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We melt like sugar into black coffee
TAKING REQUESTS FOR VALENTINE'S DAY DRABBLES YEAAAAAAAAAAAAH
Give me an OTP and a detailed prompt, and I will give you a 100-300 word fic in response! I have been particularly itching to do crack fic lately - like, off-the-wall non-canon ships (like Samuel and Jay making out in the elevator). Or canon ships in really cracky AUs (Devo and Galen in Pokemon AU). OR PLAIN STUFF IF YOU WANNA BE VANILLA. I want to smash through them tomorrow (day off FINALLY), but I will have them done by the end of the week. Put multiple requests if you want, and I'll pick my favorite.
I also have my schmoop bingo board to get through, so you can use that as reference! It's here.
Gearing back into action, posting like a beast soon!
Give me an OTP and a detailed prompt, and I will give you a 100-300 word fic in response! I have been particularly itching to do crack fic lately - like, off-the-wall non-canon ships (like Samuel and Jay making out in the elevator). Or canon ships in really cracky AUs (Devo and Galen in Pokemon AU). OR PLAIN STUFF IF YOU WANNA BE VANILLA. I want to smash through them tomorrow (day off FINALLY), but I will have them done by the end of the week. Put multiple requests if you want, and I'll pick my favorite.
I also have my schmoop bingo board to get through, so you can use that as reference! It's here.
Gearing back into action, posting like a beast soon!
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Maybe I'll come up with more. MADNESS!
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"We tried walking too much today, I'm thinking." Jack reached around and put his hand against Jay's forehead. She lulled her head back, and saw a strange look of thoughtfulness crossed his features. "Especially in that sun. We shouldn't have tried walking from Pacifica. Your temp is-"
"We'll make it to the Hills tomorrow." She leaned back forward, arms crossed, and tugged her collar higher over her neck. They underestimated the chill of the shore at night, even during the summer. "Don't think I won't. You're not allowed to leave me behind."
"Jay." He didn't push the fever thing, or force her to lay down. His hand rest on her shoulder instead, a solid reminder of him. "I never said that."
"Cause we're going to get there together, right Jack. We'll hit LA, and we'll be big." She shifted her knees, tried to get her feet under the warmth of her thighs. Her head felt hot, but the rest of her froze. "That was the plan. Don't forget it, please."
His posture, voice went stiff and stern. He pulled her closer against his chest. "You're whack. I'm not leaving my sister behind."
She looked at his hand as it rest on her shoulder. He spoke like that, but his skin was so pale, so white. She couldn't think of the argument she wanted to make, not with her head so hot like this, so reached up with her hand, brushed her dark fingers past his. Jack didn't miss what she meant by the gesture.
"Blood means nothing," Jack said. That was something he knew, both of them knew very well, and shouldn't have needed saying again. "I say you're my sister, Jay, and if we're joined by the soul, it's even stronger."
She stared into the plaid of his shirt. "My soul brother..." It didn't feel so weird to say it.
She laughed, gently, the sound echoing against the cliffs. "The shit you say sounds so corndog, Jackrabbit."
"Jackrabbit?" He shook her shoulder playfully. "Is that how you address your big brother?"
"Furry little Jackrabbit." A smile pulled on her lips. She finally felt warm, she realized. "It sounds good on you."
"I'm Jackrabbit then. The ladies call me Thumper."
"The ladies in LA will know better than that." She turned her face into his chest. "Maybe."
"You keep talking like that." His hand settled in her hair again. "Cheep yourself to sleep, Jaybird."
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Alex and Val, lol - finding ways to help Alex focus on studying... or is that bribing him?
Kami and Jay - I kissed a girl and I liked it and I didn't do it for those damn boys either so nyah!
Deona and Dusti - finding that dancing in an eye-catching manner can have unexpected results.
Devo and Galen at Hogwarts - bet you didn't think I remembered that one!
Galen is forever Italian, even in HP AU
"Your turn to taste, partner." He lifted his hand from the kettle, and tapped her lower lip with the tip of his finger.
"Recery delicious," she agreed. Devo gently grabbed his hand in both of hers and licked it clean. She kissed the tip of his finger, even after the potion was gone. "Not a drop left."
"I remember," he said, his voice carrying a rather deep, rumbly quality. "I wanted to show you something in the Quiddich shed."
Devo leaned over the cauldron, close to him, grabbed his tie and twisted it in her hand. "You did mention something about your...broom."
"It's gotten a boost." Galen's face didn't betray his mood, but his dark green eyes told her so much more. "A large one."
"Oh really?" Devo tugged on his tie a little, though it didn't take a lot to coax him closer. "Shame that we'll have to wait until the end of the day."
