on for as long as he could remember. Even if it was smooth wood instead of gritty dirt covered stone. “I’m… afraid to use it. Chipo said it’s fine. I can’t imagine she’d rescind her offer. I don’t want to think she would. She’s a nice lady. But… it’s weird…. If I sit down…” he faltered, mouth trying to find the words his mind couldn’t quite come up with coherently. “I… would I even be able to get up again? It’s strange, I feel like I’ll end up trapped there. Like always…”

Like always? Whip turned to stare in confusion at Midas, but the question died before it was voiced. Midas looked like he was moments from falling asleep, and Whip found he couldn’t blame him. This had been an unintentionally exhausting day for him, and while Whip was intensely curious what Midas meant by ‘always’ he knew he most likely wouldn’t get a coherent answer. Breathing a short noise of relenting amusement, Whip slipped his hair into a low ponytail to keep it out of the way before he pushed off the bed and approached the sulking, awkward child in the corner. “C’mon kid. Let’s go to sleep,” Whip beckoned, offering his hand to Midas. A short time ago he wouldn’t have thought Midas would have taken it. But now he wasn’t surprised when Midas reached out after blinking blearily at the hand for a moment.

Pulling Midas to his feet for just long enough to drag him over to one of the beds, Whip carefully shoved him over onto the mattress. Midas only gave a noise of complaint, but found it hard to sit back up once his face squished into the soft material. It was so enticingly comfortable. Being cradled in a cushion of foam instead of balanced like a board on hard ground. A strain of panic was starting to rise from the concern his fears were manifesting. But it halted when Whip gracelessly flopped over next to him, mercilessly shoving him around to make room and almost ending up with Midas’ back against the wall so they both could get comfortable. It earned some pathetic snickers from Midas, and Whip grinned before reaching up to pat the boy on the head. “If you find the bed has stolen you when you wake, just give me a shove and I’ll pull you back up,” Whip half joked, giving Midas a gentle ruffle before shifting into stillness.

For half a second the voice sounded like someone else in Midas’ nearly sleep stolen mind. The words were different, so Midas couldn’t quite hear the voice behind them. But the feeling was still there. The intent to pull him away from being trapped in what normally brought comfort to others. Who was that? It was too warm and peaceful to focus for more than a heartbeat before his mind was shutting down for rest. The weight of a quilt on his form after Whip pulled it up, and his face squished into a pillow held close to his chest as he curled around it. The figure of someone else right next to him, soft breaths and warmth making their presence known. This had happened many times before. Midas couldn’t actively remember it in his mind, but he still felt comfort built up from familiarity cultivated over many years seeping into his bones. The last thought he had was more of a feeling before he drifted off.

He’d be alright. Tomorrow might be an effort to wake up, but he would still be there to greet the morning. Like always.

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First

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Let me just crash over the hurdle that was the first part of this post with all the grace of a baby giraffe new to it's legs OTL That was such an effort, eugh.

#rizen #cyborg #ocs #original story #post apocalypse #sci fi #web light novel #original characters #midas #writing #platonic fluff

[csykora]

Hi maybe the post is kind of old, but did you actually have recommendations for a cold weather car emergency kit? No worries if not of course and thank you for your time. Love the blog.

Of course!

Basic car items:

Ice scraper, snow brush, windshield cleanser

Collapsible or folding snow shovel

Sand or cat litter

Flashlight (either a handcrank or with extra batteries)

Jumper cables

some bottled water

Duct tape

Road flares or reflective warning triangles

Lighter

Tire gauge and tire plug kit

some people would say a knife or a multitool, I recommend my beloved hatchet (like this)

Blanket (I recommend wool)

Mittens (wool or waterproof), leather work gloves, or both

Dry shirt

Wool socks

You can ignore me on the other wool recommendations, but the socks are worth it. The reason is that wool is moderately water resistant, while many synthetic fibers and cotton absorb water. Cotton is a remarkable fiber that can become remarkably dangerous in a cold-weather emergency, as it will collect and hold large amount of sweat and melting snow on your skin, increasing the weight you're carrying and your risk of cold injury. If you have to get out and dig your car out or walk for some distance in a cold weather emergency, you want to be able to change into that spare shirt as soon as you start getting sweaty or wet. Wet + cold is what will get you.

First aid kit

providone-iodine disinfectant bottle or swabs

alcohol-based sanitizer

2 Bandages, Adhesive, Fabric, 1" x 3"

2 Dressings, Gauze, Sterile, 2" x 2"

2 Dressings, Gauze, Sterile, 4" x 4"

2 Dressings, Non-Adherent, Sterile, 3" x 4"

2 Bandage, Conforming Gauze, 3"

5 Bandage, Adhesive, Fabric, Knuckle

1 Trauma Pad, 5" x 9"

maxi pads

Moleskin for blisters

1 flexible splint such as a SAM® Splint, 4" x 36"

1 triangle bandage (for sling)

shears or scissors

Splinter Picker/Tick Remover Forceps/tweezers

Safety pins

Pencil or Sharpie (for making notes in a medical emergency. this is extremely helpful!)

useful medications:

Ibuprofen

Acetaminophen

Antihistamine (Diphenhydramine)

Aspirin

Diamode/Imodium (Loperamide)

Antacid

oral rehydration salts/electrolyte powder

Providone-iodine, also known as Betadine or just iodine, is the preferred way to clean cuts and wounds. Alcohol is for cleaning intact skin or cleaning your tools. Hydrogen peroxide is not preferred on your body, because it can increase tissue damage, but you can clean your tools with it if you have it.

If you have fragile skin and are prone to skin tears or frequently travel with an elder who is, I also recommend carrying mepitels, which are the best way to dress shallow torn skin.

If you're assembling this yourself, I recommend putting it all in a plastic bucket. Cat litter buckets work brilliantly, since they're usually squared off so they fit well in your trunk. The bucket is useful if you need to dig snow, spread sand, or generally carry stuff. Also worst comes to worst you can gather and melt snow in it for water.

If as I now realize maybe you were asking about where to buy one, I really like https://www.adventuremedicalkits.com/, https://www.survival-supply.com/ and https://mymedic.com/

[snezfics-n-shit]

Sicktember Day 13: Seasonal Allergies

Fandom: Ace Attorney Characters: Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright

Notes: I took the easy route for this one, I know, so sue me. Wrightworth time, noot noot. Phoenix wants to prove himself useful as thanks for Miles letting him and Trucy move in while he’s disbarred, so the perfect opportunity would be when Spring has his boyfriend out of commission. He also just so happens to be Looking Respectfully(™)

     Miles Edgeworth looked awful. Actually, Phoenix considered that to be an understatement, since Miles already looked in poor shape this morning, and now he seemed even worse upon Phoenix’s return from walking Pess. Miles hadn’t even left his spot on the living room sofa but his condition alone could have convinced Phoenix he had some uncharacteristic urge to mow the lawns of the entire neighborhood.

“I cleaned her up in the garage like you asked.” Phoenix gave the happy Samoyed a good pet and a few extra glances to make sure there weren’t any traces of yellow left on her coat. Since Pess looked somewhat like a big, fluffy, white cloud, it was fairly easy to see just where pollen might have landed and gotten stuck. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Dreadful.” Miles answered, appearing annoyed that his boyfriend even had to ask. The frown on his face was uninterrupted as he blew his nose for the seventh time since Phoenix and Pess returned from their walk. “And yourself?” He squinted; his watering eyes made it difficult to tell if Phoenix had changed clothes.

“Yup! Lint-rolled everything I could and I put on the spare clothes from the laundry room.” 

“Good, good. Now, pardon me for just a moment.” Miles sat upright with a fresh tissue at the ready. “Huursssh’UH! Hhu’uUURRSHOO! Hh’SHOOH!” 

“Damn.” Phoenix couldn’t help but comment. Was his face red? It sure was burning. 

“Hold o–! HhrrUURRSSHOOH!! H’RRSSHOOH!!”

“Wow. Bless you.” 

Phoenix was sure Miles would thank him if he hadn’t been preoccupied with yet another tissue as the one he prepared prior to the fit didn’t stand a chance against him. 

“Thank you.” Miles sniffled deeply. “I should also be thanking you for everything you’ve been doing for me.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” Phoenix scratched the back of his head. “Pess really likes her walks and, from the way you look right now, I don’t think you could survive just opening the door.”

“The way you say it makes me sound like some kind of weakling.” Miles frowned. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard that before, but he thought Phoenix would be above that.

“No, no! Not like that, I promise. Just you and Spring really don’t mix at all.”

“You would be correct about that, and I have to say you’ve made it all the more bearable.” 

“Come on, babe, it’s just a couple of walks.”

“Don’t forget the tissues, and when you picked up those documents from my office.” Miles added.

“I guess those, too,” Phoenix paused for a moment, remembering something, “didn’t I pick up antihistamines the other day? Did you take them? Because if you did…”

“Not yet. I– Hh!! Excuse me– Hr’RRUUSHHOO!! Hu’uuhSSHHOO!! Ghh… Pardod be.” Miles blew his nose again, and questioned his choices just a little bit, since he was starting to feel exhausted.

“B-Bless you.” Phoenix scrambled to not look as flustered as he felt. “Why not? You could really use them.”

“Consider it as me doing something for you.” Miles teased.

“I-I uh… Don’t know what to say, but…” Phoenix cleared his throat. “I really need you to take better care of yourself, babe. Take the meds.”

Miles sighed. The one time Phoenix behaves himself… 

#snez attorney #sicktember 2022 #my writing #what do you do with one boyfriend hr0ny on main and the other hr0ny for hr0ny on main on main

[sherlocks-freebitch]

As someone who used to work in a very dusty records room, I feel like The Magnus Archives would have been much funnier with the occasional random sneeze mid-statement.

#tma #the magnus archives #Jon sounds perpetually stuffy in more ways than one #MARTIN #WHERE DID YOU PUT THE SPARE ANTIHISTAMINES

[digitalstowaway]

Yes to the mia & miles AU sick fic pLease 🥺

This was longer than I thought it was going to be I'm Sorry. here's the og post that this fic is about. Sometimes...... Diego cares about Miles enough to not let him die. Sorry if you're emetophobic!!

--

Diego didn’t hate Miles. Hate was a strong word, his mother always told him. And once Diego realized that Miles was an awkward, tired kid who had probably been abused for over ten years, he couldn’t bring himself to actually hate him. He felt bad for him. He could understand why Mia was falling for him more and more, taking extra steps to make sure he was safe and just okay.

And when Miles was dreadfully ill, Diego supposed that it wouldn’t hurt to go so far as to show him a little kindness.

He knocked on the bathroom door. “Kid, can I come in?”

“Yes.”

Diego had been the one to volunteer to follow Miles to the bathroom after the poor kid took off from the kitchen, the salad Lana made him half-eaten. He had looked over the plate and asked Lana if she had put pine nuts in it. And then asked, with a grimace, if she knew that Miles was allergic to pine nuts.

She had stood there, frozen and spluttering, and while Mia comforted her, telling her she couldn’t have known, Diego rushed after Miles to check to see if his windpipe had closed up yet.

But Miles was just over the toilet, heaving and sweating. His neck was blotchy with painful-looking hives that spread up towards his face.

“Your won’t stop breathing on us, will you?” Diego asked.

Miles shook his head.

It was a rare occasion that Diego actually wanted to help the kid. He couldn’t imagine the pain he was in nor the embarrassment he felt while being sick in Lana’s home.

He helped Miles out of his jacket and then his waistcoat and tie. For some reason, Miles allowed it. Maybe the kid was feeling so poorly that he was glad that someone was around to undress him. Maybe he knew he was in for a long battle and didn’t have the energy to put up any arguments with Diego.

“Is this all that’s going to happen?” Diego asked. “Because if we need to take you to a hospital, we should know now.”

“I’ll be fine. I can go home in a moment—”

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea. Lana probably won’t let you leave.” Diego undid the top buttons of Miles’ shirt, revealing that the hives were spread across his chest. “She has to finish you off. Poisoning you wasn’t enough to get the job done.”

“It’s not funny!” Lana’s voice from the other side of the door cried.

“Is she out there?” Miles asked, curling over the toilet again.

“Seems so.”

Diego had only met Lana a handful of times, but it was enough to know that she adored Miles. She coddled him, making him meals and defending him against Diego’s jabs. It was obnoxious to see Miles peek behind her back and smile as she told Diego to find someone “his own size” to pick on.

But Diego had to admit that Lana was good for him. For as many times as she scolded Diego, she reminded Miles to be mannerly and polite. And he was slowly behaving better when she wasn’t around. He didn’t have so many snarky comments or dirty glares to toss around. They were replaced with quiet “please” and “thank yous.”

He was physically changing as well. His hollow cheeks were filling out. He wasn’t so pale and distant-looking all the time, showing that Lana’s meals were letting him catch up from whatever neglect his body had been through.

There was another knock on the door. Miles wrapped an arm around his stomach, moaning.

“Miles?” Lana cracked open the door just wide enough to poke her head through. “I’ll let you get back to your privacy in a second, but take the spare bed when you’re feeling better, okay? You can stay here for the night.”

Miles responded with a whimper. Diego nodded on his behalf.

“I’ll make sure he gets there.”

Lana’s head disappeared. Her arm followed with a small stack of towels she laid on the sink.

“Miles?” she said, her face reappearing. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be,” Miles choked out.

“I should have known you were allergic to pine nuts.”

“There was no way for you to have known.” His face scrunched up. He bared his teeth. “Get out. Please.”

“Let me know if you need anything. I’m really sorry!”

Miles retched. The door closed.

Diego didn’t know what to do. Miles looked to be in pain, his body spasming and tensing up. Anything Diego could think about giving him—antihistamines, tea—would surely be brought back up in a matter of seconds.

Diego looked away from the yellow bile Miles spit up and turned to the towels Lana had laid out. There was an impressive variety. A few small clothes and various sizes of hand towels. Diego grabbed a smaller washcloth and wet it in cold water.

Miles shook on the floor. He whimpered again. It was odd to see the kid so vulnerable.

“When I said get out,” he said through labored breaths, “I meant you, too.”

“Too bad, brat. You’re stuck with me. I know you probably really want to be alone right now, and I can’t blame you, but I think someone should stay here. So it’s either me, Lana, or Mia. And Mia is a sympathy puker.”

“And Lana would probably cry.”

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll sit here in silence if you let me make sure you’re not going to keel over.”

Miles was retching again, and Diego felt terrible as he saw tears begin to collect with the sweat on his face. Miles sounded like he was choking, fighting against what his body wished to do.

“Just bring it up,” Diego said.

He laid the cloth on the back of Miles’ neck and then moved it to his forehead. Miles jerked. A little more yellow bile came up. And he fell against Diego’s chest, face worryingly pale where the hives hadn’t taken hold.

“Miles?”

Diego grabbed his shoulder, making sure he didn’t slide head-first into porcelain. He pressed the cloth to Miles’ cheek. And for once, Miles actually looked like the kid he was. He looked small and fragile, and Diego worried that he would break if he held him too tight.

“Why are you being kind to me?” Miles asked.

“Because if I leave you to die on this bathroom floor, Mia will be upset with me.”

“I won’t die.”

“I don’t know. You look halfway there.” Diego ran the cloth to Miles’ neck. “Has this happened before?”

“Obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know I’m allergic.”

“I mean recently.”

Miles sighed. He pushed himself up and dropped his head over the toilet again. Diego steadied him.

“Not since I was a teenager,” he said.

“Oh, yeah, because that was so long ago.”

“A young teenager.”

Diego tried imagining Miles even younger than he was. He had trouble taking a few inches off his height (and Miles was already not that tall) and a little sharpness from his jaw. And where was Miles? With his mentor/adoptive father—or whatever fucked up relationship they had.

He had imagined, judging from the pictures Diego saw when he was being nosy, that Manfred von Karma lived in a gothic mansion with stone walls and long corridors lined with candles. He couldn’t imagine anyone there with anymore fondness for Miles than Diego had for him. No Lanas or Mias.

Miles cried out, his hand grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Diego didn’t say anything but laid his hand on his back.

—

It was hours later, after alternating between dozing and retching, when Miles was ready to pull himself off the bathroom floor. Diego hovered and when Miles’ face turned a dramatic shade of white, he quickly threw Miles over his shoulder.

“Put me down!”

There were weak punches at his back. Diego ignored them as he carried Miles to the guest room.

“This is indecent!”

“Calm down. You wouldn’t have made it here by yourself.”

Diego threw him on the bed. He pulled Miles’ collar open, looking at his chest. The blotchiness had died down. It didn’t look so intense. The angry welts were gone, replaced with a splotchy rash that looked like clouds.

Miles didn’t put up any more of a fight. He crawled to the top of the bed and laid down. His brow was still furrowed in pain—or maybe only discomfort at that point. He closed his eyes, curling into himself.

“Want me to tuck you in?” Diego asked.

“Please don’t touch me.”

“I think I’ve touched you enough today to last us the rest of our lives.”

Diego’s shirt was wet from the cold towels he laid on Miles and the sweat the boy had rubbed onto him whenever he swooned. He felt a touch gross, but he could only imagine how much worse Miles felt. Diego hoped for his sake that he would be well enough to drive himself home by the morning to shower and change into fresh clothes he could relax in.

Miles fell asleep within minutes. His face finally relaxed. His body was no longer so tense. And Diego was able to collapse into the stuffed chair in the corner of the room. He liked the kid the best when he was quiet.

And resting.

Maybe Diego had earned himself immunity from biting insults. Or at least a break.

Lana poked her head inside the room. “I heard you two moving around,” she whispered. “Is he sleeping?”

Diego nodded. “I think he’s over it.”

“Good.” She stepped into the room. She carried a glass of water. “I can look after him tonight if you and Mia want to head home.”

Home sounded nice no matter if it was his or Mia’s apartment they ended up crashing at that night. But he was still worried about leaving the kid.

Lana sat at Miles’ side. She brushed his hair back from his face and stroked his brow, gently calling his name. He woke slowly, his swollen eyes not wanting to open.

“You need to drink a little water. Sit up for me.”

He did so the best as he could. Diego was shocked to see him allow Lana to support his head and help him hold the glass to his lips. He fell right back asleep with Lana pulling a quilt over him.

“How do you do that?” Diego asked.

“Hmm?”

“Get him to act like that.”

“It’s all about getting him to trust you.” Lana stroked his hair one last time. “Go home. I’ll make sure he’s alright. This is my fault, anyway.”

Diego stood and stretched. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. If he had any self-preservation skills, he would have told the person who cooks for him every week that he’s seriously allergic to pine nuts.”

Lana smiled. “Maybe.”

Diego left the room and found Mia waiting for him, ready to leave. She asked how Miles was and offered to drive them back to her apartment for drinks. She was sure that he needed it after being locked in a room with Miles. How they both came out alive was beyond her, she said.

Diego touched the wet patch on his shirt where Miles’ head repeatedly fell onto his chest and said nothing.

#tw emetophobia #ace attorney #mia & miles au #diego caaaaaares

[misssquidtracy]

Laundry Duty

A short piece of Virgil-centric fluff for @fictivekaleidoscope to help her feel better after her op. I find Virg a challenge to write, so this took longer than the 10 minutes I originally promised XD. 

Please excuse me while I scamper back to Gordon’s corner with my tail between my legs. Writing anything other than him is a bit like learning a foreign language for me.

Genre: Humour & fluff.

Characters: Virgil, Scott & John, with young Gordon and Alan in the background.

Summary: Virgil is the domestic househusband we all fantasise about, but with a dark twist...XD.

-x-

Virgil was not amused.

At all.

As if a solid week of back-to-back rescues garnished with a healthy amount of sleep deprivation hadn’t been enough, the massive pile of dirty laundry that was taking up two thirds of the floor was yet another nail in his green coffin.

Thunderbird Two’s pilot was flabbergasted at Scott and John’s laziness. Sure, he was guilty of not pulling as much weight as he usually did, but he was on his first day off in two weeks. Scott was into his fourth day of not being deployed and John had left EOS in charge of Five while he was planetside. Last time Virgil had checked, both brothers were perfectly healthy and as a result, more than capable of laundering their own clothes.

Scott had shrugged when Virgil had confronted him on the issue, not understanding why he couldn’t chuck all his dirty clothes into a pile and offload them onto Grandma. When John had suggested that he might do the same thing, Virgil had capitulated and very grudgingly offered to toss their clothes into the washer with his own. The embarrassment of one of his brothers getting deployed in an unwashed uniform for the entire world to see (and smell) would be enough to send him to an early grave.

Except, what had seemed like a good compromise an hour ago didn’t seem quite so good when it became apparent just how many items needed washing. There were the regular and spare iR suits, plus six days and five bodies worth of jeans, shirts, socks, pyjamas, t-shirts, swimwear…

Virgil scowled and resisted the urge to stamp on a particularly filthy looking shirt of Gordons. He was no househusband, but even he could tell that it would take at least six, possibly seven loads to get through this infernal pile. And considering each cycle took an hour and fifteen minutes to run, plus the fact that he’d probably have to pre-soak all of Gordon’s contaminated items, he was looking at between seven and ten hours of laundry on what was supposed to be his day off.

No way. Absolutely no way.

Anger completely overtaking logical thinking, Virgil grabbed an armful of clothes (instantly wishing he’d pegged his nose beforehand) and dumped them haphazardly into the nearest washer. Not pausing to consider material, colour or degree of dirtiness, he shoved everything in together. When the first tub was stuffed to capacity, he rummaged through the remainder of the pile and pulled out his own clothes before depositing them in the second washer. Heaven forbid he throw all his good shirts in with Gordon’s bright green swim trunks.

John’s white polo shirt was a different story.  

Satisfied that the first washer was suitably stuffed (probably to the point where none of the clothes would actually get cleaned), Virgil double checked to make sure none of his own items were mingling with Gordon’s trunks and Scott’s socks. After finishing his inspection, he opened one of the cabinets and pondered over the choice of detergents.  

Virgil quickly realised why laundry duty was the least favoured chore amongst his brothers – there must have been at least ten different types of detergent staring back at him. Scented dryer sheets, stuff for sensitive skin, perfume pearls, organic this and that, et cetera, et cetera…

Deciding to indulge in some petty revenge, Virgil selected the most ostentatious, sickeningly feminine detergent he could see; a bright pink bottle with a picture of a cloud on the front labelled ‘Sunset Marshmallow’. He popped the cap, inhaled deeply and nearly gagged at the cloying scent that assaulted his nose. It smelt like something a unicorn had vomited up.

Thunderbird Two’s pilot upended the bottle and tipped most of the contents into the washer containing his brother’s clothes. As the cherry on top, he also dumped in an entire container of scented pearls in the fragrance ‘Dusky Rose’, before slamming the lid shut and hitting the start button with an air of flourish. His mood rose considerably at the thought of his lazy ass brothers stinking like a garden.

Virgil’s own clothes were treated to a modest amount of regular lemon scented detergent and no fragrance pearls. Heaven forbid that he be caught smelling like a pre-teen girl.

Leaving both washers happily humming away, Virgil breezed out the door and allowed himself a small snicker of amusement.

‘Lazy suckers.’

-x-

Virgil didn’t know why, but somehow all his revenge attempts always ended up boomeranging back to bite him on the ass.

