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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 3 years

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Y/n 😔would pack demonrry lunch to take to work 😔😔with out him even asking😔😔😔 like one morning she’s just like “here you go baby” and hands it to him while he’s walking out the door 😔😔😔😔

She cooks him one of his favorite meals and packs it all nice and neat inside a black lunchbox. She puts two ginger ale cans in because he always drinks the first one too fast and ends up needing another to finish his food, and she shrink-wraps leftover chocolate chip cookies from the ones they’d made the night prior for dinner, and she writes a little note on a piece of colored paper that has a pun on it because she knows how much he adores terrible jokes.

What did the demon say when the ghoul jumped out and surprised him? “You scared the hell out me!”

Have a nice day at work, I love you more than anything!

Y/N hands it to him when he walks into the kitchen to have breakfast.

Harry comes up behind her, already prepped for work in a pair of pinstriped flared slacks with a black t-shirt tucked along the rim, paired with black leather boots and a maroon gym bag slung across his broad frame, which contains a change of athletic clothes for the combat training portion of his shift. He props his chin atop her shoulder as he snakes an arm around her hips, placing chaste pecks along the curve and tracing them up the slope of her neck, pooling a few along the sweet spot right behind her ear.

He rubs his large palm across her tummy tenderly, taking her earlobe between his teeth and tugging with a playful air, humming a chuckle when a shiver slithers down her spine. His voice is throaty and deep, as it always is in the morning, and the hot air from his words cascades across her cheekbone, smelling of mint toothpaste and mouthwash. “Morning, baby.”

Y/N cranes her head to the side to meet his face, her belly knotting when she catches a proper glimpse of him for the first time today. He’s freshly shaven, just as she likes it, and he’d combed his chestnut curls back with a bit of water and gel— it’s obvious in the faint slick shine that reflects the fluorescent lighting in the kitchen, as well as the light scent of his favorite hair product that intermingles throughout his usual vanilla and tobacco cologne. He always looks so pretty in the mornings, and it always infuriates her; no one should be allowed to look so flawless every second of the day.

The angel leans forward, carding her lips between her boyfriend’s plush own, tasting the minty freshness from earlier, along with hints of his sacred coconut lip balm. “Morning.”

The demon smiles against her mouth as he deepens the action, teasing his tongue across hers as he tightens his arm around her waist, digging his fingertips into one of her love handles as he flushes her behind unbelievably closer to the front of his body. All she feels against her back are the sturdy muscles of his chest and thighs, as well at the cool metal of his inverted cross necklace, and the irony of the situation is not lost to her. The pendant is digging right into the center of her spine, where her wings usually sprout to life, and the coincidence of it makes her lips twitch with mild amusement.

Harry draws back from their lingering embrace, sponging an array of fluttery kisses across her Cupid’s bow for good measure before he plops his forehead against hers and sighs airily, rubbing the tip of his nose across her own. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great.” Y/N answers simply, puckering her mouth one more time to mirror the pecks he’d given her, smearing her lips across the crescent that peaks the center of his. “Knocked out like a light.”

Harry’s dimples carve into existence across his twitching cheeks, and he whispers his next statement right into the shell of her ear, as if he doesn’t want to run the chance of allowing anyone to eavesdrop. “Mm. That tends to happen after you get fucked until you cry.”

Harry’s brazen remarks always used to render her indisposed, but after being with him for so long, she’s gotten accustomed to his crude comments and crass innuendos. By now, she’s grown to expect (and even cherish) them.

She replies to his suggestive quip with one of her own devising; she’s always been good at matching his wit. “Nature’s melatonin. Which, funnily enough, can be given orally, as well.”

Her boyfriend sputters into a round of boyish giggles, burying his face in her throat as his eyes screw shut in glee, his cheekbones tinting a healthy pink as he loses himself in her humor. Y/N watches him with endearment, nosing across his temple fondly as she drinks up his giddy reaction, a few giggles of her own escaping into the chilly atmosphere of the room. He looks so cute when he bursts into wheezy laughter like that, especially when his nose scrunches up and his laugh lines etch into place. It’s one of the most beautiful sounds she’s ever heard— second only to the whimpers and whines he makes whenever he’s between her legs— and she swears she could listen to it on a loop for eternity.