"But mess period is next." His hand found her thigh under the table. "And I have no appetite for lunch."
"Neither do I."
"I should have another taste. To see if this potion is ready."
"Yeah. Me too."
The lovers spoke as if they were the only two in the world. But Dee stood behind Galen, her arms tightly crossed and peering at the two of them. Behind her, and around the table, was of course the rest of the class.
"They're right loved-up," She pulled on Galen's bleached hair, but he didn't flinch or move. Dee knocked his skull with her knuckles next, to no avail. "Gone absolutely rock stupid."
"It was the Amortentia potion." Aria touched one of the spirals of steam rising into the air, wondering at how it regained its shape despite her hand. "And perhaps a very good batch of it."
In the front of the room, the Professor was pounding his podium with a metal spoon, trying to get anybody's attention. "Need I remind the class not to taste-test their potions?"
Re: Galen is forever Italian, even in HP AU
You know how much I love this, dearheart. Galen and Devo are forever one of my favorite couples - so real in their dysfunctional charm. Thank you for reminding me of this and thank you for finding the kernel that is them and translating it so smoothly to this darling AU.
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YEAH I SAID IT
Ari = Dadda, Deon = Poppa, Mara = KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN
And with how carefully Ari attended to the boy, with gentle conversation and precise treatment, nobody in their right mind would blame him. Somehow, they'd think the kid running head-first into the control counter was Deon's fault.
But in truth, neither Deon or Ari knew what to attribute these injuries to.
"It's owie," the kid moaned, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. He tried to reach up and press his chubby palms against his forehead, but Deon cut in.
"Ease up, scout. Your dadda's got you covered," he said, pulling the kid's hand back down so that Dadda could properly apply the medicine. The kid looked back up at both of them, tears in the corner of his mis-matched green and purple eyes. It reminded Deon of her, of course, though after all of this time, and with this new family, reminders of her shouldn't hurt anymore...
Still, Deon affected a smile, purely for the kid's benefit. "Feel that tingly thing on your forehead? Dadda's got a magic washcloth for that hard head of yours."
Ari glanced over at Deon, and his frustration at what Deon said was painfully evident. The washcloth held a complex bio-chemical medicine, a compound Bones had taught Ari to make, and that he was rather proud of mastering. But he didn't cross what Deon had said, especially cause 'magic' seemed to calm the kid down. "Very sciencey magic," he said, by way of compromise. "Will you eat this, please?"
The kid sat up, his legs dangling over the side of the metal table, and ate the aspirin dutifully. Deon had a small cup of water ready, and passed it to the kid. Ari kept the washcloth over the hurt forehead while the kid drank, but already Deon could see the purpling of the bruise fade off.
"I can cure his injuries whenever we need to," Ari said, though pain was evident in his words and his eyes. Deon nodded, agreeing more to Ari's frustration than words.
"It's better to figure out why this happens," Deon said. He sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. "I don't get it. It's almost like he has no idea where he's going sometimes."
Something worked in Ari's mind, clearly. Deon watched him as he touched his own face, moved his fingertips behind his ears and hair. Ari took off his glasses, and carefully put them on the kid.
"Huh," Deon said, and watched with fascination. Ari wouldn't be able to tell the kid's reaction one way or another, not without his glasses. But Deon was sure he saw something shift in their boy's focus. "Well, let's see what happens." He stepped forward, then grabbed the kid under the armpits and put him on the ground.
The child stamped his feet, maybe to confirm that he was on the ground, and slowly looked up at his fathers. The surprise in his eyes couldn't be confused for anything else. He tried looking down next and clapped his hands over the arms of the large glasses, keeping them from falling off his face. Something the kid saw made him gasp in surprise.
Deon crouched, his hands on his knees, so he was at eye level with the kid. "Well? How's that feel, scout?"
"Poppa," he said. The kid stared up at Deon, then pointed down at his feet. "I can see the ground!"
Deon stared for a moment, silent, then cupped his face with both of his hands. The kid touched Deon's hand after a few moments, probably in concern, so he paused his despairing and instead ruffled the kid's hair. He grinned for the kid, even if Deon looked like he was just holding back nausea. "That's nice, scout."
"His vision must have been very poor," Ari stated. He rang out the washcloth and folded it, leaving on the shelf. But he kept his hand on the counter after it was necessary, like he needed the balance. "Ah, additionally, I must report to Captain Kirk. I don't believe I can handle navigation duties today."
"Good." The kid had wandered off, to look at the tables and chairs that he now could actually see. Deon found the little flask he kept on him, and knocked back a swig of it. "Cause I can't handle flying."
