Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Laugh With Me pt1

STAR TREK VOYAGER-fanfic. When two very unlikely people onboard experience some drunken hilarity, even B'Elanna can get caught in the consequences.
(Seven/B'Elanna)






Read Laugh With Me pt1




Disclaimer: Seven, B’Elanna and all things Star Trek as everyone knows do not belong to me, and I’m just borrowing them. Additionally the first joke told by Captain Janeway is likewise borrowed, but unfortunately I don’t know where it originates from. I read it on jjchopper’s tumblr (http://jumblr-crumblr.tumblr.com/) and thinking it was hers set out to obtain permission to use it. (do check out her deviantart account as well, she has some very funny STV jokes on there, although they tend to be J/7) Should anyone that reads this know where the joke comes from, then please tell me so that I can give proper credit.




Laugh With Me pt1
-----------------------------------------------------------
by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson




Some days in the Delta Quadrant was more trying than others. Some days even had B’Elanna Torres turn her eyes towards distant bulkheads and wonder what higher power or potential deity she had managed to piss off that day.

For most part B’Elanna Torres would have said that the day everything changed for her was one of the latter.

It started innocuously enough, for Voyager at least. A slight near-miss with a hostile nebula had happened during the nightshift, something no-one onboard took lightly anymore, but thankfully B’Elanna’s much put-upon ship had escaped not much worse for wear this time. Hostile nebulas or things masquerading as such were after all Voyager’s worst nemesis, regardless of what the Borg might consider themselves, and tended to exact a heavy toll on ship and crew alike. The morning senior staff meeting had reminded B’Elanna that Neelix latest and much dreaded social event was scheduled for that evening, and made her vaguely formed plans of getting rest moot.

Protests from Seven regarding irrelevant and unproductive activities ensured that Captain Janeway decreed that attendance was mandatory, and no absences would be excused. Torn between sarcastically thanking Seven and simply slamming her own head on the briefing room table, B’Elanna was just too tired to say or do either.

She did wonder however, how a woman as smart as Seven could somehow fail to realize after repeating the same pattern again and again, that the best thing she could do for these enforced social events was to keep her mouth shut?

The day after that had been rather average, as if to lull B’Elanna into a false sense of security. There was a fair amount of work to do, which was the way that B’Elanna liked it, but nothing was altogether pressing. Seven crossed her path a few times to annoy her, or possibly to make alterations to Astrometrics, but B’Elanna kept her cool. Tom also crossed her path a few times, managing to be even more annoying with his immature giggling and secretive comments suggesting that he had something planned for the party that she wasn’t going to find out about. She didn’t have the patience, or the interest, to deal with him so she sent him away.

And so the evening arrived, and B’Elanna was well aware that she was late. Some last minute work had cropped up, of course, but mostly she had just been procrastinating, knowing that thanks to Seven’s intervention there would be no casual dropping in to make her appearance and then take off quickly tonight.

When she got there the party was already in full swing, and in fairly good spirits too. Once more ignoring Tom, B’Elanna walked up to Harry and chatted with him, moving on to mingle with Chakotay, and Nicoletti, and finally wound up talking to Neelix and Sam Wildman.

That was when it happened.

A strange sound registered over the general noise of the room, and gradually the room hushed as everyone, B’Elanna included, stopped talking and turned towards the sound. At first B’Elanna couldn’t believe her eyes.

“an, an you wanna hear a joke, Schevun?” Captain Janeway boomed merrily, clearly drunk out of her mind, as she waved her mug about in one hand so wildly that the drink in it sloshed over the edges. Her other arm was slung companionably across the shoulders of an even more incredible sight, a slouching and loose-limbed Seven who was staring drunkenly into her obviously empty mug with narrow eyes, as if more of her beverage would appear if she did so.

“The Prime Directive!”

A brief moment of silence followed, and then Janeway released Seven to slap herself on the leg as she laughed uproariously. Another second of Seven squinting as she tilted her head in thought, and then something completely unprecedented happened.

