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thefandomlesbian · 4 years

Note

Hey so I’m dropping this prompt here but PLEASE do NOT feel obligated to write it immediately. I just know I’ll forget I thought of it if I don’t leave it with you (I know many, including myself, are excited for TLAG so pleeeease just file this 1 away for another prompt fest): blind supreme AU: it’s their wedding day and misty is superstitious about seeing the bride before the wedding but Cordelia misses Misty. They make it work by blindfolding misty. Fluff for days. I appreciate your fics!!

This prompt has been sitting in my inbox for about a year now, and I sincerely apologize.

I’ll be honest, wedding fics are really not my thing at all. But I ended up getting several more requests for the wedding attachment to the Blind Supreme AU, so I did my best to make it something that I was comfortable writing. It’s probably not as fluffy as you wanted, but I did try my best!

Read here on AO3!

Cordelia sighed as she sank down over her desk, burying her face into her hands. Her hair drifted down around her head. This can’t be happening. Even her eyes hurt, as if from strain, and she knew that was downright impossible. But she hadn’t had a break in three weeks, since the school released for the summer and most of the students headed back to their respective homes to share what they had learned with their families. She had hoped the lack of classes would give her and Misty more time, but instead, it had left her with piles of paperwork legitimizing them as an educational institute in Louisiana—without this, claimed the state, her students had no shot of getting into college because they wouldn’t have a high school diploma. I never should’ve done this. It’s too much work.

“Delia?” Misty called. “How long has it been since April was taken outside?” She knocked twice on the office door and stuck her head inside. “Boy, you look like something the cat dragged in. The Braille spells not working?”

“I wish they weren’t,” Cordelia breathed, lifting her head up from her desk. She blinked a few times. “Sorry, I’m just—I’m just frustrated. I don’t know, it’s been awhile, she was following me around whenever I got too close to the stairs. She needs her dinner, too.” I need my dinner. Cordelia swallowed. Her dry throat crackled. How long had it been since she had a drink of water? She couldn’t remember. She was exhausted and was no closer to legitimizing them as a high school in the state of Louisiana than she had been two hours ago.

Misty clicked her tongue, and April rose from under the desk and trotted over to her. “The girls are going out for the next couple of days. Florida, I think. Anyway, it’s just us over the weekend. Didn’t know if you wanted to make plans.”

“Blech. Plans. Whatever happened to spontaneity?”

Misty cackled. “That’s my girl.” She patted Cordelia on the shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “I’m taking April to potty. I’m locking you in so you don’t get lost and fall down the stairs.” Cordelia rolled her eyes, and she affectionately shooed Misty away, picking up her pen. I don’t know why I try. My handwriting has got to be complete garbage now. She could never tell how much space she was putting between the letters, no matter how much she tried.

The office door clicked closed and then locked as Misty and April headed downstairs; Cordelia could hear Misty’s soft, nearly silent footsteps on the staircase. Cordelia stacked her papers on top of one another and pushed them to the corner of her desk. We were supposed to get married this summer. But all of the planning had gotten pushed to the side before they had even found a venue or set a date. They had gotten a marriage license. They had purchased the rings. I don’t even remember where we put them. Cordelia sucked in her lower lip. Was she already a terrible wife? She was older now. She had more responsibilities on her plate. She was blind. Things took longer. Misty understood that. She had to give Misty that—Misty was understanding, where Hank would’ve lost his mind by now. Cordelia would’ve been bending over backward to please Hank; she didn’t have to worry about that with Misty. Maybe I should be worrying more. I need to try to make more time for her. Like setting a wedding date… It’s too late to try to host it this year, we should try to look for a date for next year.

She had a date book for the next year started. Of course, its contents pertained to the school, the coven, the counsel. It contained nothing personal, nothing about Misty. “God, I hate planning.” There was no way she could plan everything , and the coven had to take precedent. If it didn’t, she would have a whole clan of unhappy witches without high school diplomas unable to get into college, or worse, all of their parents angry with her for not giving their children an appropriate education. She licked around the corners of her mouth. “At this rate, we’re never going to be married.”

The thought landed on her mind, and then it latched on there, refusing to leave. She frowned. “Whatever happened to spontaneity?” she asked herself again, aloud. They had the marriage license. The courthouse took wedding parties. It would be cheap. It wouldn’t require any planning. And then it would be done! “And then it would be done?” she repeated aloud to herself, biting her inner cheek. “I don’t think that’s how we should start our marriage…” Didn’t she want a big party? She had wanted one with Hank. She had wanted to show everyone how normal they were… especially Fiona.

But Fiona was gone, and the world knew, now, exactly how not-normal she was. Misty had never wanted a big party in the first place; she never would have said so, but Cordelia could tell from her aloof, disinterested behavior that she had less invested in a huge wedding than she wanted to let on. It’s not like either of us has any family, and we see everyone else almost every day. No, she realized now, an ostentatious wedding would only waste time and money. They knew they loved each other, and so did the rest of the coven. Why put so much effort in a huge wedding to hear things they already knew? They could save that for their marriage, for the future of their relationship. She had saved nothing with Hank, because there had been nothing to save. She wanted the show because that was their relationship: a sensational theatrical performance.

There was nothing to perform with Misty, and Cordelia couldn’t say she wanted to be at the center of any more stages for the rest of her life, except for the love they shared for one another. “That’s it.” Cordelia pushed herself back from the desk. “We’re getting married.” She turned on her heel and found the doorknob… locked. “Damn. Misty! Misty, come let me out!” She rattled the door in its frame, but she didn’t dare try to open it with magic—if she fell down the stairs now, it would scare Misty. She had gone months without a fall, since they’d gotten April, and she couldn’t go back on that in her haste. “Misty!”

Misty’s footsteps struck the staircase again, firmer this time as she ascended in a hurry to reach her. “Cordelia?” She unlocked the door and opened it. “What’s wrong? We just came inside—I told you you were locked in.” April panted faintly. Misty paused. “You got a really bizarre look on your face, duckweed.”

“We’re getting married.” Cordelia blurted it out. Maybe I should’ve asked her first. But it was too late; the words had escaped.

Silence. Misty cocked her head. “Uh… yeah, we discussed it, but it’s not happening this year. What’s the matter? You figure you need an annulment or something?”

“I—what? No, why would I need an annulment?” Misty shrugged, making a vague, noncommittal noise. “No—we’re getting married. Let’s go do it. Right now.” She could feel the side-eyed look Misty gave her. “I said it, right? Planning sucks. I love you, you love me—I want you to be my wife, and I’m tired of all this other shit getting in the way!” She gesticulated ambiguously in the air. “The courthouse doesn’t close for two more hours. They’ve got walk-in weddings seven days a week. We have the marriage license! That’s all we really need.” She darted forward with her arms outstretched, stumbling over April and falling into Misty’s arms.

Misty spun her around and laughed in spite of herself, tilting Cordelia backward in a clumsy dance move. “What brought this on? I thought you wanted My Big Fat Witchy Wedding up in here!”

Cordelia flung her arms around Misty’s neck. “That’s not what I want! I don’t care! I already had the biggest wedding I could’ve dreamed of—and it sucked! It was terrible!” She was breathless. “And it’s not about me— you don’t want a wedding, either, do you?”

Another nonchalant noise followed from Misty. “I wasn’t sold on the idea, but I kinda figured the bodacious stuff was up your alley. You’re the bride, and I’m…” She drifted off. “I’m realizing I probably should’ve stopped calling myself the groom awhile ago.”

Cordelia froze. “You’ve been calling yourself my groom? ” she repeated, astonished.

“Well… yeah. I started calling you my bride, but I guess I ended up taking it a little too far.”

“To how many people?”

Misty snorted, a high-pitched, nervous chuckle attached to her voice. “All of them.” Cordelia’s face broke out into a grin, and she cackled, trying to muffle her laughter into Misty’s shoulder. “Oh, c’mon, it’s not that funny.” She held Cordelia back at arm’s length. “The point is, the wedding isn’t that important to me. I’m more concerned with what happens afterward.”

Cordelia paused. “The sex?”

Brow quirking, Misty said, “The marriage , you horn-dog.” She swatted Cordelia on the butt. “But I’m looking forward to the sex, too, I think.” She grinned, and she dipped down into a soft kiss.

Pressing her hands against Misty’s shoulders, Cordelia pushed her back. “So you don’t care about a wedding. I don’t care about a wedding. Why are we bothering with a wedding? Who are we really going to invite, anyway? Everyone here already knows. It’s not new to anybody by any means. Why would we waste that much time when we want to be wives?”

“Because,” Misty said quietly, “you wanted My Big Fat Witchy Wedding until about three minutes ago, and I don’t want you to marry me on some whim that you should be spontaneous.” A desperate frown sank onto Cordelia’s face. “You’re just bored of paperwork.”

Cordelia’s lip curled. She tried to stifle it. “I am not going to marry you just because I’m bored of paperwork! You and I both know that paperwork boredom is cured by good sex.” Misty snorted, nodding along in agreement. Cordelia could be candid, knowing the house was empty; she missed being able to be so frank . “No, I don’t want a party wedding. I want a marriage. I just had to realize that. And I’m not wasting another minute being your girlfriend when I want to be your wife. Let’s suit up and get to the courthouse!”

Misty was becoming more lenient, but she still wasn’t completely sold. “Are you sure this is what you want? A courthouse wedding? Don’t you think that’s a little tacky, even for us?”

“If I decide I hate it, we can always have a party to celebrate later. Lots of people do that.”

Listening closely, Cordelia could nearly hear the gears turning in Misty’s head. Say yes, say yes, say yes. Misty’s mouth opened. “I agree, but…”

“But?”

“I can see you.” Cordelia’s mouth opened, hanging there in confusion for a moment. “I’m not supposed to be able to see the bride before the wedding. At least, after you’ve gotten changed into wedding clothes.”

“What wedding clothes?”

“Whatever clothes you decide! I can’t see you in them until it’s time to get married. It’ll kill our relationship if I do.”

“Nothing is going to kill our relationship —I was just going to wear these clothes.”

“You can’t wear these clothes.”

“Why not? Because you saw them? I can’t even see them!”

“Well, yeah, but also because they really don’t match that well. I mean, they’re fine for paperwork at home, but probably not for our wedding.”

“So you can’t see the clothes until we’re at the altar, but you’re going to judge me based on how well they match?” Misty paused at Cordelia’s proposition. She was being thoughtful—dammit, she was so thoughtful, Cordelia rolled her eyes, laughing to herself. “C’mon. You can pick out the outfit. As long as it’s not on me, it doesn’t count, right?”

A quiet, satisfied noise left Misty’s nose. “I’m sure glad I’m marrying such a smart lady.” She put a hand on the small of Cordelia’s back. “It would’ve taken me a lot longer to come to that conclusion than it took you.” April followed them down the hall to their room. “What color do you want to wear? Nothing that could trip you up. Green?”

“Green,” Cordelia confirmed, not because she liked green, but because she knew Misty liked green. “What about that green turtleneck and some slacks?”

Misty hesitated. “Delia, I don’t know how to break this to you, but you don’t own a green turtleneck.” Dread pooled in the pit of Cordelia’s stomach. “I did think it was kinda odd that you were wearing that ugly Christmas sweater to meetings and stuff... Makes sense, you thought it was a turtleneck.”