After his brother’s hideously perfumed clothes had finished their wash cycle and been tossed in the dryer with some more scented pearls for an extra dose of revenge, Scott and John had arrived to sort through and collect what belonged to them. Virgil, who had been fishing his own freshly scented (but not too freshly scented) laundry out of the second dryer had noticed some raised eyebrows and grimacing faces as the combined scents of Sunset Marshmallow and Dusky Rose hit both Scott and John square in the face (and nose).  

All had seemed reasonably well up until that point. Scott and John had quickly caught wind of Virgil’s revenge act, but were both smart enough to realise that they had nothing to throw back at him. They had left their dirty laundry at his mercy, and now they (and John’s green polo shirt) were paying the price.

Virgil had insisted that they all eat lunch together before commencing their afternoon chores. Not willing to pass up the opportunity of free food, his brothers had agreed and were now sat around the kitchen island. Gordon was busy doodling on the sofa with a sandwich in his lap and Alan was taking a nap in Scott’s room.  

What started as a fairly civilised family gathering began to disintegrate when John started to sniff and rub at his nose. Several minutes later, a light rash broke out on his neck and along his forearms. Several more minutes later, he was folded in half as a series of violent sneezes shook his frame.

“What – ACHOO– was – AH– in that – AH– stuff you put – AH– in our laundry? ACHOO!”  

Virgil shrugged and resumed eating, “Don’t know. Price you pay for being lazy though.”

John wiped a tear from his eye as another sneeze took hold, “ACHOOOO!”

Scott grimaced as John directed a particularly powerful sneeze over his sandwich, “Argh, John! That’s disgusting! Cover your nose for god’s sake!”

“Virg,” John wheezed, doubling over into a flurry of slightly smaller, but no less violent sneezes, “Help me! ACHOO! Please! I – AH– can’t – ACHOO– stop! ACHOO!”

Virgil sighed and stood up from the table. He disappeared into John’s room and ferreted around in his brother’s ensuite before locating some foil wrapped tablets. Upon returning to the kitchen, he was mildly shocked to see the redhead tearing his shirt off and throwing it to the floor.

Virgil didn’t say anything, opting instead to hand John his tablets with a fresh glass of water. The medication disappeared down the middle brother’s throat in the blink of an eye, quickly followed by a large glug of water.

“How many of these do I have left?” John croaked, motioning to the wrapper in his hand before succumbing to another sneeze.

“That’s the last packet I could see,” Virgil replied, retaking his seat at the table, “Do you have some spares?”

John groaned and shook his head, “I’ll need to take – ACHOO– some more in about an hour – ACHOO– to get rid of the worst of it – ACHOO!”

Virgil sighed and dropped his head into waiting hands. He’d have to pick John up a fresh batch of antihistamines before the middle brother gave himself a nosebleed. The engineer kicked himself mentally, not out of guilt, but out of disappointment at his own stupidity. It was a well-known family fact that John was allergic to just about every damn thing on the planet. Peanuts, chamomile, celery, most types of pollen, kiwis, cinnamon and juniper to name a few. He’d even been allergic to the formula Alan had been given as a baby. Virgil had found that particular incident hilarious, but had retracted his humour after being informed that the redhead was honourably discharged from babysitting duty due being literally allergic to Alan.  

‘Bad call, Virgil. You should have just shrunk all his clothes instead.’

Depositing his plate by the sink, Virgil picked up his phone and made for the hanger stairwell, “I’ll be half an hour, Scott. The closest mainland pharmacy is right on the Australian coast.”

Gordon hastily crammed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth before jumping up from the sofa and sprinting over, “Virg! Can I come with you? Please? I promise I’ll behave!”  

Virgil didn’t have the energy to protest, “Fine, but don’t you dare wander where I can’t see you.”

Crumbs sprayed out of the little blonde’s mouth as he bounced up and down excitedly, “I promise! Let’s go!”

Scott snorted as Gordon rocketed out the door.

“Only half an hour, you say?”

In the background, John let out an exotic profanity as blood started to stream from his nose.

Virgil set his jaw.

“Half an hour.”

Revenge. Boomerang. Ass. Him.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds tag #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy

[janetfraiserdeservedbetter]

Pins And Needles (Chapter One)

Rating: G

Words: 1738

Fandom: Stargate SG1

Pairing: Sam Carter x Janet Fraiser

Summary:  Janet is a single mother and owner of a tattoo studio. Sam is a florist who has just moved into town. Janet's infatuated. Sam's a disaster gay. Flower shop/Tattoo parlour AU.

Read Chapter Two here

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter One

Janet Fraiser was running late. She’d never understand how teenagers coud sleep so much! She struggled every morning to get her 14 year old out of bed. Every day was a constant struggle to be a good parent, especially hard when she was doing it alone.     She’d at least fed her daughter and dressed herself, an even bigger victory when they seemed to be on time. It wasn’t until they were halfway to school that Cassie realised that she’d forgotten her entire bag and so they had to turn around and now Janet was running half an hour late and she’d not even had her morning coffee yet.

    She pulled her pickup into the staff parking behind the store, fumbling for her shop keys as she raced toward the door where her Vala was waiting.     Vala was taller than Janet by a mile and the two couldn’t look more different; besides the height difference, Janet had auburn, borderline red, hair that she very rarely left down when she was working whereas Vala had dark locks that almost reached her waist, a waist that was often exposed or at least accentuated by various leather garments. Janet’s smaller frame meant that her body was curvier than the other woman’s and she certainly seemed to dress more practically than Vala, choosing to stick to jeans and a cozy cotton turtleneck.     “I’m sorry, I know I’m late again…” She unlocked the door and let the other woman in before her.     “No, no, that’s fine, dear, I only just got here. Trouble with Cassie again?”     “Mm, teenagers.” Janet ran a hand through her hair and pulled it into a ponytail, securing it with an elastic band from her wrist as she looked around the tiny studio. She’d opened ‘Pins and Needles’ two years ago in an attempt to finally do something for herself. She’d quickly come to realise that maybe she was in over her head; being a single mother and the only artist/owner of a tattoo parlour was practically impossible.     Thank god for Vala. She had been passing through town - all tattoos and attitude, fresh out of her apprenticeship - got herself into some trouble and then never seemed to leave. They’d hit it off immediately, though, with two women as feisty as they were, there was bound to be chaos, not to mention that between Janet constantly being late because of a stubborn teen and Vala just struggling with time management, they wouldn’t get anything done if they hadn’t scheduled their working hours earlier than they needed to be. The store didn’t open for another hour but there was always something to set up or sanitise and that also meant there was time for coffee.     “Did you see that they finally got someone into that store across the street?” Vala set her bag into the cupboard and plopped down into the nearest chair, producing a bagel from god knows where to nibble on. Janet looked up from the till she was now counting, only now taking notice of the new coat of white paint that had given life to the old building across the road. “About time, too,” Vala continued. “Mr Yang kicked the bucket months ago. I wonder if there’s going to be any handsome boys working there...”     Janet shot her friend a look and closed the till draw, tearing off a receipt for the books and storing it in a folder under the desk. “I’m going to get a coffee. Can you get set up?”     Vala sat up and waved a hand at her dismissively. “Oh oh, say hi to Danny for me, will you?”     The other woman couldn’t help but laugh as she rolled her eyes. Vala was very popular with a lot of the men around here; she loved the attention but what she loved even more was a man playing hard to get. Not that Janet was sure Daniel was playing hard to get or just too naive to realise that the woman wanted to rail him into next week.     ‘The Lord of the Beans’ was an unassuming shop; tucked between a grocery store and a newsagent, the bookstore come coffeeshop didn’t do much to put itself on the map. The storefront sported the original tall windows but piles and piles of books blocked the warm spring sun from penetrating the dungeon like atmosphere. Not that the place was unwelcoming; anything but! Daniel Jackson owned the place, a man who looked as humble as his store. He was handsome but he definitely didn’t know it, hiding his slim frame in oversized sweaters and with a mop of light brown hair draping his face. It was only him that worked there and he never seemed to take a day off; he seemed most content to sit in his den of old books and interesting artifacts, as if the store was built solely for his enjoyment.     Janet wiped her boots before she stepped into the shop, being hit suddenly by the smell of fresh cinnamon scrolls and ground coffee.     “Morning Daniel,” She greeted warmly as she placed her $10 note on the counter, the man poking his head around a bookshelf. He smiled when he saw her and, setting down the book he was inspecting, he rounded the counter and started working on her latte, ignoring the money.     “Hey! How’s my only customer this morning?” They shared a smile; he wasn’t exactly telling the truth but he definitely didn’t get enough traffic to keep him in business. She’d found out not long ago that he wrote articles for history journals in his spare time and apparently, he was quite good at it. That would explain how he stayed in business.     “In need of my favourite barista’s magic bean juice.” She leaned her hip against the counter, wiping her hand across the cover of an old ‘Chaucer’. “Cassie’s going to a friend’s sleepover this weekend so I’m looking forward to some ‘mummy’ time.”     The man passed the paper cup over the counter to her, nodding out the window at the new store. “Have you, uh, been over there yet?”     “To the florist? No. Just got in.”     “I saw her park her bike in front of the store when I got in...she looks like your type, you know.” Daniel took a sip of his own coffee, giving her that look over his glasses. It wasn’t a secret that Janet was a bisexual - she didn’t flaunt it but most of her friends at least assumed, with the tattoos and the pickup truck.     “Daniel Jackson, are you trying to set me up?” A laugh of disbelief left her before she could help it but she was still looking out the window at the florist.     “I’m just saying...someone needs to go say hi, at least before Jack does.”     She looked back at him quickly and he shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose.     “You’ve got a point. We can’t have Jack scare her away on the first day… Can you make me another latte and I’ll go take it to her? Get you a little advertising while I’m at it.” She shoved the money into the tip jar while he started on the other coffee.

It wasn’t normal to be this nervous; it was just a fellow business owner, right? She hadn’t even seen the woman yet. She probably wasn’t even gay, despite what Daniel said about her motorcycle. The store had been repainted from the garish red that used to be the asian grocer to a nice, bright white and immediately, Janet was hit with the smell of flowers, a pleasant smell except for the fact that spring disagreed with Janet. She thanked whatever powers that be for antihistamines and stepped into the partially opened door. There were boxes everywhere, some empty, some stacked precariously on top of each other; a long shelf lined the front window, a few healthy looking plants basking in the sun. There was a litter of empty coffee cups on the front desk and Janet suddenly felt a bit silly. SHe almost had the mind to turn and leave when the door bell finally announced her entrance. A head of blonde hair poked up from behind the counter, blue eyes wide with surprise.     “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not open for a few more days yet.” She seemed flustered and Janet smiled at the woman, holding up the coffee for her to see.     “I work over at the tattoo parlour. I saw someone had moved in here and I wanted to say hi.”     The woman stood, all long legs and a bright smile as she dusted soil from her hands. “Oh, hi!” She held out her hand to Janet. “I’m Sam.”     Janet shook her hand, trying not to pay attention to the woman’s short nails and cuffed blue jeans and white tee with the sleeves rolled up.     “Janet.” She let go of her hand and offered the cup of joe. “I brought this over for you but I see you’ve had a lot already…”     “Oh god, no, I’ll always have another.” She flashed a dimpled grin at the woman Janet felt herself falling already. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you.” Sam took a sip of the coffee and hummed. “That’s good coffee!”     Janet smiled at her enthusiasm. “It’s from ‘The Lords of the Beans’; Daniel may be a little antisocial but he knows coffee and he knows books. He’ll chew your ear off about aliens if you let him.”     Sam laughed gently, looking at the mess around her. “I’m running behind with all this but maybe later, you could show me around the town?” She said it so innocently that Janet wasn’t even sure if it was supposed to sound flirtatious. Not getting her hopes up and definitely not mentioning that there wasn’t much to see in town, she smiled back at her.     “Of course. Just swing by whenever you’re free and I’ll take you for a tour.”     “It’s a date!” The blonde grinned and got back unpacking her boxes as Janet saw herself out. God, she felt like a teenager again. She didn’t have too long to daydream about the new florist because Vala was waving at her from the shop window and she was reminded that there was only 20 minutes until opening. She finished her coffee, dumping the empty cup before she headed inside, finally feeling human enough to get to work

#samantha carter #Sam Carter #sam x janet #Janet Fraiser #janetfraiserdeservedbetter #doctor janet fraiser #Major Sam Carter #Stargate: SG-1 #Stargate #sg1 #fanfiction #stargate fanfic #wlw #f/f #Daniel Jackson #Jack O'Neill #Teal'c #AU #Flower Shop au #Tattoo shop au #Tattoo artist #Florist #lgbt #Cassandra Fraiser #Cassie Fraiser #vala mal doran

[xxforsaken-angelxx]

> Consult an expert

xxforsaken-angelxx uh knock knock?

centaurstechnician D—> Greetings xxforsaken-angelxx hi im eridan makara the grinmaww im fuckin doin shit i wwas told you knoww things about helm recovvery

centaurstechnician D—> I am called the Engineer D—> As it happens, I know quite a bit about the subject D—> As helm installation and maintenace was my primary focus for six sweeps D—> And the rehabilitation of uninstalled helms the last four

xxforsaken-angelxx ok cool so youre just a funky miracle man

centaurstechnician D—> If it pleases you to phrase it that way

xxforsaken-angelxx no i mean it thats more rehab wwork than anyone here has

centaurstechnician D—> Indeed, do you know how much of their physique is compromised by the biowire’s intrusion? D—> As well it w001d be helpfoal to know how long they have been filly on life support

xxforsaken-angelxx purportedly the biowire aint fuckin wwith anythin an theyvve been there bout fifty swweeps, on full life support for a lotta that

centaurstechnician D—> According to whom? D—> Helms are %tremely bad at self reporting D—> And technicians are apt to overlook anything which does not interfere with the job D—> But assuming all you are dealing with is musc001ature atrophy, and not compromised limb function due to %cessive scarring and nerve damage D—> The I have a regimin of physical therepy %ercises to deal with each stage of recovery D—> As well as diet suggestions. D—> It will take them an amount of time to adjust to taking food by mouth again, and you will want to start with liquids, though a high protein diet rich in calories is imperative to recovery D—> I also suggest that perminant ports be replaced with silicone seating for comfort while moving and laying in any position

xxforsaken-angelxx according to the techs but thats fuckin useful shit

centaurstechnician D—> Are they currently on broad spectrum antibiotics and antivirals? D—> Restarting the immune system is an entire process involving transfusions and system boosters D—> They abso100tely will find their body treating every new thing as a possible intruder once it begins to ramp up D—> So you will need to watch for anaphylaxis, and have epinephrine ready, as well as simpler antihistamines and steriods

xxforsaken-angelxx youre a fuckin useful bitch yknoww that like i knoww wwere prepped for that one but youre less dodgy than the clowwn nurses

centaurstechnician D—> I am nothing if not usefoal D—> Helping to rehabilitate helms legally and freely is a dream > centaursTechnician has sent file exercise&diet.zip D—> My notes

xxforsaken-angelxx *hell* yes

centaurstechnician D—> I understand the subject is entering this affair willingly? D—> There may come a point, more quickly, or further along, where they grow tired of constantly struggling to do normal activites. D—> I have found a simple and uncomplicated short term and long term reward system helps with motivation, as long as you are entirely transparent about your motivations

xxforsaken-angelxx yeah they apparently wwould really like this to be a thing, so but tell me more about that?

centaurstechnician D—> Between keeping a private journal that remains private, and finding out what motivates them, new books? Food? Food is quite popular with psions in general because of their abnormally high caloric needs.

xxforsaken-angelxx i cant evven guess wwhat theyd like but wwe wwill cross that bridge wwhen wwe get there

centaurstechnician D—> once off the automatic regulation of blood sugar by the life support systems, many psions have reported feeling like they are constantly hungry, so food as a short term treat rarely goes wrong

xxforsaken-angelxx noted

centaurstechnician D—> feel free to contact me with any further questions

xxforsaken-angelxx actually heres one wwhat do you do like speech wwise

centaurstechnician D—> Are the vocal chords damaged? D—> If the voice is damaged, cybershades or glasses present an alternative to communication while strength and dexterity is being rebuilt in the hands

xxforsaken-angelxx theyvve refused to talk their wwhole service so i mean i fuckin assume an wwhat the fuck is a cybershades

centaurstechnician D—> It may be a form of protest, specifically. D—> Ah, hm > centaursTechnician has sent file cybershades.pdf D—> I apologize for the slightly rough instructions, this was pulled from a site where they discuss building one from cheap and spare parts D—> But it should still be usefoal D—> They are shades that present a HUD display of a computer interface, and work via a touch contact neural transmitter. D—> They can be both single or paired with a other device for increased computing power.

xxforsaken-angelxx ...thats cool as all shit

centaurstechnician D—> They are invaluable for giving some freedoms to those who have trouble communicating D—> And also for using your computing devices on then fly

xxforsaken-angelxx i wwould FUCKIN imagine

centaurstechnician D—> Language

xxforsaken-angelxx im a clowwn if i dont swwear then i shrivvel up like an unwwatered plant

centaurstechnician D—> I suppose if it is medically necessary I shall allow it

xxforsaken-angelxx i kneww youd understand

centaurstechnician D—> Of course D—> Let me know if there are any other pieces of equipment you need schematics for or questions I can answer

xxforsaken-angelxx one more thing any tips on like keepin someone not horrifically bored wwhen they wwont tell you wwhat they like

centaurstechnician D—> Give them the resources to seek their own entertainment. D—> Remember that they are probably very angry about the fate that was handed them D—> However they choose to express that anger is the only act of will they have taken for themselves from the shambles left to them of their abillity to act D—> You are not entitled to know anything about them D—> Give them the shades, allow them to order and ask for things on their own terms D—> They can find their own way. D—> As long as things are available to them if they choose.

xxforsaken-angelxx mm that makes sense not wwhat nymede wwants to hear though

centaurstechnician D—> There are many realities of dealing with people on the other side of a system you have benefitted from which are.. difficolt by nature

xxforsaken-angelxx shes been havvin a rough time wwith it but its easier wwhen i like fuckin knoww wwhat else to tell her to do

centaurstechnician D—> Feel free to direct her to me as well, if I can help, I will D—> I have been tasked with restoring Goldwave, as well D—> So I do have familiarity with the particulars of the implants used.

xxforsaken-angelxx yeah good fuckin point just might do that ...on a scale a one to ten howw much of a bitch is he to deal wwith

centaurstechnician D—> I believe he is doing his best to behave D—> Although I personally find him enjoyable enough. D—> perhaps a six, a nine if you are not me.

xxforsaken-angelxx thats about wwhat i thought but also i dont knoww howw the fuck you like him

centaurstechnician D—> My Red’s pale would rate him a twelve I’m certain

xxforsaken-angelxx ha

centaurstechnician D—> I quite enjoy his quick wit, and Strength of personality and determination

xxforsaken-angelxx i mean thats one fuckin wway to put it ...youre also wwith the serial killer bitch or somethin though so i dunno

centaurstechnician D—> I am Vriska’s moirail, yes. Ive known her since we were wrigglers

xxforsaken-angelxx im sure theres somethin there for you but i only knoww her for a lotta felonies so its questionable to me

centaurstechnician D—> I am curious about what intellegence about those procedings youve managed to gather

xxforsaken-angelxx not fuckin much i knoww there wwas a lotta murder an some fuckers head got stolen an our one heiress aligned ship that got ovver to the scene fuckin hated it uh she used transportalizer tech wwe dont havve

centaurstechnician D—> I apologize for my little prank with the letter, also

xxforsaken-angelxx OH YEAH THAT BITCH

centaurstechnician D—> :) D—> I’m told she killed every coolblood in the station

xxforsaken-angelxx yeah that she did fuckin brutally

centaurstechnician D—> There is nothing I can say which will lessen the impact of her chosen methodology D—> And I am not going to attempt to. D—> I’m curious, though, Grinmaw D—-> How many people have you killed?

xxforsaken-angelxx none zero none people

centaurstechnician D—> We have the privilege of having that in common, then

xxforsaken-angelxx not the up close vviolence type myself

centaurstechnician D—> Do you prefer a hands off approach, then? xxforsaken-angelxx eh, kinda im supposed to knoww wwar strategy type stuff an i like studyin it but right noww if i havve to actually use it then thatd be a bad sign to say the least centaurstechnician D—> I sincerely hope that your hands can stay clean.

xxforsaken-angelxx nice a you you too though centaurstechnician D—> Thank you

#ooc #logs.txt #this is a bunch of medical talk vis a vis helms #nothing nasty in particular but #thats the content warning its a bunch of medical talk about helms

[softboyuris]

We Will Always Have Us pt. 1

The Realization || Weeks 0-6

Words: 4.8k+

Summary: Roger and you have been friends for a little over a year and have spent most of the time harmlessly flirting. On the night of your 17th birthday, Roger finally makes a move. One reckless night of passion leads to some unwanted consequences that’ll test the strength of their friendship. 

Warnings: teen pregnancy, implication of unprotected sex (wear protection folks!), slight language 

{masterlist} {series masterpost}

[part 1] [...] [part 6]

⁂  4 October 1966  ⁂

The car was cramped and humid but all you could focus on was the shirtless boy above you, leaving a trail of kisses up your body before settling on your mouth.

You hadn’t planned on this happening tonight, on your 17th birthday, or anytime soon for that matter. Hell, Roger wasn’t even your boyfriend, at least no officially. You two hung out quite a lot and were obscenely flirty with one another but you had never been out on a date before. Never kissed. 

In fact you were pretty sure he had a girlfriend. But he was always changing up who he was “hanging out” with, as he put it. Every party there was always some new girl hanging onto every word he said and he was likely to end up with her at the end of the night. It would not be shocking if he hadn’t been with six girls since you last heard an update. 

When Roger said he had left his present for you in his car, you wouldn’t’ve thought in a million years this was the present. But you had willingly followed him away from the party that your friends had so kindly thrown for you, to accompany him to his car. 

You were just talking, really, about school and life in general. In all honesty you kind of spaced out, nodding every once in a while. But all you could focus on was how close he was to you. How his shirt was showing just a little too much of his shoulder, like someone had been tugging on it trying to get the fabric out of the way. And when he talked, all you saw were his lips. His lips where his tongue would dart out every once in a while before the corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile or a smirk. Where his tongue would pull his lip in to settle between his teeth and it took nearly every ounce of your being not to moan at the sight.

You had never viewed him in such a light before. Literally. With the moon shining in through the window of his backseat, creating a slash of light across his face. He looked angelic. His long, or at least as long as the school permitted, slightly waved blonde hair perfectly framing his face. And how his whole face would smile when his lips turned up, and he let out a small laugh. In turn making you laugh. 

You were mesmerized. You barely noticed when his hand landed on your thigh, staying in place at first and then slowly inching up, under your skirt. And then he was whispering tempting things in your ear, dirty things in your ear that sent shivers down your spine. His breath hitting your neck made you dizzy and you had to close your eyes. Your mind wondering what it would feel like to have his mouth somewhere else, somewhere lower.

And that’s when he kissed you. And you melted into it, kissing him back with more urgency. You never knew you were so needy until his hands were pushing on your hips, rearranging your position so he was hovering above you. 