Sage = RAD
How did those two wind up with such a cute kid anyway? (Aside from the obvious answer of Vegas Drink Times).
And what is Deon's connection to Mara Khan?
AND WHY DO THEY END UP GETTING HIM THOSE DERPY PINK FRAMES?
This story raises more questions than it answers!
Re: Sage = RAD
I pretend that the kid is a Space Anomaly Eggbaby between Ari/Deon/Mara. Somehow????
Deon just wants to be kidnapped and brainwashed by Mara. Just a little bit. Like old times.
THE PINK FRAMES WERE THE ONLY SPARE FRAMES THAT THE CREW HAD ON HAND. WHY THEY WERE IN PARIS-SPOCK'S CLOSET THOUGH, NO ONE KNOWS.
Re: Sage = RAD
I pretend that the kid is a Space Anomaly Eggbaby between Ari/Deon/Mara. Somehow????
There were at least a dozen episodes in the franchise with this exact plotline (emphasis on the somehow) so yes, this seems very likely to me.
ACTUALLY. YOU KNOW WHAT. This story kind of makes me want to see Ari and Deon in some kind of Melanie babysitting adventure, but I'm pretty sure the Doc is smarter than that, so.
Re: Sage = RAD
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Their stupid OTPing is like two puppies playing in a meadow
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It took Mirielle more than an hour to find him this time. She had first looked in the dark corners of the ship, the places she knew he liked for his meditations. But she didn't find him in the darkness now. Quite the opposite.
She knotted her hands and pressed them to her heart, and pressed through the artifically-grown meadow, rich in grasses and sweet purple flowers. This room was made to generate the oxygen and plants needed for the Gloriana to survive its longer journeys. They needed it now, as just the two of them waited for the others to return from the mission. Perhaps they'd be relying on these plants for a very long time.
"Roimata." Mirielle ached for a reply, but he did not hear her. She gingerly took a step forward, and spoke a bit clearer. "Won't you come down to the kitchens?"
He gave her no reply. Roimata didn't have his instrument, which worried her that much more. She knew how music could free one's soul, but if he didn't even have the heart to play, then she couldn't guess at what emotions he kept bottled within him.
"It's just that, I don't like to cook alone. And I don't like thinking that you might not have a meal." The silence was one strung with nervous electric and strained feelings, a mood that she thought only she felt. "Roimata..."
He turned his face aside, acknowledging her it seemed, but also ashamed. Mirielle crouched down, and touched his shoulder. "Come back with me."
"Please leave me alone."
"I have, for days." Even when Mirielle knew where he was on the ship, she had not tried to reach to him as she did now. "Forgive me, but I don't understand."
"You've disappeared once," he said. His fingers twisted and ripped out some blades of grass. "I don't want to be responsible for you disappearing again. Maybe next time for good."
"Why would you worry about that?"
"I don't understand why they left only me to protect you." Misery scratched at him, especially his eyes, usually so warm with life. "I am the weakest of us, in experience and will. I've acted poorly before in a time of crisis. Selfishly."
Mirielle's throat tightened. "But that isn't true..."
"I don't trust my judgment to be enough to save you, if you needed it." He went silent for a few moments, then affected a small, cheerless laugh. "Please, enjoy the ship as you like, princess. I am sure the others will be back soon, and all will be well."
She dealt very often with dishonesty from the adults, because they believed they protected her better that way. But hearing emotional dishonesty from him was too much. Mirielle moved around in front of him, so he would have to look at her face, and cupped the sides of his jaw in her hands.
"But I can't even enjoy a meadow properly while I know you are like this." Now possessing his attention, she affected her sweetest, most glowing smile, the kind Phia might be proud of for the boldness of it. "You are a bit too serious, I think."
"What I feel matters for nothing as long as you are safe." It hurt her, how piercingly sincere his eyes were as he spoke so poorly of himself. "I can't be too serious about your life."
Despair for him nearly overwhelmed her, and she wondered, briefly, what Vaness or Neve might do in a situation like this. And then, she considered what she, herself, wanted to do. It was his lips she fixated on, and how rarely she had seen him smile. Had ever she seen him smile? She thought she had, once, when she had saved him, but couldn't remember with any confidence.
This time, she had to be sure.
"Mirielle-" he started to protest, but she didn't let him. She, a girl raised as a princess, rudely leaned over and pushed his shoulders like a schoolyard bully, knocking him flat onto the ground. She sat on his stomach and planted her knees at his sides.
"Mirielle." His voice went into a strange tone, and his hands went flat against the grass. "This is a bit awkward."