“You let me wear an ugly Christmas sweater to meetings? ” Cordelia repeated, her voice jumping up the octave. “Misty! Why didn’t you ever think to ask me?”

“I thought you knew it was an ugly Christmas sweater!”

“You thought I would deliberately wear an ugly Christmas sweater to professional meetings? I’ve been representing us as an educational institution in front of state and national boards! No wonder they’ve got me jumping through so many hoops. They’ve got to think we’re completely off our rockers.”

Misty snickered. “Well, if they’re half-way decent educators, they’ll have taken enough classes to know better than to judge a blind lady over what she’s wearing. But, c’mon, Delia, the thing has bells on it. How didn’t you know? It made you jingle like a kitty-cat collar.”

She flushed. She has a point. I always wondered why that turtleneck gave me tinnitus. “I never really noticed. I was busy.” She sighed and took the turtleneck—the ugly Christmas sweater—out of the closet. “Let’s just throw this away before I forget that it’s not my business sweater. Just pick something out!”

Poking around in the open closet with the doors wide open, Misty picked through. “What about your pretty summer dresses? I’ll wear one, too, so we’ll match. We’ve got a yellow polka dot one and a blue polka dot one.” Cordelia held out her hand to take it. The cloth fell out of her hand. “Alright, I’ll go downstairs and call a cab.”

“A cab? Why?”

“Well, I’m gonna have to be blindfolded, aren’t I? So I can’t see you. I can't drive with a blindfold.”

“You want to go through all of the admissions paperwork blindfolded ? Couldn’t you just not look at me?”

“Not worth risking it. You’re used to being blind, you can help me figure it out!” Misty dipped her down into a kiss. “I’ll be right back. You need help getting April ready to go before I get blind?”

It was silly. It was spontaneous. Whatever part of Cordelia was mildly annoyed at the inconvenience rapidly zipped away, replaced by mirth, humor at Misty’s antics and the unconcerned way she regarded her superstitions as casual fact. “I think I can handle April, babe.” She wrapped her arms around Misty, hugging her tightly, and she reached to kiss her once more. “When you see me the next time, we’ll be married.”

“I know.” Misty’s voice was faint as she realized it. “I can’t wait to be your wife.” She kissed the crown of Cordelia’s head and slipped their hands apart, heading out of the room and down the stairs with her dress in tow.

Cordelia rushed to prepare. She fumbled to suit up April with her harness and leash, and then she dressed herself in the modest summer dress and slipped into her flats, praying they were the same color she remembered. She found her cane and left the bedroom. Standing at the mouth of the stairs, she called down, “Misty? Are you ready?”

“How am I going to know when the cab gets here if I can’t see?”

“This is ridiculous! I only say that because I love you! You’re ridiculous!”

“I recognize your complaint, but I still have a perfectly valid question!”

Cordelia laughed. She took a step forward and sat down on the top stair. “I’ll stay up here, and when you see the cab, you tell me to come downstairs, okay?” April sat beside her and reached to lick her face. Cordelia giggled. “Good girl, April. Good girl.”

A few minutes passed. “Okay, he’s outside!” Cordelia stood and took April by the harness, and together, they drummed down the stairs and met Misty, who waited by the front door. “The cab is going to think we’re insane.”

“The blind leading the blind,” Misty confirmed. Cordelia’s light criticism hadn’t changed her mind, so with the acknowledgment that Misty refused to budge on her conviction, Cordelia allowed Misty to take her arm and ordered April out of the house.

Misty kept stumbling and tripping over the sidewalk. Oh, this is going to take forever. Cordelia smirked. It was atypical for Misty to lack confidence—it was amusing in a way, if dangerous in several others. But Misty could take off the blindfold if she had to. What could happen? Cordelia opened the door to the cab and clocked Misty in the face with it. “Ouch! Delia!”

“Oh, god, Misty, I’m so sorry!” Cordelia fumbled for her hand. “This way, get into the car this way .” She sidled into the seat. April settled down on the floorboards of the car, lying down across Cordelia’s feet, and Misty stumbled in after her, hitting her head on the roof of the car.

The cab driver popped his gum. “What’s with the blindfold, miss?”

Some part of Cordelia wanted to lie, but she couldn’t come up with anything more plausible than the truth, which Misty provided without second-guessing herself. “We’re going to the courthouse to get married, but I can’t see the bride before the wedding!” The man’s mouth opened and closed and then opened again, sort of hanging there in the air, like he had a feeling to express but didn’t have the ability to put it to words. “We’ve got two good eyes between the three of us.”

“And they both belong to the dog?” the man asked, and Misty hummed along enthusiastically. None of this had robbed her of her zeal for life—if anything, the silliness had added to it. Cordelia giggled, shaking her head, leaning over to rest her cheek on Misty’s shoulder. “Good luck to the two of you, then. Congratulations.” He shifted the car into the gear and pulled back onto the street.

“We forgot the rings,” Misty said after a minute of silence.

“Eh, we’ll get them when we get home. We might lose them, since neither of us can see right now.”

“Well, only one of us can see usually.”

“And our track record of keeping up with things is not the best,” Cordelia pointed out. Misty acquiesced with a smile and kissed the crown of her head. She’s going to be my wife. Cordelia felt sick inside—a good kind of nervous, anticipatory sick. Why had they been putting this off for so long? They could’ve done this ages ago! She was ready from the moment Misty had mentioned them having a wedding together; she had known that. Why had she ever gotten hung up on the formalities? She had spent enough of her life doing things right . Doing things right had lost her Misty once. Cordelia had learned enough that following the rules often led her astray. Misty had taught her a lot of things. One of them: Rules were made to be broken. “Are you ready for this?” she whispered into Misty’s ear.

Stringing a warm arm around her neck, Misty’s voice cooed right against auricle of her ear. “I’ve been ready from the moment I woke up in your arms, duckweed.” Chills trickled up Cordelia’s spine. She closed her eyes, relishing in the moment. I may never see your face again, but I feel your love every moment we’re together, and that will last me a thousand lifetimes over. “Do we have to say vows or anything?”

“I dunno. I guess we’ll find out when we get in there.”

“What if I need to prepare?”

“I don’t think you need to prepare,” Cordelia teased gently.

The cab pulled off in front of the courthouse. “Congratulations, ladies. Do you need help getting up the steps?”

“No, thank you, sir.” Cordelia paid him, hoping the tip was generous enough, and she opened the door and slid out onto the sidewalk, April ready to work at her side. Misty tumbled out after her, nearly falling down, but Cordelia caught her by the elbow. “Okay, clumsy.”

“I’m not clumsy.”

“Right. Your middle name is Grace, that’s why you conked yourself in the head getting in and getting out,” Cordelia teased. She gave Misty her arm. “Let me tease. I’m rarely the more mobile of the two of us.” Maybe these stairs aren’t such a good idea. Misty clearly was not the best at judging distance without her eyes—why should she be? She wasn’t blind, and she didn’t exactly have a reason to regularly blindfold herself and practice for this insane wedding venture. “Let me help you.” Unlike Misty, Cordelia was quite practiced at the stairs, and with April’s help, she could go slowly and reach the top safely. “Forward up.” April started up the stairs, and the pressure guided Cordelia. “One step at a time. Stop trying to rush.”

“This is really hard.”

Cordelia laughed. “I know .” She gave Misty’s arm a gentle tug. “Are you okay?” Each step caused Misty to wobble, but she didn’t topple over. “It’s a lot easier with April.”

Misty gave a wheezy, breathless laugh, too nervous from the stairs directly beneath her to concentrate on anything else. At a platform, she sighed. “Was that it?”

“No, babe, there’s a whole flight left. That was halfway, though.” April kept going, and they proceeded to the top, Misty stumbling more than once. At the top, Cordelia gave a whimsical laugh. “I bet you’re glad you get to take that blindfold off for the way back down.”

“I’ll never complain about cutting a sandwich for you again.”

“You never did in the first place.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Taking care of my duckweed is something I enjoy.” Misty walked directly into the divider between the doors. “Jesus Christ, this world is a death trap.” Cordelia laughed again. I didn’t have this much fun at my first wedding, she realized, and it made her want to laugh more, that Misty with all of her free silliness blew away a wedding that had taken thousands of dollars to put together. “Which way?”

Finding the correct floor was half the battle, but fortunately, the courthouse had elevators. Cordelia held fast to Misty, afraid they’d get separated. They came out and got into a line leading up to a desk. “What’s with the blindfold?” asked a no-nonsense clerk, pushing some paperwork at them. She put her thumb next to the X for Cordelia to sign her name. “What kind of shenanigans are you trying to pull?”

“No shenanigans, ma’am. I can’t see the bride before the wedding.”

The clerk was silent, waiting for a punchline, but there wasn’t one. She took a deep breath and put her finger beside the X for Misty, too. “That’s a first for me,” she muttered under her breath, “even for crazytown.” Misty and Cordelia elected to ignore her as they signed. “Get in line for the chapel down the hall.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

It was another line. Cordelia couldn’t hold still; she was buzzing. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this.”

“Do you not want to do this?” Misty asked.

“More than anything,” Cordelia promised. “It’s so surreal—just an hour ago, I was miserable thinking we were never going to have time to get married! And now here we are.”

“You said it was time to be more spontaneous.”

Cordelia laughed. “The girls are going to tell us we’re crazy.”

“Oh, they’re going to be furious. ” Misty squeezed Cordelia’s hand. “Zoe and Queenie were waiting for me to take them shopping for bridesmaid dresses. But they hadn’t bought anything yet, so they ought to be glad, right?”

Shaking her head, Cordelia agreed. “Yeah… Right.”

The chapel doors swung open, and the line moved up ahead, the two of them clinging to each other a few couples back from the large wooden doors. “They’re moving them out fast,” Misty observed. “Like an assembly line. Just putting marriages together. Bam, splat, you get a wedding, and you get a wedding, and you get a wedding!”

Trying to disguise her grin, Cordelia bent her head forward toward the ground. “You’re going to make me laugh!” Were people staring at them? She didn’t know, couldn’t know, because Misty couldn’t see, either. As far as she was concerned, it was just the two of them in this huge, dark world, and April was their lighthouse, her tail wagging slowly back and forth. “I love you, Misty. Even if you are silly and ridiculous.”

“You love me because I’m silly and ridiculous.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

It was, indeed, like an assembly line, as couples came and went, and soon enough, Misty and Cordelia shuffled into the chapel after the officiant. “Are you meant to be blindfolded?” he asked, and Cordelia bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“I’m not allowed to see the bride before the wedding.” To her credit, Misty didn’t get impatient at explaining it over and over; she knew nobody else would understand at first glance that she had her own superstitious rules about their wedding. “But I’ll be able to take it off in a minute here, right?”

The man’s smile was evident in his voice. “Well, you might’ve just made my day.” He cleared his throat. “Yes. You actually can take it off now, if you like.”

Misty did so, the fabric slipping off of her face, and she balled it up into her fist. She tremored on the spot. “You’re so beautiful, Delia,” she whispered, and Cordelia’s whole face grew warm.

The man stood back. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Cordelia Goode and Misty Day in holy matrimony.” He had the words memorized, barely glancing down at the podium before him. “Miss Day, if you’ll repeat after me.” Misty gnawed at the bit, straightening at the sound of her own name, and she repeated his words by rote, not too fast nor too slow.

“I, Misty Day, take thee, Cordelia Goode, as my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, til death do us part; and thereto, I pledge myself to you.”