Your breath hitched at how absolutely perfect he looked in that moment, how divine. You weren’t sure what you did to be put in god’s good graces but lord did you thank heavens this was happening.

The kisses turned more needy and desperate before he started sucking on your neck and you could have sworn you would have fainted if he wasn’t grounding you there. Running your nails down his clothed back, you wished nothing more than for him to not have any clothes on at all.

So you pulled away. He was a little dazed and confused at first, thinking you were rejecting him until you propped yourself up and removed your shirt. The smile on his face grew, he couldn’t help but admire how perfect you looked, how perfect your boobs looked. Soon you were both naked. And there you were, lying beneath the hottest, most wanted boy in school, letting him take your virginity. And all you could do was smile.

In the following weeks, you hooked up occasionally. He would come over to your house to ‘study’ and then screw you so hard you were worn out for the rest of the day. You didn’t tell any of your friends. You knew they would just judge you for falling for his charm. And although it was true, you didn’t think you were like every other girl he hooked up with. You weren’t someone he was gonna fuck and forget. Cause even when he inevitably moved on, you would still remain friends. This wasn’t gonna get in the way of that.

When some random girl at school started throwing herself at him two weeks later, he very politely informed you he would be sleeping with her now. It was more the delivery of this information than the information itself that stung the most, which you made sure to make him aware of. You weren’t necessarily hurt, you knew this was bound to happen at some point, but your stomach still swooped when you saw him in the hallway with another girl.

Regardless, Roger was your friend, through and through, and him ditching you to be with another girl wasn’t going to change that. But something else definitely could.

⁂  15 November 1966  ⁂ 

You were late. Really late. It was 8:05 and school started at seven. It wasn’t your fault you had woken up late. You had a really bad stomach ache last night that left you curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor in fear that you would hurl all over your very nice bed.

Your mom had done what she thought was right and let you continue to sleep. You loved her but you could not miss anymore school. You had gotten in enough trouble already for skipping with Roger over the past few months. 

The hallways were eerily quiet. A part of you enjoyed it and the other half absolutely hated it. School, in your experience, was always loud. Anyone who’s friends with Roger can certainly vouch for that. You hated that you could hear every step you took reverberate off the walls and how the students in class right now could probably hear your frantic footsteps as you hurriedly walked down the hallway.

Even though you were a whole hour late for class, you were hoping your first block teacher wouldn’t get too pissed at you. But he had a tendency to hate tardy students so you were walking as fast as you could but every step made you more and more dizzy until you had to lean against a locker to stabilize yourself.

You’d been having these fainting fits for roughly a week and you were starting to get tired of them. That and the constant hunger, yet not wanting to eat anything nearby, you constantly felt. It was super annoying. How could you be hungry and not want to eat anything at the same time?

Last night you were sure it would all come to fruition in the form of a stomach bug when it literally felt like your intestines were wringing themselves out inside you, but sadly no. You had to deal with period-like cramps for four hours before you managed to knock yourself out with some antihistamines. 

You were pretty certain at this point it was nothing serious, playing it off as some weird hormonal imbalance before your period came. Some premenstrual cramping if you will. 

When you could see straight again, you pushed yourself off the locker and pulled open the door to Mr. Irish’s class, your first class of the day that would be over shortly. He looks none too happy when he hands you a slip of paper, which excuses you to the attendance office to sign in late, before ushering you to your seat. 

You turn to the class, expecting to find your seat at the front of the classroom empty, except it’s not. Someone took your spot and if you could see who it was through the spinning room, you would probably give them a glare. Instead, you find the one empty seat behind Roger who gives you a cheeky smile, which you of course return. His smile starts to fade as you get closer to him, melting into a look of worry.

“Are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale?” He asks in a whispered tone, his hand reaching out to grab your forearm as you come to a halt in front of him.

You furrow your eyebrows, swallow and give a curt nod before you feel the cold tiled floor beneath your back and the world goes black.

⁂  a few moments later  ⁂ 

The lights are too bright for your eyes before you even get them open and the ringing in your ears makes you want to pass out again, at least then it would stop. Through closed eyes, you can see the outline of someone kneeled down beside you and you already know it’s Roger before you hear his concerned voice calling your name.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, giving your temples a squeeze. “No need to freak out, Rog.” You run your hands over your face before squinting your eyes open, letting them adjust to the harsh fluorescents of the classroom lighting. 

Roger is squatted down in front of you, a hand lying comfortingly on your upper arm. He gives you a reassuring smile before helping you sit up. “You sure about that?” He chuckles but there is definite worry laced in his words.

You open your mouth to answer but the movement of sitting up has your head, and stomach, spinning and before you can get to your feet, or better yet a trash can you’re spewing your breakfast on Roger’s lap.

⁂                                                         ⁂                                                             ⁂ 

“I really am sorry.” You say, probably for the hundredth time. Your teacher gave Roger and you permission to leave class. He strongly urged you to go to the nurse, as did Rog, but you insisted you were fine, you just wanted to help Roger out. “Really is a shitty way to start your day, huh?”

Roger is essentially nude, spare his boxers, and standing in front of the sinks in the girls bathroom, which you claimed as yours by locking the door. He’s desperately trying to get his clothes clean but you know it’s no use. “Not the most ideal way but it got me out of Mr. Irish’s boring lecture.” 

“Just call me your saving grace,” You joke, fiddling with your hands.

“My sick little angel, that’s what you are.” He chuckles. You hate when he uses pet names with you. You love pet names, but when it comes from his mouth it makes your stomach swoon and you know he means it in an endearing way but all it does is remind you of the nights you had together when ‘baby’ and ‘love’ were words that slipped from hips lips as he filled you up. And he wasn’t even saying it in a pet name type way, but still. Your heart might’ve thumped a little harder in your chest.

“There’s no point you know, I think I ruined your perfectly planned outfit.” You tease. He had been wearing jeans, which to anyone else would have just been ordinary jeans but you had told him they made his ass look nice and now he wore them as often as was acceptable, and a simple band tee that you had actually given him on his birthday over the summer.

From where you’re standing, you can see Roger’s lips turn up in a smile. “You’re right. But I can’t bloody well go nude for the rest of the day.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” You smirk, eyeing him through the mirror.

Again, that smile, stretched even wider if possible. He turns off the running water, giving up and throwing his sopping mess of clothes into the trash can. “Wherever will I find clothes now.” He fake complains.

You but your lip, thinking through his options and landing on one that has a smirk adorning your features. Without a word, you spin on the ball of your foot and open the door, looking back only to make sure he was following you.

“No.” Roger states blatantly at the pair of sweats in your hands. You’re in the nurse’s office now, where there are always spare clothes kids leave behind at school. “No way am I wearing that.” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing you.

“It’s sweats or nude. Pick your poison.” You extend your arm more in his direction.

“I’d rather go nude, thank you.”

“Not if you don’t want to be sitting in detention this Saturday Mr. Taylor.” The principal, Mrs. Devon says as she passes by the door,

You momentarily look behind you, seeing the blur of your principal pass by and you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Roger quickly swipes the clothes from your hands and, with a bashful look and rosy cheeks, excuses himself to the bathroom to change.

“You owe me big time.” He comments as he steps out of the bathroom. The sweats don’t exactly fit him. The hoodie is way too big for his slim physique and the pants are just the slightest bit too small, leaving little to the imagination. “Stop staring at my junk.”

“I’m not gonna be the only one you say that to today.” You remark, looking back up into his eyes, your own glistening in pleasure. You sure are enjoying this.

Roger pinches your arm, something he does when he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to be teased anymore. “Hey! Not my fault it doesn’t leave much to the imagination.” 

“Half the girls at our school don’t need an imagination to know what you got, I assure you.” You continue to poke fun at him, much to his dismay. 

“You’re words don’t hurt me, in fact you’ve boosted my ego.” He puffs out his chest in order to further prove his point.

You sigh in faux dismay. “Oh whatever will I do? You can barely fit through the door with that ego of yours.” He shakes his head at you, pinching your arm again. You flinch back in response, prompting him to continue his shenanigans until he’s got you wrapped in his arms, your back pressed against him. You’re a laughing mess. 

“I really am sorry though,” you say between gasps of air, trying to return your breathing to normal. Not something easily achieved with his arms wrapped so tightly around you. “I’ll buy you new jeans. The same ones.”

“They were my favorite.” He gives you one last squeeze before letting you go just to take your hand and walk you back to class. It’s a normal gesture. You guys may have only been friends for the past year but he somehow knew you like no else did. Understood you like no one else could. 

⁂                                                         ⁂                                                             ⁂

By the time lunch rolls around, it seems the whole school has heard about your fainting spell this morning and you could not hate the attention more. Some people come up to you concerned and ask repeatedly if you’re okay, if you’re feeling better. Your answer is always ‘I’m fine’. A majority, however, thinks it was all an act to get out of class and spend time with Roger. Which you find completely laughable because who would make themselves throw up, let alone on someone, just to spend time with said person. The rest just ignored you and you praised them for that.

On the other hand, your friends could have cared less. Although it sounds like a rude thing, it really isn’t. Your friends do care about you and your wellbeing but they know you’ve been getting a bit faint recently, convinced it’s because of the upcoming midterms that you always stress out about way too much. You’ll do fine, they all assure you. You know you’re smart. You know you get good marks but you’re still prone to stress about exams. 

They pass it off as just another day and you’re beyond grateful. They do, however, tease you about Roger, a normal pass time for them. You’re the only one in your friend group that is good friends with him. Hell, you may be the only girl in school who is truly friends with him, not just a fun time. They always make fun of the two of you for flirting nonstop, half the time you don’t even realize you’re doing it. Like one time when he bought a cupcake from a bake sale but he didn’t want the icing so you licked it off without a second thought and he continued to eat like nothing had happened. That was a fun gossip day at school. All the girls went batshit over it and a part of you actually enjoyed having them get jealous over you.

Your friends still didn’t know that Roger had slept with you over a month ago, and on numerous occasions thereafter. It was something you kept between the two of you. Although you were quite certain a part of them knew. Their jokes started getting a little too real and you would get bashful and they would just tease you more. But maybe it was just because you got flustered over it and not because of the reason you were getting flustered, their jokes were so close to the truth sometimes it brought memories of Roger’s hands on you, places the public shouldn’t see and you would have to look away to conceal the bliss on your face. 

“Come on, (y/n), could you not find anything else for him to wear?” You’re sitting outside under a tree with your four closest friends, save Roger who’s playing football with some of his mates in the field in front of you. Charlotte looks over at you, waiting on an answer. It’s the first time she’s looked away from Roger’s, well you know, since you got situated in the shade. 

“Nope. There was simply nothing else that would do, unless you wanted him to flounce around in a skirt all day.” You joke, leaning back on your elbows as you watch Roger kick the ball to Ryan who kicks it past their makeshift goal.

“That would have been a sight to behold.”Comments Zach from behind you. He’s laying on his back, a book held over his eyes. You know he’s reading but a part of his attention is set on his friends conversation. He always does this. He is always reading but also observing and listening in on others conversations, giving one-liners every once in a while. It’s what drew you to him when he moved here three years ago.

You laugh silently, a smile spreading across your face. The mere image of Roger in a skirt… well you’d rather not think about that with your friends around. That was definitely an image you’d be saving for later though, in the comfort of your bedroom. “It would indeed,” you decided to respond. 

A gust of chilled air blows over you and your friends. Winter is approaching and you could not be more excited. The holidays were your favorite time of year. You always spoiled your friends with too many presents, most of which they didn’t need. They loved you for it, your bank account didn’t but you could care less, you always put aside your paychecks in December for your gift-fund.

Charlotte shivers and your other friend Sam takes her jacket off and places it over Char’s shoulders. You can see Charlotte’s eyes glisten as a smile pulls at her lips. She pulls the jacket tighter around her, muttering a small ‘thanks’ under her breath so only Sam could hear, who is also smiling. God, were they flirty. 

⁂                                                         ⁂                                                             ⁂

Sitting in your last class of the day, you could not be less bothered with the lecture your teacher was attempting to give. Half the class was dozing off and the other half was just not paying attention, throwing balls of paper and pencils across the room in an attempt to hit their friend, or the teacher.

You were sitting at the back of the room, next to Roger who was tapping his pencil against his desk rhythmically. You had been telling him he should stop trying to learn guitar and pick up a damn drumstick already but he always shushed you. His pass was guitar, or so he claimed. You had your hand resting on your cheek, fighting the exhaustion that was threatening to take over your body. Your bed sounded so sweet right now.

As if on cue, the bell finally rang, a sound akin to that of nails on a chalkboard to you, but a sound that also meant freedom. You were up and out of your seat within no time, slinging your bag over your shoulder and speed walking to the door. You liked being the first one out of the door so you could start your journey home, walking of course. You only lived a few short minutes from school but if you waited more than a millisecond, the masses came flooding out with you and that meant socializing which you were particularly not in the mood for.

Regardless, once you make it to the sidewalk well in front of any students who may be tempted to strike up a conversation with you, Roger falls into stride beside you. “Don’t you drive?” You ask the blonde, keeping your eyes on the bright sky in front of you, partly obscured by buildings that line the streets.

“Cars’ in the shop.” He answers simply, like you should know his cars’ in the shop. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, only one returning so he can put a cigarette in his mouth, lighting it with the same hand. 

You let out a sigh, “How many times do I have to tell you smoking is bad for you?” You look over to him, watching as he takes a drag. A few seconds pass before he breathes out the smoke and answers you.

“However many times it takes to convince you of the same.” You shake your head, squinting your eyes at him. You know he’s right. On the rare, and I mean rare occasion he walked home with you, he always smoked. And you always ended up joining him. You didn’t understand the hype around it, it didn’t make you feel cool or different but you still did it. Maybe it was because it was something only Roger and you shared. He never shared his cigarette with anyone else, only you. That made you feel special.

“Oi, shut up.” You playfully push him to the side. He laughs, stumbling over his feat a bit before regaining his balance. He offers you the cigarette and you take it. But as you’re bringing it up to your lips, something in the back of your mind tells you no to. And you listen to it.

Roger gives you a concerned look, almost hurt look, as you hand it back without taking a drag. “Something wrong? We always share a smoke when we walk together.”

You put your hands in the pockets of your jacket, giving a closed mouthed smile. “Not today. Just something’s telling me not to.” You add when he gives you a questioning look.

He puts his hands up in defense and the subject is dropped. The silence that flows between you is uncomfortable and awkward. At least to you. As far as you know, it’s having no effect on Roger as he continues to smoke and look around at the architecture surrounding the two of you. He looks angelic, a word you never thought you’d be using to describe infamous playboy Roger Taylor, but he does. The sun is starting to set on the horizon, sending out rays of sunlight that dance across his face. The wind slightly blows his hair around and he has his cigarette lying limply on the edge of his mouth, hands in his pockets. 

He catches you looking at him and smiles. You break eye contact, looking away with warm cheeks. And all of a sudden you feel nauseous again. It hits you like a ton of bricks and you have to take a moment in your step to try and stop your head from swimming. Roger stops a few feet in front of you when he notices you aren’t beside him anymore and once agains he’s right by your side, uttering questions along the line of ‘are you okay’.

You shake your head, clearing away the black spots you see and straighten yourself up right. You mumble an ‘mmhmm’ before looking up at him, “I just forgot I needed to pick up something at the pharmacy. For my mom.” You added when his eyebrows furrowed in question. 

“I can come with you.” He suggests, a hand on your upper arm. He looks so damn concerned and it hurts your heart to see the worry in his eyes. Since when has he cared so much about you?

You shake your head, “No. I’ll be fine. It’s just a little ways back and you’re so close to being home. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” You turn around and start walking back towards the pharmacy before he can protest. It takes a lot not to turn around and makes sure he’s walking the other direction but you manage.

When you get home not ten minutes later, you make a beeline for the bathroom upstairs. Your mom welcomes you home and you send back a short, sweet response as you climb the stairs. You set down the brown paper bag on the counter and stare at it. It’s beyond wrinkled from you clenching and unclenching your hands on the walk back home, a motion that you continue to do as you pace back and forth in your bathroom.

When the nausea had swept over you, you came to a sudden realization of something you did not want to come to the realization of. It only caused your stomach to swim even more and with Roger so close to you, you could barely breathe so you made up an excuse about the pharmacy just to get a fresh breath of air. And then you realized you actually needed to go to the pharmacy. 

You dreaded it.

Come on (y/n), just take the stupid test. You’re probably worrying for nothing and the test will tell you exactly that. You didn’t realize it but you were mumbling under your breath to no one but yourself. Stopping in front of the sink, you take the test out of the bag, practically ripping it out of its packaging.

When the time comes to wait three minutes, you’re panicking again. Your hands are getting clammy so you rub them on your jeans. Pressing your back against the cool plaster of the bathroom wall, you force yourself to breathe. Eyes closed, your mind drifts to thought of Roger and pretty soon your breathing is no longer under control. Roger. Shit.

Your little kitchen timer goes off, sending a loud buzzing sound knocking around the confined space. You jump. Now you’re down right scared. You don’t want to know the results. You should’ve let him come to the pharmacy with you and confided in what was now your biggest fear. Or told Charlotte she needed to come over. She would. She’s been your best friend since you were old enough to know what a best friend was. She would understand and she would know exactly what to say. 

But no. You were alone. You were alone and afraid and you couldn’t help but think that you would be in the same position nine months from now, except there would be doctors rushing all around you and you would be in pain and hating everything and, oh my god, you were giving yourself a panic attack.

You closed your eyes again, got your breathing back down to a normal rate- at least as normal as it could be in this moment- and with shaking hands picked up the stick.

It’s only in your hands for a second before it clinks to the ground. You’re breathing erratically and tears are falling without care or notice down your cheeks. You’re a shaking and sobbing mess curled up in a ball on the floor when your mom walks in, concerned by all the noise. She sees it before you can hide it from her.

You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant and there’s only one person who could be the father. And boy were you not looking forward to that conversation at all.  

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #bo rhap #bohemian rhapsody #1966 #roger #ben hardy #borhap #queen #fanfic #fic #we will always have us #pt. 1 #pt 1 #wwahu #series #mine #1970s #softboyuris #pregnant reader #pregnancy #teenage pregnancy #high school

[morethanaprincess-a]

@madamhatter​ said:  “  i want to take care of you.  please,  let me.  ” / oh lord, how this sounds out of context

Prompts for the Heavy Hearted

Sonia had heard that request before. Usually, it came in the form of a low purr, a desire to be regarded far more than whatever movie or TV show the princess had put on. She usually told her girlfriend that all she needed to do was ask if the blonde in question was engrossed in a drama or the latest documentary about a serial killer, but instead Sophie insisted on asking to take care of her. For what could turn into a very loud, very wet, very satisfying couple of hours, if they were both so lucky (and eventually, both so very, very spent).

But now, as she stood at the door to Sonia's dorm, she doubted that was what the Ultimate Hatter had in mind. Gone were her usual silk pajamas in various states of skimpiness and in their place was an oversized Hope's Peak Academy t-shirt, leggings, her long hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and red, flaking skin around her nose and mouth where she'd been sneezing. For the past three days. Combined with a fever, a sore throat, and an overall feeling of weakness and dizziness, she was confident that her cold was still contagious. And had, in order to prevent the germs from being spread, shut herself away in her dorm for the past three days.

On the fourth day, of food delivered just outside her room and a stack of dirty teacups on her bathroom sink, Sophie had materialized. And she didn't seem to take no for an answer.

That didn't mean Sonia wouldn't try. Try, at least, to dissuade her girlfriend. If nothing else, she was a stubborn ram whether it came to showing Sophie affection or sending her away for the good of her own health.

Absolutely!" She cried, before pausing to cough into the tissue she held, "Not! I know very well you have several important meetings with clients next week. What if you catch this awful cold of mine?"

Even talking hurt, her voice raspy and everything felt so dry from the antihistamines she was one. Sonia swallowed and winced: that did little to help. She pulled the oversized cardigan ('borrowed' from Sophie, nevertheless. And by borrowed, Sonia had sought it out one evening whilst in Sophie's room, worn it, and had yet to give it back: she had, however, spent plenty of nights with it wrapped around her while her girlfriend was away visiting home) tighter around her shoulders. Getting out of bed now felt too much of a challenge, as well as much too cold. Even with her feet in thick knitted socks.

"Please, Sophie, you should leave before you get sick too." Whether it was catching the virus or her sad state of appearance, all messy and dry and very much un-princesslike, Sonia only wanted to spare her.

#more-than-a-princess answered #madamhatter #(Spicy mentions tag) #Non-Despair AU: Hope's Peak Academy verse #(Prompts for the Heavy Hearted meme) #(You know I -tried- to keep my promise) #(But then I was just: why not both?)

[nathanfryerwoods]

Lucky Stars - Blurb and Introduction - Nathan Fryer-Woods

Comically depressing… Lawrie is trapped in an undisclosed location in southeast Asia. It's undisclosed, as Lawrie is a real life boy, still stuck, still in danger. An illegal alien, through no fault of his own, and now a father for the first time. As a mysterious disease ravages the world outside, Lawrie is trapped on the edge of the jungle and civilization, in the most tribal part of the country with the feral in-laws he now calls family. While trying to teach and help his son to grow, he's constantly battling against the bad habits, tribal practices and the deeply embedded superstitions, passed down over the generations. No matter how futile his attempt would seem, all he can do is try… what could possibly go wrong??

www.gogetfunding.com/luckystars        www.paypal.me/whliteraryagent

Introduction.

I hope you like reading…

They say, it's all about the first line. So now that's over and done with, hi, my name's Nathan. Originally from the UK, but now (and I've always said this as a bit of a joke, but these days it has new meaning), happily trapped in south east Asia. My almost 9 month old Son is doing just great. My wife's family are certifiably crazy, which wasn't a problem till we started living with them. Unfortunately, it's rubbing off on me, and I'm stuck here between a rock, and a bit of a pickle. Not the place I intended to be, whilst raising my first and probably only child.

Thanks to the madness currently possessing the world, my options, just like most people's, are thin on the ground. But as a foreigner in this country, with no government bail out like I'd be getting back home, I expect I'm currently somewhere towards the top end of the world's poverty chart… I've chosen not to openly disclose where I am exactly, as publishers in this country need to exercise a very careful caution, and the laws here regarding slander and defamation of character, mixed up with my legal status, could end up making my situation much worse. I'm not trying to cast a negative light on this place, but it might sometimes seem that way, with how I write about it. I love this place, I just hate this situation and feel so helpless.

I realise I may also at times sound very unappreciative. That's because I am... my body doesn't appreciate white rice every meal of every day. And though I'm used to picking things out of my food, when bugs are a part of the recipe, it feels a bit rude. My lungs don't appreciate the smell of burning bottles every night, and I'm sick of moving the big piles of plastic that mount up outside the room where my son sleeps. I'm also not too keen on the kitchen knife under his pillow, this turned up there, not because of my wife's heavy hands waking him up in tears, but the bad dreams caused by the ghosts. And even though we all know the only way to scare a ghost away is with cutlery, I think I'd prefer a bad dream every once in a while, than one time having a kitchen knife lodged in my neck.