"I won't have you serve me if you'll only end up sad." Sad like the others who served her, and perhaps one day worse, and she imagined his spirit broken beyond repair, or else dead once more...
In a snap of anger, Mirielle broke free of those thoughts, and thumped her fist against his chest decisively. "I must to do this for your sake!"
"Please don't misunderstand," he said, and she was sure she never saw him so surprised, if not stricken as he was when he looked up to her then, "but don't compromise yourself for my happiness..."
She stared down at him. When she finally understood what he meant, a rolling shiver went up her spine, and sudden mortification rattled her every nerve.
"No! No no, not like that! I, it's just that I..." Overwhelmed, Mirielle wanted to bite her thumb, or shut her eyes, or cover her face in her hands. But she rallied her courage, and looked down, albeit shyly, at Roimata's face. "I mean to say, I think I will sit on you until you are happy."
He stared up at her as if she spoke a foreign tongue. "Happy?"
"Yes. What would make you happy?" She clapped her hands together, as if begging him. "Please. I don't know how to make people happy, even though I'm a princess. But I'd like for you to be happy because of me."
She, with all of her heart, feared he might ask for nothing at all, and deny himself once more. And if there was nothing she could do for him, truly nothing... But his lips moved, and his answer came out quietly. "May I call you Phoebe?"
"You may...if I might call you by your name as well," she said. She marveled at how bold she acted, and met his gaze to prove her will and seriousness "You were Gentry-born, and no family would use the name Roimata for their son."
For a moment she wasn't sure if he'd give up one of his secrets, as he rarely gave up anything so private about himself. The boy she knew as Roimata looked to the side, his eyes averted from hers.
"Ah. My name is Sabri." He said his name, his true name, and for a moment, it was nearly like looking at an entirely different person. The name was not known to her, yet immediately she saw how it better suited his gentleness. He looked up at her again. "Though I have not been called that in a long time."
"Sabri," she said, and she thrilled to know that she was the first to call him by his true name in a while. She leaned a little and pressed one of her hands over one of his. "Thank you. You can call me Phoebe as much as you like."
"Phoebe." He turned his hand over, and his lithe fingers twined with hers. Sabri looked up at her, and contentment rest in his eyes for the first time in a month. "Phoebe, I wish you had brought your violin. I'd love to watch you play like this."
"This is embarrassing enough."
Sabri smiled. Phoebe didn't know what to do with herself now, overwhelmed by both the secret of his name, and the secret of such a genuine, sweet smile from his lips. "I'm sure you'd play a wonderful song right now."
Phoebe could feel the heat on her cheeks and neck. "I couldn't play with you watching me," she blurted out.
"Why? You've played for me dozens of times before."
He missed her meaning completely. She could not play the song in her heart now, not in the company of others, and least of all to the only one she would play it for. Not yet. "Ah! I've made you smile, like I said I would."
"Then did you want to get off of me?" Sabri's voice teased her now, she knew it. "If it embarrasses the princess so."
"Perhaps in a moment." She leaned over him, her palm against his chest, and dared to touched his face. Phoebe's fingers nearly went over his lips, just as she dreamed of doing before...but instead, she pinched his cheek just a little. "After I'm sure that smile sticks."
So many, many hearts! ^_^v
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Galen, Dee, and Julien: a Valentines Day as flatmates. Misunderstandings, Dee & Julien teaming up on Galen, the inappropriateness of chocolate booze.
Neve and Franjo: A realization that, by the old calendar, it is Valentines Day. Hot sauce, REVENGE, and penguins, oh my!
Mara and Deon: Little Mermaid AU. Your take on the Disney version's boat scene, now with 100% more crack. Extra points for scheming Reed!witch and Ari & Walker minions.
Kaz and Akemi: Ruining Valentines Day has never been more fun. Rooftops, cats, and grudging friendship.
Batman!Mara and Robin!Val: The most awkward crime fighting holiday ever. Utility Belts, detectives, and an unconventional present. (extra points if it involves Catwoman!Deon XD)
Jules and Jaime: The only holiday they can agree on. Sisters uniting for chocolate stashes.
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And that's the story of how the phrase "My poor little poopsies!" became permanently associated with The Bros in my mind. (BUT AT LEAST REED CAN HEAL THEM. IF HE CAN FIND ALL THE PIECES.)
YOUR POOPSIES ARE TOAST
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-uYJHgxldo
I love best the idea of gigantic purple Reed with a crown, singing the whole while.
Re: YOUR POOPSIES ARE TOAST
Like Jaws, except with less emotional depth
But worst of all, she didn't seem close to seducing this stupid prince, which would seal the other half of that deal. What had she done wrong? She even put the biggest, brightest bow she could find in her hair, but despite it, he didn't glance at her twice. At least, Mara didn't think that he did.