Harry clears his throat softly as his boisterous noises taper off into a mellow chuckle, and when he lifts his gaze once more to meet hers, his eyes carry the color and glimmer of raw emeralds in their saturated depths. His accent weighs in affectionate and genuine, the message behind it igniting sparklers in the pit of her tummy. “God, I fucking love you, y’know that?”

Y/N smiles timidly at the heartfelt confession, her lashes fluttering on instinct and tangling with his own. “I love you, too.”

“I love you.” He repeats, putting more drive behind his tone as he clutches her so close, it feels like she’s melting into his bones. He drags his warm lips over the slant of her jaw as his teeth brand his emotions into physical marks, his breath simmering into her skin in the best way imaginable. “So fucking much.”

“It’s a good thing the feeling’s mutual,” the angel wisecracks, reaching a hand back to cradle his jaw in her grasp, thumbing over one of his eyelids with all the care in the world, “or else this would have gotten really awkward, really fast.”

“That would have been utter shit.” Harry simpers in return, molding to her personality seamlessly. “A dumpster fire, actually.”

“Absolutely.” Y/N agrees easily, nodding her head with a straight face just to add to the comedic streak of the conversation. “But that’s enough trash talk. It’ll ruin my appetite.”

Harry shrugs his eyebrows as he breaks into a goofy grin. “You’re on a roll today!”

“I’m on fire. Not the dumpster kind, thankfully.”

“Seems like being around me has enriched your mind. My impact— unmatched.”

“Of course you’re taking credit for this.”

“Obviously. I’m the only comedian in your life, aside from that clown you call a best friend. The sooner you admit I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, the sooner— wait, what’s that?”

Y/N follows the beeline made by Harry’s sight, her attention landing on the lunchbox she’d all but forgotten amidst their typical banter. She reaches over and scoots it across the counter towards him, watching his expression mold from confused interest to awed disbelief, his sharp features watering down into supple clay.

“I made your lunch for work! I remember you said that most times you’re so overbooked, you don’t have enough time to go pick up lunch between training and occult classes, so I packed you something! This way, you don’t have to worry about being in a crunch and you won’t end up starving to death. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

He takes the container into his palms, holding it as if it were a priceless diamond as he shakes it lightly out of impulsive curiosity. Harry’s focus bounces back and forth between his girlfriend and the bag of food before him, irises brimming over with the same amount of stunned adoration present in his voice. “You made this for me?”

“S’what I said, yeah.”

His accent sounds sweet as honey, strained and dense as if he’s on the verge of tears. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Y/N giggles softly at his floundering, patting his cheek reassuringly. “I care about you, and if you keep skipping meals, you’re gonna drive yourself into the ground. I’m more than happy to be of help.”

The demon blinks at her with glossy, owlish eyes, holding the lunchbox to his belly and rubbing over the lid excitedly. It’s been literal centuries since someone has done something so intimate and authentic for him. “Thank you, dove. This means so much to me, I can’t even put it into words. Like, thank you for taking the time and effort to do this. I appreciate it.”

She waves off his gratitude casually, shrugging nonchalantly. “No problem, honey. Just don’t peek inside before lunchtime, I want it to be a surprise.“

“Alright.” Harry takes ahold of the container’s strap, hooking its metal clasp onto his gym bag and fixing the sacks accordingly. He sighs contently, his smile bright enough to outshine the sun. “Thanks again. I’m gonna get going now, before I start crying in front of you. Can’t let you see that, I have a reputation to uphold.”

Y/N laughs at his sarcastic claim, shoving his shoulder lightly as he contorts his face dramatically and pretends to weep for the hell of the joke. “Hilarious.”

The young man ducks down and plants a goodbye kiss on Y/N’s lips, putting all of his feelings into the gesture. He speaks against her tongue hurriedly, his soul full of jitters and confetti. “Love you. Again. And think about what I said, hm?”

“About what?”

“About my being John Mulaney, about Niall being a disgraced court jester, and about your humor stemming from me. Give credit where it’s due, give props to you know who.”

“The only thing you are is a pain in my ass. Now go, you’re gonna be late.”

#demon!harry #demonrry!ask

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westmoor · 4 years

Text

none go hungry

Jaskier isn’t sure what woke him, or why he’s awake at all.

Daylight is a late visitor this far north, and only days have passed since the turning of the sun, long hours of darkness tend to blend into each other.

The dying smoulder of the hearth suggests the morning is approaching, but still some ways away - Jaskier can not imagine anyone being awake at this time.

Footfalls past his door prove otherwise.