All this being said, I have chosen, for many reasons (and very few alternatives), to ride this out as long as possible for the sake of my Son. The book I am writing explains my situation, and by reading it you should be able to fill in the very odd, small gap. But if not, fire me a message and we'll have a chin-wag.

In a nutshell, I was robbed of the money for my renewal of a very important document by a tour operator. Due to my own naivety, and being busy working in a different city, it was almost 3 months before I realised there was a problem. At the time, my wife was pregnant, and the little money I had was to take care of the hospital bill. After taking some bad advice, I scraped together $500 and paid someone who's family are high up in government and the police, to sort the problem out (at the time, the standard practice was to lock people up waiting for someone back home to cough up). Now, I'm down an extra $500, and the document I need to pass through ports is nowhere to be seen. Which is a bit of a worry. I've been here long enough, seen it all before, and by now have learnt that there's nothing much I can do to sort this, without having the cash to pay the overstay. And going to my embassy wouldn't do any good either, they can't help me out of this, not if I don't have the funds.

The area we now live in is very rural, nothing but farmland for miles around. My skill set is absolutely useless out here. I've spent most of my time in this country working in tourism, mainly managing guesthouses, a skill I'm very thankful for being able to pick up. At the time the world began to fall apart, I was project managing the build of an eco-resort. I wasn't making much, but the potential was there. My manager made the right decision at the time, and cut his losses. A few months later my wife gave up and went back to her parents while I kept trying. But when she told me her and her family (that day there were 5 people not including children), were sharing 2 eggs between them, I decided to come back too. I know what these people are like, and can't let my son grow up like them.

When he was born, I was told it would be 6 weeks before we could get out and back to work. It had been 2 months when I was told the in-laws wanted us to go back to work, leaving my child here. Another month later and they finally got the message. There's no way I'm leaving my boy with a man who gives 3 year olds energy drinks at 8am, while the rest of the family spend their time beating and screaming at him as he's got too much energy, or is crashing from the sugar. This poor boy has all black stumps for teeth on the top row, no pants on all day as he rolls around in the dirt people have been pissing in, and takes worming tablets. This boy, does not need energy drinks. Grandma, loves giving the 22 month old, the dregs of her antihistamine medicine. It tastes nice, so it must be good. Ma can't read the back of packets, instructions or warnings. 

Now, the only real option I have is farm work on the family plot. I did this last time we were here when our son was born, usually earning somewhere between $3.75 & 7.50 every 2 days. This time of year, the farm is out of season. Once this years crop is ready, the total worth of the farm's produce will be around $5.00 every 2 days as the 1st month creeps by. This time around, as it looks like I'll be staying for the foreseeable future, I've got to come up with a real plan, I can't put up with this much longer. I used to be vegetarian, and though we're surrounded by farms, I haven't seen a vegetable in 10 days. Now I eat fish heads.. the cheeks, the brains, their faces. I give the eyes to my wife's brothers…I had to draw the line somewhere.

My only way of making a decent wage out here, is to work online. Ideally I'd like to teach English. But most of the day, we're in a black hole for data connection, and with the lack of a certain document, signing up as a teacher isn't possible anyway.

So what's the plan? Well, I guess I'll carry on clutching at straws, keep writing the book, prepare the land for this years harvest and raise the boy. Plenty to keep me busy, but I need way out of this, before my boy grows up like his feral cousins. I feel like I'm living in a George Orwell book, and I don't mean 1984, that's the outside world. We're still stuck on Animal Farm.

I always thought I'd be somewhere in my 50s/60s, when I finally thought about penning my first book. When I had something to write about, and my fingers couldn't handle playing music any longer... As it turns out, I have plenty to write about, and it's spilling out with ease. I've always written, but a novel seemed a little too daunting to even think about. I wouldn't like to guess just how many songs I've written since my first, 25 years ago (which was terrible, and I hate that I still remember it). But the 2 albums trapped in my head are pretty good, at least I recon so. Hopefully they will see the light of day, at some point in the future.

I started the novel on the night of the 21st December 2020, and as of today - 29th Dec, I'm over the 10,000 word marker (though I've been doing a daily, rough edit as I go, I've been advised to try and avoid this, but I wanted the intro to be somewhat polished for upload). I'm hoping to entice some of you in, with the first few chapters. If it's something you're into, super duper. I'm looking for 'donations', to help my family out of this situation, but all donors will receive a copy of the book when finished, and after it's final edit.

A little can go a long way out here, and anything would be much appreciated as I'm raising my little champ. The link to the funding site can be found below, or by clicking here.

If you're not able to spare anything, no worries, but do keep checking back to my blog as (and don't quote me on this), I'll probably be adding to and updating as I go, up to the point of a ghastly cliffhanger, obviously, nerr... Once I've finished writing and editing, anyone who's helped out will be sent a link to download an e-book copy, and if and when I'm lucky enough to have it published in printed form, each will receive a copy of that in time, a few things depending. All will get a mention in both copies on a dedication page as a huge thank you (unless requested otherwise). And I'd like to offer people the chance to leave an inspirational message/joke/clue to where buried treasure may be hidden, or of course, just absolute nonsense, for the outside world to read alongside their dedication. Heck, use it to promote your auntie's dog wash service, see if I care. Could be quite interesting, and sounds like fun to me.

At the rate that I'm writing, I expect to be in the final editing stage by about mid February.

The novel is written as a fiction, but at the same time, is almost completely autobiographical. Names and places have been changed to help protect our safety here, but the story, and its characters are real. I can promise that, as I'm living it.

And just before I get back to work, I must say… I know that sometimes my use of punctuation, Capitals, and commas, may be a little unorthodox,,, but just so you know, I do know most of what I'm doing wrong, I did fairly well in school (not so bad)… but, I knew better… and still think that I might. And besides, I've got some good friends back home with already published work, who are going to help with the final cut… I've not pestered them so much as of yet, and what's down currently, is me with very little coaching, but with a little help from my friends, in the end, it'll brush up alright. Any questions, comments or advice would be more than welcomed, you can find my email address below.

Oh, and no matter how important the first line of a story must be, I just couldn't help myself… A tongue-in-cheek nod to my future self, hopefully showing how far I've come. I'm sorry, you'll get over it.

Thank you for reading, you're welcome to carry on, and I hope you do.

Nathan Fryer-Woods

[The light that shines from within me, bows to the light that shines within you]

www.gogetfunding.com/luckystars

[email protected]

NOTE TO POTENTIAL PUBLISHERS

I know for any publisher, having a plot outline is very important and often essential for most first time authors. Although I am a true 'pantser' in life in general and writing this whilst in the thick of it, day by day. I do have my main outline. The middle marathon (with all potential real life disasters averted), being based on one or more of the many fears I have for the future, and twists in the plot coming from actual past events which have happened to me whilst being here. But as I say, this is all providing nothing major happens as I'm writing, and with all that's happened here already, would be an unexpected, and highly unlikely surprise. I have also been writing daily outlines, more detailed and over a smaller time frame, for the following days work. I will happily provide the main plot outline, and an up-to-date manuscript upon request. Nice one.

N-F-W

#autobiograpy #real life #danger #fatherhood #jungle #asia

[lamiaward]

Swan Queen Week , day 1 (sharing another child)

I don’t own OUAT.

"I am dying. I told you this would happen, I knew giving up my magic would be a bad idea" Zelena groaned, coughing like she is trying to get rid of one of her lungs.

Regina sighed, and tried to not roll her eyes. Fine, tried to not roll them too obviously. " Zelena, it is the chicken pox, not the bubonic plague "

For the sixth time that day , Zelena yanked up her sleeves and gestured hysterically at it" Look at this, my skin is marred. I look more horrifying than my persona in that awful excuse of a movie"

Well-aware of Zelena's hatred for the Wizard of Oz movie ( Henry had showed it to her), Regina kept silent about it and just arched an eyebrow. Zelena huffed. " Thank you for your loving concern, sis" she said, glaring at Regina.

"Zelena, I assure you that you will be fine. I am well aware that Oz- and the Enchanted Forest as well- did not have an illness such as this and that it must be .. worrying for you. But it is nothing serious, no matter how annoying it is. You are far better off than you would have been if you had gotten any of the myriad of magic diseases ingenious to the Enchanted Forest".

Zelena eyed her suspiciously. "Are you carrying any of those diseases?"

"Yes Zelena, I enjoy falling ill and thus have not taken any of the simple precautions one can take against those illnesses" she said drily.

"You are supposed to be nice to someone who is ill. I feel sorry for the munchkin, if this is also how you treated my nephew".

"I have told you to stop using that nickname".

Zelena rolled her eyes. " The little Gryffindor doesn't even mind sis, so I don't know why you would. Also, this is discrimination against munchkins, what do you even have against them? I know I find them abhorrent , but you would think a hero such as yourself would be nauseatingly happy with them" Sometimes, Regina wanted to ground Henry for bonding with Zelena and deciding to introduce her to his favourite movies, tv shows and books. Other times, she was seriously tempted to lock her sister in a tower so she could no longer bond with Regina's son and annoy her to the point of magical incidents happening.

" I have nothing against munchkins, I am sure they are … not as exasperating as to warrant much insults" just because she couldn't stand such glaring idiocy, she added " And Henry is not a Gryffindor".

"Aren't they the heroes? And Henry is annoyingly chivalrous, reckless and slightly thick-headed in the traditional Charming way".

" That is a common mistake. Gryffindor traits are chivalry and bravery yes, but they are not the sole heroic people. And although Henry is definitely brave and chivalrous, he is also cunning, ambitious and stubborn. Obviously, he is a Slytherin".

Zelena cackled. " The boy is definitely not a Slytherin, he is far too soft for that".

"You just have the common misconceptions of what the house stands for. And Henry would campaign against the idiot Pureblood superiority ideas, as well as other 'evil' that the house supposedly has" As Regina has had this discussion many times with Henry, she knows exactly what Henry would do if he ended up in Slytherin.

Zelena chortled. " You're such a nerd. The both of you"

Regina just threw her sister an annoyed look and handed her another glass of water. " Drink. Whale said it was very important that we keep you hydrated".

Zelena groaned. "I already feel more bloated than when I was pregnant"

" Zelena, you want to get better, do you not?"

" Of course, but I already think water will do anything. Unless it is from the lake of Naxos, you pouring water down my throat won't do much".

" The doctors gave me a list of instructions, the same list that you neglected to read and instead threw in the hearth, and it says we need to keep you hydrated".

Zelena looked sullen, but did sip her water. She eyed the glass like she was going to throw it as well, but Regina shot her the same look she would give Henry when he was thinking about getting rid of his vegetables. Zelena rolled her eyes and put the glass down instead.

" The list also says you can use ibuprofen or antihistamine tablets, which are on the nightstand next to you. You can also ask someone to rub emollients into your skin".

"The last thing sounds like it could be fun. What is it?".

" Emollients are soothing creams. They will help with the itching".

Zelena snickered. " Are you going to do that?".

"No, I will leave in a moment".

"Fine by me. You're grumpier than that dwarf honestly".

"I have to take care of your daughter and my son, but I will send someone this way to take care of you".

" As long as it is not Snow" Zelena said indifferently

They both made a face, although Regina's expression had a lot more fondness than Zelena's. " She might actually visit".

Zelena groaned. "Tell her I've died already and you want to spare her the traumatizing experience of seeing my mutilated body".

"That is a horrible idea, and she would absolutely insufferable when she discovered you were well. Not to matter that it would cruel "

" Urgh, you're so boring sometimes. Go, if you won't even do me this teensy-tiny favour".

" Do not forget to take the medicine I left you, and do not scratch unless you want scars".

"Fine, fine. Wait- you are not going to make Snow be the one to help me with the cream thingies are you?".

Regina rolled her eyes. " Annoy me enough and I just might. You know she would be delighted".

Accompanied by threats from her sister, Regina walked away again. She definitely no longer loathed her sister, but the idea that Snow would try to take care of the rather petulant witch was rather amusing.

  ----------------------------------------------------------SQ--------------------------------------------

 As soon as Regina stopped softly humming to Robyn, she started crying again. Regina turned around and glared at the intruder, who had slammed the door open and startled her as well as made Robyn cry.

Emma smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't really have my hands free so I had to use my boot"

Regina walked towards her, humming and cradling Robyn. As soon as she stopped, Robyn started crying softly again. " What is all this ?" Regina asked, immediately pulling Robyn closer to her chest and lifting her a little. The little girl giggled happily as she was now able to grab Regina's hair, and softly tug it as well as chew on it.

Emma grinned. " Stuff for Robyn, of course! " she held up a teething toy, a plush wicked witch , colouring pencils, toy blocks and some other stuff Regina didn't really know what to make off. Regina started to tell Emma they already had toys and such for Robyn, but Emma was looking happier than Regina had seen her in ages and – " Did you conjure that thing" she nodded at the wicked witch.

Emma nodded. " Yup. You know how much Robyn loves the Wizard of Oz" they had mostly decided Robyn loved it because it was hilarious to see Zelena try to deal with that, although it was true that Robyn made happy sounds whenever the movie was on.

" So you have continued your magic lessons?".

Emma shrugged. " I have been busy with the job and Hook, but it's like riding a bike, right?".

" It is a way of living, one that requires practice " Regina scolded.

Emma clutched the items in her arms tighter. " I'm just busy and- " she swallowed whatever she had to say, but Regina knew. Hook didn't like it when Emma studied magic, especially not when it meant spending entire evenings with Regina.

" I see you were smart enough to not summon an Evil Queen one" Regina changed the subject.

Emma grinned and walked into the living room. Regina called out to not dump everything on the couch ( Emma dumped everything on the couch) and watched as the woman walked over to her, glaring suspiciously at where Emma was holding her hands behind her back.

"Emma- "

Emma took two quick steps, and gently pulled Robyn's hands away from Regina's hair. Before the girl could start crying, she handed her a small plush- " The crone? Seriously?" Regina exclaimed, looking as her nice let out a squeal and said 'buh buh buh'.

" Yup. Look how much she loves it!"

" It is hideous"

" Yeah, but she obviously told us she loved it".

" There is no evidence – actually, you are right" when Emma squinted her eyes suspiciously, Regina smirked. "She made those sounds when you tripped over your own feet as well"

Emma rolled her eyes. "I didn't trip over my own feet".

" Keep telling yourself that".

"And Robyn is the nicest Mills , so she would never enjoy my pain".

Regina arched her eyebrow. " I would think Henry would be the nicest Mills".

" Henry is a Swan-Mills" Emma said

" I did not give you permission to hyphenate our names, Emma. And it would obviously be Mills-Swan".

"No, I actually thought about this and Swan-Mills sounds better".

" Why would you think about this?".

" Because Henry is our son, and it is fine he has your name considering he also has your attitude but I thought he might like to have both our names"

Regina almost reminded Emma she wasn't even called Swan anymore , but held it back at the last moment. She didn't want to think about that, and they definitely did not talk about that. Sometimes, she seriously thought Emma didn't even want to think about that.

" Swan-Mills is tolerable, I suppose" she gave in, immediately rewarded with a bright smile from Emma.

" It's pretty awesome, isn't it?" Emma said happily, then looked down at Robyn. " you know, what is the little bean's last name anyways?".

" She is a Mills" Regina said immediately.

"Robyn Mills" Emma shook her head. " Nope. Doesn't sound right" she looked down at Robyn, cuddling her newest toy. " What about it kid? Want be a Swan?".

Regina snorted. " Zelena will force you to marry another monkey if you attempt to steal her daughter " she arched her eyebrow. " Not that it would not be an improvement".

" I didn't even marry Walsh " Regina was just about to reply when Emma took another step towards her and their shoulders were almost pressed together as they both looked down at Robyn. "She is kind of adorable. Most babies are sort of gross, but she isn't".

" She is blessed with the good looks of our family" Regina said.

Emma chuckled. " I said adorable, not beautiful. But if she really has got your genes, she is going to be gorgeous".

" Are you saying she is not already beautiful?" Regina said, slightly defensively. The friendship she had with her sister had been hard-fought and difficult, but she had immediately loved her niece. In fact, she was almost as protective of Robyn as she was of Henry.

" I mean, for a baby sure".

" Emma- ".

Emma laughed. Regina's heart suddenly sank- when had she last heard Emma laugh like this? During family dinner, perhaps. But those had become rarer as of lately, and Regina suspected it had something to do with how Hook demanded much of Emma's attention.

" You are so protective of her" Emma said, eyes still slightly aglow.

" You do not have to make fun of me- ".

" I am not. Well okay, maybe a little bit but it is really good" she looked at Robyn. " She deserves someone who looks after her, and protects her even if it's a little bit ridiculous" Regina knew Emma well enough to know she is thinking of her own childhood now. It's an awful thought, that Emma has never had something as simple as someone who wants to protect her.

" Every child deserves that " Regina said, careful not to outright state that Emma deserved it, but watching her best friend to see whether she understood what Regina was saying. There was a long stretch of silence before Emma finally looked up, and nodded.

" Yeah"

" Do you not have duties elsewhere?" Regina quietly asked, both to interrupt the heavy silence and because she had been wondering what Emma was doing the moment she more-or-less kicked Regina's door in.

Emma shrugged. "I asked dad to cover for me"

" What about- " Emma's head snapped up. " He has been on my case for ages. Says I work too hard". The pirate. Obviously she does not wish to talk about him.

" He would be right. You have been covering a lot of night-shifts".

" I thought it made sense, as I have a moody teenager that spends most of his time with friends or his other mom and they have a baby who need to be watched constantly"

" So why are you not working now then?"

Emma stiffened. " Do you want me to- "

" That is not why I asked".

" Oh " Emma smiled. " Well, I can hardly let you do the single parent thing again, can I? ".

Regina stared at Emma. " You did not give birth to this child, so we are hardly co-parents. Unless you would marry Zelena, you- "

" We made that promise together"

" I cannot believe it. You – "

Emma flushed very slightly, but kept smiling. " I can help! I sometimes help my parents with their kid as well, and I still sort of have memories of raising Henry. Besides, someone needs to be the fun parent and calm you down when you get really intense"

"Raising Robyn, even temporarily, is a full-time job Emma and you have your job as well as the one-handed wonder that cannot be left alone, lest he attacks another household appliance".

" Listen, this is more important. And we have already shown we are a good team"

"I agree that Robyn is more important than the STD-transmitter you are involved with, but I am not certain whether he would agree- ".

" Come on! We're team mom. We already raised one kid, and look how well he turned out"

I have officially lost my mind. It must be the prolonged exposure to the Charmings. "Fine"

" I knew you would see it my way! I am going to get my stuff".

" You do that, I will- wait. What stuff".

 --------------------------------------------------------SQ----------------------------------------------

 Henry Mills is used to crazy or inexplicable things happening around him. When he was ten, he found out his mother was the evil queen and his sleepy little town was magically created as part of a curse. Peter Pan, his great-grandfather, has tried to kill him by using Henry's heart to become more powerful. During family dinners, Rumpelstiltskin, Belle, the Evil queen, Snow White, Prince Charming and captain Hook are all there.

( his mom is married to a guy she has gone to the Underworld for, even though he was only there because he tried to kill her family)

Even after all the crazy things that have happened, he is still surprised by what he sees when he walks into the room.

The normal tidy place is now littered by several plush toys ( he is especially traumatized by the one that looks like him, the one that Robyn has in her mouth), colouring pencils, clothing, bottles with something green, a tiny birdhouse, equipment for laser games, a Ravenclaw toothbrush, a gun and what he thinks might be a cleaning kit for a gun. On the couch, his mom is stretched out with Robyn laying on her chest, happily saying 'puh puh puh' while Emma tells a story animatedly. The entire room smells heavenly, and he realizes it's because mom is in the kitchen.

" Mom?" he questions, slowly approaching Emma. She waves at him, and continues telling the story to Robyn. He waits until she is finished, pushing her feet off the couch so he can sit at its end. As soon as she has finished the story, she gives him a bright smile.

" Hi Henry, was everything okay at the stables?".

" Yeah. Uh what is all this?" he gestures at the room

" Stuff for Robyn, and for me"

" Are you moving in?".

" Not really. Just here to take care of Robyn".

" Wasn't mom doing that already?".

" Yeah, but I am going to help her obviously. Your mom will never have to raise a kid on her own again".

" I don't think she minded "

" But it was difficult, and we're a good team. We did a good job with you, right?".

" Sure. Although I did get kidnapped a couple of times- I am sure that can happen to anyone".

" True, this town is crazy"

" So uh did you discuss this with mom?".

" No, but she was there when I promised Zelena we would take care of Robyn is something happened, so it was pretty obvious".

" Okay, but how did she react?" he is going to sneak upstairs later to ask Zelena about this interesting conversation where his moms apparently decided to co-parent another child.

"She started muttering in Spanish and walked towards the kitchen. Then she put on music, and she tried to steal my gun" they both look at the gun. "She claimed it was unsafe".

" It kind of is mom, you could accidentally shoot someone " he says, rolling his eyes

" Yeah, but I am careful "

He arches his eyebrow. "You once forgot the safety pin was on. You have tripped over it more than once".

"Only when I have had a nightshift, and I am dead tired"

" I am going to ask mom whether she is all right. Adios"

Shaking his head, he walks into the kitchen. He is barely faced by the sight of ingredients everywhere, several finished dishes on the counters and his mom aggressively cutting something. There's flour on her face, and he wipes it off before kissing her cheek.

" Hi mamá" he says

His mom exhales slowly. " Your mother is insane" the knife makes an indent in mom's cutting board. " First she marries that completely undeserving – " he eyes the knife warily "narcissistic pig, then - " really, what if she cuts herself accidentally? " she starts missing family dinners " he tries to take the knife from her " and I have attempted to be supportive , because if this is what she wants then who am I to stay in the way – she would not listen anyways, as her entire family is too stubborn for their own good- "

He gently manages to take the knife from her. " Mom. Breathe"

She inhales deeply. " Perdón, mijo".

" It's okay" he puts the knife down. " Are you all right?"

" I am fine, she just- "

" I know, it sucks. I don't like it either mom, but she has to see it herself you know? "

"I don't see that happening. After the debacle with the darkness, I thought she would surely put an end to it" Mom laughs, and he swallows. "Instead, she went to the Underworld to return him ".

" I don't understand it either "he says, leaning against his mom. "I asked Archie why my mom would want to be with someone who treats her like crap, and he said that it might be because of her childhood. He says that people with a childhood like mom often accept the smallest bits of attention. And that her being the Savior also likely plays a role".

" What else did he say? ".

Henry shrugs. "That I can't do much, but be supportive" he looks at his mom meaningfully. " That she might be able to let him go if she realizes she loves someone else , someone better more".

Regina sighs. " Henry, your mother does not return my - "he has known for months, but she is still hesitant to admit it, claiming that it could ruin everything. "feelings"

" I think she does. I know she loves Hook, but they're not good for each other. They're not anything like grandma and grandpa, like true love"

"Not everyone can have true love".

" But you can. I know you are afraid mom, and think you should be happy with what you already have. But this situation, this whole thing- it is wrong and it sucks"

"Henry, your mother needs to be free to make her own choices "

"But they're terrible to each other!"

"Yes, and sometimes relationships are like that. But I can't – she is happy isn't she?"