Seven smiled, a big, toothy, amazing smile, and burst out laughing. It was a full, deep belly laugh that pulled the already unsteady woman first to her knees, and then finally down on the floor. Even lying down on the floor with both arms held to her stomach, Seven howled with laughter.

Pleased with herself, Captain Janeway laughed harder when Seven started to and seemed unable to stop. “Schtil got it.” She declared and flopped down on the floor next to the laughing Seven. “Hey, Schevun? Wanna hear anuther?”

She lifted her mostly empty mug and crowed to the room. “The Temporal Prime Directive!”

Renewed gales of laughter erupted from the prone Seven, and Janeway joined in, letting go of her mug to slam her hand into the floor while she laughed raucously.

“I... have one... Captain.” Seven gasped after a long moment of laughing, her voice strained from her alcohol-induced hilarity though her mode of speech was unaffected, and with one slender blue-clad arm being waived about unsteadily in Janeway’s direction. “A pilot... at the helm... and the helm itself... during flight... in a starship!”

Yet more howling, and after a second of blinking, Janeway started up again. “Gud one!” The Captain declared, now face-first into the flooring and apparently finding nothing wrong in that arrangement.

“What in Gre’thor is going on?” B’Elanna wrestled her mind back from the land of denial long enough to hiss at those around her. “Neelix? Anyone?”

Wide, horrified eyes and an almost room-covering dance of shaking faces met her in all directions.

“...” The shaking and snorting Captain said, indistinctly, while awkwardly trying to wave her arm at Seven but not able to figure out how it had twisted against the floor, and only managing a weak little twitch instead. “Akochemoyaaa!

Unfortunately, the last howl was quite audible, and was followed by not only gales of drunken laughter from the two shuddering women rolling around on the floor, but also from a handful of other places in the room.

Slapping a hand across her eyes while discreetly trying not to smile, B’Elanna knew she had to do something, and fast. She didn’t dare glance in Chakotay’s direction, and cast her eyes everywhere else for inspiration.

She found it in a pale face with wide eyes that met hers for just a moment, and then turned to, with not much success, make a mad dash towards the door.

“TOM PARIS!” B’Elanna bellowed, earning snickers from the floor and a sea of faces turning towards the helmrat in question. “STOP RIGHT THERE!” Whether on instinct or for some other reason, several hands immediately reached out and stopped the escape attempt.

Tuvok emerged from the crowd just as an angry looking Chakotay stepped up closer. “I bet you anything that juvenile moron spiked the punch.” B’Elanna growled, wishing in hindsight that she had paid more attention earlier that day. “No way the Captain would have let herself get soused otherwise.”

“Oh dear,” Neelix exclaimed, worried. “the punch is supposed to be alcohol free. I specifically promised Seven it would be.”

“Will you handle him?” B’Elanna quietly asked Chakotay, mostly for the sake of getting her old friend out of the room as soon as possible before further laughing erupted.

“Oh yes.” Was the clipped answer as the big man set off, but the anger and humiliation still burning in his eyes promised a world of hurt for one Thomas Eugene Paris.

With a slight nod to B’Elanna Tuvok walked over and simply lifted Captain Janeway up from the floor. Cradling the not entirely coherent woman surprisingly gently he stopped in front of B’Elanna and Neelix briefly. “I will escort the Captain to her quarters.”

“...ey, pretty Schammy!” The recumbent woman grinned widely up at Sam Wildman who just happened to be in her line of sight. B’Elanna was surprised and vaguely curious to see a rather prominent blush spread on Sam’s face at the Captain’s drunken compliment. The Captain made to say something else, but Tuvok was quick to turn around and march out of the room.

“Neelix, Sam, can you take the crowd?” B’Elanna continued quietly. “Do damage control if you can, get the punch away somewhere the Doc can have a look at it later.” She scanned the crowds for a certain familiar face. “Harry is around here somewhere, recruit him and whoever else you need that’s not too drunk to help out.”

As Sam and Neelix nodded and set off to do just that, it left really only one thing to do, and only one person to do it. B’Elanna sighed and internally cursed her luck as she walked over to Seven.

She was in no way prepared for the beaming smile directed at her when Seven spotted her, or her own reaction to it.