They were such familiar words, ones Cordelia had heard dozens of times on the television and in weddings. Someone else might have heard them as empty words, but Cordelia didn’t; from Misty, all of her heart and her magic flowing into those words, Cordelia had never felt fuller. “Miss Goode?”

She felt like a little girl trying to recite the pledge of allegiance in front of the class as she repeated the words said aloud by the officiant. “I, Cordelia Goode, take thee, Misty Day, as my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish; and thereto, I pledge myself to you.”

She didn’t stumble over any words, to her own surprise. Misty sniffled, and Cordelia realized she was crying. Her own eyes burned, but crying hurt too much for her to allow it of herself here.

“Misty Day, do you take Cordelia Goode to be your lawful wedded wife?”

Her voice was thick with emotion. A slight shiver was attached to her two, simple words, words which had never made Cordelia so happy before in her life. “I do.”

“Cordelia Goode, do you take Misty Day to be your lawful wedded wife?”

Cordelia cleared her throat. She suddenly had cottonmouth. “I do.” She sounded hoarse.

“Then, by the power vested in me by the state of Louisiana, I witness and affirm your union of love and now pronounce you wife and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Misty reached for her, guiding her into her arms. She was, once again, Cordelia’s eyes, just as she was meant to be. Their lips connected, and Cordelia made a happy, soft sound as she sank against Misty’s body, wholly supported hers.

Their kiss severed. Misty gave a throaty chuckle. “Ready to go home, Mrs. Day?”

Cordelia blinked. “Did we decide on your last name?”

“I was going to combine them, but I decided Mrs. Gay was a little too forward even for us.” Cordelia’s laughter floated them all the way out of the courthouse.

#foxxay #sarah paulson #lily rabe #misty day #cordelia goode #my writing

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thefandomlesbian · 4 years

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Hello, I've just finished reading TLaG for the first time (late to the party, i know haha) and it was absolutely outstanding! I was wondering, did you use the KJV translation for the Bible verses you included in the story? They're very beautiful, I was just wondering if that was a purposeful decision to make for the sake of familiarity/poetry as opposed to using one of the Catholic translations back in Mary Eunice's day. Thank you always for your beautiful writing!!

I tried to sit down and make up a very good reason for this decision when I saw this ask but it's 5:30 in the morning so I'll just be straight with you.

I started TLaG more than two and a half years ago. I was raised a Protestant my whole life in an area where there is a lot of Catholic v Protestant theological conflict for some reason (like, to the point where we had theocratic debates in school, separate religious classes, etc, this community is fairly divided for whatever dumb reason), so I knew when I started TLaG that Catholics used a different translation than Protestants.

Yet when I sat down two and a half years ago to write TLaG and realized, "Hey, I'm gonna need a Bible for this!" my little Protestant-turned-atheist ass trotted on over to my bookshelf and took out my old KJV. I set all of my Bible search engines to KJV, and until this very moment, I was very self-assured that Mary Eunice would be reading a KJV Bible because I knew how the elders of my church responded when I brought them the NIV I was given at religion class in school. (Hint: The words, "I could never read anything that isn't KJV! All that newfangled jargon isn't what they really said, it's a translation!" to which my father, even in all of his flaws as a parent, responded, "I don't know how to break this to you, but Jesus didn't speak old English or new English either.")

I was so self-assured in my decision to get it right by using KJV translations, knowing how important it was to my church elders, that until right now, I had never considered that maybe (and in fact, probably) Catholics from the 1960s used a different bible than Protestants in the 1960s.

So there you go. There was no poetic choice here, just one extremely misguided ex-Protestant out in the world trying her best to write a fanfiction about a nun in a historical setting. That's it, that's why I used KJV verses. In spite of knowing the Catholic bible is different, and in spite of literally asking my Catholic friend for verses from the deuterocanonical because these verses weren't in the KJV because the KJV is a Protestant Bible (yes, this happened and I still didn't realize until right now; retrospect is a bitch), until this moment I never thought maybe Catholics in the 60s weren't using the same thing as Protestants in the 60s.

Congratulations, you broke me 😅

Thank you so much for reading (and now for tolerating my convoluted religious blathering about bible translations—for an atheist I arguably have way too much invested in this)! I'm working on clearing out my inbox from the last prompts I took, and very soon I'm going to be working on the To Light and Guard sequel, To Rule and Guide. ❤️ Thank you for the thoughtful ask and please let me know if you find any other idiosyncrasies that will shatter my interpretation of my own fanfiction. 😛

#ask #personal #tlag #to light and guard #my writing

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thefandomlesbian · 5 years

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Just dropping a line to say how much I love your writing! Recently stumbled on Lady, You Don’t Need to See & fell down the rabbit hole of all your works. So magnificent! Looking forward to more of that story! You are a wonderful writer!

Thank you so much!

I spent a lot of time over the past week contemplating whether or not to put Lady on hiatus and try to move on to a different piece. I haven't had as much time as usual to do the things I love (I'm in a rigorous academic program this semester, spending 25 hours/week sitting in a classroom, and with my work, my time has gotten sucked up), and when I did find myself called to write, I wound up dropping paragraphs in stories that haven't even been formed yet instead of adding any meaningful material to Lady. I was struggling with a lot of insecurity and self doubt about how Lady measured up to my other works, since it's more light-hearted and silly compared to To Light and Guard (and honestly, I feel like I'll probably be comparing my writing to TLaG for the rest of my life—I peaked way too soon, lol).

But last night, after I saw this ask, I opened up my documents one last time, determined to make Lady go down fighting. I hate leaving things left unfinished. And to my surprise, I found it was very receptive. I added 1,500 words to Lady last night all in the span of about an hour, which is more than I've added to it at one time in over a month.

Lady hasn't given up on me, and I haven't given up on it... Though at times I am pulling its hair and DEMANDING it give me something more to work with than a single Misty one-liner to support the whole chapter. ;)

Thank you! Hopefully I will have Lady updated soon!

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thefandomlesbian · 5 years

Note

TLaG is my favourite fic to read (and re-read!) at the moment. I’m in love with your Lana and Mary Eunice

I know for my headcanons, I answered that Misty made the first move, but I had a better idea for Cordelia doing it in this fic, so... bear with me, I’m an inconsistent piece of shit. :)

Read on AO3 for best experience!

Cordelia tapped her way into the greenhouse. Her cane bumped against the door jamb, and she stepped over it without much consideration, only to bump her hip against the table. The jarring upset a pot. She dropped her cane and clawed at the air to catch it, but it gusted right past her hands. “Oop!” The pot didn’t shatter on the ground. “I gotcha.” Cordelia released a pent-up sigh at the sound of Misty’s quietly accented voice as she caught the potted plant in her hands and replaced it on the table. “Hey, Miss Cordelia!”

The smile on Misty’s voice was palpable. Cordelia smiled in return. She had a bunch of questions for Misty—more questions than she liked to consider—but she didn’t know where to begin, so she avoided them for the time being. “Hi, Misty. Sorry.”

“Oh, you’re fine. This one needs repotted, anyway—you would’ve saved me the time.” Misty wiped off her hands on her dress. “You alright? I can get right outta your way, just say the word—I’m just dodging Madison, hanging out down here.”

“No, no!” Cordelia imagined there was very little she could do in the greenhouse now. Before, she spent her hours of fun trimming up the plants and making them beautiful, harvesting their fruits and drying their leaves and roots for potions ingredients, collecting everything useful and recycling the rest. But now, she couldn’t hold a pair of shears without her hands shaking, and she couldn’t tell which leaves were wilted and which ones were healthy just by feeling. “I was looking for you, actually.” Looking for.

If Misty noticed, she didn’t say anything. “Oh, right. Well, you found me.”

Yeah. I sure did. Cordelia bit her lower lip and inclined her eyebrows. “I was just—” She tried to shuffle out of Misty’s way, but she bumped up against the table again, and Misty took her by the hand and led her away from the obstacle course. The warm skin of Misty’s hand pressed against hers. Visions responded in kind—picking up a deceased animal from the road and breathing life into it, strolling through the swampy forests and dense undergrowth of the bayou, feeding a squirrel from the palm of her hand—and Cordelia marveled at the purity of Misty’s life. The other people she touched sent her visions of horrible things. Even hugging Stevie Nicks had prompted her with images of line after line of cocaine. Yet Misty had nothing dark on her past, nothing marring her soul, to appear in Cordelia’s Sight. “I’m sorry.” Misty didn’t take her hand away. She didn’t seem to care. “I was wondering if you knew anything about the man who tried to kill you.”

Mentioning it flared memories to the surface, Misty guiding Myrtle by the hand through the trees and crouching into ditches and ducking into water holes for safety until the silhouette of the intruder vanished with the coming sunrise. “I don’t know anything about him, no. Figure it was just somebody trying to end the game of ‘burn the witch.’”

Misty still didn’t let go of her hand. No one had touched Cordelia for so long since she had lost her sight. Fiona, who claimed to support her through this great adventure of her life, dodged her touch more than ever before. The girls were shy of her and ducked out of her way wherever she walked—though that was probably a good thing to keep her from falling all over them. Even Myrtle hesitated a little longer than usual before hugging her. Misty held onto her hand easily. Dirt and grit on her skin ground between their two limbs. “I’m concerned it might have been more than that.”

“What are you thinking?”

Her blunt question was comforting. Misty wanted to know what she thought and asked her opinion frankly. Cordelia squeezed her hand. “We know there are witch hunters in the area.” She could almost hear the sound of the gears turning in Misty’s head. “Did anyone know where you were staying? Anyone at all?”

She hesitated to answer. “No�� Nobody but Zoe and Kyle and Madison.”

Of course. Cordelia didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her before. Someone had brought Madison back to life. Zoe didn’t have magic powerful enough to achieve such a feat, even if she showed many signs of being the next Supreme. Anyone who had been paying attention could have pieced it together. “Right.” Her brow quirked. “With Madison, how did you…” She didn’t know how to ask the question. Madison had been dead for more than a week when Misty had found her. It wasn’t a simple case of vitalum vitalis.

In a rather offhand tone, Misty said, “Oh, it was pretty easy. I mean, she was half-rotten, but after we sewed her arm back on and got all of the death out of her, it was smooth sailing.”

“You sewed her arm back on? ”

“Yeah. Told Zoe I wouldn’t bring her back without the arm attached. Zoe’s not a very good seamstress, but I know enough. Stitched her up good as new. Barely a scar now.”

This was all news to Cordelia, who raised her eyebrows. Misty was blase about the whole event. “That’s… That’s some really impressive magic, Misty.” She brought Myrtle back, too. Myrtle had been burned, surely suffering worse injuries than Cordelia could imagine, and she didn’t want to imagine them, nor did she want to linger on the way Misty’s memories flashed with the stench of gasoline and the taste of ash whenever she got occupied. “Have you considered what Myrtle said?” she asked after a brief hesitance.

To her surprise, this question was the one that made Misty break contact with her. She turned away, pulling her hand away from Cordelia’s, and settled over one of the pots. “Yeah.” The tone to her voice dropped.

Cordelia pursed her lips. “You’re not a fan?”

“I don’t want to be anybody’s leader. I just want to find somewhere I belong.”

“You have us, now.”

Misty chuckled, but it was a dark and dry sound, nothing borne of true humor. “Zoe found me twice,” she said, “and both times wanted me to fix somebody who had died. I picked one of your own off of the stake. No offense, Miss Cordelia, but y’all have a serious problem of getting each other killed, and I don’t want no part of it.”