" You can't lie to yourself mom, you know she isn't. She might love him, but they keep hurting each other and they can't let each other go"

Regina immediately approaches him, and hugs him. He hugs her back, slowly calming down. His mom has a way of making him feel safe and secure, like nothing bad could really touch him. " I don't want my mom to hurt anymore" he whispers.

She gently pulls back, and wipes his hair away from his eyes. " Life always hurts Henry, and I wish I could protect you from that"

" You deserve to be happy- you've been through so much, both of you, and you have lost so much and you deserve to be happy".

"It is not about deserving. When I was .. young, I would have deserved something good, because I had committed no wrongs. So if it was about deserving, I would have gotten my happy ending then Henry"

" People shouldn't have to be pure and good and never hurt anyone to get some happiness. People make mistakes, right?".

" Yes, but there is a difference between making mistakes and wilfully committing murder" Regina smiles sadly. " Which is why I think you are completely right, and Emma does deserve that happy ending. After the childhood she had because of me, and fighting all these years for the town, she deserves something worthwhile"

"Mom has changed" he says, swallowing. It's odd, how quickly a person can grab on to another person, and change them so much that their own family thinks 'where have you gone'?

Mom's eyes show his pain. " She has. That sometimes happens to a person, if they have to fight for too long and they get attached to something toxic"

"She still thinks you deserve a happy ending- that hasn't changed"

He is looking down, and Regina gently pulls his chin up so she can look into his eyes. " Neither has her love for you. She will always love you"

"She loves you too" he insists

"Henry-".

" Why is that so difficult for you? " he cries out. " Why can't you- she sacrificed her life for you. She protected you. She stood up for you, and against you when you were being awful. She trusted you , to save her but also to make the most difficult choice if needed. That's something people in love do. Taking care of each other- but also stopping you if you do something shitty "

" Because that is your mother" Regina cries out, stepping away from Henry. "That's who Emma is, this brave, crude, emphatic person who might hurt people and overstep but who in the end, just wants to save people from everything she has felt. That is not love, that is just who she is- ".

"No! She isn't. Mom- " he shakes his head. " She wouldn't do that stuff for just anyone, especially now. But before, she would've helped people yeah and she would step in if she thought someone really couldn't fight their battles on their own but- there is stuff she would only do for me or you. Stupid stuff, like agreeing to eat Kale salad or sit on a horse. But also the important stuff, like punching a man because he hurt you , or taking on the literal darkness because she thinks you deserve everything"

"I can't – I can't take anything else from Emma, Henry, I just can't "

" You wouldn't take anything, you would heal something" Henry shakes his head. "I already noticed at first, that Hook was changing her, but I was like you. I decided to let it slide, and focus on the times she was happy because of him, right? But mom, this past year- it has been so much worse and – "

"Henry, we cannot force Emma. I know you still think these operations of yours fix everything, but- ".

" She is here, and not with him. She offered to raise another child with you, without hesitating to think what it means. Just think about that, mom. Even you can't deny that" he is angry, but he still kisses her cheek before striding away from her.

She almost wonders whether he has a point, but even if Emma loves her-

They are so many reasons why Emma deserves better, why it is safer, that Regina would never even dare to love her freely and openly. As soon as Regina realized she was in love with Emma, she decided she would never actually tell the woman, to protect her.

After, Emma isn't just good enough for Hook.

  -----------------------------------------------------------SQ-------------------------------------------

 Turns out, raising a baby with Emma is exhausting. Not just because the woman is childish herself, but because every time Emma walks in with Robyn in her arms, Regina pines . It is really a perfect sort of torture, the type she is immediately addicted to, because Emma is so much more like herself when she is playing with Robyn or running into the kitchen, claiming Robyn is hungry. And it such a perfect image, Emma Swan( never Jones. Regina refuses to call her that in her head) with her dirty boots throwing her gun on the counter and taking Robyn from her arms. Laughing when Regina scolds her, and spinning Robyn around and joking.

Regina just wants, and tries to hide it. It's an insane thing, wanting Emma Swan. It includes rolling your eyes with a smile at the dirty socks you find ( on the staircase, by the door, balled up next to the laundry basket), being woken in the middle of the night because your foolish live-in Savior comes barging into your room with her gun drawn, scolding the two people having a lively discussion with food in your mouth, being cajoled into trying odd food combinations (melted chocolate on a cheese pizza, she will block Emma's access to that Buzz Feed site if it is the last thing she does). It includes many things, new things every day and happiness.

It also includes receiving many apps, including abbreviations and spelling mistakes and too many emoticons. And receiving them on the most random moments, when her best friend is on night patrol or just can't sleep , and the moments where she knows Emma is doing it on purpose. She has a meeting right now ( Emma is definitely doing it on purpose)

SHE JUST SAID MY NAME

YES

I WIN

TAKE THAT

A rather regrettable incident has taught her to never ignore Emma's apps, so she quickly types a response in the middle of some speech about the 'advantages of tending to your sheep'. Actually, that doesn't make sense so there is a slight chance Regina just missed part of what the woman in front of her was saying.

I am in the midst of a meeting, do not text me

Nice try, but blatant denial doesn't help here. SHE SAID MY NAME FIRST.

Regina are you dead?

Please don't be dead

I will even lie and say Robyn didn't say my name first

I did not answer for fifteen minutes because I am in a meeting. I am hardly at opportunity to suddenly die, unless either of the people in front of me have been hiding some measure of intellect as well as an enormous aptitude for magic. Highly unlikely, I assure you

This is Storybrooke, for all we know Izma is going to show up and turn either of us into a lama.

You would be more tolerable as a lama

Those things spit, and bite. I would not be more tolerable as a lama. Anyways, please don't die, turn into a lama ( or any animal really) or lose control of your magic and turn someone else into anything. Actually, it might be better if me and Robby come to Town Hall.

If I promise none of those things will happen, will you stay away? And I forbid you to use that nickname

Can't forbid me anything.

I will withhold my cooking from you

REGINA

One inane emoticon, and I will destroy your happiness

I will go to Granny's

That will never satisfy you the way I can. Regina stared down at her own text with no small amount of annoyance and mortification. She had made the innuendo automatically. This happened more often lately, as Regina and Emma were often in each other's company or at the very least contacting each other so they could properly care for Robyn.

You can't threaten me, I am immune

I will send your mother that picture of when Robyn accidentally magicked your clothing into something else

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT" the man that was talking suddenly shrieks, someone falls of their chair, someone else curses furiously as their knee slam into the table, another person accidentally throws their coffee on the person next to them, and Regina flinches as the loud voice appears out of nowhere.

She glares at Emma. "What did I tell you about transporting with Robyn in your arms?".

"She loves it, she does it all the time" she points at Regina. "And you're not going to send that picture".

" We were in the middle of a rather important- ".

" Oh cut the crap, it's – and I am quoting you- 'just another weak fond for petty complaints and pettier ideas '. And you know Snow would be unbearable, and get all misty-eyed and – ".

Regina holds her phone up. " I will not allow you to interrupt my meeting- "

"Regina, I swear I will paint your room green – ".

" It is completely inappropriate, what kind of example are you setting- "

" Hell, I will turn your hair green- " .

They both shut up at the same moment. Because they can't talk anymore, so they're limited to facial expressions. Unlike the people around them ( the ones who don't have burns are looking at them with an expression best called confused terror), they immediately look at Robyn accusingly.

"n-n" she says, which probably means 'I don't like it when you argue'.

Regina sighs, and slowly sits back in her chair. She conjures another one for Emma, who sits down into it after a short hesitation, and hands her Robyn. Regina cradles Robyn, and watches Emma grab one of Regina's pens, and conjure a piece of paper. She writes something down, then shoves it to Regina.

I am going to turn your hair green

I will simply turn it back to its original colour

I am sure Gold has a thing that makes it permanent

I am far more adept at revenge than you , do you honestly wish to risk my wrath?

You suck at revenge. You couldn't beat my mom after THIRTY years. And then you became her friend, and protected her a bunch of times, saved her son, and even made sure she still had true love.

I am friends with your mother, and it is very easy to convince her. And my sister would be more than happy to help

I have Ruby and my dad

Your dad will be of little help, and I can easily deal with the wolf

They're interrupted when someone clears their throat, and then promptly stumbles back into their chair as both women look at them. Clearly, they manage to terrify people even when they aren't speaking and one of them has a smiling baby in their arms. They terrify everyone so much that they don't even speak when Emma looks at Regina for a moment and starts to stand up. In fact, the last thing they see before they teleport, is the relieved faces around them.

"How come you can teleport with her in your arms?"

Regina ignores Emma, and instead walks towards the kitchen with Robyn in her arms. " Clean the mess in the living room"

" You haven't even been there, how do you know it's a mess? "

"Because whenever you are watching Robyn and I am not there, you make a mess. So clean it".

" Fine. But only if you make me a snack".

"I am not your personal cook"

"Yeah, I know that" Emma starts walking towards the living room. " I would love some grilled cheese "she calls back.

Regina looks at the girl happily smiling in her arms. "Can you believe that woman? She just assumes I will make her something " The fact that Regina actually does constantly make things for Emma, recipes she knows Emma loves or things she think Emma might like, is of little importance. She is just trying to make the Savior eat healthier, so Henry does not have to miss a mother because the idiot gave herself a heart attack gorging on anything grease-filled.

She summons a high chair, where she carefully places Robyn in. She puts on some music, as she has learned that is the only way to keep Robyn from fussing if she is in that chair. The girl really is the human version of a tornado sometimes, always wanting to crawl and babble and hating things like chairs or her crib.

Regina hums along with the song as she grabs a bottle, and places it in the microwave. She hesitates for a moment, but finally sighs and start making a grilled cheese as well. She is almost finished when Emma's voice startles her.

"I like that"

" I do not possess the ability to read minds. You like what?"

" That you sing when you cook. You didn't use to do that, did you? "

"I sometimes sang when I allowed Henry to help in the kitchen, but that has been ages ago" Regina says, automatically smiling when she thinks of their son.

"Too bad, you've got a good voice " Emma says, still leaning against the doorway.

"Thank you" they're both silent for a while before Regina breaks that silence again. " I have never heard you sing to Robyn. Why not?".

Emma snorts. "Because my singing voice is awful"

" Oh really?".

" Yup. This one time in high school, I had this idea of becoming a star so I taught myself to play the guitar and wanted to try for the talent show right? Except I hadn't really paid attention to my singing, just to learning to play the guitar. The jury was really horrified"

" But you can play the guitar?".

"I can "

"Where did you get your guitar? Did one of your foster families give it to you?"

"Nah. There was this girl in my class who was pretty bad at math, so I made a deal with her. I would tutor her, and she would teach me to play guitar"

"I did not know you were good at math".

" I am- or was. I didn't always pay attention , but math was one of the subjects I usually got high marks for"

"would you play for us sometime?".

Emma nods. " Sure. Would you sing?".

Regina finishes the grilled cheese and hands it to Emma, who eyes it like it is the sorcerer's stone. She gets the bottle from the microwave and carefully hands it to Robyn. She keeps an eye on the girl when she faces Emma to answer her question.

"I might be willing, yes. Did you clean the room?"

Emma nods. " Uh-uh" she mumbles, chewing happily on a gargantuan bite of the grilled cheese.

Regina chuckles, and walks towards her. She summons a napkin, and starts to wipe Emma's cheek. " You are worse than Henry, honestly "

Emma just shrugs. "I just enjoy food. Also, my face will be dirty again in about a minute, so you're just wasting napkins now"

"The horror" Regina says drily. She grimaces when Emma takes another gigantic bite, and walks towards Robyn to pick her up. " It is unsafe to hold Robyn with only one arm"

Emma flexes her muscle. " She is really light, and I can bench press like ten times her weight, so calm down" to Robyn she says "Your mother worries so much"

" Aunt. I am her aunt, Emma. Sometimes I honestly suspect you wish to steal Robyn from my sister"

" Fine, we are her aunties then. And I just like the little bean, that's all. She has grown on me, despite the horrible magical incidents"

" You seemed very happy with some of those magical incidents".

Emma's lips twitch. " It was pretty funny when we were bathing her, and she apparently decided she wanted her aunt to bathe as well".

" Fu- do you have any idea how much that outfit cost?"

" I am going to guess it is somewhere between a lot and a fuckton"

"Emma " Regina hisses, taking Robyn from her arms.

Emma rolls her eyes. " She is a baby, she doesn't even know what I am saying".

" If you curse around her, she will learn curse words and use them".

" Regina, it will be- "

"Do not curse around her"

Emma holds up her hands mockingly. " Fine"

" Now, please go and get our son. I am going to make lunch for him as well"

" Can I have another- ".

" I was already going to make that, as I know from experience you are-

Emma grins. " This is why we're friends"

"Don't run up the stairs" is all Regina says, even though it is completely useless. Half a minute later, she hears the expected sound of Emma thundering up the stairs ( which she only does when they are going to eat)

Regina can't quite suppress a fond smile.

  -----------------------------------------------------SQ-------------------------------------------------

Bath time with Robyn is complicated. Their girl usually likes it, but she does tend to make the weirdest things happen with her magic, and when she doesn't want to bathe it is a nightmare getting her into the tub.

Right now, she is gurgling happily and clapping her hands as she makes the water float around in bubbles that look like they have tiny rainbows trapped inside. "Gina !" she says, pointing at the light that bounces off Regina's hair. By now, Robyn has actually said 'Gina' a lot of times, so Regina doesn't jump up and film it like the first time it happened. Instead she just smiles and leans forward.

Emma snorts when Robyn immediately slaps the water, and Regina gets a face full of soapy water. Emma stops smiling when Regina waves her hand, and there's immediately a rainstorm above her head. "Cold cold cold " she chants, glaring at the smirking woman next to her.

"You were asking for that" Regina says, still smirking. It is probably why Emma does the thing she does next: she throws her arms around Regina, and pulls her tightly against her. The rain stops after several seconds, and Regina tries to get away but Emma just holds on. "You're not going to make me wet again" she says

" what? ".

" If I let you go, you will immediately start the invisible cloud thing again " Emma laughs.

Regina tries to teleport, Emma can tell by the way the woman pressed against her suddenly starts to heat up , but Emma forces her own magic to keep Regina there. She doesn't even know how she does it, just focuses on the emotion inside her and tightens her grip subtly. Regina lifts her head and Emma is already expecting the glare when she sees Regina isn't glaring at all. She is looking- Emma can't make anything of that expression, that is sort of panicked and in pain no matter how much Regina tries to hide it, and mostly succeeds.

" Re- " she suddenly realizes the woman in her arms is unnaturally still, and stiff like a statue. She realizes Regina's chest is moving like she is taking great, gulping breaths of air ( she is), and that she can feel how Regina's heart races.

She steps back and starts to ramble. " Shit shit- is this about the or Cora or- fuck Regina, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I am so sorry – it was just a stupid thing, I will never just grab you again- ".

Regina slowly swallows. " It is fine"

Emma shakes her head. " No, it isn't. I know you've probably got issues- I have seen it with some kids in the foster systems – and I just grabbed you"

"That wasn't – just let it go, Emma".

"You are my friend, of course I am not just letting it go" Emma goes to touch Regina's shoulder when she drops her hand.

Regina rolls her eyes. "I am not made of glass , I will not break if you touch me".

" I don't want to – "

They both turn their heads very slowly when Robyn starts to cry loudly. When they look at her, she has her face scrunched up and is slapping the water and moving around. They both move towards her at the exact same moment, Regina already muttering things in a low voice while Emma makes silly faces. It doesn't work, as Robyn is still crying.

"What is it, why is she doing that? " Emma hisses, while still making the silliest face she can think off

Regina shakes her head. " I don't - perhaps she thinks we are fighting again. She loathes that".

" We are not fighting, Robby, it's all right" Emma tries to reassure the girl.

Regina glares at her when Robyn keeps crying. "That is not working" she turns to her niece. "It is fine, nena, the foolish woman was just being nauseatingly chivalrous"

" You are unbelievable" Emma grouses

"Well, you- " it is the last thing Regina will say for a while; they both made the mistake to look away from Robyn, and thus missed her hands turning a pistachio colour, and the light that apparently caused it shooting towards them. As soon as they are enveloped by the light, their bodies shrink and they're dropped into the bath. Emma immediately starts kicking and breaks the surface, but Regina hits her head against the tub-

Emma swims to her. " Why- " she narrowly avoids swallowing water " is my " Regina is sinking now, so Emma kicks again " life " she is almost there "so fucking ridiculous" she grabs Regina's arm, and tugs her against her. She almost chokes as she accidentally swallows two mouthfuls of water, but she refuses to die like this.

"Come on" she mutters, trying to focus on her magic. Which is kind of impossible, as she is terrified. Not just because Regina hit her head really fucking hard and that alone is terrifying, but also because there is a giant-sized baby in front of her.

Focus. Emotions. She looks at Regina, and she feels her stomach roll uncomfortably again. I want her to be safe, she needs to be okay. I just want to- it's like she is trying to watch through fog for a moment, and then her magic dissipates and she is leaning over a normal-sized Regina. She immediately places the heel of her hand on the center of Regina's chest, and presses down two inches. She does 30 chest compressions, all that jack her stupid teacher that she had when she decided she needed to learn first aid, talked about.

"Come on, don't you fucking dare, I will have Henry get a Mohawk and tattoos if you die Regina"

Emma finally decides this shit isn't working, so she hopes she didn't follow first aid lessons in what free time she had for nothing, and pinches Regina's nose closed. She is just leaning in, inches away from that lip scar actually when the body beneath her lurches and Regina very nearly headbutts her.

" What- " she coughs rather furiously " do you- " there is water dribbling down her chin now " think you – " Emma waits patiently until the last bout of coughing stops. " are doing?".

Emma thinks Regina is just shocked, partly because of almost drowning in a bath tub, but then the woman actually freaks out badly and doesn't calm down and it changes into bickering-bordering-on-an-argument, and suddenly Emma is looking at the door slamming closed.

She slowly turns to Robyn. " What the hell was that about?".

" Gina" Robyn says sagely.

 ----------------------------------------------------------SQ--------------------------------------------

Maybe Emma should stop waking Regina up in the middle of the night. Regina definitely thinks so, judging by her expression.

" What is this? " Emma questions, waving the bunch of papers she just happened to see in Regina's office in Regina's face. She kind of regrets it when Regina gives her a look that is somewhere between furious and hurt.

" Private documents that you apparently stole from me".

Emma plops down on the bed. " You're adopting another child? Why didn't you discuss this with me?".

Regina freezes. " I am under no obligation to ask for your permission, miss Sw- sheriff" she hisses

" That's not- " Emma hesitates, but then says " I thought we could co-parent, that you would share things with me".

Regina's laugh is incredulous. " Are you offering to co-parent all future children I may have, then? ".

"I just don't want you to do this alone".

"I am more than capable of raising children without a significant other" Regina pushes out through gritted teeth.

" That isn't what I meant- it's just really difficult, and you deserve help from people who care about you"

Regina inhales in that special way she has when she is trying not to throw a fireball at something. "What are you even saying, Emma?".

" I am saying that I am here for you and that kid. If she is yours, she is one of us and I will be whatever you want. I can be her crazy aunt or godmother or co-parent or whatever"

" So you are supporting this decision of mine"

Emma smiles, it's not necessarily a happy smile but it is a beautiful one. " Of course. You're a great mom, some kid is going to be incredibly lucky to have you".

" I – thank you".

Emma shrugs. "It's true"

" Why are you offering this?"

"I told you- ".

" You are married. You have a husband, who is already very cross with you because you have been spending nearly all your time with Henry and I. Do you not wish to build a family with him?".

"I already have a family. You, Henry, my parents, my brother and even Zelena and Robyn"

" If you don't want more children, then why are you offering to co-parent again?".

" I never said I didn't want more children. It's not like I really want it, like I am thinking of getting pregnant or adopting or whatever. But I sometimes think it really sucks I missed such a large part of Henry's life, and I think about my own childhood and how there still must be so many kids that weren't as lucky as Henry was - " Emma shrugs again . " I would like to be there for such a kid"

Regina wants to point out the obvious flaws in that offer, the most noticeable one being that Emma is married, but Emma speaks before she does. "What age are you thinking off?".

Regina shakes her head. " I beg your pardon?".

" The kid we are adopting, what age are you thinking off? Do you want to adopt another baby, or one of the older kids?".

" I do not really have a preference"

" What about an older kid? They're the ones who don't really have good chances of being adopted" Emma suggest, obviously trying to appear nonchalant even though she really isn't. She is usually far better at hiding or suppressing her emotions so Regina knows it really is that important to her

She nods. " That seems like a good idea".

Emma smiles, an exact copy of the very first time Regina saw her smile. " Okay. So we are going to start the process?".

Regina nods, and smiles as well. "I wanted to start tomorrow".

Emma nods. "Perfectly fine with me" she yawns, and slowly starts to stand up. " Sorry for waking you. See you tomorrow".

As soon as Emma has left the room, Regina allows her body to fall down on her body again, and stares at the ceiling with a smile. Even when Emma is interrupting what little rest she manages to snatch for herself, it is still wonderful somehow.

She sits back up again when she realizes Emma has just talked her into co-parenting another kid together. Again.

 ----------------------------------------------------------SQ--------------------------------------------

 They're sitting on the couch together, Robyn asleep behind them, when Henry walks in. He takes one look at all the papers around them, at Regina's ramrod-straight position that looks painful and the way Emma keeps fidgeting and slowly closes his eyes.

"Are you adopting another child?".

" Henry, you know we- ".

"Love you, I am irreplaceable, I am special, your love for me will never lessen et cetera. I know, mom has given me that speech already. I mean, are you, both of you, you together, adopting another child?".

Emma nods. " Yeah. We were thi- " she stares as Henry slides his backpack off, and throws it on the floor. She frowns when he throws his hands up and screams " I HAVE HAD IT"

"Uhm Regina, should we- "

Henry approaches them, glaring at the both of them. " You people are so estúpida "

He turns to Emma. " Mom is in love with you. She is so incredibly in love with you that she didn't say anything about how Hook is in the top ten of worst candidates for boyfriend ever because she thought he made you happy. She is so ludicrously, hopelessly in true love with you that she didn't destroy you when you hurt me. She is so incredibly stupidly in love with you that she went to the Underworld for you, and refused to leave you. She is so much in love with you that she constantly gazes at you when you're not looking and she gets these ridiculous expressions around you"

He takes a deep breath – " Don't say anything, I am not finished" – and continues. " And YOU are just as bad, except worse because you don't even seem to realize you love her. You sacrificed your soul for her, constantly loudly exclaim you believe in her, are completely terrified of hurting her and generally seem about a billion times more alive around her than you do around Hook. You're so much in puppy love with her that you get really fixated when she is mad at you, and you constantly bring her things and look like you have just won the Olympics whenever you manage to make her laugh"

He gestures wildly. "When Robin was still around, you would glare at him whenever he touched mom. Every. Single. Time. Once, I mentioned him because I thought it was cool that Robin Hood was around, and you looked like you were going to barf and destroyed our waffle maker. You tethered yourself to the darkness after telling mom she 'had worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed' with tears in your eyes but that was apparently just friendly? Just two people being very friendly and risking everything for each other like good friends?".