“Lieutenant Torres!” Seven exclaimed, looking and sounding delighted. “Hello!” The awkwardness of the little hand-wave was made up for with mass enthusiasm, and the sight of Seven beaming up at her, looking adorable while waving madly, made B’Elanna blush.

“Hello Seven.” She said gently and crouched down to get a good grip under Seven’s arms. Seven grew cross-eyed and let out a little ‘ooooh!’ as their faces inadvertently came close to one another, then a little squeak as B’Elanna heaved her up on her feet and hooked Seven’s arm over her shoulders.

“The room is spinning.” Seven confided to B’Elanna in a whisper. “I suspect damage to the internal stabilizers.”

“Uhuh.” B’Elanna muttered in amusement while staggering just a little before adjusting as Seven put most on her weight on B’Elanna. Seven weighed a lot more than she looked. “We’re going to go to your quarters, Seven, can you walk with me?”

“I do not have quarters.” Seven said conversationally while clinging to B’Elanna’s neck, her feet far too out of control to be of much use. “I have some shared space in a storage facility.”

That brought B’Elanna to a sudden, blinking halt. Seven didn’t seem to mind, in fact Seven didn’t seem to even notice that they’d stopped.

“Change of plans, then.” B’Elanna said, frowning. “We’ll go to my quarters instead.”

Hearing no objections, she set out to do just that. She did idly wonder why Ms Giggles of Borg had suddenly gone so quiet, but didn’t really look at Seven until they reached the turbolift. When she did, B’Elanna yelped, flinched hard and almost threw Seven off of her.

The other woman’s face was very close to her own, and she stared at B’Elanna unblinkingly.

“Seven!” B’Elanna scolded, trying to calm herself from the shock as well as gathering Seven up again and into the lift. “What are you doing?” She leaned them both against the turbolift wall and stated her deck number.

“I was observing you.” Seven informed blithely, not realizing at all that she had rattled B’Elanna badly. “I like observing you, Lieutenant.”

“Oh.” B’Elanna wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Should she be flattered or insulted? She settled for awkward curiosity for now. “Why?”

In her current state Seven’s usual head-tilt became a head-swivel as she appeared to give it some thought. B’Elanna gripped her a little tighter, just to be on the safe side.

“You are fascinating, Lieutenant.” To B’Elanna’s mind-blowing shock Seven reached up to lightly trace her hand over the side of B’Elanna’s face. “Intelligent... beautiful... intuitive...”

The slow and gentle caress reached the outer edges of B’Elanna’s forehead ridges, and Seven’s voice and expression softened, became touched by something warm. “Perfect.

B’Elanna short-circuited. She could say or do nothing, she simply stood there blushing furiously as her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest. It was all she could do to even remember to take the occasional breath.

The hand disappeared, but it was no relief as instead a pale head leaned down to rest rather intimately on B’Elanna’s shoulder.

“I like that sound.” Seven revealed quietly. “It is unique. Like you.”

B’Elanna stared dumbly into the door, realizing only as she felt a slight shift around her that she had been simply standing there as the lift door had both opened and closed, and that their turbolift was now on its way somewhere else, presumably to pick up other passengers.

“Forget this walking stuff.” She muttered in embarrassment and awkwardly managed to jostle Seven enough to hit her commbadge. “Computer, two to beam directly to the Torres quarters.”

Briefly the world turned into sparkles, and then they were standing in the middle of B’Elanna’s living room. If Seven had even noticed the change she gave no sign.

Finally B’Elanna managed to wrestle herself into some semblance of control, and nudged Seven carefully. A weary little sigh was her only reward, because Seven did not even raise her head.

“Tired, Seven?” B’Elanna might be confused as anything and pretty darn embarrassed, but she was not without compassion. “You should probably try to get some sleep.”

Seven grumbled as B’Elanna gently guided her towards the bedroom. “I do not like to sleep.” Seven complained in something close to a whine. “Deck plating is hard, and uncomfortable.”

B’Elanna stopped, connecting the two comments and not liking the conclusion. “Well, I assure you that you will be sleeping in my bed tonight, and my bed is quite soft. Okay?”