Damn it, why did she give up most of her vision for stupid legs? Hardly a good trade at all. He was just a few feet away from her, but even with bottle-glasses, all she could see of him was a tan and orange blur. And she insisted on getting a scenic boat ride of the river, but couldn't see any of that either. She didn't know what to do with her legs in this cramped boat, crossing them awkwardly and trying to ignore the itch of the horrid hose the maids had forced on her.
At least on this ride, she had the benefit of being near the water again. Mara dipped her fingers into the water, brushing against flowering lotus and cattails. She thought she saw two large snakes glide under her hand, but didn't put much stock into it. She was seeing shadows and blurs everywhere as it was.
A small wave disturbed, taking the lotus out of her reach. Mara sulked back into her seat.
"You're rocking the boat," she said dully.
"Don't criticize me." Mara heard the grinding of wood as he turned the paddles. The boat wobbled a bit to the right, probably through the uneven force of Deon's rowing. "I'm doing all of the work."
"You paddle like a flailing walrus." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "I can't even hear the animals properly with you splashing so much."
At that, Mara swore she could hear Deon roll his eyes. "Not like animals have much to say."
She thought she saw the snakes again - but forgot about it when something struck the bottom of the boat, right under her. Mara bit down a cry of shock and clamped her hands hard over her seat. "What was that?"
The prince looked over the sides of the boat. "Maybe we hit a log?"
They floated for a moment, looking over the sides but unable to find anything even resembling a tree. Deon rowed cautiously again, and after a minute another hit rocked the boat, this one seeming to strike the dead center.
"What do you keep on hitting?"
"It's not me," he said, standing up on his feet. "Stay down."
No deal. Mara moved unsteadily onto her feet as well. "Move over and give me those water dalunkers."
"They're called oars, and they're too heavy for you."
"You're the one who can't steer this stupid thing, and you have no idea what my arms can do-"
Something banged on Deon's side of the little boat, and both of them lost their handle on the oars, which slipped out into the water. He tried to grab the sides for support when the bow got hit again, rocked the boat upwards and knocked Deon forward into her.
Mara caught him against her chest, but immediately skittered back, needing to get away from him. She couldn't help herself. His face had gotten way too close to hers for an instant, his lips and hers, they had nearly...
But moving backwards was a mistake. Though she was a newcomer to things like gravity and balance, even she could feel the boat rock waver under her. Without her help, Deon lost his balance again, and his weight pushed it over the edge.
"Deon-"
"Hold on-"
The boat turned over, its hull blocking out the sunlight for an instant. Then it crashed down, and both were thrown deep underwater.
---
This sensation of sinking... oh, Mara considered it a blessing compared to the chaos of the boat. She floated a dozen feet down, closed her eyes and pretended she might be back in the ocean. Able to see everything clearly, and decked in jewels and a crown and all the loot she could carry. In the waters of home, she would hear Lynn and Raquel and Jane and her other sisters call her for counsel with Grandmother. It was familiar, comfortable. Bliss.
But reality, and an annoying dependency on air, pressed her to swim to the surface again. While she had the chance, she yanked off her hose and let it drop to the bottom of the pool. Good riddance. The water against her bare legs and toes felt so much better, nearly natural after days of land-bound strangeness.
Mara surfaced, and after a moment wondered where the prince had gone. She felt waves bob against ther right shoulder and swam that way, and nearly ran right into him. How had she missed the familiar sound of his splashing and sputtering? Deon treaded water, but seemed barely able to keep his chin above the surface.
She grabbed his collar and dragged him up, pulling him along as she swam towards land. "Stupid, are you made of rocks?"
He kicked along after her, his breath was shaky either from shock or from the cold of the water. "I'm not good with boats."
"Clearly! The only captain you are is of the obvious." She huffed at the water below the surface for a moment, sending up angry bubbles around her nose. "At least you fell off a smaller ship this time."
"What?" He stopped kicking, and somehow, she felt his sharp gaze train on her before she even turned to look at him. "Mara, how would you know about that?"
With only a few inches between Deon's face and hers now, she saw her prince clearly for the first time in days. She didn't mean to, but suddenly her heart stammered in her chest. He certainly didn't look handsome now, not with his hair plastered to his face and looking half-drowned...but he had looked the same way when she first saved him, hadn't he?
She had tried so hard to forget what she did for him the night of that storm, tried to forget the pity she felt as she watched him drown, and the aching when she later left him on shore. But those feelings were the truth. It had been more than the sea-witch's dare that brought Mara above the surface. Because there was something in this prince she needed to take for herself, a draw so strong that it pulled her out from under the waves, from her very home.