He takes one last deep breath. " And I dislike Hook. I didn't want to say anything because you love him, but you two belong together and if one more person ask me whether you've already gotten together or I have to hear one more stupid comment from some stupid person who thinks you are hot, I am going to get my author's pen and write your happy ending myself"

"Henry, you – we aren't- Regina couldn't – sure, she is very attractive, face-wise and funnily even personality-wise and I've – but that's " Emma shakes her head. She slowly looks at Regina. "Regina? Can you help- ".

When Regina just stares at Henry and swallows slowly, Emma bravely tries again. " Listen, I know we have risked our lives a bunch of times for together, but that's just a side effect of living in Storybrooke. And I know there was a lot of invading each other spaces and Regina does that weird thing where she stares at you really inappropriately , but that's .. I have other friends who look at me that way. Maybe. Probably not. And I know I have sworn I would find her happy ending, but that is because she really deserves one because her mother pretty much messed her up and was married to that two-faced jerk and then was manipulated and used by a bunch of shits I still need to punch and- " Emma slowly trails off, then shakes herself. "And I love Hook. I do. I am actually attached to him, and he actually had reasons for the shit he did. Even if I was a dark one as well, and I didn't really give in to any of the dark urges- " for some reason, he doesn't know anything he won't think about why nope , Emma glances at his mom and licks her lips " yeah urges I had. But that's probably all the light magic or something. So uh have I properly explained why we are not madly in love".

Henry just gives her a Regina-like look, the little shit. " Listen- " she looks at Regina again. " Say something?"

Regina shakes her head. "Go to your room. We will talk later".

" Mom. Don't be a coward, okay? She loves you back, I know because everyone knows. There is a whole forum about the newest gossip about the two of you, and I am pretty sure the only ones who don't know right now are grandma and the fly strip himself "

" Fly strip? " Emma questions.

" Because he stinks. Being from a place where people did not know taking baths was good for you, and personal hygiene kind of very important, does not excuse only wearing the one outfit and seemingly brushing your teeth with rum" Henry takes a deep breath. " I am really sorry mom, but it has been ages and you're both unhappy. Also, if he makes one more 'traditional pirate breakfast' I am going to start a mutiny".

He walks over to them, kissing first Regina on the cheek and then Emma. "I love both of you, even if you're really oblivious" he walks over to Robyn's crib, and picks her up. " Come on, we will let them talk"

As soon as Henry is gone, the tension in the room rises. Emma slowly gets up. "Do you want cider? I want cider".

" I thought you preferred other beverages"

"It seems like a cider kind of evening" she gets a bottle and two glasses, but now Henry's stupid ideas are in her head. And they make her go over every single interaction between her and Regina. It just keeps repeating , driving her crazy. And then she finally realizes, Regina's hand holding hers and 'no, but I can give you one', working on operation Mongoose together and seeing Regina laugh and all those other moments

"Shit" she hisses. Luckily, Regina probably thinks it is because of the glass she has just dropped. The one that is immediately restored with a lazy hand gesture by the woman Emma has just realized she is totally non-platonically romantically eternally in love with. Shite. And sure, she knew she loved Regina and that she thought Regina was attractive and that Robin was an ass for treating her like that and – oh for fuck's sake .

"Emma?".

Okay, so Emma has fought dragons and hell beasts and darkness. She has been on the ground with an ogre screaming in her face and lost in the past after messing things up so badly that she could've prevented her own birth. So she is used to adrenaline brought on by fear. But this is worse, so much that she actually shakes and spills cider on Regina's carpet.

"Emma?"

Okay. You probably need to discuss this. Right? She kind of doesn't want to , but then she thinks about how determined Henry was about Regina being in love with her. She feels like running around and screaming at the thought ( in a good way)

She can hear Regina stand up, and probably approach her. And she is a Gryffindor ( despite Henry's insistence that she actually a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff) , so she slowly turns around and faces her. "Is it true?".

" I still have not created that mind-reading device, Emma"

It is probably the most reckless, risky thing she has ever done. " Are you in love with me?".

" That is what Henry thinks".

"That's not an answer" Emma says, thinking holy shit.

Regina swallows. " What does it matter? You have him"

" That's not everything Henry said. He also thought I was pretty crazy about you".

Emma takes another step towards Regina, and another. Regina stares at her, and slowly starts to smile. It's incredulous and hopeful and anticipating. Emma really hates how it is crushed when she stops leaning in to mutter 'wait'

"Right. You are in love, and I am – " Regina laughs bitterly, and Emma holds up her phone with a grin.

"Nope, that's not it" she quickly types something, and turns it around to show Regina. At the top, it just says Hook, with his number beneath it. The thing she typed was I am breaking up with you( on the grounds of you treating me like crap, and me being in love with someone else more) We kind of destroy each other. You still have your boat, so maybe that's your happy ending? You were right about that one thing btw, thanks ; ) " You are not going to be the other woman again. So, now that I am officially a free woman- oh wait" she grabs the ring and starts to tug it off, except then Regina takes over, and has to burn it because of course.

And before Emma can even finish her eye-roll, there are hands grabbing the neckline of her shirt and pulling her into a kiss that only lasts two seconds because there's blinding light and-

"True love- but there are no curses to break, so why- " this time it is Emma who pulls Regina in a kiss, only pulling back briefly to mutter " Maybe think about magical theory later?".

"Right" Regina agrees with a smirk, leaning in to nip Emma's lips. Emma is kind of proud at herself for not immediately turning this up a notch, as there are two kids upstairs. Instead, she gives as good as got, kissing Regina back hard which turns into a competition because of course until it gentles. Emma sighs into the kiss , and Regina makes this noise she can't even describe but she already knows she wants to hear again, and again, and again-

She wants to suggest they give Henry enough money to spend a couple of hours at Granny's with Robyn when there's an audible click and they both slowly pull away. Emma wipes at her mouth awkwardly, like that means there won't be any evidence. Regina, on the other hand, looks ready to magically start another earthquake, throw fireballs and throw every sharp object in the direction of that click.

Zelena holds the phone up, grinning wickedly. "This is going online immediately " She disappears before the earth starts to shake. They don't manage to catch her, but they still find out what she has been up to later that evening.

On the Storybrooke blog, there is a sudden influx of pictures, posted under idiotsinlove. There is one of the time they fell asleep on the couch, one during bath time with Regina in the tub , one with Emma playing the guitar and looking at Regina (whose eyes are closed as she sings) with this expression best described as 'puppy love' , the kiss and even a close-up of the adoption application they were filling in.

Snow's status has suddenly been changed to 'so excited for the new grandchild!' with a bunch of bird emoticons added to it for some reason. There is apparently an online betting pool, with such lovely reactions as 'no I bet as well that they would start boning sooner, so I win'. A picture of them in their sheriff and mayor garb pressed together, that they had no idea even existed, is suddenly added to the truelovecouples list.

They're everywhere on the internet, and Emma finally suggest they just stay inside for a couple of weeks. In the bedroom. Sadly, Regina doesn't listen. They're still fun weeks, filled with family dinners and Swan-Mills selfies and the comments online exploding when Henry posts "another child coming. Excited to be picking up my new sibling. We will leave town tomorrow " with the caption 'Team Magic Moms'

It's truly a fairy tale, except it isn't a happy ending. It's a happy beginning.

#swan queen week #day 1 : sharing another child #I managed to work the 'read more' thing out yesss #fluff #kind of angst? #family

[incomplete-nano-stash]

2019 NaNo: Nightfall in Litigia, Chapter 2

              “Men, halt!” The order rippled through the ranks of the Litigian soldiers, creating an accordion effect as acknowledgment of the order was received back through the men. Most were on foot, but a few rode on two-wheeled war machines, brandishing swords. A few at the back of the battalion tended to larger weapons, on wheels.

              A war machine rider came up to the battalion commander, himself on a larger, three-wheeled war machine. The lesser soldier called up to his superior officer. “All men halted, awaiting orders, Master Hilliard.”

              The commander of the battalion, Master Garen Hilliard, nodded and grunted. “Thank you.” He raised a pair of binoculars to scan the distance. “There’s a force ahead, I see some milling soldiers and maybe a couple of higher-ups at the crest of the next hill. We must be near the border.”

              An adjutant came up to Hilliard’s war machine, map unrolled and consulting intently. “Master, that hilltop runs precisely along the border to Technasia. We cross that, there’s no going back.”

              The other soldier looked ahead in the distance. Hilliard sighed. “That’s what the King wants, that’s what the King gets.” He turned around, looking over his men, getting ready to bellow another order.

              “Wait, Master, someone is approaching.” The adjutant squinted.

              Hilliard raised his binoculars to his face again. Two of the opposing force were approaching, at least one a higher-up. He snorted, lowering the glasses and kicking on his war machine. “Let’s give them someone to meet.” He rolled slowly toward the approaching dignitaries, his adjutant following behind him on foot.

              The contrast was striking, as the Technasians approached the invading force on their horses, while the Litigian commander came to the same place on his war machine. At the center of the field, the two parties came to face each other. The Technasian higher-up looked like a young girl, Hilliard immediately thought to himself. They’re not taking this seriously, if they sent her to lead this defense.

              She raised her arm in a diplomatic gesture. “Litigian general, please identify yourself.”

              Hilliard scoffed. “Why me first?”

              “I want combat no more than you do,” the girl replied, unusually forcefully for someone seemingly so young. “However, we cannot come to any kind of agreement unless we play this diplomatic game by the rules. Please identify yourselves, so that we may talk.”

              “Very well.” Hilliard dismounted his war machine. “I am Master Galen Hilliard, battalion commander of the 48th phalanx of the Grand Army of Litigia.”

              The girl nodded. “A pleasure.” She extended her hand again to him. “I am Princess Hanna Umbriel, fourth in line to the throne of Technasia, 37th Princess of Life.”

              Hilliard almost reached his hand out to the diminutive princess, then thought the better of it. “And why should I negotiate with you? You are no soldier or general, just a little girl.”

              “I assure you, Master Hilliard, I should not be trifled with. Look around you.” Princess Hanna spread her hands to her sides, gesturing to the field. “This is a living field, sir. I am Princess of Life for a reason, and I pray you do not find out what that reason is.”

              “We’ll see,” Hilliard scoffed. He turned to his adjutant, who was wheezing as he approached. The man’s eyes were bloodshot, and he struggled to breathe. Hilliard was immediately concerned. “What did you do to him?”               “Me? Nothing.” Princess Hanna strapped a dust mask on her face. “The field, on the other hand? Loaded with spores of various poisonous plants. Your forces chose to march right through one of my experimental fields.” She approached the commander mildly threateningly. “You sure you’re feeling all right?”

              Hilliard now realized that he could feel his throat getting scratchy and closing up slightly. He pulled at the collar of his armored uniform.

              “Thought so.” Princess Hanna leaned forward, nearly placing her chin on the commander’s shoulder. “I’d strongly recommend you turn your forces around, lest hundreds of Litigia’s best be sent home in boxes without ever firing a shot.”

              Suddenly Hilliard was struggling to breathe. He switched on his war machine again, quickly accelerating it and turning around. The adjutant lay face down where he had arrived at his commander’s side, breathing shallowly.

              Princess Hanna motioned to her own adjutant, a new one she had just requested from the Queen. “Ginny, take him behind the lines and give him some antihistamines. We’ll find out what we need from him.”

              “Very good, Your Highness.” Ginny turned and whistled, motioning for other soldiers to come to her aid, as Hanna pulled the dust mask off of her face. A silly smile grew across her face, which gave concern to Ginny. “Are you sure you want to do that, Your Highness? What about the poison spores?”

              Now Hanna couldn’t help but giggle. “Are you kidding? This is a ragweed field. It’s just lucky that this guy seems to be deathly allergic to it. No, I don’t keep poisonous plants out in their own field, do I look like that kind of idiot to you?” The bemusement of the question and Hanna’s laughing voice put Ginny at further ease, even as she was lifting one shoulder of the unconscious Litigian to help carry him behind the lines.

              “All women, lights out! Curfew in effect!” The booming, high pitched male voice echoed through the courtyard of the Moethran holding, as those women unfortunate enough to be caught outside rushed for the women’s quarters. Panicked giggling accompanied the rush of humanity trying to get in the door. Other laughter, deeper and more sinister, started approaching the swarm of servants as the guards created a threatening line, nighttime being the only time they were allowed to indulge their lusts. The last woman was finally able to make it into the shabby quarters, slamming the door behind her before she could be groped.

              The shack was poorly maintained, with crumbling walls and weak furniture, and the small size of the living area made it much clearer, at least to Tuck, that women were not regarded much higher than livestock in Litigia. She worked her way through the crowd, seventy women packed into a space designed for maybe fifteen, and to the table where Lucinda and Firnian were waiting.

              “When does curfew lift?” Tuck whispered, wary that anyone might be listening, as the other women seemed to be silent so as not to fill the shack with inappropriate giggling.

              “An hour before sunrise,” Firnian whispered back. “Until then, the women stay inside unless they want to be served a hot and fresh gang rape sandwich.”

              Lucinda placed her hand on her forehead. “My Lord, must you always be so explicit?”

              “Why shouldn’t I be?” Firnian responded in an angry stage whisper. “If the men can be frank, then goddamn it so can I.”

              Tuck sighed, reaching up with her only hand and clicking on a small light strapped to her forehead. The small personal torch illuminated the current project before her, the most recent version of her own prosthetic arm, which had needed repairs after the close call in the Darklands. She worked a metal pick into the small tolerance in a spring mount.

              “I’m still not sure what you intend to do,” Lucinda whispered, worriedly. “The soldiers are under orders to keep us here, to work the holding until Lord Vengor arrives.”

              Firnian harrumphed quietly. “We know ways that avoid the soldiers, right? Are the supply tunnels still available?”

              A light click made both women jump, as Tuck jammed another tool into the mechanical guts of the arm, focused intently on her work. A spattering of giggles could be heard around the room in reaction, as fearful women watched the door, waiting for a soldier to open it and commence with an attack.

              It felt like a small eternity, but finally Lucinda responded. “One of them caved in, but the others should be all right to traverse. There is, however, the issue of some of the soldiers having found some of our other secrets.”

              “My lab?” Firnian queried.

              “Still secure, milord. But they found your storehouse of spare giggler parts and confiscated them, so we cannot build any more switched gigglers for now.”

              “My safe?”

              “Still under your bed. No one has breached it.”

              “Then what other secrets?” Firnian’s face showed her annoyance over the conversation.

              “The women’s infirmary, the library, and the apothecary supplies.”

              The list of secret items among Firnian’s holdings caught Tuck’s attention away from her arm. She looked up quickly at Lucinda. “Why is a library so secret?” she whispered.

              Firnian looked sadly over at Tuck. “You poor sheltered thing.” The rightful lord sighed deeply. “I have … had … a collection of books written prior to the Worldwide Schism, many of them by women, all of them challenging a male-led society. Books like that are banned in Litigia, and you can probably imagine why.”

              Tuck smirked sarcastically. “I think I get it.”

              “Yeah,” Firnian continued, “so my father had the collection, which he said belonged to his mother, and on down the line all the way back to our family’s origins. They are immemorially old and significant historically, so we kept them from the authorities.” She sniffled slightly. “Fearless leader has probably burned them to shit by now.”

              Firnian laid her head down on her folded arms, her shoulders bouncing with heaving sobs. Tuck reinstalled her arm quickly, then came over to her friend’s side, gently laying a hand on the woman’s shoulders.

              “Why does this have to be so goddamn hard? What have we done to deserve any of this?” Firnian’s bitter mutterings, muffled through her arms, sounded even more plaintive in a whisper.

              “I’m sorry,” Tuck supportively whispered. “This isn’t a deserved life for any of you.” She looked around at the room, at the sad faces of every female servant of the holding, every malnourished and heartbroken woman, unable to even voice their pain without the words coming out as meaningless giggling. Hot tears formed in Tuck’s eyes, as her teeth ground in anger. She turned toward Lucinda.

              “Tomorrow is the beginning of the end of this.” She clutched Firnian’s shoulders slightly tighter. “You’re getting your holding back. And all of you are getting your freedom.” She pulled her tools out of her hip pouch, turning toward the other women. “We start fighting back now, starting with those godforsaken gigglers.”

                The border always seemed slow. Other than a slight bit of excitement two weeks prior, the guards did not recall any sort of major activity taking place on their watch, simply looking out toward the foreboding territory of the Darklands, then back longingly toward the comforting embrace of Technasia.

              The lookout, high on her post, kept a sightglass plastered to her eye, scanning the horizon. From below her, she heard a call. “Sentry five, report!”

              She set the glass down to look down at her questioner, one of only four other guards who worked at this particular border. As it happened, this guard was also her husband. “All clear! Nothing in sight.”

              The other guard nodded. “What do you want for dinner when your shift’s up?” he called up to her.

              She giggled. There was a lot of care taken for her, it almost seemed cute how much he worried about her standing up on the high outpost, her eye plastered on the distance. “You know, I don’t really know. Surprise me!” She giggled lightly.

              The other guard, knowing his wife well, nodded in agreement. “Cheese and wine it is!”

              The sentry chuckled and put the sightglass back up to her eye. This time, though, she spotted something. A large mass approaching, far off on the horizon. She waved toward her husband.

              “What is it?” he called up.

              “Got something in sight, a large group approaching from the Darklands.” She narrowed the eye looking through the sightglass. “Not sure about the count, but it’s at least fifty approaching on foot.”

              The lower guard acknowledged, running toward the shift captain to inform him of the coming group. The captain in turn summoned the other two guards to their vantage points, and over the next hour they watched as the large mass of people approached the border, not pausing, but not rushing either.

              Sentry five, at this point, had climbed down from her crow’s nest and joined her husband and the other three border guards, awaiting the group. When they were close enough to see without assistance, all five of the guards backed away slightly, fearing their approach, as all of them showed signs of bodily decay thanks to the dreaded Decade Plague.

              Two of the plague-ridden people, a man and a small girl, came forward ahead of the others and approached the guards. “Hello there!”

              The guard captain stepped forward. “Good afternoon. What can we do for you?”

              The man smiled. “It’s very nice to see you. We would like entry into Technasia, please.”

              The border guards looked at each other, slightly bemused. “You’re awfully polite about this.”

              The plague man shrugged. “Well, it helps in cases like this. Anyway, we were informed that we would be granted asylum within Technasia’s borders.”

              The guard captain cleared his throat. “Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it? See, we’re under direct orders from the palace to not let anyone in who has the plague. And seeing as how you all …”

              “We don’t have it any more,” the little girl piped up. “We’re cured.”

              Sentry five crouched down to the girl’s level. “Little one, the Decade Plague has no cure.”

              “It’s true! We’re patients of Princess Giana and Princess Hanna. They cured us.” The little girl fished in her pockets, pulling out a piece of paper. “Here, you should see this.”

              Sentry five recoiled slightly from the offering, reaching into a pocket to pull out gloves. Once a glove was on her hand, she collected the paper, unfolding it carefully to read its contents.

      Be it known:

      The persons accompanying this letterbearer have officially been granted              royal permission to enter into the borders of the Nation of Technasia, in the           interest of human mercy. They are to be treated as asylum seekers, and as         such as welcome guests.

By my hand,                                                                   By my hand,

Princess Ramia Tensay                                                Princess Imogen Inperia

Princess of Law                                                             Princess of Technology

              Letters held by refugees signed by one princess were rare enough, but a letter signed by two princesses? Truly this was a complete fluke. Sentry five held the note up in her gloved hands so that the guard captain could read it.

              “Hmm …” he stroked his chin and muttered as he read the letter. “Both princesses?”

              “We watched them both sign it ourselves,” the man confirmed. “My daughter volunteered to carry it for us.”

              “It’s legitimate,” a voice chimed in from behind the guards. All attention was turned to the owner of the voice, a well-dressed man who approached with an air of royal authority. “I was with the Princesses as they wrote that declaration for you. I assure you that it’s safe to handle, milady.” He took the paper from sentry five, hands ungloved.

              “Who …?”

              “I apologize.” He bowed deeply. “I am Thaylen, Prince-in-exile of Litigia, and guest of Princess Imogen.”

              The girl giggled. “Thaylen!” She recognized him as a relative of her father’s late friend Undric, and rushed to hug the prince. Thaylen warmly returned the gesture.

              All of the guards looked amongst each other confusedly. “So, what, are we supposed to take your word for this?”

              “Yes, as a matter of fact.” He held the letter back up for the guard captain to take. “If you’ll notice, not only have both princesses signed it, it bears the correct watermarks and sigils for the Princess Corps.”

              The girl kept hugging Thaylen tightly. The guard captain looked over the page one last time, then sighed. “Well … it is an asylum request.” He motioned toward the other four guards. “Open the gates wide, let them in.”

              The little girl grinned wider and hugged Thaylen tighter. As the gate slowly swung open, more enthusiastic sounds arose from the throats of all of the Darklanders, as they made their way inside the safety of the border.

#nanowrimo #incomplete nano 2019 #nightfall in litigia #chapter 2

[athertonjc]

If snake killing is wrong, then my dog Opal doesn’t want to do right by Carol Reese

Opal in her glory days

When I lived near the Luray TN bottoms, the dogs and I often walked the field road to the back of a farm tract known locally as “the island”. This was several hundred acres surrounded by water – swamp, stream and man-made ditches and canals. More accurately, I walked, and the dogs trotted, tumbled, trailed or ran. From a bird’s eye view, I imagine a wildly moving circle of four legged beasts with one slow moving two-legged beast toward the rear.

My squatty brown dog Opal was a snake killer. She so enjoyed it, that if I yelled “SNAKE!” to warn any unsuspecting dogs, she leapt into action, surging forward and scanning eagerly for action. I learned instead to shout “RABBIT”! and point the safest direction.

One day I experimented with shouting “SNAKE!” as she napped on the porch. She peeled up from deep sleep at full roar, thrilled at the prospect of doing combat with her hated foe. Opal had a face that looked like a caricature of a benevolent snapping turtle, and she made me laugh every day.

The field road to the tract known as “the island”, a place where these rescued dogs could run freely.

  I did not like her lust for snake killing, though I grudgingly admired her ability and dedication to the task. I hold the snake clan in high esteem. Imagine getting around in the world without legs or arms, as well as being mostly despised and feared. They deserve admiration.

I find many friends that agree with me on non-venomous snakes, but feel they can make a case for killing the venomous. I honor even the venomous snakes, and feel gratitude for the many times they have chosen to spare me in my barefooted or sandal-footed wanderings. Water moccasins in particular have had plenty of opportunities to bite me and did not.

Opal could have cared less what kind of snake it might be. Venomous snakes had bitten her several times on her legs or face as she charged in, snatching the snake in a violent blur of shaking that was over in seconds. It was terrible and terrifying, especially at the end of the thrashing, when she flung the snake aside with no clue as to direction. Flying venomous snakes with fangs still extended are bad news, dead or not.

When Opal was bitten, her limb, or face, or neck swelled to frightening proportions. My veterinarian had become so accustomed to her habits, that he equipped me with antihistamine, anti-inflammatory and antibiotic medicines so I could give them to her immediately. Usually within forty-eight hours, the swelling was gone.

Whippoorwill Hill is an upland setting, and home to copperheads before it was home to us.