A bit more resolutely she steered the other woman towards the bed. “I’m sorry that you’ll have to sleep in your uniform, but I’m afraid I don’t know how you take that thing off.”

Suggestions flashed through her mind, but they were mostly rude and involved for most part some kind of solvent and a rigorous scrubbing. Some part of her suggested the use of B’Elanna’s teeth, which was the point where B’Elanna nearly tossed Seven in the direction of the bed. Forcing herself to calm instead, she gingerly supported Seven with one arm and reached over to pull the comforters down.

“It is done like this.” Seven said helpfully and reached up to a spot on the side of the biosuit’s neckline.

B’Elanna’s head whipped around in horror just as Seven’s biosuit fell to the floor in a little rush of air. For the umpteenth time that night, it seemed, B’Elanna felt herself freeze in place.

Seven gave a little all-over shrug and gingerly stepped out of her shoes. As her feet were still wobbly and uncooperative, and B’Elanna’s supportive grip had gone numb, as she took a half-step to clear the shoes she ended up falling instead, face first, onto the bed.

She didn’t move. B’Elanna on her part was too stunned to.

The image of naked Seven seemed to be permanently burned into her corneas, displaying against the ceiling with perfect clarity no matter how much B’Elanna blinked.

And then there was the warm weight pressed up against her side and resting on part of B’Elanna’s arm.

“Kahless’ left incisor!” B’Elanna swore under her breath and managed to ease herself out of bed. The sound of soft, even breathing indicating that Seven was asleep, temporarily made B’Elanna think she was safe. Then she turned around.

“Grraahh!” B’Elanna growled and covered her eyes, but it was too late, a perfect imprint of the Borgly behind had joined the one she had of the front, and she just knew that life would never be the same again. Worse, Seven was flung across the bed sideways, her head barely on a pillow and a fair part of those long legs hanging off the side.

With a long-suffering sigh, and a furious blush which she did her best to ignore, B’Elanna got her arms around the naked blonde and pulled her into a better sleeping position. Seven grunted in protest but did not awaken, and B’Elanna felt relieved when she could pull the comforter up and tuck it around her unexpected guest.

Finally she threaded her fingers through Seven’s hair as gently as she could, releasing it from the bun so that it would not be uncomfortable to sleep in. This final deed done, B’Elanna staggered over to her couch and threw herself on it, exhausted.

As she stared at the ceiling, head full of questions and confusion - not to mention gorgeous smiling naked Borg dancing through her mind - sleep eluded her for the longest time, leaving the already so tired B’Elanna to suffer a very long night.

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Sunday, February 26, 2012

A Day At The Mayor’s Office

WITHOUT MEN-fanfic. It is hard being the mayor, especially when... cows are involved?
(Cleotilde/Rosalba)







Read A Day At The Mayor’s Office





Disclaimer: I have no clue who owns the rights to the “Without Men” movie, still.
So, yeah, I watched “Without Men” before going to bed, and basically had this dream. ^^;




A Day At The Mayor’s Office
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By Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson




Ubaldina marched into the room which served as the mayor’s office, causing her once-nemesis Rosalba to look up at her, clearly startled.

“Can’t you control her?” Ubaldina demanded with an angry wave of her arm towards the door. Obediently Rosalba looked to said doorway where, after a good long moment, a pouting and clearly reluctant Cleotilde shuffled in.

Rosalba considered. “Oh, I can. But she likes my big behind the way it is, and would not prefer me in any of your dresses, so I don’t want to.” As always when the conversation touched on The Pig, however indirectly, Ubaldina’s eyes moved to look at anything but Rosalba. “What is the problem?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Both women began to wave their arms and deliver their grievances in increasingly loud voices to be heard over the other. Rosalba put a stop to it with a curt little motion of her hand. “Stop!”

Her lover, standing just inside the door with her arms crossed over her chest and looking for all the world like a five-year-old a breath away from throwing a temper tantrum, immediately grew quiet. It took Ubaldina a moment to peter out into silence as well.

Rosalba waited a moment more before nodding. “Good. I will hear you both.” A look to Ubaldina. “You start.”