Abandoning the safe warmth of his bed seems a wholly foolish endeavour. But curiosity wins out in the end - it’ll be the end of /him/ someday - and he unweaves his mind from sleep and limbs from furs and blankets, mindful to pull on the thick woollen socks Geralt had gifted him upon arrival before putting his feet on the floor.

Although he is wearing every layer within reach, by the time he gets to the end of the now-empty hallway with a sneaking suspicion whoever passed by did so in the direction of the courtyard, he regrets their scarcity.

It’s too early.

And far too cold.

He hurries to catch up, as fast as he can without snuffing the light.

It’s not Geralt, which rules out a quarter of the available suspects and makes him all the more curious.

The front hall is also empty. Unsurprising considering the noise-maker’s head start, but unexpected due to the implications and sure enough: There’s a drift of powdered snow across the floor, not given enough time to melt.

Heading out now, in the snow and the cold and the dark, improperly dressed and alone, is beyond reckless.

All the best things in Jaskier’s life so far have been brought by recklessness.

The courtyard is cold and clear, full moon high in the sky and the snow, fresh that afternoon and now frozen to a crisp and shimmering, lights the grounds from below. There is some sort of poetry, he thinks, in how the darkest days of the year seem to make the brightest nights.

His little candle is useless at a distance, but after the closed-in dark of the keep, the open-air moonlit dark of outside renders it unnecessary. Scanning the layout of the outer buildings he soon spots his mark: The broad line of Eskel’s shoulders stand out starkly in the white.

For the first time since rolling out of bed, he faces a real dilemma.

Witchers are a guarded breed, that’s a lesson well learned. Weeks of shared meals and close quarters have whittled away at their defenses and helped him find a place among them, but next to Lambert, predictable in his unpredictability, and Vesemir, inherently venerable, Eskel has been the greatest challenge by far.

Not because he isn’t friendly. Rather the opposite. Eskel, it seems, has found a way to forge politeness into armour.

The dilemma is this: Either to respect the distance the other man has placed between them, or seize this opportunity to sate some of his curiosity with both hands and run with it.

It’s not much of a dilemma.

He mouths a thanks to the gods for the width of Eskel’s bootprints as it allows him to step in them, but curses them for the distance he has to traverse. He’s not even halfway across the yard when the latch on the stable door is flicked open with a crack and he forces himself not to run despite the frost starting to melt through the knees of his breeches.

But when he finally reaches the stables, he stops just short of entering.

Eskel has left the door half open and lit a couple of the hanging lamps - for the animals’ benefit, presumably, as a Witcher would hardly need them - and is unwrapping something in his hands.

Jaskier hovers in the doorway, suddenly realising he didn’t have an entrance planned.

He won’t need one.

“You should come inside,” the older wolf interrupts, “Geralt will have my head if I let you freeze to death out there.”

Not needing to be told twice, Jaskier has the door shouldered shut before he can even think of a retort, rubbing his hands together to stave off the oncoming shivers. He feels the need to make a peace offering, even if the words had held no hostility.

Belatedly, the bard realises he must’ve heard him following before they even left the keep.

“I heard you passing by on the upper floor,” he starts, “and as this strikes me as a rather ungodly hour to be tinkering about outdoors, I figured I should come and see if you were- what are you doing?”

While Jaskier has been talking, Eskel has opened what now turns out to be a prepared package, and is breaking a loaf of bread into evenly sized pieces.

“We used to do this.” He is portioning out carrots now, the horses stretching long necks over the dividers to bump noses against his arms in expectation. “My family. Before I came here. We didn’t have much, but no creature should greet the new sun on an empty stomach.”

This sudden well of insight into a man who up until this point has been as guarded as a Cintran stronghold takes him by surprise, and that’s probably why, when given the chance to mine it, the only word that slips his lips is “Why?”

That makes Eskel pause, a winter apple in hand. He seems to ponder the answer, as though the question, however obvious, is one he himself has never thought to ask.

In the end, he just shrugs.

“It’s important.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s lip catches between his teeth and it’s not lost on him, the early hour or the silence of the stables, the fact that Eskel comes out here to do this alone while everyone else is safe and warm in their beds.

“Well. Can I help?”

For the first time since entering the stables, Eskel turns fully to look at him and if the light had been just a little poorer he might’ve misread the shadow cast by his scar as a sneer. But it’s plenty to see the smile that brightens those ever-so-serious features, and lamplight reflects in eyes already touched by gold, and Jaskier grins back.