  Opal’s excitement was contagious, and some of the other dogs thought they’d like to have a go at snake killing. Jolene, the big coonhound, could handle it, but her shaking style was slower, more of a head slinging, causing the snake to whip her on one side and then the other. It might have been funny, except it wasn’t.

I did my best to prevent anyone from grabbing the snake, racing into the confrontation screaming in an attempt to protect snake from dogs and dogs from snake. I imagine you could hear me from outer space, giving my all to convince the dogs that any disobedience at that moment might end in blood and guts.

My instinctive fury was inexcusably unfair to Opal on this particular walk. I was in shorts and sandals, looking at clouds, when Opal knocked me aside, lunging against the side of my knee, her big head just at the point where my foot should have descended. No doubt I would have stepped directly on the water moccasin she now shook ferociously just in front of my legs. Adrenalin made my screamed “NO’S” sound so full of rage, that once she’d flung the snake into the soybeans, she hung her head and crouched in submission, afraid she was to be punished.

She probably did save me from a painful bite this time. In relief, I fell to my knees and hugged her blocky body, apologizing and kissing her broad scarred head. She butted it against me, shoved close and wagged her ugly rear end, full of doggy clemency. Sweet, brave, good dog Opal.

Opal has since “crossed the bridge” or she might have saved me from the snake that was not aware of my pact with the clan of snakes. The painful encounter took place my first spring on Whippoorwill Hill, and cost me. It was not just the insurance deductibles, or the three days in the hospital watching my leg swell into something unrecognizable. It took my naivete. I have trekked woods and fields and creeks and swamps all my life with no thought of peril. Now I find myself looking before I put my hands or my feet into places a snake might be concealed. I refuse to call it fear, but it has replaced my heedlessness. I miss being oblivious.

Where I once tread fearlessly, I now cautiously probe.

Fear was not really the emotion present even when I looked down to see that the sting was not a wasp as I first thought. It was beautiful copperhead, gracefully poised to give me another pop of venom if I needed more encouragement to step aside. Some people exclaim they would have died from on the spot from sheer terror, but in that millisecond I had three sensations, and none were related to fear.

I was incredulous. I’d been bitten, and it was definitely a copperhead! I was immediately resigned to the truth of it. I’d been bitten by a copperhead and it could not be undone. Thirdly, I was curious, because now I would know what it was like to be bitten by a venomous snake. It did turn out to be a rougher experience than I expected overall, but obviously, I didn’t die, and it had unexpected rewards. I suddenly became the cool great aunt to my several great nieces and nephews.

…and no, I did not kill the copperhead that bit me, nor did I even consider it. That handsome snake deserved to be there as much or more than I. If there was one good thing about Opal not being with me on that walk, it is that I can imagine the fiesty snake still slips through the woods on Whippoorwill Hill, and you know what ? I hope it is oblivious to any fear.

If snake killing is wrong, then my dog Opal doesn’t want to do right originally appeared on Garden Rant on June 7, 2018.

from Garden Rant http://gardenrant.com/2018/06/if-snake-killing-is-wrong-then-opal-doesnt-want-to-do-right.html

#Garden Rant

[vandalsandvagrants]

"He won't even look at me anymore," Suzy sobbed into the phone.

"Oh, stop it. You just delivered and you're hormonal. He's probably afraid you'll bite his head off."

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh, hell. Look, I'm at work. Freddy hasn't exactly been the man of steel of late, and I know where you're coming from. When I delivered Fred Jr., I put my teenage daughter to shame. And you know what a cock hound Rachel is."

"I'm dying, Brenda. I'm in such need of a good....fucking."

"Christ, Suze, what do you want me to do? Lez out on you or something?"

"No, I just wanted some sympathy, damn it!"

"Look, we got ten admissions going on, Doc Ritigliano is cursing me in Italian, the nurse just ran out in tears. The trash hasn't been emptied in a week. I can't spare you any sympathy right now. It's not that I don't care, but I'm not in a position where I can play girlfriend right now."

"All right."

"Oh, fuck, don't even give me that wounded puppy voice. I know Freddy and Steve are off to Lake Pickwick for a weekend fishing trip. I get off at ten, if I'm lucky. What say I grab a bag and I'll spend the weekend with you and the baby?"

"Mom has little Jimmy."

"Even better, I'll bring a fifth with me."

"I can't drink."

"Of course you can. You aren't pregnant any more."

"But I'm still breast feeding."

"So what? You got a pump. It'll all be out of your system before the rugrat is back."

"Brenda!"

"Oh, fuck. Look, I gotta go. See you around eleven."

Brenda Miles hung up and let out a big sigh. Being the admissions nurse at Baptist was bad enough, but on a Friday night, with a gang war going on and the janitorial staff on strike, it was sheer hell. She just didn't have time to stroke Suzy's ego tonight. Not that she felt bad about blowing her off, Suzy could be a real pain in the ass when she was in JAP mode. Which was all too often since she got pregnant.

Actually, Suzy was a high maintenance pain in the ass most of the time. She could also be the most kind, considerate and generous of friends. The problem was, she was strung tighter than a wasp waist corset. Brenda kept up the hope that she would eventually let her hair down and learn to enjoy life. It was a fading hope, as Suzy had become insufferable after the kid was born, obsessing over her weight, the kid, the house and Steve's seeming disinterest. Brenda hated to admit it, but she had been avoiding her friend. Suzy was just more emotionally draining than Brenda could handle at the moment.

She knew from Freddy that Steve was having his own problems with his wife. Brenda had coaxed Freddy into taking Steve out and giving him a talking to. The boy was getting desperate, and she couldn't deal with Suzy going through a divorce. But if the girl didn't lighten up, she was gonna drive Steve to it.

Brenda laughed out loud, causing several people to stare.

Good old Freddy. King of the horn dogs. His solution had been they try wife swapping. She wasn't that into Steve, but she had to admit, if anything would loosen Suze up, Freddy's cock would do it. Not only was he fantastically hung, but he knew how to use it, and imagining little Suzy with Freddy's black dick slamming her pussy was about the funniest thing she had thought of in a long time.

Actually, it wasn't just funny, it was kind of hot. Suze was a dish, even if she didn't know it. Back in their early swinging days, Brenda had been pretty naïve. Once she got started though, she had gone a little cunt crazy. She told herself it was just a passing thing, she hadn't been with another woman in a couple of years. The couples they regularly partnered with were pretty much straight. And none of the wives really did much for her anyway, but Suze? She had to admit, she could get into that.

Of course, it was all the more funny because Suze would never go for it. Steve would, Brenda had seen him surreptitiously checking out her tits and ass when they had pool parties. But Suze? Not with all the rum in Jamaica in her.

Brenda paused in the middle of her admission paper work and frowned. No, you couldn't get Suze liquored up enough. But what about drugged up? She pushed the thought from her mind and went back to her paper work, but it kept coming back. On her break, Brenda slipped into the pharmacy and perused the shelves.

Most of the tranquilizers were just too strong. And she wasn't real knowledgeable about the psychoactives. Several painkillers might work, but they might also make her sick. Brenda had only entered on a lark and was about to leave, chalking the whole crazy thought up to the bad idea column, when she saw the bottle of Cainockflorin. It was a new drug, and only Doc Ritigliano used it. He was still heavily loyal to the old country and the fact that an Italian firm had developed it made it good enough in his estimation.

He only gave it to the real whackos, but it really seemed to work on them. She had seen him calm a Schizoid-affective down from homicidal rage to sleepy and fuzzy with a single shot of the stuff. Curious, she grabbed the work up on it and took it back to the break room.

She read through all the cautions first and was surprised to find there were very few. She noted pregnant or nursing women wasn't among the proscribed patients list. The side effects were interesting as well.

Common side effects include: Drowsiness, dizziness, weakness, impaired judgment, impaired vision, confusion/disorientation, short term memory loss and impaired concentration.

Rare Side effects: Enhanced Tactile sensation (particularly in the extremities), Muscle soreness, breathing difficulty, Somnambulism, Hallucinations, Incontinence

In clinical trials one patient in 100,000 experienced an allergic reaction, which resulted in coma. Of these reactions .001 percent resulted in death. This side effect must be treated immediately with epinephrine delivered intravenously as well as antihistamines and oxygen.

Cainockflorin should not be administered to patients with Asthma or other breathing difficulty, taking Corticoid-steroids or opiate painkillers as either could result in breathing arrest.

Pretty powerful stuff. Brenda immediately discounted the coma and death warning. She had come to realize that was more legalese then medicalese. All the big pharmaceutical outfits were covering their asses now with such disclaimers. Even her birth control pills had such a warning, but when she asked, Dr. Palmer told her no one had ever died from them that he knew of. Suzy didn't have any breathing problems she was aware of, but it wasn't like Brenda knew her full medical history.

Brenda decided it was just a nutty idea and on her way back to the nurse's station, she stopped into the Pharmacy to return the paperwork to its cubby. She had intended to just leave, but she found herself alone and eyeing the two bottles of Cainockflorin. It only came in two oral doses, a .25 mg maintenance dose and a .5 mg intervention dosage. Anything more had to be given intravenously under a physician's supervision. The Doc eschewed the .5 mg dose, preferring to give the .25 incrementally until his patients calmed. Thus the .25 bottle was three quarters empty, but the .5 mg bottle was almost full.

Brenda found herself doing some quick arithmetic. Five hundred tablets, of which, maybe twenty were gone. That was over the roughly six months it had been available. Last inventory had been in April, so...roughly five more months till the admins got their panties in a wad or the state came in, necessitating a new inventory. Her hand was on the bottle and she was spilling two tabs out before she even really realized it. Stashing them in her coat pocket, she returned to the admissions desk and spent the rest of her shift debating the consequences of her crazy plan. ***

"Hey babe, miss you," Freddy's voice came over the line.

Brenda had just gotten in and was still half dressed when the phone rang. "Yeah, like I'm buying that. A weekend of fishing, lying and getting drunk is your idea of paradise," she replied, but there was no venom in her voice.

"Damn, woman, I can't even try to be nice to you, can I?" he chuckled.

"Sure you can, if Viagra is on sale."

"Ouch. Low blow there."

"You know I'm full of shit, babe."

"Yeah, but the dick jokes gotta stop. A man has his pride."

"So how's it going?" Brenda asked, as she tossed her eighteen-hour bra into the hamper.

"I....Look, I know she's your friend and all, but Stevie's mine. She's killing him, babe. She can't even loosen up a little bit. Even when he can get it, the sex is missionary only and she acts like it's a chore. It's just destroying his self-esteem. He loves her, but he's at the end of his rope."

"Damn."

"I even approached him about some swappin', but while he was hot as hell to get into your pants, he said there was no way she'd try it. I don't think this marriage is going to make it, babe. I'm sorry for that, she's a sweet girl sometimes, but I can't try to convince him to stay. Not after all he told me on the trip up."

Freddy..." she said, her tone turning icy.

"Awww, shit, don't do that, babe. I'm not gonna egg him on to leave her, but I just can't lean on him to stay. I know I'd be outta there in a heartbeat."

"If she loosened up some, do you think they would make it?" she said after a deep sigh.

"Sure. He's still in love with her, and he's about the proudest papa I ever did see. If she dropped the Princess crap and was even close to normal, he'd gut it out."

"All right, you tell Steve to hang in."

"I've heard that voice before. You about to read her the riot act?"

"No. I'm going to cut some corset strings and see what busts loose."

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"Nothing. I love you to death, babe, but I've heard that tone before. I know I wouldn't want any part of it. I'll keep Steve-o from bolting, but you have to tell me if nothing happens. I ain't sending the poor boy home to any more of what he's been gettin'."

**

Brenda pulled into the potholed parking lot and killed the engine. She checked her purse for the .32 she habitually carried, and took a deep breath. Getting out, she approached the garishly lit entrance and passed through the dilapidated door. Just inside, a kid with more tattoos and body piercings than a sideshow freak looked up from the book he was reading. She glanced at the title and laughed, Plato's the Republic. College kid, she decided.

"ID?" he inquired in a bored voice.

Brenda showed it to him and passed through the dark curtains and into the interior. She hadn't been to an adult store in ages, but they were all the same. She had picked this one, despite the bad neighborhood, because she knew one of the clerks. She just hoped Dana was on. She spotted her friend, helping a fat man in conservative business attire select a butt plug. Dana looked up, smiled and winked and went back to her customer. Once she had made the sale she came over and gave Brenda a hug.

"Fancy seeing you here, Freddy not living up to his rep?" the tall girl said as she hugged Brenda.

"He's still the man of the house," Brenda said with a laugh.

"So what brings you to Homo central?"

"I need some help."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I got a girlfriend who needs to get her ass laid, but good."

"You planning on doing the laying?"

"Yeah."

"Bren, I don't mean to be bitchy, but you aren't a top."

"Tonight I'm gonna be."

"Cool, what do you need?"

"Damned if I know, that's why I came to the expert."

"Well, tell me a bit about this girlfriend, then."

"She's a good girl, Dee. But she's about to loose her husband and a lot more. She's got some hang-up that keeps her from enjoying sex, and I think that's what has her so fucked up. She's a ball of stress and she won't relax or loosen up even a tiny bit. She's been playing princess for the past year or so, and it's just worn thin on everyone. I think she even knows it, but she seems incapable of stopping herself."

"So how you planning on bedding her? Think she might be a closet dyke?"

"No."

"Look, Bren, ain't none of my business, but if she's that fucked in the head, how you planning on getting her into the sack? I've bedded a few happily married women, but it's a damned frustrating deal getting them to lose the panties."

"She's going to lose them whether she likes it or not."

"Ooooo-Kay. I take it you aren't taking no for an answer."

"Damned skippy, I'm not."

"All right, well, let's see about some restraints then. You got a stick?"

"No."

"Well, we got some good harnesses," Dana said, leading Brenda over to one wall.

The tall butch selected a box and handed it to Brenda, who examined it curiously.

"How do you use it?"

"Self explanatory, no more difficult than putting on a pair of pants. It'll handle most any cock you choose."

As she spoke, Dana indicated a huge and bewildering array of dildos on the racks along the wall.

"Jesus H. Christ," Brenda whispered.

"Don't let the selection intimidate you. A dick's a dick's a dick. Choosing one is all about knowing what you want to do with it. Once you're clear on that, it practically picks itself," Dana said with an encouraging squeeze of Brenda's shoulder.

"I see."

"Just tell me what you want babe, I'm here to help."

Brenda thought about it for a few moments.

"I've gotta rock her world, Dee. She's gotta cum like she's never cum before, and she's gotta end up liking it."

"Petite girl? Big Girl? What?"

"Petite. Really petite."

"Experienced?"

"No. Not really."

Dana went to the rack and grabbed a monster dildo. Even Brenda, who was used to Freddy's horse dick balked.

"Most have funny names, puns and the like, or are modeled on porn stars. But this one, they just call it the Bitch Tamer. If you're dead set on fucking up her world view, this is the one you want."

"I don't think she can take that," Brenda said, hefting the thick and heavy dildo.

"Bullshit, Bren. Get her hot enough and she'll be begging for it. Unless you plan on some ass fucking, that's my recommendation."

"Hadn't thought about any ass fucking, but it might be just what she needs," Brenda said, still awed by the huge dildo.

Dana laughed and moved down the row, she came back with a long, thin and strangely shaped cock in clear latex. While she was away, Brenda considered the big dildo. It just looked too ridiculously large, but she decided she would trust Dana's judgment. She would only have one shot at this and it would be a shame to fail because she wasn't hung well enough.

"This will do for her backdoor. It was designed by a flaming queen of a doctor. It's scientifically contoured to give the most pleasure without doing any damage, so you can tear her up and not have to be worried about it." "All right. Dee?"

"Yeah?"

Brenda held up the Bitch Tamer and smiled.

"Does it come in black?"

***

Despite her detour, Brenda made it to Suzy's place with fifteen minutes to spare. She shouldered her overnight bag, but left the special bag on the car seat. She still wasn't sure she was going to go through with it, but she was prepared to take drastic action if discussion failed.

She knocked on the door and Suzy answered.

"Hey, Babe," Brenda said, barging in and giving her a peck on the cheek.

"Hey," her friend replied.

Brenda deposited her overnight bag on the sofa and hurried upstairs. She locked herself in the couple's bathroom and quickly scanned the medicine cabinet. When she had satisfied herself neither was using a rescue inhaler or taking anything more dangerous than aspirin, she relieved herself and went back downstairs. She smiled at Suzy and moved to the bar.

"So what's the plan?" Brenda asked as she fixed herself a rum and coke.

"I don't know. I can't get my mother on the phone to make sure the baby is all right and Steve hasn't called. I swear, I'm starting to think he's having an affair."

"Men are like that. If they aren't getting it at home, they go bird doggin'," Brenda said carefully.

It seemed like a good lead in. She was going to try to reason with Suzy first, but if that failed, she was now pretty much prepared to try the second option.

"That's not very nice."

"Oh, hell, Suzy. You gotta keep your man happy. I'm not going to lie to you."

"I've tried."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," she said defensively.

"So what have you tried?"

"The usual things."

"Get some sexy lingerie?"

"No, of course not."

"Meet him at the door naked and on your knees?"

"Brenda! There's no need to be so crude."

"Men like crude sometimes. You should try it."

"I'm not a whore!"

"I meet Freddy naked at the door, with a beer and a blow job at least once a month. You sayin' I'm a whore?" Brenda replied, her voice icy.

"No. You know I'm not. Let's change the subject, 'kay?"

"No, not yet. Just what have you tried, Suze?"

"Just regular stuff. You know, letting him know I would let him if he wanted to."

"Did you ever tell him you wanted to?"

"No, I'm not like that," she said blushing.

"Girl, a man's got a fragile ego. He has to feel wanted."

"I want him. I really do."

"But have you ever told him that?"

"No."

"Suze, you gotta loosen up. Nobody wants to be married to his mother in law."

"Bren, you're really pissing me off. Let's just drop it, okay? You just don't understand."

Oh, I understand perfectly, she thought. The only question is, can I make you see the light?

"All right, girlfriend, we'll drop it. I brought some flicks, you wanna make some popcorn?"

"Sure," she said, smiling.

That was the thing about Suze, Brenda mused. The redeeming quality that made putting up with her bullshit worth it. She had been hurt and upset, but she instantly forgave Brenda. She didn't have a vengeful bone in her body and didn't carry grudges. Beneath the puritanical attitude, she was genuinely sweet and loving. But that wouldn't be enough to save her marriage, and Brenda knew it.

"What can I get you?" Brenda asked, as casually as she could.

"Vodka Martini."

"That shit will rot your guts. How bout something less toxic?"

Brenda really didn't have anything against martinis, but she wanted something with some color to it.

"I dunno, have something you think would do me good?"

Oh yeah, that I do, she thought.

"How bout a Harvey Wallbanger? I see Steve picked up some Galliano."

"Never had one of those, sure," she replied.

"What kind of flick you feel like?" Brenda called.

She kept her eyes on the entrance to the kitchen as she mashed up the Cainockflorin into a powder and mixed it with the sugar she was adding to Suze's drink. She had it done and was carrying both drinks to the table when Suze came in with a bowl of popcorn. Brenda popped in a girly flick and sat back, sipping on her rum and coke. She watched from the corner of her eye as Suzy sipped the drink.

"Wow!" she exclaimed.

"Like it?'

"Yeah, it's sweet and kinda...I dunno..."

"Don't try to explain," Brenda laughed, "There are no words for how Galliano tastes. You either like it or hate it."

"I like it," Suzy said, taking a much larger sip.

Brenda paid no attention to the movie, but watched Suzy closely. At first there seemed to be no effect, but after a while she started to sway and her eyes dilated.

"Suzy?" Brenda asked.

When she didn't respond, Brenda put down her drink and moved next to her friend. She waved her hand in front of Suzy's face and snapped her fingers.

"Suzy!" she shouted.

"Huh? Ummmm... I'm feeling woozy...Feel..." her words trailed off into an incoherent mumbling.

"Feel like some serious fucking?" Brenda asked.

"Mmm...fucking..."

Well, the first part of her plan seemed to be working. Brenda knew she would have to hurry though. She had only used .5 mg and while the effects were stunning, she knew the intervention dosage was meant to be applied to someone who had already had a serious IV dose in their system. Left to her own devices, Suzy would fall asleep and wake with nothing worse than a drug hangover, and maybe some sore muscles. Brenda had no intention of leaving her to her own devices, however. Brenda hurried out to her car and got her gym bag. By the time she returned, Suzy was slumped over on the sofa and curled up. Brenda opened the bag and pulled out the restraints. She glanced around the room, her eyes finally settling on the coffee table. It was a stout piece of furniture, fashioned to resemble an old style cedar chest. The legs were squat, stout ovals and looked to be sturdy enough to handle the most violent struggles.

The restraints Dana had suggested were thick leather bands, with a double row of holes running down the length. One end held a heavy, stainless steel clip, the other a buckle. Their best feature, besides being incredibly strong, was their versatility. It took Brenda only a few minutes to attach one to each of the table legs and she left only about an inch of play in each. She looked in her bag, looked at Suzy's limp form and did what she promised herself she would.

She took a step back and really thought about what she was about to do. She wasn't too worried about the consequences if she failed. Suzy would never, under any circumstances, go to the cops. It might ruin their friendship, but Brenda was resigned to that anyway. If she took no action, Suze would move back to Peoria and her parents after Steve divorced her. They already hated Brenda's guts, for being black and their daughter's friend, among other things. So she would loose her friend in any scenario that didn't save her marriage.

If she succeeded, Suze would probably save her marriage. Of course, she might not be Suzy anymore. Realizing sex was fun did strange things to people. But that was a chance Brenda was willing to take.

Brenda kicked off her sandals and sat next to her friend. Her hands were shaking just a bit as she undid the pretty buttons on Suzy's blouse. Beneath it she wore a simple, white, full coverage, front closure bra. Brenda shook her head and unclasped it, her eyes sparkled as she got a good look at her friend's tits. They were small, but perfectly formed, and capped with small dusky aureoles and thick, stubby nipples. They were pert, rode high on her chest and the skin was creamy and flawless. Even with her pregnancy they were still barely a handful. Quite a contrast to Brenda's own dark bra busters. "Hmmm? Wha? Hmmm?" Suzy groggily moaned.

"Just relax, baby, just getting you a little more comfy. Nothing wrong with that, is there?" Brenda said in a soothing voice.

"Comprable," Suzy said, and then giggled.

Brenda slipped the bra off her shoulders and unbuttoned her jeans. She was hoping for something sexy, but as she tugged them down she saw Suzy wore simple white cotton granny panties.

"Damn, girl, why do you insist on wrapping this hot little body in such ugly underwear?"

Brenda didn't wait for a response, sliding her hands into the waistband and pulling the panties off. Suzy's pussy was very trim, the mount of Venus barely discernable. Golden red pubic curls hid her lips from view. Brenda tossed the panties and used her fingers to part the soft pubes. She felt a bit nervous when she saw that Suzy's lips were very delicate. She had the smallest, most dainty pussy Brenda had ever seen, and she wondered if taking Dana's advice on the bitch tamer had been a mistake after all.

"Nakey?" Suzy giggled drunkenly.