But she didn't know what a mermaid could want from a human, or understand her strange reaction to seeing him like this, or even if either of those things had anything to do with winning the sea-witch's bet. So Mara looked away from his face, and ignored those feelings all over again.
"I made your servant tell me," Mara said, utterly confident in her lie. "He said you lost your bearings while on His Majesty's sturdiest ship and fell off the side." She splashed the water between them with her fist. "Then sunk like a sack of rice."
His lips twitched. "Did he tell you it was during a hurricane?"
"Yes." Mara turned away from him, and started pulling him towards the shoreline again. "And that even the dog managed to stay aboard."
He was taller than her, and was able to touch the bottom of the shore before she could. Mara had absolutely no need to be carried out of the water, but when he twisted her around and pulled her legs up in his other arm, she didn't find a choice in the matter. She folded her hands behind his neck and remained quietly grateful that she didn't have to walk right now.
And all this could have been nearly sweet. Could have.
"You know what, lady," Prince Deon finally said, when his boots hit the beach, "I wish you wouldn't run your mouth so much."
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--Deona/Alan Genderbent Bandom AU! Deona has some comments on Space Monkey's latest gig!
--Anika/Warren: Anika (Or Warren!) gets a mysterious package I WONDER WHAT IT IS. Owls are optional. <3
--Rae/Ian: Ian's over-protectiveness gets the better of him!
--Deon/Alice: And a mysterious pie. Maybe it's a BEER PIE. Or a HALIBUT PIE. The mind boggles!
--Asiel/Ruchiel: Because I can't help myself--they're still one of my favorite OTPs. <3 Somebody inadvertently gets cheered up!
It's like Miniel got psychologically Rick-Rolled
Then she turned from him and fled towards the house, her scarf brought up over her nose and her wet eyes.
A smug smile tugged at Miniel's lips as he watched Asiel stare blankly after Ruchiel, then walk away, alone. The young angel he knew he was being mean-spirited, but couldn't help it. Miniel never completely trusted Asiel's intentions, and besides, if that guy was going to make a woman like their mother cry, then Miniel was going to be entitled to all of the mean-spirit he wanted.
He closed the curtain and returned to the kitchen table quickly, and related what he saw to Shemiel, who also visited for Sunday lunch. Shemiel didn't take well to his news, in fact didn't seem to believe Miniel at all until their mother ducked into the back entrance of the home, hunched over and still shaking. She seemed to have forgotten her two eldest were in the kitchen, but didn't bolt once she realized she was spotted. Instead she went to the cutting table, and tried to at least turn her tears away from them.
"Mother..."
"Ah, please, don't be worried." She curled her fingers over the edge of the table and looked out the window. "I'm quite alright."
Her children had known her for over twenty years each, and the act didn't convince them by any means. Shemiel stood from her seat and put her arms around Ruchiel's shoulders. She picked up the corner of her mother's shawl, and wiped a stray tear with it.
"Mother, it'll be festival soon," Shemiel said in a soft, thoughtful tone, which was odd even by Shemiel standards. "There will be so many people we can entertain, so you won't even realize he is gone."
Ruchiel didn't answer, perhaps not prepared to answer questions just yet, and tilted her chin towards her daughter. "Pardon?"
Shemiel pressed her fingers over her mother's shoulder. "Miniel seems to believe Asiel won't be visiting us for a while. Is that true?"
Their mother again seemed to have trouble processing the question, but within a few moments did shake her head. "No, Asiel won't be visiting. Not until spring, if not later."
Miniel rose from his seat as well. Feeling rather bold, he said, "He's going to Northhaven, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is." Ruchiel shook her head with percievable sadness. "It seems his brother is having a hard time, and needs some cheering up."
Miniel could understand that. The Keep seemed abnormally quiet in controversy lately, but only in favor of their beloved gossip about Northhaven. A year ago, Onayepheton (an Ofanim, as the gossip always included in a hush whisper) had ascended to the Master of Hearth of Northhaven. Asiel resented most questions about it. Miniel himself asked about it only once, in regards how he thought his brother would do. Because Asiel never answered questions about his own family directly or kindly, so he asked Miniel to imagine Kerkoutha as warleader of the Southern Invasion. Even if Kerkoutha cared nothing for battle, Miniel thought it was a rude comparison.
"Asiel can't help but put his own family first," Miniel said. "Mother, I think going is the right thing for him to do."
"Yes, that's exactly what I said to him." She wrung her hands together, and spoke much more softly. "But then he told me he didn't care about my blessing."