Later, when the sun finally climbs above the ridge of mountains enclosing their haven, he will help him hoist a sheaf of grain - the last of the autumn harvest - into one of the great pines within the walls and watch yellow tits and sparrows flock to it.

But for now, Jaskier accepts the fodder from hands much rougher than his own, and turns to fill the bucket in Roach’s stall.

#the witcher ficlet #the witcher fandom #eskel #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier x eskel adjacent #winter traditions #its got HORSES its got OBSCURE LOCAL TRADITIONS its got ESKEL what more do you WANT FROM ME #idk its pure self indulgence just ignore me

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farplane · 3 years

Text

DAY 3: SCALE

The captain had agreed to meet him off the coast of the Jade Sea.

It might have been simpler to choose any old plain outside of Radz-at-Han, but he had long since understood his home was no longer a refuge and harboured no desire for his dealings to take place in its proximity. And besides—the one who had gone through the most trouble getting to the meet was him.

He didn’t have a bloody airship to fly him halfway across the Continents in a matter of hours. When he lamented such woes to Nairel, she snorted and said, in that delightfully flat tone she took to put him in his place: “You are the very spirit of penury.”

“I am horribly skint at present, I’ll remind you.”

“But skint isn’t poor, is it?” Nairel retorted effortlessly, as if it made much of a difference to a woman who lived in the bloody woods.

She had a way of easing his nerves.

Though he prided himself on his ability to be in command of most situations, there were two things wrong with that belief: the first being that it had only been hammered into his mind since tender youth by a man whose word he wished never again to live by; the second that, of late, his life had been a veritable unravelling of any control he might have ever had over himself and his own fate.

It was as though he’d constructed the very circumstances that were sure to make him nauseous with dread. This was not Radz-at-Han, but knowing his family’s reach, he may as well have been standing right at the heart of it. He could have picked any place—distant Kugane, some miserably dusty point in Thanalan, even drab freezing grey Coerthas—and instead he had wandered so close to home, like a lost little boy running to the last place he had seen his nursemaid.

He was halfway through regretting his choice of locale for, oh, the eighth time when the Merlose touched down at a careful distance. Nairel, bless her heart, caressed the hilts of her knives as the captain approached.

To her credit, the Merlose party only outnumbered his by one—and their third member didn’t seem a fighter at all. She was slender, slighter than the aging captain—still strong with corded muscle, and no doubt as deadly as her reputation made her out to be—and wore a complicated loupe on a threaded silver chain about her neck. Most likely the captain had preferred an appraiser to a killer for these particular dealings.

It was the long-limbed Elezen at the captain’s right hand who concerned him, but Nairel at his back lessened his fears. Even with a mess of Void churning inside him, he could still bash heads in without magic, and he had the most vicious five-fulm-and-then-some(-she-insists) forestborn in Eorzea at his side.

“Pavane Malichar,” said the captain, as though the name meant something to her.

“Captain. I trust your journey was—”

“You’ve brought the payment?” asked the Elezen, no-nonsense, eyeing the very conspicuous coin pouch at his belt. Then, evidently critical of its size: “All of it?”

Pavane untied the laces, but didn’t part with the purse just yet.

“I understand and empathize with your wariness—in fact, I very much share it. Mine is a difficult package to conceal without glamours, and I neither see it nor sense its aether.”

The aether part was a bluff, but normally, it wouldn’t have been. And that was the reason Pavane had been grinding his teeth enough to ensure they’d be worn down to nothing by the turning of the next era.

“I am not in the habit of robbing downtrodden nobles just standing on a beach,” the captain said with a dangerous smile, and paused long enough to give power to the sound of waves breaking onto shore. “Not much challenge in it.” She turned her head to the Elezen: “Bring it over, Madelaine.”

Madelaine cast him one last dark look—a pirate’s trade-tool, he supposed—then turned on her heel. Pavane tossed the captain his coin pouch, but she didn’t hand it to the appraiser until her right hand had returned with a long coffer under her arm.

Already Pavane could feel some whisper of power stir within him, stoked by a boyish excitement for the relic that was so close to becoming his.

“I understand my first mate’s apprehension, lord,” the captain said, keeping her eyes on him as she passed the pouch to the appraiser. “That purse seems quite light.”

