Five minute ficlet: Rage, OUAT, Maleficent

…

The thing about being angry was that it was a lot of work. She’d forgotten that, in the two decades or so since she’d burned a wasteland around her castle. The reason why she’d held onto her apathy for so long wasn’t because getting revenge against those who had wronged her was so difficult; it was because the next stage–the stage where she got angry and threatened everything they loved, blah blah blah–was exhausting.

It was the girl who’d done this to her. She’d creeped into her castle and berated her for sitting around and wallowing, and she’d had a point. She was also pretty, which was definitely one of Mal’s weak spots.

And yes, being more present had its advantages. She could turn back into a dragon again, which was more than nice. Food tasted good again. She’d hunted again and struck terror into all who saw her. She liked that part.

But now she found herself watching with growing concern as Regina, instead of being fueled by anger into making her own destiny, started to be consumed by it in turn. Mal had known anger could turn that way, too, and she grew more cautious about her own.

When she felt her curse on Phillip break, she didn’t mention it to Regina and instead planned to let him reach his princess and wake her.

Five minute ficlet: Tears, OUAT, Snow White

Since no one had prompted me yet, I prompted myself. The prompt word I acquired through a super scientific process was “tears.”

…

She was not going to cry.

She was not going to cry.

There wasn’t anything to cry about. She wasn’t looking at pictures of cute puppies or reading heartwarming stories about people going to extraordinary lengths to help their neighbors. It wasn’t Neal’s first day of kindergarten, which had been a very good excuse to lock herself in the bathroom for a few minutes and sob, remembering the utterly confident look he’d had as he bolted from her into the classroom. It wasn’t finding Emma again, which had been completely surreal and everything and then so, so hard.

No.

It wasn’t anything that made logical sense.

She looked up at her husband, who was holding out a bouquet of gorgeous but perfectly ordinary white roses, roses he’d bought for her “just because,” which was something he did every once in a while, so why was she crying?

David looked at least as confused as she felt.

“Snow, they’re just flowers,” he said.

Snow sniffed. “I know!” She sniffed again. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The last time I got like this I was pregn–”

A lots more than five minutes ficlet: Snow Day, OUAT, Swan Queen

@witchpieceoftoast prompted me to write Swan-Mills family snow day and @wig257 prompted “Regina gives Emma a hot chocolate with a surprising added kick” which seemed like they belonged together, honestly. Then I started to think about how I’m always writing first kisses and really I should mix that up a bit. The following is a bit light on the “family” part of the prompt, but Henry is in it!

…

Emma and Henry looked through the window with matching frowns, watching snow hurtle from the sky. It didn’t so much settle on the ground as obliterate it. A snow day had seemed so exciting when it was announced; Storybrooke had snow, of course, but it was usually not enough to close schools or keep people from work.

Today was an exception, a true blizzard with white-out conditions that had everyone huddled inside, including the sheriffs–although David was at home and Emma had gotten herself stuck over at Regina’s.

Henry sighed. “I can’t believe it. First snow of the year and we’re trapped inside.”

“Totally with you, kid,” Emma said. She’d already considered (and rejected) walking home, but there wasn’t really anything there, and it wasn’t like she had seriously considered it anyway–it looked really bad out there.

No, it looked like she was going to be here for at least a few hours if not all day. This meant spending time with Henry, which was always nice, but it also meant spending time with Regina. That would have been fine a week ago, but now things were a bit fraught between them. She’d come over today to check in with Henry but also to… test the waters a bit.

“Well, maybe it’ll get nicer later,” Henry said, turning in his seat and picking up a notebook and pen he carried with him everywhere these days.

Rolling her eyes at how easily Henry gave up moping–so not like her in that way–Emma got up from her perch and wandered over to the other window. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like the weather would be different over here. She wondered where Regina was. She wasn’t going to go looking for her.

She wasn’t.

She wandered the other way, and then wandered right down the hall and into the kitchen.

Regina was pouring a pot of hot chocolate into three mugs. Emma waited until she was done before shuffling awkwardly into the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said.

Regina startled–just a little. Placing the pot into the sink, she turned around and indicated the mugs. “I thought…”

Regina looked almost as uncomfortable as Emma felt. She said, “I was going to take one to Henry.”

Two of the mugs, Emma saw, were in keeping with the kind of mugs Emma would expect Regina to have–perfectly pristine and white, a little boring but obviously quality. The third was black with beat-up yellow lettering that said STAR WARS.

Emma stuck her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “Oh, yeah, good idea. Thanks.”

Regina gave her a funny look but just took the Star Wars mug and left for the living room.

“Thanks?” Emma muttered to herself. Oh god. What was wrong with her?

The other two mugs were still on the counter. Emma would have thought Regina had taken the other with her to the living room. She could hear Regina and Henry talking in low voices. Should she take them both in? She thought that would probably be the nice thing to do. She picked on up and took a sip.

It burned. Emma choked, not expecting the strong taste of mint and booze that came with that first sip.

“That is definitely not cinnamon,” Emma said to the mug.

“I suppose I should have warned you,” Regina said from behind her.

Emma turned. “You think?” She took another sip. This time, she was able to appreciate the combination of flavors. She raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have thought you were the spiked-chocolate-in-the-morning type.”

Regina shrugged and took the other mug from the counter. “Maybe I thought we’d both need it if we’re going to be spending the day together,” she said.

Emma’s pulse picked up. She turned the mug in her hands. “I guess things have been a bit…”

“Tense?” Regina finished. She took a sip of her own mug.

“… tense between us lately.”

“They don’t have to be,” Regina said.

“They don’t?” Emma said.