Brenda could see she was coming around. Already she had progressed from semi functional to that stage where everything was funny. She quickly removed the drinks and magazines and used Suzy's ugly panties to wipe down the tabletop. It took some effort to get the petite girl onto the table, she was small, but in her drugged state, her body was almost dead weight. Brenda stuffed a couch cushion under her tummy with some difficulty.

From her bag, Brenda grabbed four cuffs and tossed them on the floor. These were all made of thick black leather and lined with soft white fur. Each was adjustable and held closed by two thin leather straps and buckles. A heavy metal D ring was set into each.

Brenda attached one to each of Suzy's wrists and ankles, and then hooked the D rings into the straps. She stood back a moment to admire her handiwork. She hadn't started out with any thought of particularly enjoying what she was going to do, but the sight of petite little Suzy; naked, helpless, with her perfect little ass up thrust and her pussy exposed sent a thrill through Brenda that was undeniable. She was mildly surprised to realize she was getting damp. Even more, she was surprised to realize she was going to enjoy the hell out of this.

"Maybe I'm still a little cunt crazy," she said to herself.

"Cunt. Cunt, cunt, cunt," Suzy repeated in a little girl voice.

Brenda smiled and headed upstairs. She wanted to give Suze a little more time to come around and she also wanted to satisfy herself of a few things before she committed to this. In the bedroom, she breezed past the big bed and pulled open Suzy's dresser drawers. Beautiful clothes, expensive, carefully folded and neat. Dior, Ann Taylor, Talbot's. And fucking ugly underwear. All cotton, all granny cut. Bras all the same. Just fucking unbelievable, she thought. No nighties, no negligees, no outfits for role play, no stockings or garter belts, just control top hose. As if Suzy had anything that needed controlling. There was barely a hint of fat left from the pregnancy.

It was almost like she intentionally refused to wear anything even mildly provocative. The only exception to the procession of blah white panties was a pair of red cotton bikini briefs. These were laundered, but Brenda could tell they hadn't been worn much, if at all. She suddenly had an image of poor Steve, trying to get his wife something a little sexy and her never wearing them. No wonder the poor guy was ready to call it quits.

She padded through the rest of the house, to find everything immaculate. No dust anywhere, no clutter, a place for everything and everything in its place.

"Donna fucking Reed," Brenda said.

Heading back downstairs, she shed her blouse. The investigation upstairs had sealed the deal. Brenda unbuttoned her jeans and wiggled out of them, taking the black thong with them. She kept her bra on, for the present. From her bag, she grabbed the harness and gingerly shook it out. It looked for all the world like an oversized pair of edible undies. She stepped into the leg loops, and snugged up the Velcro of the waistband, then gave each of the tabs a pull, until she felt the leather cod piece settle over her pussy. She wasn't really sure she even had it on right and she had no idea of how tight it should be. A little experimentation followed, but she found herself sweating it more than she thought she would.

Brenda took out the Bitch Tamer, then eyed it. There was a small hole in the base, which seemed to be meant for the stud at the front of her harness. She lined them up and pressed it firmly to the stud that was seated over her clit and jutting out. With three audible clicks the huge toy seated and when she let it go, it simply drooped under its own weight. She jogged her hips, feeling the exciter on her side of the harness rub against her clitoral hood and watching in fascination as her cock bobbed and bounced. She felt a really weird sense of power and she could see why men were so fascinated with their willies.

"Well, Mrs. Cleaver, it's time for you to meet the neighbors," Brenda said, smiling at her own joke.

From her bag she took a thick tube of high tech lube. It was called Hyperglide, and had been developed by NASA as a waterproof lubricant for high performance equipment. Brenda squeezed a good amount into her hand and began to slick up the toy at her waist. It took two more squeezes of the tube and both hands, but she finally got the whole thing coated. From the bag, she then pulled out the set of kneepads Freddy wore when laying tile. She wasn't as young as she used to be, and she had anticipated the need to ease the pressure on her knees. She buckled them on, picked up the tube of lube and squeezed a good glob of it onto her hand, while kneeling at the foot of the table.

She put the kneepads up against the wood, and then cupped Suzy's pussy and began to work the lube in.

"Huh? What? Brenda?"

"Relax babe, it's just some lube."

"Lube?"

"Yeah, to get you all slick and ready."

"Ready for wha..." her question faded into a soft moan as Brenda found her entrance and introduced two slick fingers. She felt another pang of doubt as Suzy's pussy gripped her fingers. She was so tight Brenda had to muscle her way in, and that worried her. She hoped the Hyperglide would do the trick. At least she was sure Suzy hadn't been lying about one thing, her tight little pussy was gently massaging Brenda's fingers and it was obvious that she was in need of a good fucking.

Brenda eased her fingers out and used both hands to grip the shaft of her cock and hold it on target. This proved to be far more difficult than she had anticipated. While she had a good line of sight, the lack of feedback from the toy left her nervous and she moved with extreme care, lest she hurt Suzy. When it finally seated, she began to lean forward, letting her weight slowly settle in behind the thick toy. Suzy groaned raggedly.

"Stop! It hurts. Please, Brenda."

The dark-skinned woman ignored her and put more weight behind the toy. She was fascinated at the way it was stretching Suzy's pussy.

"Brenda? What are you doin..." her words were cut off by an 'oomph' as the head slipped past her outer ring of muscles and into her quivering pussy.

"Giving what you said you needed. A good hard fucking!" Brenda crowed.

Suzy seemed to become more aware and began to struggle, but the bonds held her fast. Brenda pressed forward slowly, then rocked back slightly, just like Freddy did with her. As she watched, an inch of the thick shaft, then another slowly sank into Suzy's tight channel.

"Stop it! This isn't funny," Suzy panted.

"You're right there, babe, it's hot as hell, but it damn sho ain't funny."

"Brenda, please, this is wrong!" Suzy cried as more of the thick intruder invaded her secret place.

"Shut up. Just shut up and enjoy it. You've been crying for days that you needed it, and now you're gonna get it in spades."

"Not from you!"

"Yes, from me!" Brenda said, thrusting forward to punctuate her words.

"Ohmigod! Please, it hurts," Suzy sobbed.

"Hurts so good, you mean. Don't try to lie to me. I can smell your pussy from here."

Brenda removed first one hand and then the other, eventually grasping Suzy's hips. All but the last inch of the wide base was now inside her whimpering lover, but Brenda wouldn't be satisfied with half measures tonight. She slid her knees out a little, to widen her base and get some purchase and then drove forward with all she had.

Suzy screamed, a piercing, keening cry that split the silence of the room. Brenda's hips bumped up tight against the bound woman's ass. She held still then, letting Suze adjust. Brenda could see the muscles in her butt and back twitching beneath her fine, alabaster skin.

"Take it out. Take it out, Please. Pretty please?"

"Sho thing, baby," Brenda said, withdrawing it by rocking her hips back.

She loved the way Suzy's lips seemed to be hanging on, like they were reluctant to let it escape. When she was about halfway out, Brenda drove it back in.

"No!" Suzy shouted.

She wiggled frantically in her bonds, plunging and rocking the stout table, but Brenda ignored her and continued trying to get the hang of it. Suzy screamed and shouted and threatened, but it made no impression. Brenda was having a ball. She had always assumed fucking was easy. After all, she had never had trouble mastering rhythm and stroke in femme superior, but she found life wasn't so easy from the other side of the dick. She could keep up a fairly even stroke, by alternately hunching her back and straightening up, but it was far too much work and didn't produce any of the variation in stroke she knew was so enjoyable. Not that little Suzy was complaining, she was huffing and puffing, whining and biting back on moans now. Only occasionally mustering a protest.

Over time, Brenda found, to her amusement, that it was all in her hips and legs, despite what "felt" right. She had always thought it felt like a pistoning motion and thus that it was all in your back, but the truth was, she got a smoother flow by rolling her hips. This method gave her a much smoother action, but in no time the muscles in her ass began to burn. Brenda then tried a more jerky motion, using her legs to drive, while keeping her ass out of it.

She drew back for a long stroke and the dong popped out of Suzy's pussy. Brenda was already thrusting back so her hips smacked Suzy's with an audible thwack. Brenda burst out laughing and grasped the toy with both hands. It was still a tight fit, but she had far less trouble getting it in this time.

She laughed in delight as she was able to watch her cock and how the different methods produced different visuals. She was so caught up in it she failed at first to even hear Suzy, but as she was contemplating the exact mechanics of the little rolling flourish Freddy sometimes used, the girl's words penetrated.

"Brenda? Please. Something's wrong. I f.f.f.feel strange."

Brenda didn't need more than a moment to ascertain what the strange feeling was, but it left her troubled. The muscles in Suzy's legs and back were rippling and tensing, the aroma from her pussy had become much stronger and her juices now coated the toy hammering into her. Her labored breathing, and the frequent squeaks all pointed to an orgasm. It was hard for Brenda to comprehend those wonderful warning signs being scary or strange.

"Suzy? Haven't you ever cum real hard?" she asked quizzically.

"N...n...no..."

"Well, get ready girl, cause you're taking a trip on the Nirvana express," Brenda said, grasping the girl's hips more firmly and reverting to the rolling of her hips.

"No, please, this isn't supposed to happen," she whined.

Brenda ignored her, using her legs now and her back, throwing herself forward with each lunge. The big cock made obscene slurping noises as it slammed into Suzy's soaked pussy.

"Cum for me, baby," Brenda urged through clenched teeth.

Sweat poured off her forehead and burned her eyes. It also rolled down her chest, soaking into the silk demi cup bra she had neglected to remove earlier. The muscles in her ass were burning, like they did near the end of an aerobics class, but she kept on pounding into Suzy. Kept on delivering the stimulation, even thought she could see Suzy was fighting it with all she had.

Brenda could have warned her it was useless to fight, but she didn't. She knew the longer Suzy held out, the better it would feel when it came. With that in mind she slowed her stroke, and lengthened it, letting some of the tension in her captive dissipate. And thus it went for well over an hour. Brenda was experimenting, getting comfortable with the motions and the physics. Poor Suzy was struggling just to cope with the relentless pounding her tender pussy was getting.

Brenda decided she had built it up enough. She wanted the first one to rock Suzy's world, but she also knew that the first was never the best and she intended to orgasm her friend until she passed out. Brenda pulled herself tightly to Suzy's butt and began to use short, rapid strokes. Suzy was grunting and groaning, but as time passed, she still hadn't come. It suddenly occurred to Brenda that perhaps, Suzy's problem was a medical one. Maybe she just couldn't orgasm. It would certainly explain her seeming aversion to sex for fun. It would also mean this had been a monumental mistake on her part.

Spurred on by that fear, Brenda threw everything she had into it. The muscles in her stout thighs stood out, as did those in her ass. She could feel the fire, the burning sensation that told her she was pushing past the point where her body was comfortable, but she ignored it. She was really worried now and she began to will Suzy to come. Gritting her teeth against the discomfort as she slammed the thick cock into Suze.

Suzy was making the most incredibly sexy noises now, little whimpers and moans, punctuated by occasional squeaks and barks. Her body was tensed and Brenda found almost as much relief as she did satisfaction when Suze cried out and her body came unglued. She plunged and jerked, thrusting back as best she could to meet Brenda's lunges. She screamed, the sound raw and feral, but softening towards the end into a delicious moan.

Brenda kept driving into her, until Suze lay still. She was babbling now, soft incoherent murmurs. Brenda pulled out, and sat back on her heels, breathing a big sigh of relief. She caught her breath, let her heart rate get back to normal and then carefully stood. Her legs protested, but not badly, and she wandered into the kitchen where she began to rummage around. She found exactly what she wanted in a drawer, a wooden sauce spoon. It was light, but sturdy and stung when she slapped it onto her palm.

She returned to the living room and took up a place behind her bound friend. Suze's ass was still up turned, ripe, pale and vulnerable. Brenda brought the spoon down on it hard. The resultant sound was neither a smack, nor a splat, but a mixture of both. Suze screeched and threw herself forward, actually sliding the table a few inches along the carpeted floor.

"No!"

Brenda ignored her, watching the skin become pink. She smacked the other cheek and Suze reacted violently again. Satisfied that the spoon wasn't doing any real damage, she began to rapidly spank her smaller friend. Brenda applied the spoon to each cheek, alternating and aiming for any spot she hadn't hit yet. Suzy's skin went from pale, to pink to rosy and then to an angry red. Protests, threats and curses gradually gave way to pleading and begging. Brenda ignored it and continued, until she could place her hand near her friend's ass and feel the fierce heat radiating outward.

Suze drooped in her bonds, letting the straps go slack as Brenda put the spoon down. Her victim was panting, and sobbing now, but Brenda was too busy to worry about it. It took a lot of work to get the slippery toy to disconnect from her harness. Her hands kept slipping off and she found there wasn't really anything to hold onto. Eventually, she hit upon getting her fingers under the base, and with some effort, it finally came free.

From her bag, she took the anal toy and attached it with little difficulty. More hyperglide was used as she slicked it up. Brenda scooted behind her reluctant lover and slowly worked some of the lube into the crack between Suzy's scarlet cheeks.

"Ohhhh."

"Feel good, baby?" Brenda said in a soothing voice.

"Yes, it's so cool," Suzy sniffled.

Brenda smiled, applied some more and let her finger settle on Suzy's rear entrance. With infinite care she worked it in, pushing a gob of the hyperglide before it.

"What are you doing?" Suzy cried in alarm.

"Just getting this fine ass ready for some action," Brenda replied.

"Action?...Oh No! Brenda you can't!"

"Watch me," the novice top replied, scooting into position and holding the toy before her.

Brenda was unprepared for what happened next. Suzy went absolutely apeshit. She screamed for help, threw her body violently forward and struggled mightily against her bonds. Brenda actually released the toy and tried to calm Suzy down. She was afraid the girl would hurt herself in her wild bid to escape. The table held, as did the bonds and after a while, Suzy wore herself out. As she lay there, panting Brenda took the opportunity to line her cock up and press it forward. The flared tip penetrated and Suzy went berserk again, bu When Suzy's hysterical strength failed a second time, Brenda was able to get her weight behind the toy. She had both hands on Suzy's trim waist, bearing down with her weight, which kept the girl from wiggling.

Brenda had intended to go very slowly, she knew how painful anal could be if done wrong and she had no intention of hurting her friend, but she hadn't counted on the design of the toy, nor had she factored in Suzy's strong reaction to the muscle relaxant in the drug. The thin toy shot into Suzy's ass in a rush, driving deeply enough that Brenda's hips bumped the girl's ass.

"Ow!" Suzy cried, but it was almost as if she was more surprised than hurt.

"Did that hurt?" Brenda asked.

"Yes."

"You okay?"

"No."

"Suze, unless you want another ass tanning, don't fuck with me. Now are you all right?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

The reply was so soft it was almost inaudible, but Brenda smiled.

"It gets a lot better, girlfriend," Brenda said, as she began to carefully fuck Suzy's gorgeous ass.

The experience was grand, but frustrating. It was a whole new angle, a whole new approach, and it took her much longer to establish a rhythm she liked. Once she did, Brenda really poured it on and Suzy's moans and cries let her know it was a mutually enjoyable cadence. When she got really comfortable, she reached around Suzy's hip and began to tease her clit. The small woman gasped, but moved slightly to give Brenda better access.

"Feels good, don't it?' she whispered.

"Yes," Suzy replied in a sexy, breathless, but somehow sheepish voice.

"You're about to cum again, aren't you?"

"I think so."

"Don't fight it, babe, just let it come."

"Okay," she replied unsurely.

Brenda was unsure if Suzy's sudden acquiescence was a product of the drug's side effects or of her monster orgasm. Whichever was the case, the dark girl decided to take full advantage of it. Her questing fingers found Suzy's little bud and began to really work on it as her hips kept the dildo working in long, even strokes. Suzy moaned, then gasped and with another wild lunge she came. Brenda was a little taken aback, she wondered if all Suzy's orgasms were going to be so violent. Her own experience was that they ebbed and flowed, some strong, some weak, but maybe that didn't apply here.

Or maybe she's just so frustrated that she's built up a lot of need, Brenda thought.

Brenda kept plowing into her lover's ass and continued to manipulate her clit. A second orgasm quickly followed, and a third and then.

"Wow" Brenda said in amazement as Suzy went into another paroxysm while gurgling happily.

Sensing the time was right, Brenda pulled out and fought her way out of the harness. She hurried to the dinette, grabbed a chair and put it right next to the head of the table. She ten straddled the table, lowered her ass to the edge of it, and leaned back on the chair. This placed her pussy right in Suzy's face, while giving her some stability.

The small girl looked up dazedly and wrinkled her nose.

"Bren?" she asked.

"Eat my pussy, baby," Brenda coaxed.

"But...."

"No buts. Just do it, baby,"

She looked confused, but shrugged and closed her eyes. Brenda nearly came when she saw Suzy's little pink tongue slip from between her lips. Brenda used her hands to pry her sticky lips apart and scooted a little closer. The first contact of Suzy's velvety tongue on her pussy sent a jolt though her like none she could remember. It only got better as the small girl began to lap at her pussy like a kitten would.

Brenda had always loved getting head. Male or female, it made no difference to her enjoyment. She found women usually had better technique, but it was far from an absolute. Suzy had none. In this case though, that lack of technique had absolutely no correlation to the pleasure. Just watching her was driving Brenda to distraction. As the bound girl got used to the aroma and taste, she seemed to lose some of her hesitancy. When Brenda began to moan and grind her hips, Suzy became bolder and more vigorous. Brenda held off as long as she could, but when she finally gave in and came, the orgasm was astounding.

It wasn't as physically powerful as some she had experienced, but in her head, the mental turn on made it uniquely pleasurable. The bursts of pleasure soon carried her away and when she looked down she was holding Suzy's head tightly to her pussy. She let go and found Suzy watching her curiously.

"What?" Brenda asked.

"Why?" she asked, tears forming in her big brown eyes.

Brenda smiled as encouragingly as she could and leaned in close. She had possessed herself of Suzy's body by force, but she dreaded this, the really brutal part.

"Steve's going to ask you for a divorce, baby. Not because he doesn't love you, but because you've become an insufferable bitch since you got pregnant. You're wound so tight I couldn't force a nail up your ass with a trip hammer. You're alienating everyone, with your constant whining and need for attention. God love you, baby, you're as sweet as the day is long, but you couldn't be destroying your life any more thoroughly if you were trying."

"I'm not trying," she said, tears streaming from her eyes.

"I know, baby."

"Besides," she sniffled, "What has that got to do with this?"

"You suck at sex. I felt like that was the root of your problems. You were frustrated, and afraid and your lack of desire for him was causing Steve problems that were just adding to the overall stress level around here. You didn't know how to enjoy getting down, and no matter what happens now, you can't say it ain't good, can you?"

"No," she admitted, "But you didn't have to give a demonstration, did you? You could have just told me."

"I've tried to just tell you. I've tried to help, but every time I go there, you clam up or get pissed."

"So you think that's an excuse to rape me?" she cried.

"Ouch. I probably deserved that, but I won't apologize. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I only saw one chance to keep you from making a huge mistake. I did what I had to do."

"So you're saying this was a public service? That you didn't enjoy it?"

"No, baby, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it," Brenda admitted.

Suzy's face went from furious to relieved before Brenda's stunned eyes.

"Good. At least it wasn't a chore," she said softly.

"What on earth would make you think it was a chore? You're dead sexy."

"Am I?"

"Of course you are," Brenda replied.

She hadn't anticipated the conversation going like this and it was rapidly taking on a surreal quality she couldn't fathom.

"Do you mind letting me up? I'm starting to cramp."

"I will, if you promise to let me tie you down again," Brenda said with a half smile.

"Deal." ***

"That's some fucked up shit," Brenda said as she sipped her coffee.

"I guess, but if you're raised in it, you don't know any better."

"So when your momma gave you the birds and bees speech all she told you about was the pain and suffering?"

"Yeah. Scare tactics, I guess. Or maybe she really believes it. God knows she and Daddy never showed any interest in each other."

"I can't believe that shit still goes on in the modern day."

"You haven't ever left the city, Bren. There are communities out west that might as well still be in the last century. And there are some where people like Pastor Wiggins are God on earth in all but name."

"Why didn't you tell Steve?"

"Because I didn't know! I was raised that way. I just assumed everyone was that way."

"Everyone 'cept me."

"You're black," she said apologetically, "you're supposed to be depraved."

"Damn."

"Give me a little credit. I got past that part of my upbringing without any help," she said, sipping a bottled water.

"Sounds like some kind of cult or something."

"Not really. Just a very insular community. It got better when we moved to the city."

"Peoria's a city? Since when?" Brenda asked sarcastically.

"It's a lot bigger than Wigginsville."

"So this fucked up religious guy owns the whole town?"

"Not all of it, just the good parts. His father bought all the property up and laid out the town. Some kind of commune experiment back in the sixties, I think. The son got into fundamentalist religion and ran all the ex-hippies out when his dad passed. He owns the whole commercial district, so if you want to have a store there, you play his way. Same for the subdivisions. If you want to buy a house, you have to meet his demands. He won't allow any other church to move in and he's Mayor, as well as Pastor and Chairman of the board and Justice of the Peace and...you name it."

"Someone ought to sue."

"They have, but he's a big contributor to all the local and state politicos. Someone will get around to filing a federal suit, but you gotta understand something, Bren. The people who live there like it just the way it is. My folks only moved cause Daddy got a better job and they were forever pining for "home". They'll move back as soon as dad retires. Some people just like it all laid out for them."

"All right, so you're upbringing was fucked, still, you had to have known, girl. I mean, you watch the tube, go to the movies, read magazines. You just can't possibly have been totally in the dark."

"No, not totally, but you have to understand. This was something I was raised to believe. It takes a lot to get past it. Even harder than the race thing. At least there, I had the evidence of my experiences to help me take the blinders off. With this...Steve was my first and only. And my first time was just as painful and awful as mom said it would be. I really wanted to believe it was fun and romantic and wonderful and all that, but every time we tried it, it wasn't."

"You have to put something into it for it to be fun."

"You tell me that now and I've got....some pretty incredible proof it can be fun," she said with a pretty blush, "If you told me that last Friday, it would have been against my experience."

"That's just too out there for me, like something from the twilight zone or the outer limits. The girl who couldn't cum or some shit like that"

"Yeah, well. Getting fucked silly by my best friend is pretty out there for me," Suzy observed.

"Fair enough. But you ain't pissed at me or nothing, right?"

"I'm not real thrilled that you decided on this method. It's pretty humiliating," she said archly, but her face softened, "On the other hand, I don't think anything short of cumming like I did would have given me any chance of getting past it. Now that I've experienced what it can feel like, there's really no way I can go back to believing it's an unpleasant obligation. So I should be thanking you, but I'm not there yet. I still feel like I ought to be pissed, but what I really feel is relief."

Brenda had to smile at that, and Suzy smiled back.

"So now what?" Suzy asked.

"Well," Brenda said, drawing the word out, "We got till Monday before the boys get back and I was just starting to enjoy having a dick."

"So, what?"

"So, I think it's time to take your hot little ass upstairs and get back to fucking."

"I guess I could use some more practice," she said gravely, but Brenda could see the smile in her eyes.