“Yours was a steep price, Captain. I’d have broken my back carrying the full payment if it was only in coin.”

He was confident in what the appraiser would find when she opened the purse, nestled among the absurd amount of gil that was only a portion of the price. The medallion had been forged, it was said, in the stone-heart of Mhach in the last days before the Flood—the first of House Malichar had made herself, then, the inheritor of her city’s great legacy. And it had been passed down through the generations, from heir to deserving heir, to wear her two-headed serpent upon their chest and signify their birthright.

Never had it been lost. Pavane, as a student of history, knew that it had changed hands outside of his family a number of times—but any thieves that stole it had only ever met gruesome ends. That was House Malichar: his ancestors had set a horrifying precedent for the exercise of their own power, all to the singular end of its preservation.

And he was giving his birthright away for another piece of Mhachi power—to make, on his terms, his own legacy.

The appraiser fumbled her loupe twice in her haste to inspect the medallion. She took a moment, her expressive eyebrows shifting, then whispered something in the captain’s ear; and, finally, dropped Pavane’s whole life into her weathered palm.

“This is a precious thing you are treating as currency, lord,” said the captain of the Merlose, weighing the precious metal in her hand.

“It more than covers your price.”

“To be sure. Even melted down or hacked to pieces, which would be the safest way for me to dispose of it.” Her grave eyes met his. “Are you prepared for that?”

Pavane didn’t waver, though it seemed to him she spoke from some deep place of knowledge for precious, irreplaceable things. He put on his best, most charmingly twisted smile. “Not to worry. I’ve another,” he said, pulling back his sleeve.

The black scales of the snake wound in ink around his forearm shivered and writhed, a mirage of badly-rendered aether. Even when it was wrong, it was precious. It was his alone.

Nothing showed on the captain’s face; her dark brow furrowed no more than if she were merely trying to read something in a viciously small script. Surely a woman of her age—a pirate, a liberator of immeasurably rare weapons; an Ala Mhigan, by the newly-familiar shape of her words—had seen her share of strangeness. With a small gesture of her head, she ordered her first mate to lay the coffer at Pavane’s feet.

“A deal well-struck, then,” she concluded.

Pavane crouched down with wonder coursing up and down his hands, weighting them as he opened the coffer to reveal his prize: a long-bladed scythe, unadorned in the Mhachi style he had come to know from his family’s archives, brimming with power to harness the Void.

“Indeed,” Pavane said as he rose with the scythe in hand. In his breathless appreciation for the weapon, he felt a twist of envy for the captain and her crew—and the adventure they must have had finding it. He pictured ruins, ancient knowledge, a dark thrill of threat.

The captain nodded to him, satisfied with their business, and said little else before she turned back towards her ship with the appraiser in tow. But Madelaine, the first mate, lingered.

“Thinking of all the harvesting you’ll do, lord?” she asked with a smirk. “Grass? Wheat?”

Nairel, who until then had been so utterly quiet, said, “Or the one it will protect,” in a tone that gave nothing away. “Do Hearers’ daughters know much about harvesting, actually?”

A flash of irritation passed across her face, barely noticeable, before her expression settled into something else. Curiosity, perhaps.

“You’re Nairel?” she said, with an air like she was almost entirely sure of the answer.

“I am.”

A pause. Madelaine glanced over her shoulder at her retreating captain, then made half a step towards turning before stopping to look at Nairel again. “Is your brother well?”

“He’s alive. For now.”

“Aye,” said the first mate, nodding. She turned to walk away. “I knew he would be.”

Pavane blinked, trying to piece together the familiarity that had just passed between her and Nairel. Why had she asked about—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Nairel stroked his arm. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you once we’re in the shade; my head’s bloody spinning in this heat.”

sigrid keane belongs to @onwesterlywinds; madelaine lachance belongs to @ink-long-dry

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #c:pavane #f:xiv

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greasygyeom · 4 years

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gigil | ten

pairing: Ten x Female Reader (Fluff)

words: 1.9k

warnings: might be disgustingly cute idk.

A/N: Gigil is a word used to describe the overwhelming feeling that comes over us when we see something cute.

At 1 am, with bare minimum noises in the background, save for a stray car zooming away in the distance and a blanket of stars overhead, Ten walked back to his apartment; feet dragging on the pavement, as they traced his displeasure along the way.

For the third night in a row he’d had to stay overtime at office, simply because someone else had been too lazy to finish their portion of work assigned to them.