The criticism took Cordelia aback. But it was a fair. “That’s why we need a Supreme to help us sort things out,” she said. “Fiona is fading, whether she likes it or not. She’s going to fall. We need her successor to do a better job.”

“Who’s to say she won’t kill me before I get the chance?”

“Who’s to say she can kill you?” Misty had come back to life once after dying to the method witches usually considered most lethal. What could Fiona do to prevent Misty from coming back to life over and over again until the seesaw of death and magic finally snapped on the side of the rightful winner? “There won’t be anything she can do about it.”

A slight scoff came from Misty. “You’ve got a whole lot of faith in this whole order of events thing, don’t you?”

Cordelia’s eyebrows knitted together. “Yeah. I do.”

“Fiona’s been doing this long enough to know exactly what she’s going to do. I’d rather not be in her crosshairs. The whole lot of y’all talk about the future Supreme like she’s a chess piece and not a person. Not a witch, just like the rest of us. Whether or not it’s me—and I really don’t think it is—how would you feel if everybody but you was making gambles on your life?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Shears snipped, a familiar sound, but only once. “I’m not the one you’re looking for, Miss Cordelia.” She held out a flower to Cordelia. The petals tickled the tip of her nose. She leaned forward to inhale the scent—familiar and sweet and mild.

She tilted her head back. “Amaryllis.” Misty took the stem of the flower and tucked it beneath the earpiece of her sunglasses. Cordelia’s belly did a flip. An ocean of butterflies rose up from inside of her. “I think you are the one.” As Misty’s hand brushed over the auricle of her ear and tucked her hair behind it, another vision flashed behind her eyes. Misty gazed at her, and her mind echoed, God, she’s so beautiful. Cordelia’s mouth dried up. “I think it’s you,” she repeated.

Misty’s hand left the side of her face. Cordelia reached on reflex to take it again, and Misty allowed her to do it. She pressed Cordelia’s palm to her own face. “And I think it’s you,” she countered. “But nobody really knows who it is, and it’s not my job to make somebody else’s life into my poker chip. What if you get some new witch, and she’s even worse than Fiona?”

“Is that what you think? That you won’t be any good at it?”

“I know I won’t be any good at it.” Cordelia trailed her thumb over Misty’s high cheekbone and her nose and lips. “Especially with the witch hunters. Clearly I don’t have a way to fix that, and I don’t know how to protect anything—not even myself.”

She’s thought about this a lot. “Just the fact that you’re saying all that means you’d care more than Fiona does.” Misty had a pure heart and a vicious loyalty to that which earned her allegiance—she watched, in Misty’s memories, as two revived alligators killed the men who had poached them. Misty’s jaw shifted under Cordelia’s hand and popped dully at the joint, but she didn’t say anything in answer. Cordelia cleared her throat. “I want you to know that I’ll stand by you. Whether you are the Supreme or not, you have a place in this coven. I’d like to be your friend.”

Misty had endured a lot. Cordelia saw the memories of Misty’s life whenever their skin touched, and she found the hours Misty had spent alone heartbreaking—and yet, somehow, they reminded her of herself. Misty had emerged from the other side of hell, from the other side of the fire, just as kind as when she had entered. Another snip followed. “Thank you, Miss Cordelia.” Misty’s hand grazed the side of her face, spinning another set of petals beneath her nose.

She smiled. “Alstroemeria.”

The stem fit under the earpiece of her sunglasses on the other side. Cordelia’s face blushed with heat which she couldn’t banish. “I’d like to be your friend, too.” But Misty’s skin brushed hers, and the touch betrayed her thoughts. She’s pretty as a sunrise the morning before a storm.

When Cordelia left the greenhouse, her stomach whipped up into a tumultuous tornado. It had taken one encounter. Cordelia had fallen hopelessly in love with Misty Day.

II.

A spring bounced into Cordelia’s step as she fled the academy, unburdened by her cane for the first time in weeks. She could see , and the colors were all so much brighter than before. She paused outside the greenhouse to admire the vegetable garden Misty had planted around it, and then she knocked twice on the door and pushed the doors open.

She had never seen Misty before. It occurred to her now, as she entered the building, and her heart floundered into her throat. She knew Misty by touch, her high cheekbones and sharp nose and the bow to her lips and the curly texture of her hair. “Misty?” she called into the greenhouse. The tape of Fleetwood Mac clued in her presence, and as she called out, “Misty?” a second time, a distinct mop of blonde curls appeared from behind a glossy-leaved philodendron plant.

The sight of her took Cordelia’s breath away. She gaped with her mouth open as she stared into the other woman’s blue eyes. No sound came from her. Fortunately, though, Misty didn’t seem to notice. She grinned. Her smile stole Cordelia’s heart right out of her chest, reaching into it with grabbing hands and snatching it from between her ribs. She didn’t know what she had expected—she knew she liked Misty, so she should have expected to find Misty attractive—but the sheer allure to the other woman made her dizzy. Or perhaps the lack of breathing made her dizzy, or a combination of the two. “Hey, Miss Cordelia! Miss Myrtle said she wasn’t sure when you’d be ready to come out. I’m glad to see you.”

The sound of her voice helped ground Cordelia in reality. It was the same Misty who touched her all the time without thought and tucked flowers behind her ears. Not a different person. “Myrtle worries too much. I’m fine.” She smiled in response to Misty’s words, and she said, “I’m glad to seeyou, too,” with a wink.

Misty laughed. “Your eyes are wicked cool. Were they always like that?”

Cordelia shook her head. “Myrtle has an artistic touch. I think she did it to irritate my mother.” She hadn’t missed the heated exchange between Myrtle and Fiona over the color of her eyes. “Frankly, I don’t care what color they are. I can see out of them. That’s what matters.” One eye was a little blurrier than the other. She wondered if she had somehow wound up with one eye requiring glasses.

“You got your head on straight, then. Come here, will you show me that thing you told me to do the other day? I had it, then, but now it’s not working now.”

Misty took it in stride. She didn’t draw special attention to Cordelia or fawn over. To her, nothing about Cordelia had changed at all, and Cordelia appreciated that more than she let on. “Sure.” She sidled up beside Misty over a wilty bunch of lamb’s ear. “Do you remember the incantation?”

“Yeah. It’s just not wanting to bloom for me.” Misty squinted at the plant, like she tried to figure out its secrets. She repeated the Latin incantation. The leaves quivered and rose a little, but then they wilted again. “I tried it with those others, too, and they all perked right up. This one’s being tricky. It’s got something up its sleeves.”

“It’s a plant. It doesn’t have sleeves.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Cordelia chuckled. One of her hands landed on the small of Misty’s back. Misty scrunched up her freckled nose as she gazed down at the fuzzy-leaved plant. “What am I doing wrong?”

Cordelia bit her lower lip. No one had ever asked her about magic before, not when it came to performing. Her own abilities were limited enough for younger witches to distrust her. But Misty didn’t see any of that. “I think you’re trying too hard. Don’t force it. Sometimes the plants are fickle about being asked or being told.”

Misty raised her eyebrows and blinked back at Cordelia. “So a plant doesn’t have sleeves, but it can tell the difference between me telling it to do something and asking it nicely?” she asked in a skeptical voice. Cordelia shrugged. “Alright.” Misty accepted her word as the law and repeated the incantation, this time in a quieter, gentler voice. As Cordelia had predicted, the lamb’s ear fanned out its soft leaves into the sunlight, as if to smile at Misty. “Thanks! You were right!”

“How do you do it with the vegetables in the garden? Isn’t it the same spell?”

A wrinkle appeared in the middle of Misty’s forehead. “Spell? I don’t use a spell for the vegetables. I just do what comes natural. You told me to use the made up words for these plants, so that’s what I was doing.”

Made up words. Cordelia decided to correct that misconception at a later date. “Well—try that on one of these. See if it works.” Clearly, Misty had a gift for botany. She seemed to have a gift for almost everything. Cordelia took a pot of drooping sage and put it in front of Misty.

Misty pursed her lips. She pressed both of her hands on top of the soil and framed the plant between her thumbs and index fingers. Then she spat into the soil. The plant arched upward and flushed back green, brighter than before. “There… You were right again.”

The tip of Cordelia’s nose crinkled. “Do you spit in the vegetables? We’ve been eating those.”

“If you’re worried about my spit, you’re gonna die when I tell you what goes in fertilizer.”

The sharp delivery to Misty’s voice made Cordelia break out in laughter. She tossed her head back, pressing a hand to her temple in incredulity. How did Misty manage to somehow be both so honest and so kind? So funny and so intelligent? Misty took a lock of her hair and split it into two strands, and she started a loose braid with the stem of a fresh-cut gardenia. “You’re going to have all the flowers in the greenhouse cut at this rate.” Cordelia blushed at the way Misty’s tender fingertips caressed her skin and her hair.

Blue eyes met hers, and they smiled, too, crinkled with joy. “Then it’s a good thing you’re teaching me how to grow them all back, right?”

Cordelia held very still for Misty to tie the stem at the end of the braid. She had a collection of the flowers in her room, now, pressing the petals dry between pages of her grandmother’s Bible so she could save them. “You’re very kind, Misty.” I like you a lot. I think I’m in love with you. The last two pieces were too hard to say and far too unwelcome to Misty, who had never known genuine friendship before and who undoubtedly would take her attraction as a betrayal. “Have you tried any other magic?”

“What other magic?”

“I mean… like telekinesis. Or pyrokinesis. Or transmutation.”

Misty snorted. “Listen, I watched Matilda and I know what telekinesis is, but those last two you’re gonna have to break down for somebody who didn’t get an education.”

What had she expected? Misty hadn’t grown up in the coven and didn’t know anything about the seven wonders. “Pyrokinesis is when you control fire at will.”

Pale, dirty hands retreated from Cordelia’s hair where they braided the gardenia behind her ear. “I got burned to death. I think if I could control fire, I would’ve figured it out then.”

“Sometimes coming back to life changes things. You healed Madison’s heart murmur.”

“What’s the other one?” Misty didn’t want to keep talking about fire, and Cordelia didn’t blame her, but she gave her a sideways glance and found a layer of tears on the surface of Misty’s eyes, disguised as she retreated into a shadow cast by a nearby leaf. She thinks about it all the time.

She let the subject go. She didn’t want to push Misty. “Transmutation is when you teleport. Like Star Trek. ”

Misty perked up a little. “I did that. With Zoe. I didn’t mean to, though, it was an accident. I popped up in the back of her car and scared her half to death.”

“Have you tried to do it again?”

She shook her head, quirking her lower lip. “Nah. It made me feel kinda sick the first time. My back teeth started rattling, and I got really uncomfortable, like I had a fever or something.” It sounds like the feeling of becoming Supreme. Cordelia had heard fables after fables of how the new Supreme new she had begun to rise. She bit the tip of her tongue, wondering if she needed to share her thoughts with Misty. “You’re looking at me funny. What’s on your mind?”

Clearing her throat, Cordelia said, “Strange or unusual discomfort with performing new magic is a—a sign of becoming the new Supreme. It’s part of the transference of power.”

Misty’s eyes darted upward, but she didn’t roll them. “You and your Supreme business. Don’t you ever think about something else?” Cordelia opened her mouth, but Misty took her hand. “It’s not me. I’m telling you it’s not me. I can’t do any of the things you just mentioned. Name me some more—I bet I can’t do them, either.”

