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terajk Or, only one of these is actually a drabble:
She eyes Mother's White Lotus and thinks, makes her play.
"The Dragon? Are you sure?" But Azula sees the hunger in Mother's eyes even as she tries to hide it, hears Toph's you-have-done-something-clever laughter in her head.
"What would you think if I were an admiral's daughter-in-law?" Azula asks three turns later, when Mother plays a rose.
"I think you can be what you like. I also think you're trying to distract me." She doesn't sound unhappy, but as with everything about Mother, it's hard to tell. (Azula still looks for the wrinkles and streaks of gray in her hair sometimes, to be sure). Still, the White Lotus edges closer.
Four turns later, Azula moves her Jasmine for something to do. "And what if my wife were a loudmouth peasant?"
"Really, Azula." Mother's rose takes her jasmine. "The Bei Fongs are one of the wealthiest families in the Earth Kingdom."
Azula hasn't expected this. She suddenly feels like she did when Toph showed her how to control people with weakness...or kindness, or whatever it is: open and helpless, assaulted by all the things she has years of practice keeping out. But still, still, the White Lotus creeps.
And then. Then.
"What would you think if my wife did this?" Azula crushes the White Lotus with her rock.
"My dear," says Mother, "I think that would be marvelous." She sounds happy, Azula thinks.
The dungeons are easier than this. Than her.
He tries to pretend she's Oli's, but there's no mistaking the dimple in her smile. When Stephanie asks if he's ready now, look what she bought at Frederick's--
"I can't. I just can't."
The doors are locked and the blinds are open, but still she comes, a little girl forever. Who loves her daddy.
In Paris and Belgium and Amsterdam, he'd kept Stephanie locked away safe. The girls
(on Alex's phone)
in the brothels were just pussy. They weren't his Stephanie.
Edward Saladhands isn't her daddy, which terrifies him most of all.
"I hope the baby's a girl," Judith says.
Kathy doesn't look up from painting Judith's toenails a deep shade of purple. "Enh. She'd make us play with her and do her nails." Michael was fun to babysit--quiet and out of the way.
"Yeah, I guess. I'm glad you could come." Then the phone rings, and Judith says, "Shit! That's him!"
"I'll get it." Kathy doesn't mean answer it--she isn't supposed to be here--but she brings the base and everything as close to Judith as she can, while Judith scoots backwards. Judith takes the receiver. "Dad?...Hello?....Hello?" She rolls her eyes, but Kathy can tell she's disappointed...and something else. "Nobody," she says as she hangs up.
"Jerk."
Judith's nails aren't quite dry when she says, "Michael, what are you doing?" She runs to the kitchen anyway--the kitchen? How did he get there?--and grabs a pair of scissors out of his hand. "No, this is dangerous! You are going to bed, do you hear me?"
Michael doesn't whine, but Judith doesn't appreciate it. "You'll be the death of me, I swear!"
Drama queen, Kathy thinks, rolling her eyes.
Bonus!:
"Do you like my funhouse, little boy?" the man in the stripey sweater asks.
This is a hard question. Michael likes Coco Wheats, and the sharp letter his name starts with; he likes his pajamas with dinosaurs on them (they're in the wash, so he has to wear the ones with the cars); he likes it when his parents are gone and Judith orders pizza, and when the big girls hang upside down on the monkey bars and forget they aren't wearing shorts under their skirts. He likes Walter Cronkite and putting his hand on Mommy's tummy to feel the baby kick. (He imagines it's the beating of her heart--he knows it's a girl baby, because everyone knows it goes girl, boy, girl--and can't wait to crush it).
He doesn't know how he feels about the funhouse. (He only wishes he was wearing his dinosaur pajamas, because the car ones are kind of stupid--especially when you see twenty of them all around, which is as high as he can count). But he really likes the guy in the stripey sweater.
"Isn't it pretty? Couldn't you just die?"
Shouldn't your puns be better? Michael thinks.
"Look at all the Michaels!" Stripey Sweater says. "You don't like it when people look at you, do you, Michael?"
Suddenly, all the Michaels reach behind themselves as he puts his hand, flat, on the mirror behind him. He's like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat--or, you know, an ice-pick out of a mirror. Then he makes an M in Stripey Sweater's chest--big, because he only learned how last week--and admires his work.
Yes, he likes Stripey Sweater really a lot.
*Azula's problem is that she is an actual human being. This cannot be corrected with practice.