“Cleotilde has gone loco.” Ubaldina sighed, no longer as loud or as irritated. “As you know, I am taking Perestroika to the next village in the morning to be bred, and as I was checking up on her just now, I found this one” An accusing finger pointed at Cleotilde. “stealing her!”

“I was not stealing her!” Was Cleotilde’s angry outburst at the accusation. “I was liberating her!”

Sometimes, just sometimes, Rosalba wondered at how her husband –The Pig – had handled his job, and if he had ever been faced with problems such as the ones she did. After all, in all modesty Rosalba was much more intelligent and strong-willed than the no good swine, and she often found herself baffled. Plus, Rosalba could read.

“Cleo,” She began carefully, rubbing her temples to ward off a slight ache that was settling there. “why were you stealing or liberating Perestroika?”

The question had Cleotilde change from standing there with a posture as if she was waiting to be scolded, to rushing forward to lean on Rosalba’s desk, eyes wide and earnest. “She is taking her to a male! Forcing her to, to, to...”

Ubaldina made a rude noise and rolled her eyes, while Rosalba, secretly charmed with her lover’s concern for the village cow, reached over to pat Cleotilde’s hand soothingly.

“Cleotilde, we brought this up at the last village meeting, remember? The girls are taking Perestroika to be bred so that we may eventually have two cows providing milk for all of us.” Absently Rosalba began stroking a bare arm instead. “You were there, you know that the vote was almost unanimously in favour.”

Thinking back though, the only vote against had been Cleotilde.

“But, but... nobody asked Perestroika!” A sad and upset little pout made its appearance. “What if she doesn’t want to go to no nasty bull?”

Slightly flushed Rosalba turned wide eyes on Ubaldina, clearly asking for help. Ubaldina blushed just a little herself, although not for the same reason as Rosalba who probably wanted to drag her lover into the back and ravish her Ubaldina figured, because she was reluctantly charmed that someone cared that much for her cow. It had nothing to do with the attractive and usually self-assure woman pouting adorably before her, oh no, Ubaldina knew she preferred the men.

“I know my vaca.” She explained. “She does not mind a visit to the bull, she has done that before... although it was some time ago now. If she does not like him she will reject him, and I will take her away.”

“Are you sure?” Cleotilde asked suspiciously while Rosalba, unseen by the former, gave Ubaldina a grateful look.

“Of course! I have had Perestroika since she was a baby.” It was proud and fond words, Ubaldina cared a great deal for her cow. “It will be good for her to have a daughter in the village. She will like the company, I think.”

“See?” Rosalba asked, smiling reassuringly at her lover. “Perestroika will be taken good care of. And just think, in...” She trailed off and looked questioningly at Ubaldina.

“About the same time as it takes a woman.” The resident cow expert shrugged.

“...in early spring, then, we will have a baby calf around. I bet it would be very cute.”

Cleotilde attempted to scoff and appear as if the thought of cute baby calves were something that did not interest her in the slightest, but it was a poor performance at best.

“Can you promise not to try to liberate Perestroika again?” Rosalba asked, hiding her smile.

A slightly grumpy nod and a shuffling of feet was her answer.

“You could... go give her... a brushing... maybe?” Ubaldina suggested slowly, watching the spectacle and feeling somewhat bad for the other woman. As a result Cleotilde perked up slightly and, with a brief look and nod at Rosalba, took off to presumably find the cow.

She left silence and two women staring at the door in her wake.

“She is rather... sensitive, isn’t she?” Ubaldina asked after a long moment.

“Yes.” Rosalba sighed happily, a dreamy smile on her lips. “She is a very delicate person.”

Then both women realized with whom they were speaking, and with an awkward sense of embarrassment said their goodbyes, Ubaldina fleeing the room and Rosalba pretending to go over paperwork while in truth spending her time thinking of her beautiful Cleotilde.

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


So it was that roughly nine months later the first birth in the village since the startling events that had left them – mostly – without men, was the birth of a calf. Cecilia and Ubaldina presided over the birth, with a horrified Rosalba watching and gasping but at least mostly keeping out of the way, until Cecilia could go outside and declare to the waiting women – and a nervously pacing Cleotilde – that it was in fact a female calf.