“You just told me you can do one of them.”

“It’s not me,” Misty repeated. “See? Watch this.” She held out her hand and squinted across the room at a vase of cut roses. The vase hurtled across the room and landed in the palm of her hand. “Goddammit, that was not supposed to work. I didn’t even know I could do that!” Cordelia took the vase away from her. “Listen—it doesn’t matter how much magic I can do. I’m still not the Supreme.”

“You can’t escape it by aggressively not wanting it.”

“I’m not escaping anything, Miss Cordelia.” Cordelia replaced the vase with her hand own hand in Misty’s. Her skin was soft and familiar. I’m in love with the way she feels, the way she sounds, the way she looks. Everything about Misty was an addictive toxin for Cordelia, and she just kept pouring more and more of it into her body without any thought for the consequences. “I can do anything while I’ve got you at my side.”

Cordelia’s heart skipped a beat at Misty’s words. You’ll have me at your side. You won’t be able to get rid of me. She swallowed around the thickness in her throat which marveled at Misty’s sheer goodness. “Then why don’t you want it?” Misty wanted her at her side as a friend, not as anything more, and Cordelia would not mess anything up by interfering. She was not in a position to desire a relationship, especially with her future Supreme.

“It’s not that I don’t want it. I know myself. I know it’s not me.”

“Then who do you think it is?”

“I already told you.” Round blue eyes found hers. “I think it’s you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Cordelia tilted her head. “What on earth makes you think that?” The first time Misty had said it, she had assumed it was a joke, but now, she saw the glint of seriousness in Misty’s blue eyes.

Though she had only seen Misty’s face for the first time today, something about the way she smiled was familiar. She had heard the smile in her voice for weeks. Seeing it was like coming home to an old friend. “I think the magic is smart.” Misty tucked a lock of hair behind Cordelia’s other ear, though she didn’t make an effort to add another flower to her hair. “I think it knows exactly where to go to benefit the coven the most. And that’s with you. You’re the best leader. You care the most.” Misty blinked at her out of the corner of her eye. She lifted up Cordelia’s hand and placed it on her cheek just like before, and Cordelia mapped the familiar planes and noted the images accompanying everything she felt beneath her fingers. “I know I haven’t belonged to the coven very long,” she said, “but I’ve been a witch long enough to know that the magic is smarter than making me or Madison or Zoe the Supreme.”

“The magic would be smart to make you our Supreme.”

Misty chuckled. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

III.

The night had gone so late that even the crickets didn’t hum their tune. Only the owl betrayed the wee hour of the morning with his hoot. Cordelia tapped back into the greenhouse. She knew she would find Misty inside. “Misty?” She sensed the other witch’s aura somewhere in the building.

She didn’t need to search. “I’m right here.” Misty touched her elbow. Cordelia faced her. “Are you okay?” Misty asked her in a low voice. A hesitant hand touched her cheek. Cordelia closed her eyes to keep the burning within them from reaching the surface. She couldn’t cry. Not now. Not when she had worked so hard to get Misty back. She needed to celebrate, and she needed to focus. Her girls were going to enter a dangerous series of tests in just a few days. She didn’t have time to mourn.

Her lack of an answer gave Misty more than enough information. Misty hugged her tight. “I’m so sorry.” She kissed Cordelia’s cheek. In spite of everything, she found herself thinking, I wish it were my lips. Misty held her there in the air, swaying back and forth to the beat of the silence—the unusual silence in the building that Misty always filled with music. Only their heartbeats syncopated against one another. Cordelia’s chest pressed against Misty’s. Misty hummed into her ear the tune of “Landslide” without singing any of the words.

Her arms gave Cordelia comfort and strength. She didn’t need to shed a tear. “Thank you, Misty.” She turned her head. The blocky sunglasses bumped against Misty’s face, and she uttered a soft apology before she pulled away. Hugging Misty gave her a slideshow of memories that she didn’t have the heart to view right now. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”

“Let me know if you need anything.” Misty tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and this time, her hands weren’t dirty from playing in the plants and the dirt. “I’ll give it to you. Anything.” Cordelia smiled in response. Then, Misty’s fingers brushed the rim of her sunglasses. Fearing she would try to remove them, Cordelia grabbed her by the wrist. “What happened?” Misty asked.

She knew better than to tell a lie. Misty would see through it. Her magic was the old kind, and she had just a few days before she would rise to take the throne of Supreme. “I had to find you,” she answered simply. She held Misty’s hand in her own to keep her from reaching for the sunglasses. She didn’t know what, exactly, was behind the black lenses, but she knew she didn’t want Misty to see it. “My Sight was gone, and I needed you. So I had to get my Sight back.” She said it flatly.

Misty hooked her fingers under the sunglasses. Cordelia swatted her hands away. “Let me see.” Cordelia shook her head, holding Misty’s hands tightly so she couldn’t reach for the glasses. “Let me see what I did to you.”

“You didn’t do anything to me. I did it to myself. And I would do it again.”

Alabaster hands wrapped up into hers like the bow tying around a gift. “I hope you didn’t do this for some half-cracked notion that I’m going to be your next great leader.” Misty’s voice shook. Cordelia wanted to wipe away her tears. “I’m not your Supreme, Miss Cordelia, and if you hurt yourself for the hope that I am—”

“I didn’t.” She had hurt herself for Misty, definitely, but she had not done it to save her future Supreme. She had done it for a much more selfish reason. “I saved you because you’re my—” Her mouth dried. “You’re my friend.” Misty was just her friend, no matter what else she wanted from the other woman. “I promised to be by your side, and I will be. No matter who rises.”

Cordelia took the liberty to press one hand to Misty’s cheek. She dabbed away the tears falling from her eyes with her thumb. “I’m not worth it, Miss Cordelia… I wasn’t worth it. You threw your eyes away.”

Shaking her head, Cordelia negated the notion. “Blind people can live. I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I could have done something to save you and I didn’t do it.” She caressed Misty’s cheek with her thumb. It’s her. It must be. All of her magic is Divination—she’s so intuitive, it must count. She can use telekinesis. She can transmute. Cordelia had no doubt about Misty’s ability to perform the seven wonders. Misty would become the next Supreme. Will I tell her then? Cordelia inhaled long and deep through her nose, drinking in the sweet scent of Misty. Would she tell Misty how she felt once she became the Supreme? No. She wants my help. If I tell her, I could scare her away.

Misty hugged her. “Do you want me to walk you up to bed?” she offered.

Cordelia blinked. Her eyelashes uncomfortably brushed the lenses of her sunglasses. “You’re staying down here, aren’t you?” She knew Misty kept a sleeping bag under the table for the nights when she didn’t feel like making the climb back up to her room. Misty nodded against her head. “No…” She trailed off. I’d like to stay with you. She bit her lower lip, afraid to ask.

Misty knew. She always knew. “Do you want to stay with me?”

IV.

The emptiness in Cordelia’s stomach throbbed as she followed the cracked sidewalk toward the greenhouse. I need to say goodbye. Oh, god, how it ached inside of her. She had been so wrong—so, so wrong—and it had cost Misty her life. Misty was right. Misty was always right. And the faulty mistake left her clutching nothing more than a handful of soot which soon vanished alongside its owner. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have recognized everything Misty said accurately but the single most important thing to the coven?

How had she missed it?

Head bowed down low, Cordelia swallowed hard outside the greenhouse. She pushed into the building with a soft swallow.

Low tones from the tape player caught her attention, the guitar lick she knew by heart rising from the player. “Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn’t you love to love her?” Cordelia’s stomach flipped. Had Misty left it playing? No, she couldn’t have. We were in here with Zoe.“Rules her life like a bird in flight, and who will be her lover?”

“Hey, Miss Cordelia.”

Fat tears filled Cordelia’s eyes, and she took a moment to respond, wondering if she had imagined it. Was it a cruel trick of her imagination? She turned back over her shoulder, expecting to see nothing at all, praying for anything more than the saplings she had passed on her way into the building. And, there behind her, familiar golden locks and a timid smile written in blue eyes greeted her. “Oh, Misty!” She whirled around and caught Misty’s face between her hands. “Misty! You were right! You were right about everything!” Misty’s hands responded in turn, cradling Cordelia’s face in her palms. “Oh my god, I can’t believe—” Her tears overflowed, and she closed her eyes as a sob tore out of her chest.

Misty dragged her into a tight hug. Cordelia buried her face in her neck. “Not to say I told you so,” she mumbled, “but this whole mess could have been avoided if you had listened to me. ” Cordelia gave another broken sound, whimpering right into her skin. A yelp built in her throat and emerged, but nothing intelligent came out of her mouth. “Hey, hey, it’s alright…” Misty rocked her in the air like she had those days ago, but Cordelia wasn’t so easily consoled now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It just took me awhile to find my way back, that’s all…”

Cordelia’s hands roamed Misty’s face. She had feared she would never feel her face again. All of the patterns of her bones were the same. The freckles on her nose were the same. The shape of her eyes were the same. It was real. It was her. “I can’t believe—” Cordelia choked herself off. “I thought you were dead! Oh my god, Misty—I love you!” The words emerged in her muted shout, louder than her speaking voice but softer than a true scream. She didn’t mean for the last part to pile on, but it did, and then she couldn’t keep herself from continuing. “I love you! I thought I would never see you again—I thought I lost you, I thought—I thought—” Her voice broke, and again, she dissolved into a heap. Misty dabbed away her tears with the pad of her thumb. “I love you,” she whispered, soft and broken.

Earnest blue eyes bored into Cordelia’s. “I love you, too.”

Cordelia dipped her down for a kiss. She kissed Misty long and hard. The salty taste of their tears blended together between them, but she didn’t allow it to sever their kiss until they needed to breathe, and then Misty’s soft pants wafted across her lips. “I’m sorry. I should have said something ages ago—”

“Me too.” Misty snipped off a pink carnation from its stem, and then she gathered up Cordelia’s hair in her hands.

Cordelia grabbed her by the wrist. “Let me.” She took the carnation from Misty. A slight blush rose to Misty’s cheek, but she nodded, bowing her head a little so Cordelia could reach her hair with ease. “I’m so glad you’re alright. I was so afraid.” Her fingers trembled a little, but she formed a loose braid in Misty’s curls, and she spun the pink flower in between her locks.

“A thousand armies couldn’t keep me away from you.”

Cordelia’s heart flushed with warmth, and she swallowed hard. “How were you right about everything? About me, about—about everything? How did you know?”

“Lucky guesses.” As Cordelia’s hands fell away from her face, Misty reached for her waist and pulled her nearer, face to face and chest to chest. “You were right about one thing, though,” she whispered as she brushed Cordelia’s caramel-colored hair back away from her face.

“What was that?”

Misty smiled. “This is where I belong. Here. With you… With you, really.” Cordelia blinked up at her with wide eyes, mesmerized by the glow upon Misty’s face, of which she never really tired. “I spent my whole life looking for my tribe… I never thought maybe my tribe was just one person.” She touched the tip of Cordelia’s nose. “I found her.”

You sure did. Cordelia bounced onto her tiptoes to plant another kiss on Misty’s lips, having nothing more to say but the lingering touches pressing her love into Misty’s skin.

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thefandomlesbian · 5 years

Note

Can I make a drabble request of 9 and 101 for Bananun (non-posessed)?