She eyes Mother's White Lotus and thinks, makes her play.
"The Dragon? Are you sure?" But Azula sees the hunger in Mother's eyes even as she tries to hide it, hears Toph's you-have-done-something-clever laughter in her head.
"What would you think if I were an admiral's daughter-in-law?" Azula asks three turns later, when Mother plays a rose.
"I think you can be what you like. I also think you're trying to distract me." She doesn't sound unhappy, but as with everything about Mother, it's hard to tell. (Azula still looks for the wrinkles and streaks of gray in her hair sometimes, to be sure). Still, the White Lotus edges closer.
Four turns later, Azula moves her Jasmine for something to do. "And what if my wife were a loudmouth peasant?"
"Really, Azula." Mother's rose takes her jasmine. "The Bei Fongs are one of the wealthiest families in the Earth Kingdom."
Azula hasn't expected this. She suddenly feels like she did when Toph showed her how to control people with weakness...or kindness, or whatever it is: open and helpless, assaulted by all the things she has years of practice keeping out. But still, still, the White Lotus creeps.
And then. Then.
"What would you think if my wife did this?" Azula crushes the White Lotus with her rock.
"My dear," says Mother, "I think that would be marvelous." She sounds happy, Azula thinks.
The dungeons are easier than this. Than her.
He tries to pretend she's Oli's, but there's no mistaking the dimple in her smile. When Stephanie asks if he's ready now, look what she bought at Frederick's--
"I can't. I just can't."
The doors are locked and the blinds are open, but still she comes, a little girl forever. Who loves her daddy.
In Paris and Belgium and Amsterdam, he'd kept Stephanie locked away safe. The girls
(on Alex's phone)
in the brothels were just pussy. They weren't his Stephanie.
Edward Saladhands isn't her daddy, which terrifies him most of all.
"I hope the baby's a girl," Judith says.
Kathy doesn't look up from painting Judith's toenails a deep shade of purple. "Enh. She'd make us play with her and do her nails." Michael was fun to babysit--quiet and out of the way.
"Yeah, I guess. I'm glad you could come." Then the phone rings, and Judith says, "Shit! That's him!"
"I'll get it." Kathy doesn't mean answer it--she isn't supposed to be here--but she brings the base and everything as close to Judith as she can, while Judith scoots backwards. Judith takes the receiver. "Dad?...Hello?....Hello?" She rolls her eyes, but Kathy can tell she's disappointed...and something else. "Nobody," she says as she hangs up.
"Jerk."
Judith's nails aren't quite dry when she says, "Michael, what are you doing?" She runs to the kitchen anyway--the kitchen? How did he get there?--and grabs a pair of scissors out of his hand. "No, this is dangerous! You are going to bed, do you hear me?"
Michael doesn't whine, but Judith doesn't appreciate it. "You'll be the death of me, I swear!"
Drama queen, Kathy thinks, rolling her eyes.
Bonus!:
"Do you like my funhouse, little boy?" the man in the stripey sweater asks.
This is a hard question. Michael likes Coco Wheats, and the sharp letter his name starts with; he likes his pajamas with dinosaurs on them (they're in the wash, so he has to wear the ones with the cars); he likes it when his parents are gone and Judith orders pizza, and when the big girls hang upside down on the monkey bars and forget they aren't wearing shorts under their skirts. He likes Walter Cronkite and putting his hand on Mommy's tummy to feel the baby kick. (He imagines it's the beating of her heart--he knows it's a girl baby, because everyone knows it goes girl, boy, girl--and can't wait to crush it).
He doesn't know how he feels about the funhouse. (He only wishes he was wearing his dinosaur pajamas, because the car ones are kind of stupid--especially when you see twenty of them all around, which is as high as he can count). But he really likes the guy in the stripey sweater.
"Isn't it pretty? Couldn't you just die?"
Shouldn't your puns be better? Michael thinks.
"Look at all the Michaels!" Stripey Sweater says. "You don't like it when people look at you, do you, Michael?"
Suddenly, all the Michaels reach behind themselves as he puts his hand, flat, on the mirror behind him. He's like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat--or, you know, an ice-pick out of a mirror. Then he makes an M in Stripey Sweater's chest--big, because he only learned how last week--and admires his work.
Yes, he likes Stripey Sweater really a lot.
*Azula's problem is that she is an actual human being. This cannot be corrected with practice.