Had it been any other day, he would have pulled through without feeling this level of annoyance. Any other week, he would not have complained; he liked working alone, when no one was around to disturb him and ask him stupid questions. But the fact that this was happening during the few days your schedule wasn’t as tight knit as usual, was really testing his patience.

He’d thought long and hard on whether he was being too dramatic about it, because it wasn’t like he never got to see you—your off days always had his name written on them—it was just that off-late he’d been wanting to see a lot more of you.

For him, dating you had started as a breezy ‘hmm I’ll see where this takes me, I’m not looking for anything serious’, but had quickly and quite irreversibly morphed into an intense whirlwind of ‘fuck, I might love her’ and at the end of six months it had rendered him dizzy.

He didn’t know when exactly he’d started to crave more of your attention, but on days it overpowered his entire existence. He wasn't yet used to the out of the blue pangs of wanting to hug you until you fell asleep in his arms, but he loved the warm and fuzzy feeling thoughts like these left him with.

On most days he could prioritise his work over his neediness for you. Today though? Today had been one of those days, where it had served as a roadblock between what he had to do and what he really wanted to do. Instead of being in bed, cuddled with you, watching a cute coming of age movie, he had to stay back and redraw the anatomy for a new character because some of his peers were incompetent.

Half an hour of brooding and a long silent walk later, he finally reached his building. On his last call you had already been yawning, so he assumed you were fast asleep and entered the apartment as quietly as he possibly could… only to find you lying on the floor.

His heart dropped down to his stomach as the worst, most horrible thoughts of you being injured and unconscious and him being too late in taking you to the hospital clouded his mind.

His panic lasted only about 30 seconds though, until he switched on the lights and it unravelled a completely different story.

You were passed out on the floor alright, but because you’d fallen asleep cuddling with his cat. He didn’t see the cat because your back was facing the entrance. Louis had fit himself comfortably in the crevice of your concave form, lying curled up, snug next to your stomach and was using your arm as a pillow.

Ten’s heartbeat slowed down with the realisation that you were indeed alive and okay and he breathed in a sigh of relief, giggling fondly at the sight of you two sleeping so peacefully; completely unaware of his presence.

He was kinda jealous of Louis, which was an insane thought, but he wanted in on what looked like a super cozy cuddle session.

Of course, he had to grab his phone and take some pictures first—how could he pass off this opportunity to stock up on some free serotonin. But as soon as he was done taking photos from every angle, he sat on the floor next to you, your back towards him, and rested his chin on your waist. It was a challenge to not kiss the sliver of skin peeking through, from between your shirt and boxers and an even bigger challenge to not wake you up.

He extended an arm to pet Louis, but the cat wasn’t having any of it.

Within minutes Louis was out of sight and reach and it was just the two of you, on the cold floor. With no cat to disturb, his attention naturally wandered over to you. It was too tempting to not kiss your bare skin. Your hands were tucked under your head, like a makeshift pillow; sooner than later you were bound to get uncomfortable—it only made sense to wake you up. It was definitely not because you looked too cute and he couldn’t stand not being able to squish you.

“Baby” he whispered softly, “Wake up.”

You stirred at the sound of his voice, pushing your body towards him, but not really moving.

He had the widest grin plastered on his face, just looking at you. “Let’s go to bed, you’re sleeping on the floor.”

You hummed in response, too lethargic to actually move and also just a scat annoyed.

When he stroked your cheek, you shivered under his touch, goosebumps forming all over your body. His touch was electric.

Feeling a bit smug about the reaction he just elicited out of you, he pulled your shirt up, just enough to expose your waist, and planted soft kisses alongside your ribs.

You squirmed with every kiss, until you were wide awake and sitting upright, fighting him off.

“Why why why” he giggled, as you pushed him away.

“Why!! Look at the tiiime.” You whined, not letting him have his way for the 800th time.

His face fell, “I know baby, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, I was really sulky the whole time I was there and not here.”

“No, that does not make me feel better.” You replied, “I don’t want you to sulk when you’re working.”

“Ayee you can’t have both.”

“Both what?”

“Be mad at me and not let me be mad at my work.”

“I’m not mad at you.” You pouted, crawling into his lap, “I just really missed you.”

There was something so soothing about your presence, something he couldn’t really explain. He held you tight and buried his head in the crook of your neck, taking in the faint vanilla-esque scent you naturally emanated.