Okay, these both turned out to be way longer than anticipated, and one of them is a crackfic that I decided to combine with a request I had from someone on Twitter (write about Mary Eunice and Lana having a Kong toy birth fetish). Anyway, I’ve got them separated so you can examine both of them at your leisure!

Both are set in TLaG universe after the end of TLaG, but don’t contain any spoilers. The first one is NSFW, but the second one is SFW!

“Quit It Or I’ll Bite”

“Hey--Mary Eunice?” Lana rushed through the front door heavily laden with bags from her errands. Mary Eunice came up the hall with a curious look on her face, wearing gloves from bleaching out the bathtub and the sink. “Sorry.” Lana cleared her throat. “Sorry, I--I forgot to run by the bank, and I’ve got to make a house payment unless we want to be homeless. Can you put these away?”

She stripped off the gloves. “Sure thing.” She took everything into the kitchen and gave Lana a quick kiss before sending her back out the door. Gus lay in front of the television, watching the empty screen like he was totally riveted by the nothingness there.

The house was silent in Lana’s absence. Mary Eunice put all of the groceries into the refrigerator. In the last bag, she pulled out a strangely-shaped object, round and bulbous. Is this… a dildo? Her cheeks flushed as she turned it in her hand. The rubber material was unlike any dildo she had seen before--but, then again, her experience with them was quite limited. She had wondered aloud, the last time Lana had worn her strap-on, if they could potentially upgrade to a larger model, but she hadn’t expected to find the surprise in a bag of groceries.

Turning the thing in her hand, she squeezed it, finding it somewhat flexible but still firm. It was hollow on the inside. Closing her eyes, she imagined what she could do with it--Lana, pushing it into her until it disappeared from view, then sticking her fingers into it to stimulate her through the toy. Oh, boy, I like this. Mary Eunice licked her lips and picked up the toy, lifting it, stroking it. I could get started now and surprise her? Her face turned red and burned all over. Would Lana want to enjoy something like that? Could she even do something like that by herself? She knew Lana sometimes touched herself, but she had never lost her shame enough to do it herself. It won’t be so bad. Lana will be home soon. Mind made up, she headed down the hall to the bedroom and closed the door so Gus wouldn’t follow her. The dog waited outside the bedroom door. She could hear him panting before he settled down outside, lying on the carpet.

Crawling up onto the bed, Mary Eunice peeled the blankets back and then held the toy in her lap. How am I going to go about this? She spun it around a few times. It was bigger than the usual strap-on Lana wore, but she was confident she could get it to fit; it wasn’t too big. Lana always prepared her well with her fingers before she used the strap-on. I can do that myself. I just have to think about Lana. After all, being with Lana always put her in the mood. If she dreamed hard enough, she could make it happen.

Mary Eunice put the toy aside and unbuttoned her blouse, tossing it aside, along with her bra and her skirt and her panties. She left on her socks. Don’t want my feet to get cold. Sitting there naked on the bed, she felt exposed, so she tucked herself under the blankets. She closed her eyes. A long, easy breath puffed from her nose, and she began to imagine.

Lana’s hands moved all over her bare skin. There she was, clear in her mind--beautiful as she was in daily life, with her dark hair forming a curtain around her face and eyes sparkling with love and lust. Their lips caught. Hands combed over her from head to toe. They were her own hands, but she pretended and wished they were Lana’s. The fingers paused at her breasts, spreading out over her nipples, then flicking over them, back and forth, back and forth. In her mind, Lana suckled on her breasts. “Mmh.” She tossed her head back with a thin sound. The blankets around her fluttered. “Oh…” Tweaking her own nipples was weird--it felt wrong, perverted--but she enjoyed it and the familiar wetness building between her thighs.

Lana kissed her viciously in her fantasy. She caved to her girlfriend’s whims and allowed her back to strike the wall. She adored when Lana pushed her up against the wall. Something about it, about having the solid support behind her while Lana worshipped her body, made her feel safe. Hands spread her legs apart. First, Lana tweaked her clitoris. Mary Eunice poked around a few times before she found it. She had never had to locate it on herself before. Now, she fumbled with the sensitive place with her middle finger.

After a few circles around her tight, erect clitoris, a finger slid into her body. I’m not as wet as usual. She pushed it in and out a few times, imagining Lana sitting on top of her, her breasts swaying as she held eye contact with her and humped her thigh. “Mm…” Making noise felt awkward, but she liked the way it sounded. An involuntary twitch worked its way up her clitoris. Her vagina grew wetter, slicker, as she worked to curl her finger forward. The familiar, sensitive place inside of her was rough to the touch. She had never felt it before. But it ached with need as she massaged it with her fingertips.

Imaginary Lana smirked at her and curled another finger into her body. Mary Eunice allowed her ring finger to push into her with a grunt of effort. The stinging sensation was familiar as her body stretched to accommodate the slightly larger piece. “Mmm…” Lana seemed to know how to do it with less pain, but Mary Eunice was flying solo. She had never penetrated herself before, and Lana never wanted to be penetrated, either. She puffed out a sigh to force herself to relax. As she did, the pain dissipated, and she worked both fingers inside herself, working her clitoris with her other hand. Lana’s voice echoed in her mind. “Ngh…”

The familiar pressure built in the pit of Mary Eunice’s stomach. Don’t you dare! She was doing this to surprise Lana. It would hardly be a surprise if she had already gotten off by the time Lana arrived. Grunting with effort, she removed her hand from her clitoris, though it left her needy and desperate, and her hips gyrated of their own accord, aching for more pressure on the sensitive nub. This is so uncomfortable! Lana never withheld orgasms from her. Lana always gratified her. Holding herself back was uncharted territory, much like the rest of the venture of touching herself. I’m not as good at this as Lana is.

Hand shaking, Mary Eunice fumbled on top of the covers and grappled around for the toy with its bulbs shaped like an ideal snowman, but red and rubbery instead of white and cold. She held it against her vulva. How do I get it in there? I can’t see! She pushed herself up onto her elbows. Pressing the small end right against the vestibule of her vagina, she pressed with one finger. Meager strain of her forearm pushed the tip of it inside of her. A quiver passed through her. Relax… Falling back onto the pillows, she released a sigh so her walls would relax enough for her to push the toy into herself up to the second bulge.

At that point, the familiar sting of stretching stopped her. She waited for it to pass, and then she pushed with her fingers again, slipping her fingers into the toy as she propelled it deeper inside her body. “Ack!” The initial pain faded as the bulges massaged the sensitive spot inside of her. Puffing with effort, Mary Eunice ground her hips upward on the air, on nothing at all, trying to get some relief on her clitoris, which had swollen and erected itself with need as she didn’t touch it. Holding the toy inside of herself drove her goosebumps upward. Her nipples pebbled with the chill. She drew her legs back, hiking them up, and impossibly, the movement deepened the penetration.

The house shook as Lana closed the front door. “I’m home!” Her voice echoed down the hall. “What’s for dinner?” It’s not food, but it is edible… “Hey--where’d you go? Mary Eunice?”

Clearing her throat, she lifted her head from the pillow, drawing the covers off of her naked body to put herself on full display for Lana. “Lana! I, um, I’m in the bedroom!” she called, projecting her voice. “I--I need your help with something!” What if she doesn’t like it?

Her girlfriend’s footsteps echoed down the hallway as she approached. She opened the door and entered the room. “What’s--” She stopped at the sight of Mary Eunice. “Whoa.” A pink blush tingled all over Mary Eunice’s face. Lana closed the bedroom door like she feared someone else would see. “What are you--Why are you--oh my god.” Mary Eunice curled her toes in her socks, wiggling with discomfort on the bed. “You, um, wow. What are you doing?”

“I--” Suddenly, this felt like less of a good idea. “I found--in the groceries, you bought the, um, the thicker toy I asked for--I thought I’d give it a try and surprise you.”

“I didn’t buy a thicker toy--Why would I buy a thicker dildo at the grocery store?”

Mary Eunice shrugged. “I don’t know. The red thing with the three bulbs, and the hole--”

Lana’s face melted with blush. “Oh my god.” She covered her face with her hands. “Sweetheart, that’s--that’s not a dildo.” Mary Eunice’s eyes widened. “It’s a dog toy. It’s for Gus. The hole is to fill it up with peanut butter.” Oh, heavens. “Where--Where is it?”

Pinching her legs tighter together, Mary Eunice gave a wobbly smirk to her girlfriend. Lana held her gaze, arching an eyebrow in question. Mary Eunice arched back in answer. Then, she eased her legs apart. “Come and get it?” she invited in a meek voice.

To her surprise, a laugh broke Lana’s facade, and she eased into the bed beside her. “Well, I suppose, since you’ve already been using it…” Mary Eunice rolled onto her side to kiss her. Lana tilted her head back with her thumb trailing down her jaw onto the pulse point of her neck. “I can’t believe you did this.” She kissed her hard on the mouth. Mary Eunice caved to every place Lana placed her hands, swaying underneath her, her hands hooking under Lana’s sweater and drawing it upward, up over her head. “How long have you been like this?”

“Long enough to be burning for you.” At Mary Eunice’s words, Lana relieved herself of her bra and slipped out of her skirt. “I--I can feel it inside of me--” She gulped around her words, tilting her head back as Lana, newly naked, slid down her body and peppered kisses across her collarbones and the upper part of her chest. “Moving. The biggest bulge is right--right there…” Lana wrapped her hot mouth around her nipple. “Ugh! Ngh, Lana, that feels good.” She arched her back into the sensation. Lana sucking on her breasts scratched an itch tingling between her legs, but it also strengthened the itch. “Lana, please, I’m burning! I need you!”

Lana eased down between her legs and spread out her thighs with a hand on each one. “You’re really close,” she observed in a whisper. Mary Eunice bobbed her head eagerly. “Hm… Maybe I should have let you finish yourself. You’re so pretty when you’re needy.” Lana touched one fingertip to her clitoris, but she didn’t tweak it or move it. She held it there, using more pressure with each passing moment. “You’ve never been denied, have you? I always give you exactly what you need.” Mary Eunice nodded. “But I like seeing you like this. All spread out and eager, asking for me to take you… I like it a lot. Can I savor it for a little while?” Savor it? Mary Eunice stifled her whine by closing her mouth, eyes fixed on Lana, hoping for more clarification. “You know… Draw it out. You make me so wet. Do you mind?”

She minded. She minded a lot. But Lana gave her so much, and her brown eyes glowed with desire, and Mary Eunice could think of denying her nothing. She shook her head. “D-Do what you like,” she whispered. Lana lifted up one of her legs and planted a tender kiss on the inside of her thigh. Mary Eunice trembled. “I’m so full--” As she spoke, Lana’s fingers dropped to her vulva, drawing around it, careful not to touch her engorged clitoris. “Oh, my word!”

A single long finger slipped into her body and arced into the rubbery toy. “Let me get this out of you.” She gave it a tug at the lip. At the movement, Mary Eunice yelped, thrusting her hips into the air once as the large bulb rolled over the sensitive place inside of her. Lana jerked her hands away. “Did that hurt?”

Shaking her head, Mary Eunice desperately panted, “N-No, it felt good--” She bucked her hips into the air. “Oh, Lana, I need you!”