Although technically belonging to Ubaldina, it would soon not be an unusual sight to see the woman who liked to appear tougher than anyone walking around with the young calf in tow, petting it and talking to it with delight.

The calf would, on Cleotilde’s suggestion, be named Brownelle.


Friday, February 3, 2012

Patching Her Up 9: Scrapes

WITHOUT MEN-fanfic. Getting injured in this village is not easy.
(Cleotilde/Rosalba)


This is the ninth installment in my series of short stories called "Patching Her Up".




Read Patching Her Up 9: Scrapes




Disclaimer: I have no clue who owns the rights to the “Without Men” movie, and I’m just borrowing because a certain person made me do it.

My “Patching Her Up” series is just a series of short stories unrelated to one another, from different fandoms, that have a certain theme in common. Each part is a stand-alone.




Patching Her Up 9: Scrapes
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





”I’m sorry, did that hurt?” Cecilia asked blithely as her patient flinched and grit her teeth.

“Mmno!” Cleotilde gasped in reply, furiously blinking so that the others would not see the tears that had once again sprung to her eyes. “Can’t feel a thing.”

“What about this?” The village’s only and self-appointed nurse/doctor/herbalist asked cheerfully and jabbed a cotton swab dipped in disinfectant into the large abrasion that covered Cleotilde’s left cheek. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

Although she had clenched her jaw to prevent from screaming, Cleotilde’s roar of pain was more than audible enough.

“Cecilia, stop! What are you doing?” Rosalba protested and intervened, gently cradling her teary-eyed lover’s face. “My poor baby, look at your pretty face!”

While Cleotilde had tried hard to keep her strong and stoic image intact for the ordeal, by now her unconsciously pouty lips were quivering. Rosalba cooed and sat down in Cleo’s lap to place careful little kisses around the scrapes on her girlfriend’s face.

“Well, disinfecting her was pointless.” Cecilia declared airily while eyeing Rosalba. She tucked the rest of it away and smiled at Magnolia. “I’ll just put some of that ointment on her face, and then we can put some of those band-aids on and she’ll be done.”

With a smitten smile and admiring eyes Magnolia exchanged the bottle of disinfectant for the strange purple jar with the overpowering smell. Rosalba patted Cleotilde’s hair a few times before finally getting off her lap to let Cecilia continue her ministrations.

Cleotilde eyed the jar with growing alarm. “What is that? Why do I need it?” The smell was truly rank and tear-inducing, Rosalba would not let her sleep in the bed if she smelled like that... perhaps she would not even have sex with her before sending Cleotilde to sleep in the other room. “No, I don’t want it.”

Again Rosalba soothed her fidgety lover, stroking her arm encouragingly. “What is that for, Cecilia?”

The widely smiling Cecilia was very aware of Magnolia’s besotted gaze following her every move, she was most definitely getting lucky tonight. “It is a concoction which helps with healing, soothes the pain, and keeps infections away. If she wears it she will not get a scar.”

Rosalba’s gasp was almost a scream. “A scar! On her beautiful face? Oh no!” She turned on her wide-eyed lover. “You are going to wear it!”

At Cleotilde’s meek nod Rosalba kissed her uninjured cheek a few times more and squeezed her hand in sympathy. “Oh, oh. Be brave my love.”

With a flourish Cecilia smeared the greenish goo on Cleotilde and had Magnolia hand her the band-aids. Within moments Cleotilde was properly bandaged up, with a strong scent of something foul clinging to her. Cecilia and Magnolia giggled as they disappeared into Cecilia’s home, no-one in town stupid enough to interrupt them there.

“Oh darling...” Rosalba cooed again as she began to lead Cleotilde away. “I promise I will make a new rule, no more piñatas allowed, not even for birthdays...”

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

As they too were out of sight, Virgelina turned to Ubaldina. “Wasn’t that...”

“Yes.” Ubaldina nodded and looked in the direction of Cecilia’s home. “That was the liniment for cows that she made for Perestroika.”