the delphic expanse

Most of you know how this goes...if not, here's what's up:

Every month, I give you a prompt in the form of a single word or a short phrase. Your job is to write an Enterprise story based on whatever that prompt evokes in your mind. Any genre (het, slash, gen), any style (humor, romance, action, mystery, etc.), any length.

Finish it. Have it beta-read. Polish it. Submit it to the archive.

Your prompt, should you wish to partake, is....














YOUR MOTHER

Now go write something.

My throw-away attempt at some Archer/Sato:

Candy Canes and Alcohol

She was never alone.

I walked into the mess hall, and she would be sitting with someone, talking, laughing. Her presence filled the room, a subtle enticement that drew everyone to her--including me. As I passed her table, she would look up at me and smile. Time stopped as she held my gaze, and for that single heartbeat, I would wonder what it would be like if Starfleet regulations didn't stand between us.

Love came in measured doses, like the parts of a thousand-piece puzzle--indecipherable until the image was nearly finished. At first, I didn't allow myself to admit that each casual touch of her hand, each word she spoke directly to me, each smile she tossed carelessly across the bridge in my direction were becoming as vital to me as the beat of my own heart. I tried to pretend she wasn't the air I breathed, but staying away from her was suffocating.

I don't know if I grew bolder or if there was something in her expression that invited me linger when our eyes met. I looked for excuses to be near her off-duty. If she was in the gym, I was there. If she went to movie night, I came. When I saddled her with a challenging translation, I checked in on her. I was her shadow, her friendly stalker. If she knew, she never let on.

Mistletoe and a bottle of Andorian ale changed everything.

The party was over; the last stragglers left the mess hall singing drunken carols. She stayed behind to help clean up, so I did, too. I picked up plates and cups with her, smiled as she giggled over nothing, and wondered how her laughter would feel vibrating against my chest--against my lips. And then, as if in answer to my unconscious desire, she paused underneath the mistletoe, tucking her dark hair behind her ear.

The puzzle was complete.

She turned to me, her laughter falling silent as I stared at her. Her lips parted in quiet surprise as I closed the distance between us. Just one kiss, I told myself with each step. Just a harmless peck. Her breath hitched as I tangled my fingers in her hair. It was so soft, so smooth. She tipped her head up, closing her eyes.

She tasted like candy canes and alcohol, and there was no turning back.

And that, little one, is how I fell in love with your mother.

Now, where's the July prompt?

That was great, Misplaced! I hope you're planning to archive that. I, for one, am all a-squee.

Misplaced wrote:Now, where's the July prompt?

I didn't do one because it seemed like no one was doing them any more. If you guys want one, I'll put one up.

Oh Misplaced, that is wonderful. I love the slow build up. I think Jon and Hoshi are an excellent match and you confirmed that for me.

I can just hear a small voice saying, "tell it again, Daddy" year after year. Makes me misty!


And Aquarius, don't give up on us. Hope springs eternal with good inspiration.

Nice job Misplaced.I like your Sato Archer story.

Thank you everyone! It was fun to write a A/S ficlet.

Be STILL my beating heart! Nicely done!

Thank you!

Let's turn this thread into a A/S thread! Inspired by this prompt, I wrote a Hoshi story, with a spark of A/S. It isn't beta-ed, sorry about that!
BTW, gohan is the Japanese word for rice, mostly used as meal as well.

Mother

Every night she would hear the same sounds. She would be up in her room, studying some PADD, absorbing a language with all her might and loving it. Then, at 10.30 pm she would hear the sound of her mother’s walking around at her slippers in the kitchen, cooking the gohan, preparing father’s evening meal. Then the footsteps would go the bathroom. The hot water tab always made a squeaking sound when mother turned it on. The hot water started running until the bath was full and ready for her father’s return.

Hoshi’s father would come home from his work at 11.00 pm. He had worked his normal 16 hours of hard work and spending the last hours with his colleagues and some clients in the bar in town. It was part of his job, like many others.

At 11 pm she would hear her father’s greeting as he entered the house. The next sound she would hear was her father walking to the bathroom where his bath was already ready.

After half an hour Hoshi would get up and would find her father sitting on the floor in the living room, bowl of rice in his hands. Before him a small table where mother had placed several dishes.
Mother would be there to, asking him about his work, serving him extra dishes if he wanted. Hoshi would join them and mother would run to the kitchen to get her some food.

Sitting in front of her father, both eating, hardly a word was spoken. Hoshi could see the closed face of her father, tired of a long day, eager to go to sleep. She didn’t blame him; it was just the way things were. She wanted to tell him about her day, but it all seems so unimportant.
Hoshi would watch her mother, a woman of high intelligence with a busy job herself. Her mother never complained, never said she was tired, but every night she would make the bath and prepared and serve a meal for her father, who was hardly at home and never seems to have any contact with his wife and children.

Every time Hoshi saw this, she promised herself, she wouldn’t marry a man whose work and mission was so important there wouldn’t be time for her. She wouldn’t allow herself to fall in love with a person who was married to his work. And so she told herself this time after time, believing it with all her heart, not doubting it for a second, not until she met a man called Jonathan Archer.

<falls over in a faint> VERY nice Panyasan!