“It felt good when I moved it?” She nodded so fast she dizzied herself. “Then maybe you should do it.” Mary Eunice blinked a few times in confusion, but then she fumbled around with a hand going between her legs. Lana caught her hand by the wrist. “No, no, sunshine.” She smirked. Mary Eunice had never known such a sexy expression as when she viewed it through a haze of sexual arousal and love. What? She didn’t understand Lana’s demand. “You put it in there. I want to see you push it out.” Push it out? Mary Eunice’s nipples hardened at the question, considering it. Was she strong enough to pull it off? “Would you like that?” Lana asked her, softer, the sensitive voice which always made sure she was okay first.

She liked it. “Mhm--I’ll try.” She spread her legs, and Lana caught one of them by the knee and lifted it up to her chest. Each movement caused a slight shift in the toy’s position inside of her. Her hands fisted in the sheets. What do I do? The swollen, tight, euphoric feeling pulsed throughout her lower body. Move it down. Sucking in a deep breath, she bore down with all of her strength.

The toy shifted downward, raking over her most sensitive area. She released with a tight grunt, gasping for breath. “Good… You’re so beautiful.” Lana took a finger and trailed down from her clitoris to her vagina. “I can see it bulging out.” Lana shifted downward, lying on her stomach, her mouth inches away from Mary Eunice’s pubic area. “Do it again.”

Mary Eunice gathered up her steel, puffing a few times before she pushed again. She growled, low and animal, with the effort she poured into her quest. But she met resistance. Lana covered the emerging toy with her finger and pushed back against her with a slightly amused look her face, holding it in place. “Ugh!” Mary Eunice tossed her head back in frustration. Her clitoris had never ached so much. “Lana, please, it feels so good, I need more--”

Her pleading earned her a single, delicate lick from the tip of Lana’s flitting tongue. Crying out, Mary Eunice put her hands in Lana’s hair in an attempt to drag her face back down into her vulva. Lana pulled away. “Quit it, or I’ll bite.” Mary Eunice fell into a mewling heap. “Did you like what I did?” Yes, yes, yes! The garbled sounds she made were affirmative enough. Lana grinned up at her. “Then do it again.”

Grunting with effort, Mary Eunice arched her lower back, leaning backward into the pressure and the stretching. She quivered as Lana pushed it back inside of her. Panting heavily, she sprawled herself out, trying to cool off as she sweated into the blankets. I can do it. She heaved again, this time with a throaty cry, and the largest bulge of the toy almost escaped before Lana caught it and pushed back inside. “Ugh!” The brief relief vanished into more pressure and stretching. But the flat of Lana’s tongue landed on her clitoris. “Oh--Oh, Lana!” Fluid trickled from her body. “I’m so--” She sucked in a breath, trying to free herself from the bulbous toy before she reached her orgasm.

With her last shove, Lana suckled on her clitoris. The first contraction of her vagina squeezed tight around the toy; it helped propel it from her body as she pushed with all the muscles in her pelvis floor. The sticky toy rolled out of her body across the bed. “Ah… Ah…” She panted and gasped for her air, quivering from head to toe as the final pulses of her orgasm passed through her. “Good lord have mercy.” Lana picked up the toy to show it to her, sticky and covered in her translucent lubricant. “I… I guess we can’t give that to Gus now, can we?”

Lana laughed. “I guess not.” She put it aside and lay down beside her, gathering Mary Eunice into her arms. Mary Eunice fumbled with her hands, slithering between Lana’s legs, feeling the hot collection of moisture there. “Don’t worry about that right now, sunshine… We can take care of that later.” But I want to take care of it now. Lana kissed her. “I promise we will.” She tucked a sweaty lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “That was the most pleasant surprise I’ve had in a long time.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She stretched out beside Lana and exhaled a long, satisfied sigh. Lana placed a hand in her hair, and they both relaxed, satisfied with themselves.

“Don’t Be Such an Asshole, Asshole”

“Agh--” Mary Eunice’s face was white as a sheet where she stood in the kitchen, trying and failing to slice the onions in front of her for the pot of stew on the stove. She clutched the counter with both hands. The blade of the knife stuck upward into the air. Lana peered up from her newspaper. It’s happening again. For two days, she had watched her girlfriend suffer from the worst menstrual cramps she had ever seen. Given the irregularity of Mary Eunice’s menstrual cycle, she tried to comfort herself that it was normal. But it’s getting worse instead of better. Folding the newspaper back down, she stood up and walked into the kitchen. “I’m fine,” Mary Eunice insisted. “Really, I--I’m fine.”

Arching an eyebrow at her, Lana tilted her head. “You’re sweating.” She reached out and tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “C’mon. I can finish the stew. You need to sit down.” Mary Eunice shook her head, stubbornly insisting otherwise as she picked up her knife again. Tears stung in her eyes, but she didn’t shed them. That’s unusual. She almost never cries when she’s in pain. Mary Eunice had an unbelievable pain threshold. Lana touched the small of her back, but Mary Eunice flinched away. “Where does it hurt?”

She focused on the onion slices and tossed the diced bits into the pot. “It doesn’t. I’m fine.” Lana bit back a sigh at her girlfriend’s reticence. Of course she won’t tell me. She couldn’t make it that easy. “Lana, I’m fine,” she repeated. “I--I’m sure it’ll be over in a few days. It’s just worse than usual.” She grimaced and placed her hand over her lower abdomen. A brief prayer buffered right on her lips; Lana watched it come forth from her before she whirled around and stirred the pot.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Lana followed her. “I don’t like it. You’re in a lot of pain. There may be something wrong.”

“I don’t need a doctor.”

Her flat objection silenced Lana’s suggestion before it emerged. “Okay,” she agreed. She touched her girlfriend’s upper back. “Put the stew on low and I’ll give you a rub. Do you think that will help?” Mary Eunice made a face. “Maybe not a rub.” She took her by the elbow and tugged her back after she turned the stew down low. “Would it help if we made love?”

A blush rose to her girlfriend’s cheeks as she shook her head. “No…” Lana pursed her lips, expecting more of an answer than that. “It--It hurt, the last time. That was when the cramping started.”

Why don’t you tell me these things? Lana knew better than to challenge her now. “Okay. I’ll get you some Tylenol. Go sit on the couch. Stretch out. Legs above your heart and all that.” She squeezed Mary Eunice’s arm gently and then she headed down the hall to grab the Tylenol from the bathroom.

She had scarcely turned the corner into the bathroom before Mary Eunice’s shaking voice came down the hall. “Lana!” She spun at the sound of her name. The next sound was a strangled cry followed by a dull thump of a body striking the carpeted floor. A thin wail rose up as Lana ran back to her--where she had fallen in the middle of the living room floor, curled up in the fetal position and weeping. “Ah--Something’s wrong, something’s wrong, it hurts!” she whimpered. Her white pallor had gone green. Lana grabbed the throw off of the couch and tucked it under her face. Moments later, Mary Eunice retched, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the blanket. Better than the carpet.

Lana tied her hair back with shaking hands so it wouldn’t get caught in her vomit. “Here, move over here--Don’t put your face in your puke.” She dragged Mary Eunice about a foot away from the pile she had created. “I’m going to call the hospital.” Her girlfriend began to shake her head, making a string of incoherent sounds as she shook her head, but Lana ignored her. “Yes, I have to call the hospital. This isn’t normal. They’ll know how to make it better.” She kissed her hand and touched her girlfriend’s sweaty forehead.

She called for an ambulance, and one arrived within minutes. Lana waited while she cradled Mary Eunice’s head in her lap. Her girlfriend vomited again and then passed out, face white as sheet.

Mary Eunice faded in and out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital. Once they were in a room, a nurse hooked her up to a drip of morphine and saline. “The doctor will be in shortly,” the nurse told her, and she sat on the edge of the bed beside her resting partner.

A few minutes passed before Mary Eunice stirred again. “Lana…” Her voice was groggy from the drugs. Her tired eyes took a long moment to find her lover, who touched her cheek fondly. “Did they stick me?”

She bit back a chuckle. “They stuck you. You were dehydrated.” The scowl returned to Mary Eunice’s face. “It’s okay. They want to make you feel better, okay? You’re going to be fine. They just have to find out what’s going on with your insides.” This isn’t normal. Lana’s heart was in her stomach. What could possibly be wrong? Mary Eunice had never been pregnant. There shouldn’t have been anything wrong with her uterus or the rest of her reproductive system. What if it’s cancer? The thought made Lana feel sick to her stomach. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Mary Eunice murmured, voice heavy with sleep. “I do… I do feel better now. Really warm.” She shivered in spite of her words. Lana tucked the blanket up around her to keep her warm. “I’ll be okay, Lana,” she promised. “Don’t worry about me.” Lana kissed the back of her hand and held it until she fell asleep, comforted and eased by the pain medication.

The doctor arrived in three hours--traditional of an ER doctor, Lana supposed. “Alright. So we’re looking at menstrual problems.” He was altogether too business-like for Lana, but she resisted the urge to curl her lip at the man and listened. “We’ve just got new sonograph technology. I’ll order an ultrasound and some X-rays and see if we can’t find out what’s going on. Is there any possibility you may be pregnant?”

Mary Eunice’s eyes were bleary. “Huh? No… No, I don’t have sex with men.” Lana bit the tip of her tongue. Don’t say anything. She couldn’t stop Mary Eunice from telling her doctor the truth about her health.

“So you’re not sexually active?”

“I guess not.”

“You guess?” Mary Eunice shrugged. She was too drugged to make much of an effort into the conversation. “We’ll rule that out as a possibility in the ultrasound before we do any X-rays.”

The doctor left within a few minutes, and Mary Eunice reached for Lana, trying to tug her into bed beside her. “I feel really funny… That medicine…” Lana kissed her forehead. “It can’t be anything too horrible, can it? I mean… it’ll be an easy fix.” She leaned into Lana’s caress as her girlfriend stroked her cheek. Big, azure eyes went to hers. Mary Eunice didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then her shaking hand went to Lana’s face. Her thumb poked away the tears. “Don’t cry.” Lana hadn’t realized she had begun to cry. “I’m gonna be okay, Lana. I promise.” I’m scared. The fear trembled in the pit of her stomach. She bowed her head, resisting the urge to hide her face in shame. “See--I can barely feel it now… And I didn’t even pass out when they stuck me.” Lana’s chest quaked. She buried her face into the papery pillow. “Sh…” Loose, fumbling hands reached around her. “Cupcake… Mmm. It’s okay, Lana, I’m okay. I’m okay.”

The cords attached to Mary Eunice’s arm wrapped around her and got tangled in her hair. “You passed out in the middle of the living room,” she whispered. “You’re not okay.” She nuzzled into the crook of her girlfriend’s neck. What if someone walks in? She didn’t care. “I’m scared. What will we do if you’re sick? Or--if you need surgery--”

“Lana.” The measured voice said her name patiently in spite of the slur to it from the morphine. “If I need surgery, I’ll have surgery. If I’m sick, they’ll treat it.” You make it sound so easy. “Don’t panic… I’m going to be fine.” The fear shimmered inside of Mary Eunice’s blue eyes, but she stifled it for Lana’s benefit, which made the knife of grief and terror twist deeper into her stomach. I should be comforting her, not the other way around. She’s afraid and in pain. She doesn’t need to be soothing me, too. “I’m tired now,” Mary Eunice admitted.

Lana sniffled a little, and then she tucked the blankets up around her girlfriend. “Here. You get warm, and I’ll wake you if the doctor comes back in, sweetheart.” Mary Eunice took her hand and squeezed it. “I love you.” Lana kissed the back of it and waited to cry more until after she had fallen asleep.