Regina stared down into her mug, Emma getting the distinct impression she was avoiding meeting her eyes. “Of course not. It’s not that big of a deal; we’ll just pretend it never happened.”

Emma blinked at her. “Not that big of a deal?” she said.

Regina huffed out a breath. “It doesn’t have to be–”

“Regina,” Emma protested. “That’s not–I don’t think I can just pretend it didn’t happen!”

Still not looking at her, Regina’s shoulders hunched. “Okay, fine,” she snapped. “I’m sorry, then. I apologize and it will never happen again. I just… made a mistake.”

“Wait, what?” Emma was more confused than ever. This conversation was quickly getting away from her. “You made a mistake?”

“Yes, okay–I thought–well, I clearly misread the situation, and–”

“You–whoa. Wait. I’m the one who freaked out, not you,” Emma said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”

Regina shook her head. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Emma saw a way out of the confusion. She said, “You didn’t assume anything that wasn’t true.”

“I did, I assumed–” Regina stopped as Emma’s words finally sank in, looking up at her for the first time. “What?”

Emma put down her mug and took Regina’s, setting it beside hers. “I said, you didn’t assume anything that wasn’t true.” She swallowed and took her hand.. “I just wasn’t expecting–which is not the same as saying I didn’t want–”

“But you–” Regina looked down at their hands, and then back up to Emma’s face. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yeah, because I thought you were going to kill me,” Emma said. “Because I took off like a chicken shit and ran, not because you kissed me.”

“Not because I kissed you–” Regina repeated in a monotone. “Not because I–” her eyes narrowed, her expression hardening.

Emma braced for impact.

“You let me think–Emma, it’s been a week!”

“Hey–I thought you were already mad at me. I was giving you space!”

“Oh, no, you are not going to get off that easy–” Regina stopped suddenly, a horrified look on her face.

It took Emma a second or two to realize the double meaning. She snorted and said, “I would hate to presume,” and then Regina was laughing, too, little gasps that turned into full-throated laughter.

God, Emma loved Regina’s laugh.

She was still holding Regina’s hand, so she gave it a tug and then Regina was right there–not laughing any more, and then they were kissing. A proper kiss this time, because Emma was expecting this one and not standing there like an idiot. She was pretty sure Regina had already forgiven her, because she was wrapping her arms around Emma’s neck opening her mouth and this might be the best snow day ever.

Pickle Rant

shinewithalltheuntold asked: Pickles.

I hate them. I hate how them come with sandwiches and burgers by default. I hate having to tell waiters “no pickles, not even on the plate,” I hate how they’re juicy and if they get left on things the taste permeates the sandwich or burger or fries. I hate the way they smell. I hate that deviled eggs usually have some pickle juice in them and I don’t hate deviled eggs.

(I will admit I was amused when I was (recently!) told that the person I was talking to had NEVER heard of anyone not liking pickles.)

****

witchpieceoftoast said: OMG SAME!!! like, they contaminate things!!! why would you just stick them on plates and make everything soggy and gross tasting and blech!
shinewithalltheuntold said: So, obviously I already knew that about you, but sometimes I just like to hear you rant about pickles. :)

Five minute ficlet: Bed-sharing Trope fic, Star Wars, Han/Leia

@organanation wondered if I had any Han/Leia bed-sharing fics lying around. While I have a “We’re so cold let’s strip each other and have hot sex” PWP and a “While we’re in bed do you wanna get hitched?” ficlet, I didn’t find what she was looking for. So I did a five-minute (that turned into lunch and cooking) ficlet. It doesn’t quite hit the UST spot, so I might have to take another crack at it some other time.

…

“No.”

“I’m afraid so, your worship.” Han tried not to grin but it wasn’t a battle he was very invested in winning. “It’s not my fault the main water conduit broke right above your bed.”

“It’s your ship! Shouldn’t you maintain it? A conduit like that should be replaced before it corrodes enough to create a problem like this–but no, not on your junk heap!”

Han glared. “Hey–the Falcon’s got a lot of parsecs on her, but you don’t have to be rude. Besides, I already told you I’m more than happy to share until we get back to base.”

Leia crossed her arms. “No. That’s unacceptable.”

Han shrugged. “Well, you can try to bunk with Chewie, but honestly, he kicks in his sleep.”

Leia said, “The decent thing to do would be to offer to share with Chewbacca yourself and let me have your bunk.”

Chewbacca, who had been silent up to this point, shook his head with an emphatic no.

Han nodded. “I know, I know–but you see how she is!”

Chewbacca shook his head again made a pointed comment.

“No, she does not have a point!”

In the end, of course, it was decided that neither of them could share with Chewbacca because the bed just wasn’t big enough for a full-grown Wookie and anyone else.

Getting ready for bed was by far the most awkward part of the whole affair. There wasn’t much room in the cabin, so every action was an exercise in moving around each other, of containing elbows, of failing not to look–there was nowhere not to look, not really.

And then they settled into bed and maneuvered elbows and heads and limbs–and suddenly they fit, Leia tucked into Han’s side and Han’s arm around her, as if they always slept like this. They both froze in place the moment they realized–but it was so comfortable that neither said anything, afraid that if they spoke out loud they’d end up fighting and have to move to save face.

It didn’t take long for them to fall asleep. They woke more deeply wrapped in each other, and there was a moment when they forgot to be embarrassed, Han tightening his arms around Leia, and Leia resting into his chest.

Leia’s bunk was dry by nightfall and though both of them proclaimed loudly how good it was they wouldn’t have to share another night, they lingered in the corridor for just a few seconds too long before saying goodnight.