Those words cast a heavy weight over the three of them. Shemiel immediately looked crestfallen, and Miniel momentarially felt so awful that he forgot his grudge and ran to her side. He put his hand over her other shoulder, so the two siblings both could support their mother if need be.
"He could never manage to be delicate with people," he said. "How terrible..."
"Terrible?" She blinked and looked to her son as if she had no idea what he meant.
"That he's not delicate," Miniel repeated.
"Yes." Ruchiel nodded her head this time. "Yes, that is true. But I think that's why...exactly why he then asked me..."
She trembled before, but he looked at her again and though her movement seemed less like shivering and more like...nervousness? Their mother knotted her fingers, and spoke with a halting stammer. Miniel realized she more resembled a schoolgirl than the woman who raised them.
"You see, he said he wanted...well, Asiel, even he knows that alone, he isn't very good at encouraging people..." By then she couldn't seem to keep her words, or even her thoughts straight. Their mother pressed her hands over her cheeks, and then, of all things, a slight, small smile pulled at her lips.
"So he asked ...oh how do I say this...he said that cheering someone up goes better when you have two people working on it." She pressed her palms over her beet-red face completely. "And I agreed."
Miniel found himself barely able to speak for his shock. "He asked you to go with him."
"Mother, that is wonderful!" Shemiel, on the other hand could not restrain herself. She viced her mother into a fierce hug. "You haven't had a true adventure in decades, have you?"
"No, I haven't. I hadn't even noticed." She even giggled a little bit into her hands. "And I've never traveled so far during winter. Is this a good time for an adventure?"
"It's the best time," she encouraged. "And I bet he got you full leave on your duties already, right?"
"Yes. He did." Ruchiel took her hands off her face and blinked in a moment of delayed wonder, and turned to Miniel. "That was thoughtful of him, wasn't it?"
He nearly choked on the word. "Very."
They watched her set her shawl over a chair, then wander towards the back of the common room in a bit of a daze. "Oh. I've forgotten where I put the furs. I didn't expect to need them so soon..."
Shemiel nearly followed their mother to the closet, but Miniel grabbed her by the elbow before she could. "We can't let Mother go," he whispered.
"Why not?" His sister pat her hand on his shoulder. "Oh, you don't have to worry. The route to Northhaven has been secure for ten years now."
"No." He stared at her seriously. "I mean we can't leave her alone with him for so long."
Shemiel took a step back from Miniel, like she had been slapped. "I thought you were over this."
"I was. But they've been getting closer and closer, don't you see it? There are supposed to be lines, Shemiel, and one of these days he's going to go to far and hurt her-"
His sister didn't let him finish. "You're such a jealous little boy, Miniel," Shemiel accused too loudly. "You just don't like it that your mommy isn't fawning over you anymore."
"It's too long a time for two people, Shemiel," he said, frustrated that she didn't understand his point. "And I won't sleep for months if I have to worry about-"
"Miniel?," a hushed, very concerned voice interrupted behind him. Their mother stood there, nearly five storage baskets in her arms, having overdone herself in her excitement before. But now, the joy had all drained from her face. "Is something wrong?"
"Mother..."
"Did you need me to stay here, Miniel?" Ruchiel put her baskets on the table. She seemed to laugh at herself, as if she seemed to realize how silly it was to bring out all of them at once, but her voice lacked the cheer of before. "I mean, this trip was just going to be stupid fun, of course, and I really don't have to go if you need me."
For Miniel, his mother affected a calm smile. The fragile, fake smile she wore after their father died, all the way until he started visiting. The worst one. "You know I would do anything for you children."
Right now, Miniel could have what he wanted with a word, but instead his face went red with shame. Yes, sometimes he wished for a blizzard to blow Asiel out into the far, far East. But he would never, ever wish a moment's more pain on his mother.
"No. Everything is fine," he whispered. "I just meant to say, I will worry about you."
"I will worry about you too." Their mother touched his shoulder, but still looked hesitant. "Are you sure you don't need-"
Shemiel shoved herself between the both of them with a great, too-loud laugh. "Well, that is incredibly sweet of you to worry about our poor helpless Miniel, Mother," she said, discreetly grinding her heel into her brother's toes, "but Northhaven is going to be just so beautiful! You shouldn't even think of us while you are gone. I will even take care of everyone for you."
Miniel couldn't help a glare at his sister. "Am I not the oldest-"
Shemiel elbowed him rather hard in the ribs. "In fact, to help you out, Minnie and I will visit Master Israfel today, to see if he had any message he'd like to pass on to his cousin. And we'll ask around for more well-wishes for Uncle Ona."