Hours later, the sonographer smeared a cold jelly all over Mary Eunice’s abdomen. “This should just take a few minutes.” It was a female doctor, which made Lana thank her lucky stars that a man wasn’t holding Mary Eunice’s shirt all the way up to her breasts. “This is a new technology. It projects sound waves into your belly, and the feedback we get produces an image on the screen.” She nodded pointedly to the screen beside her. “If there’s a baby in there, or something wrong, we’ll see it.”

Soon enough, just like she had said, an image appeared on the screen. It didn’t look like much of anything to Lana, just a blob of darkness. “Well, you’re not pregnant--I assume that’s good news.” She gave a warm smile to the two women. The wand moved around on the surface of her abdomen. “But there is some abnormal material in here.” She pointed to the screen. “Here, and here. Your endometrium--” Mary Eunice’s eyes stretched into saucers at the large word, and the doctor clarified, “The material which is supposed to line your uterus--it’s in the wrong places.” The wand moved a little. “And here, on your ovary--it’s covered with cysts.” The images on the screen didn’t make any sense to Lana, but the sonographer’s mouth changed into a quirk of concern. “That’s not good.”

“What’s wrong?” Lana tried to sound less hysterical than she was. She failed.

“Everything’s fine,” the woman rushed to soothe. “I suspect that the pain you experienced was due to a ruptured cyst. Right now, it looks like there’s some bleeding going on.” Mary Eunice squeezed Lana’s hand. She had started to cry again. I need to control myself. She tried to wipe away her tears. “I’m going to tell the doctor what I found, and he’ll be back to decide what to do. He may want to do surgery. But you’re going to be fine.” The woman patted Mary Eunice on her hand. “Let me go talk to the doctor. He’ll be right in with you.”

She’s lying. The facade of the other woman’s calmness did not fool Lana. She clutched Mary Eunice’s had like a weapon. “Lana…” Her voice was soft and scared. “Don’t be afraid. She said it was nothing.” Lana twitched. Both of her eyes fluttered closed, and she covered her eyes with her hands, withdrawing from her girlfriend. “Lana. Lana, don’t do that--come here.” She grimaced with discomfort as she tried to sit up and hug her. This isn’t fair. Her breath caught in her throat. In her mind, she played over the worst case scenario: sitting in one of these chairs, waiting for Mary Eunice to come out, but she never would. Sitting in another chair in front of a casket, which would never open. Sitting on the grass in front of a headstone, mourning another grave. “Lana.”

The final whisper of her name drew her attention from her fantasy. She snapped up and gulped, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “What?”

“You’re shaking.” Lana shivered from head to toe. “Did you bring your medication?” She shook her head. She had left her purse at home. She had left everything at home when they picked up Mary Eunice in the ambulance. “Come here. Hold my hand. Pray with me.” Lana offered her hand at the demand. Mary Eunice fondled it, tracing each of her fingers; she used Lana’s hand as a rosary, each finger representing a decade of Hail Mary beads.

No sooner than she finished the last prayer, the doctor entered. That was fast. It took him twenty minutes. Before, it had taken hours. The expression on his face betrayed his concern. Lana got out of Mary Eunice’s bed. “The nurses will be here to take you to the theater in ten minutes. Please, put on this gown--lose everything else.” He wants her to be naked? Lana didn’t know why the notion appalled her--of course she knew surgeries were performed in hospital gowns--but she wanted to wrap up Mary Eunice tight in her arms and protect her. “You’ll see the anesthesiologist soon--” A woman bustled in after him with a clipboard full of paperwork. Each body that entered the room made Lana’s heart rate increase. “Do you consent to a blood transfusion if you should need it?”

Mary Eunice blinked a few times. “A--A blood--” Her mind wasn’t clear. “Do you think it’s necessary?”

“It may be.”

“She does,” Lana blurted. “Sign the goddamn papers.” Mary Eunice fell silent, raising her eyebrows as the woman gave her the clipboard. She signed each one of them without any additional commentary or complaint. A tiny, guilty voice in the back of Lana’s head wondered if she had silenced her girlfriend too quickly in making decisions for her own body. But she couldn’t consider it too long. If it was the difference between Mary Eunice and no Mary Eunice, she would slit her own wrists to donate.

The nurse unhooked her IV so she could take off her clothing, and then everyone left the room. Lana pulled the curtain closed around the bed and began to peel off Mary Eunice’s clothes. “I had more questions.”

“You can ask all the questions you want after they save your life.” She removed her blouse. “Did you tell them your blood type?” Mary Eunice shrugged. “You don’t know, do you?” She shook her head. Lana’s shaking hands unsnapped her bra and collected it with the rest of her clothing. The action had never been less sexual. The white cotton fell away from her breasts, and Lana replaced it with the hospital gown, all its strings in the back. She tied it taut to keep it from slipping. “I love you.”

Mary Eunice reached around the gown, feeling it. “I love you.” Her voice was small. She’s scared. Lana pressed her lips to the crown of her head. “This--This gown doesn’t have a back…”

“No--that’s so they can catheterize you.”

“That’s another big word… I don’t understand what any of these words mean.” Mary Eunice’s face crumpled. “Lana?” She hummed her attention. “What’s an ovary?”

Her round, frightened eyes made the pit of Lana’s belly wriggle with discomfort, with sorrow. Lana took her hand and squeezed it, rolling the fingers between her own. “Your ovary,” she explained in a soft voice, hoping she could make some sense, “is part of your body that holds all the--all the eggs, and produces your hormones and things.” Mary Eunice’s lower lip trembled. “You had something bad on yours that ruptured, and now you’re bleeding on the inside. That’s--That’s what I understood, anyway.”

“Are they going to take it out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well--I don’t need it. I’m not going to have children. They could just take it all out so it won’t happen again.”

Lana swept her hair out her eyes, away from her sweaty forehead. “I don’t think they’ll do that. But--they might have finally figured out what’s wrong with your body. Why you don’t have your periods very regularly and stuff.”

The nurses returned shortly and began to wheel the bed out of the room. Lana popped up to follow. “Ma’am, you need to stay here.” Can’t I walk down with her? She knew better than to argue. Mary Eunice gave her a soft look and squeezed her hand one last time before she released it, pulling up the blankets around herself to cover her body.

Sitting back down in the empty room was among the hardest things Lana thought she had ever done.

Seconds passed like hours, but she watched the clock religiously, and once she knew three hours had passed, she popped up and headed to the nurses’ station. “Excuse me.” The nurse behind the desk was different from the ones she had seen earlier; they had changed shifts. “Um, has there been any word on Mary Eunice McKee?”

“She’s in recovery right now. The anesthetic made her very sick.” The woman gave her an appraising look. “I’ve got a dime, miss, if you need to make a call. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“No, um--thank you, but I’ll wait for her to come out.” Lana couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Mary Eunice to wake up alone in the room. “Thank you.” She retreated back into the room and sat back in the chair where she had left.

Fortunately, the wheels of a bed sounded soon enough, and she lifted her head just as two nurses wheeled in the hospital bed. Lana stood. Mary Eunice was asleep. Vomit stains streaked her gown, and blood--blood was all over, dried but still present. “Is she alright?”

“Ma’am, visiting hours are over.” The statement caused her jaw to fall open. “You need to leave. You can’t be here without the patient’s consent.”

Her brow fuddled. “Without her consent--I came in here with her! I was the one who called the ambulance! She knows I’m here.” She moved closer to the bedside, picking up Mary Eunice’s cold, limp hand in her own. “I’ll leave if she asks me to, and not a moment sooner. I won’t leave her here alone.”

The second nurse attempted to placate her. “Ma’am, please, remain calm. Miss McKee has been very ill. She must be allowed to rest. I’m sure if we talk to the doctor--”

The first nurse, however, was not having it. “If you won’t leave, we can have security remove you from the premises.” She stood up tall, crossing her arms, inclining her head. “Your kind isn’t welcome here. Only immediate family members are allowed in hospital space without patient consent--mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and spouses. You are none of those things to her.”

She recognizes me. A cold stone dropped into the pit of Lana’s stomach. Of course someone recognized her and wanted to rip her away from her lover now. “Mary Eunice doesn’t have any of those things. She has me. She shouldn’t have to spend the night alone because of some stupid rule.”

The second nurse looked nervous, but she broke in again. “I’m sure we can find a solution--”

“Your kind isn’t welcome here,” the first nurse spat. “Who knows the types of things you could be spreading around this ward? To us? To our patients?”

The second nurse moved to interrupt, but Mary Eunice lifted her hand. Lana’s eyes widened with shock, and she bent over her side to try to soothe her. To her surprise, her girlfriend’s eyes focused past her onto the horrid nurse, and she pointed a single index finger at the woman. Her croaked voice carried in the silence. “Don’t be such an asshole.” Lana bit her bottom lip, but she couldn’t prevent the smirk from spreading across her face at the expletive. She’s definitely drugged. She had never heard Mary Eunice swear before--ever. The mean nurse whirled around and stormed out of the room in a huff. Under her breath, Mary Eunice muttered, “Asshole.”

The other, kinder nurse gave a sad, regretful smile. “I’m so sorry. She has her principles. Miss McKee, how are you feeling?” Mary Eunice blinked a few times, all dazed and confused with a certain bleariness to her blue eyes. Lana touched her cheek. “You got terribly sick during surgery. We had to give you a lot of Dramamine to calm your stomach, so you’re probably going to be feeling pretty sleepy. You’ve been approved for food, if you’d like crackers or ginger ale.” Mary Eunice nodded, eyes already falling closed. “You would? Okay, I’ll be right back with everything.” She patted her hand and then headed out of the room up the hall.

Lana pulled up the chair beside the bed. “Hey, sunshine.” She took a cold hand in her own. “How do you feel?”

“Real bitch, treating you like that.”

Lana chuckled. She kissed the back of Mary Eunice’s hand. “I take it you’re still feeling pretty high, then?” Mary Eunice grumbled something totally unintelligible. “Sh, it’s alright. Are you in any pain?” She shook her head. “Then that’s what matters.” Caressing her warm cheeks, Lana went to the sink and wet a paper towel to wipe the sweat from her face and hair. “I’m sure the nurse will tell us everything that happened. The doctor will probably be in tomorrow morning, and we’ll see if we can go home.”

Mary Eunice nuzzled into Lana’s palm. “Love you, Lana.” She kissed her palm. “‘M real tired.”

“Get some sleep, sunshine.”

“You, too?”

“Me? I’ll be up here in this chair. I’m fine for a night.”

“Mm… I want you.” Mary Eunice reached for her. “Please.” Lana caught her hand and tangled their fingers together, but it still wasn’t enough for Mary Eunice, who tugged her down into the tiny bed. “Keep me warm.”

In spite of her better judgment, Lana curled up on her side beside her. “Okay. Here I am. Don’t move around too much. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Mary Eunice made a thin sound. “Wake me up if you need to go to the bathroom, or if you can’t reach something, okay?” She hummed another unintelligible noise, and Lana counted it good enough. “I love you.”

By the time the nurse returned, Lana and Mary Eunice were fast asleep, sharing the papery pillow and the threadbare blanket. She placed the drink and the crackers on the bedside table and fetched a larger blanket to spread over the two sleeping women, careful not to disturb their slumber.

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