Post by Rosie on Dec 7, 2011 16:18:31 GMT 10
To: Pandora
Message: Merry Ficmas and much love, dear. I hope you enjoy this...
From: your still secret snowflake
Title: Six Geese a-Laying...or, Wherein Dom’s Nightmares are Finally Justified
Rating: PG-13
Wishlist Item: #1 - Evin!
Summary:It’s Midwinter in Corus and Dom finds himself in lock-up. Luckily for him, he is not forgotten this holiday. Part six of “The Twelve Days of Mischief...or, It Came Upon a Midwinter Weird”.
Warning: Gingerbread Men.
Six Geese a-Laying...or, Wherein Dom’s Nightmares are Finally Justified.
Unable to help himself, Evin sneezed and flour went everywhere.
Miri blinked as the plume of white obscured her vision, and remarked blandly, “You know, you should really stop doing that. I was almost done cleaning up too.”
Evin, now sporting a light white dusting and resembling a rather lanky snow-creature because of it, pointed at the package of flour dramatically. “It’s out to get me!”
Miri sighed, then grinned. “How about stirring this; it shouldn’t leap out and get you anytime soon.” She shoved a bowl of frosting at him. Evin, eyeing it carefully, gave it a careful nudge with the spoon.
“…looks safe,” he muttered to himself.
Satisfied that Evin was safely out of the way, Miri mopped up the remnants of the flour explosion and checked on the cookies.
“They’re almost done!” she told Evin excitedly, turning in time to see Evin with the frosting spoon in his mouth. Guiltily, he told her, “The frosting’s done too.”
The hangdog look on Evin’s face made it impossible for Miri to even fake being mad at him, and she tapped his nose. “You got some on your face,” she told him.
Quickly, Evin dipped his finger in the bowl and smeared some on her cheek. “So do you,” he told her, and ducked as Miri grabbed for the bowl in retaliation. She grabbed it long enough to get a good sized amount in her hand, which got dumped on Evin’s head and ran down his face as he covered her right cheek and ear with another handful.
“No faiiiiir,” Miri complained, pinned beneath Evin as he sat on her and licked frosting off his fingers, “I haven’t even gotten to taste the icing yet.” Evin grinned at her, then moved so she could sit up.
“You’ve got enough on your face,” he pointed out, tracing down one cheek with a clean fingertip.
“So do you,” she retorted, then darted in for a quick kiss. Leaning back, she pulled a thoughtful face. “Hmm, not bad—“
Evin cut her off with another, longer kiss. His hand cupped her face gently, and when he drew back, she smiled dazedly at him. “Not bad,” he murmured quietly, running a finger across her lip.
The door banging open startled them, and Tarrus strode into view. “Are the cookies almost ready?” he asked before he caught sight of the kitchen of the Riders’ Mess and stopped.
“Well, it looks as though you’re enjoying the icing…”
Dom sat, alone, in the corner of the cell, contemplating a patch of moss for the third time in five minutes. From this angle, it almost looked like Lord Raoul…
A slot in the door opened near the floor opened, and a tray slid in. “Someone sends holiday greetings,” a voice told him shortly, and a note followed it.
Happy Midwinter, sorry you’re in jail.
Love, The Riders.
It would have been almost sweet if they weren’t part of the reason he was here in the first place.
Also—“I hate gingerbread,” Dom moaned, seeing that the tray contained a bunch of friendly looking gingerbread men on it.
At his words, one sat up and told him, “Well then, BITE ME.”
Startled, Dom scrabbled backwards until his back hit the wall, calling out, “Come back, no,
wait—“ He stretched a hand towards the door. “Please, don’t leave me here with these—“ The other cookies sat up as well.
“Oh…no…”
Wait, didn’t one of those Riders have a weird gift that could make things—
His thoughts were cut off by the sounds of holiday songs, as sung by gingerbread men. And, for some reason, it ended up being creepy rather than cute.
“He sees you when you’re sleeping…he knows when you’re awake…”
Dom shuddered. This was worse than simple solitary confinement. On top of having moving gingerbread men—Dom was certain nightmares would follow this stint in the clink—in the cell with him, it seemed as though not all of them were as musically inclined as others. One in the back insisted on singing “Angels we have heard while high,” (which was distinctly not how Dom remembered the song going) and every time it reached the refrain of “Glooooooooooooooooria!” Dom considered braving the horde of cookies so that he could hurt the tone-deaf cookie man. Every time he came close, though, the one in the front shrieked, “NOT THE GUMDROP BUTTONS!” and made threatening motions towards Dom.
Thusly held at bay, Dom resigned himself to hours oftorture holiday songs. “Stalking in a Winter Wonderland,” ranked highly on Dom’s newly created “Top Ten Creepiest Things in the History of Ever” list, though it was edged out when one gingerbread started eating the icing off of one another.
Caught between horrified and mystified, Dom couldn’t decide if that counted as sexually inappropriate or cannibalistic, but either way it was wrong.
In the back, one seemingly half-baked cookie couldn’t keep its carols straight and ended up singing, “You’d better not……in a pear tree.”
This, Dom decided, was also inappropriate, especially given the lascivious expression on the cookie-man’s face (how could cookies make expressions anyway?)
The next morning, the Palace Guards found him sitting in a corner of the cell, humming carols to himself, off-key, a crazed look on his face. Hesitantly, they unlocked the cell and released him, confused as to the cause of his seemingly unhinged behavior.