"That is a splendid idea." He could literately see as his mother eyes went dazed, almost glassy with the same overwhelming joy she felt before. Ruchiel put her hands to her heart, then wandered back away to the closets. "Oh, perhaps I can quickly knit together some new mittens for the trip. Perhaps Sachiel is free tonight. Where have I put my wool?"
Left alone with his sister again, Miniel said, "Why'd you say that? That weird guy isn't our Uncle."
Shemiel grinned and turned away from him, towards the kitchen table.
"Brother, have you heard about the chapel at Northhaven?" Shemiel cut two pieces of bread for herself, then a slice of cheese. "All the girls say it looks like a winter dream, with glass windows carved from pure crystal." She wrapped the little sandwich in a napkin, and tucked it into her apron for later. "Do you not think Mother wishes to visit that chapel as well?"
He wondered why she changed the topic so abruptly. Then he looked at his mother, who clumsily dropped another few spindles of yarn onto the floor, and in his mind the connection finally clicked. "You don't mean, Shems..."
"I have chores to finish. But we can go in an hour, okay Miniel?" She slapped his shoulder enthusiastically. "Help mother if she drops anything heavy, won't you?"
He nodded numbly, and slumped back into his chair. Despair would flavor the rest of Miniel's meals that day.
Re: It's like Miniel got psychologically Rick-Rolled
--AHAHAHAHA MINIEL. Between his flustering over the whole affair and his insistence that Asiel is up to INDECENT THINGS and how he finally acquiesces, you hit Minnie RIGHT ON THE HEAD.
--ALSO SHEMIEL. I loved how you portrayed her softer side. It's not one she shows often. And her basically all but going YOU GO MOM was adorable. <3 Especially when combined with AND SHUT UP MINIEL.
--And I LOVED how she baited Miniel, which is totally Shemmie. The parting shot with the chapel was awesome. XDDD
--And also, giddy Ruchiel is absolutely adorable. <3
In summary, I ADORED THIS. Thank you so much. <3 <3 <3 <3
Re: It's like Miniel got psychologically Rick-Rolled
Re: It's like Miniel got psychologically Rick-Rolled
Not to mention it's just an adorable thought. <3
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"You know, sometimes, I think about when you were a few years younger, running around with those other brats." She twisted her finger in his dark, thick hair. "You, and that shy one with braids, I could have sworn you two were 15."
Raquel chuckled to herself, and planted her other hand behind her, against the rich wood of the bar table. Her pinky brushed against a lukewarm bottle of beer, neglected and still half-filled. A smile crept over her lips. "I didn't realize you'd be back so soon for your first drink, Valentino."
She nuzzled against his neck and hummed against his skin, but Val still didn't acknowledge her, not even when she directly addressed him. Raquel was glad that he didn't. She so much enjoyed the attention he lavished on her breasts instead. She sometimes thought her body was too old to be interesting anymore, but his intent delighted and invigorated her.
"It wasn't just your height, you know," she said, blowing a little bit at his hair. "Always dressing up older than you were, in those suits. You would get mad over the smallest little thing."
She lowered her hand and smoothed it over his back. She could feel some muscle under his dress shirt, and smiled as she guessed what inspired him to start working out. "And you always got huffy at Alex, and the other bigger boys. I wonder why?"
"Oh, and how can I forget your chubby baby cheeks." Raquel laid her own cheek against his shoulder, still casually gazing into the mirror. "I have nothing to pinch anymore."
She could feel the irritation through his fingers, which knead harder into her breasts. He nipped her occasionally, with a little more fire now than before.
"Ah," she whispered, and ran her hands over the back of his slacks. Her greedy fingertips found some juicy estate down there. "Nevermind. I found something."
"You know, Raquel," he said, finally taking his lips from her breasts. "This isn't as exciting as it was five minutes ago."
She frowned when his attentions stopped, and gazed down at him. Raquel thought college might have loosened him up a little, but Val stared at her with same ink black eyes as always, still too proud and too serious for someone his age. Perhaps she could yet find a way to cure him of his uptightness.
"I'm sorry," Raquel said, though her face indicated nothing resembling remorse. She leaned in and kissed him though, just below the ear. "Will you forgive me? I'll treat you like a big boy from now on."
"Like a man," Val murmured. Even through her jeans, she felt his hand squeeze her inner thigh, and his thumb run over that place that made her a woman. "I wanted to meet you again as a man."
Slight as the touch was, it sent a shiver through her body. Perhaps, she thought, as she felt for the zipper of her jeans, there'd be no harm if she got just little bit serious too. "Of course."
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( I love this. <3 <3 <3 )