The only other thing in the cell was a pile of cookie crumbs near the door.
Message: Merry Ficmas and much love, dear. I hope you enjoy this...
From: your still secret snowflake
Title: Six Geese a-Laying...or, Wherein Dom’s Nightmares are Finally Justified
Rating: PG-13
Wishlist Item: #1 - Evin!
Summary:It’s Midwinter in Corus and Dom finds himself in lock-up. Luckily for him, he is not forgotten this holiday. Part six of “The Twelve Days of Mischief...or, It Came Upon a Midwinter Weird”.
Warning: Gingerbread Men.
Six Geese a-Laying...or, Wherein Dom’s Nightmares are Finally Justified.
Unable to help himself, Evin sneezed and flour went everywhere.
Miri blinked as the plume of white obscured her vision, and remarked blandly, “You know, you should really stop doing that. I was almost done cleaning up too.”
Evin, now sporting a light white dusting and resembling a rather lanky snow-creature because of it, pointed at the package of flour dramatically. “It’s out to get me!”
Miri sighed, then grinned. “How about stirring this; it shouldn’t leap out and get you anytime soon.” She shoved a bowl of frosting at him. Evin, eyeing it carefully, gave it a careful nudge with the spoon.
“…looks safe,” he muttered to himself.
Satisfied that Evin was safely out of the way, Miri mopped up the remnants of the flour explosion and checked on the cookies.
“They’re almost done!” she told Evin excitedly, turning in time to see Evin with the frosting spoon in his mouth. Guiltily, he told her, “The frosting’s done too.”
The hangdog look on Evin’s face made it impossible for Miri to even fake being mad at him, and she tapped his nose. “You got some on your face,” she told him.
Quickly, Evin dipped his finger in the bowl and smeared some on her cheek. “So do you,” he told her, and ducked as Miri grabbed for the bowl in retaliation. She grabbed it long enough to get a good sized amount in her hand, which got dumped on Evin’s head and ran down his face as he covered her right cheek and ear with another handful.
“No faiiiiir,” Miri complained, pinned beneath Evin as he sat on her and licked frosting off his fingers, “I haven’t even gotten to taste the icing yet.” Evin grinned at her, then moved so she could sit up.
“You’ve got enough on your face,” he pointed out, tracing down one cheek with a clean fingertip.
“So do you,” she retorted, then darted in for a quick kiss. Leaning back, she pulled a thoughtful face. “Hmm, not bad—“
Evin cut her off with another, longer kiss. His hand cupped her face gently, and when he drew back, she smiled dazedly at him. “Not bad,” he murmured quietly, running a finger across her lip.
The door banging open startled them, and Tarrus strode into view. “Are the cookies almost ready?” he asked before he caught sight of the kitchen of the Riders’ Mess and stopped.
“Well, it looks as though you’re enjoying the icing…”
Dom sat, alone, in the corner of the cell, contemplating a patch of moss for the third time in five minutes. From this angle, it almost looked like Lord Raoul…
A slot in the door opened near the floor opened, and a tray slid in. “Someone sends holiday greetings,” a voice told him shortly, and a note followed it.
Happy Midwinter, sorry you’re in jail.
Love, The Riders.
It would have been almost sweet if they weren’t part of the reason he was here in the first place.
Also—“I hate gingerbread,” Dom moaned, seeing that the tray contained a bunch of friendly looking gingerbread men on it.
At his words, one sat up and told him, “Well then, BITE ME.”
Startled, Dom scrabbled backwards until his back hit the wall, calling out, “Come back, no,
wait—“ He stretched a hand towards the door. “Please, don’t leave me here with these—“ The other cookies sat up as well.
“Oh…no…”
Wait, didn’t one of those Riders have a weird gift that could make things—
His thoughts were cut off by the sounds of holiday songs, as sung by gingerbread men. And, for some reason, it ended up being creepy rather than cute.
“He sees you when you’re sleeping…he knows when you’re awake…”
Dom shuddered. This was worse than simple solitary confinement. On top of having moving gingerbread men—Dom was certain nightmares would follow this stint in the clink—in the cell with him, it seemed as though not all of them were as musically inclined as others. One in the back insisted on singing “Angels we have heard while high,” (which was distinctly not how Dom remembered the song going) and every time it reached the refrain of “Glooooooooooooooooria!” Dom considered braving the horde of cookies so that he could hurt the tone-deaf cookie man. Every time he came close, though, the one in the front shrieked, “NOT THE GUMDROP BUTTONS!” and made threatening motions towards Dom.
Thusly held at bay, Dom resigned himself to hours of
Caught between horrified and mystified, Dom couldn’t decide if that counted as sexually inappropriate or cannibalistic, but either way it was wrong.
In the back, one seemingly half-baked cookie couldn’t keep its carols straight and ended up singing, “You’d better not……in a pear tree.”
This, Dom decided, was also inappropriate, especially given the lascivious expression on the cookie-man’s face (how could cookies make expressions anyway?)
The next morning, the Palace Guards found him sitting in a corner of the cell, humming carols to himself, off-key, a crazed look on his face. Hesitantly, they unlocked the cell and released him, confused as to the cause of his seemingly unhinged behavior.
The only other thing in the cell was a pile of cookie crumbs near the door.