“I missed you too, baby.”

You ran your fingers through his brownish-blonde hair, your heart skipping beats every time you felt his hot breath on your skin. You weren’t one to feel ticklish easily at all, except for under his touch. It was a phenomenon that perplexed you too. So when he slipped his hand under your shirt, to feel your skin, you shivered again.

He raised his head and gave you a knowing, smug smile.

God he was so infuriating with how attractive he looked when he smiled like that.

“You’re lucky you’re this cute.”

He grinned even wider. “Oh? What’s that? You think I’m cute?”

“Yeah, I think you’re very cute. What of it?”

The cutest laugh escaped his lips and he cupped your face, “I think you’re cuter, now please kiss me.”

He puckered his lips and in anticipation, closed his eyes, deliberately acting like a cringey young adult rom-com hero, but two could play that game, right?

You pecked him on his cheek instead.

His dramatic reaction sent you into a fit of laughter and the whole time you were trying to contain yourself, he was gazing at you as if nothing else existed in his world, with the goofiest, most endearing smile on his face.

He’d never told you he loved you—even though it’s all he’d thought about the past couple of days—partly because he was scared and partly because he didn’t want to scare you away.

But the way you made his whole being melt into a mush of happiness, made him not want to hold it in anymore.

“Hey,” he interrupted your hysterics in a serious tone, causing you to stop and look at him. You couldn’t match the intensity in his eyes, but it sparked a wildfire at the pit of your stomach.

“I love you”

Did you hear that right? Did he say he loved you?

“You what?”

“I love you.”

You beamed ecstatically. “Good, ‘cuz I love you too.”

“Oh thank god” he exhaled in relief, but before he could finish that sentence you had him caught up in a long, sweet kiss that knocked the wind out of his lungs.

In the dead of the night, you could only hear his soft moans as you bit and sucked on his lower lip. His hands wandered all over your body, grabbing and teasing you, while you focused on how he tasted like liquor and chocolate, without having any.

Everything about him was intoxicating.

“Let’s go in”, he signalled towards his room, when you finally parted away from him.

You looked delectable with your messy hair and slightly swollen lips. Ten wanted to devour you.

“Ohhhhh Mr. Lee why do you want to take me into your bedroom at 2:30 AM.. What are your intentions?”

“To show you how much I love you.” he seduced, “Will you let me?”

“I’ll let you do whatever you want, baby” you replied, getting up and holding your hand out to help him.

“I wonder what good deeds I did to have found you in my life.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked towards his room. “And I wonder the exact opposite.”

He gasped. “Is that how it is huh? I guess you’ll never find out how much I love you then.”

“Aww.” You chuckled, closing the distance between you, “It’s okay, I can show you right here how much I love you instead?”

“No, I can feel Louis looking at us and I’m not about to traumatise my son. So, I’m gonna give him some treats and be right in.”

“Fifteen minutes or I’m going to sleep.”

“I’ll take five.”

“You and I both know you need at least fifteen minutes with Louis.”

How does this woman know me so well, he thought to himself walking over to where his cat was perched.

“What do you think, Louis? Did I do the right thing” Ten whispered, nuzzling his nose in the fluffy fur.

Louis meowed.

“Yeah, I think so too. She’s really great isn’t she.”

Louis meowed again, making him chuckle.

While pouring some dry food in the bowl for his cat he realised he actually hadn’t eaten anything since afternoon, yet he felt full… full of this happiness and a kind of contentment that he’d never experienced before. He cringed at this disgustingly sappy thought and made his way back to you, into the bedroom.

You were sprawled on the bed, already asleep, not even having managed to get under the blanket.

“So cute”, he fondly murmured, as he got in bed too and encompassed you completely in a hug—his arms now wrapped around your waist and one leg overlapping both of yours.

You stirred, but he pulled you in closer,

“It’s okay, go back to sleep baby.”

He heard a little affirmative hum and you turned around to face him—eyes half closed—to give him a tiny peck on his lips and then hid your face in his chest.

You started falling back into your world of dreams and he fell right in with you, following you through a field of daisies, admiring your beauty as the sun glowed on your face; just like he would if you were awake. And tell you a thousand times over how beautiful he thought you were and love you and kiss you until you fell right back into his arms at the end of every night.

There was something so sweet about that feeling, it made you smile and you thought yeah… it seemed like a good way to spend the rest of your life.

#nct #ten #wayv #wayv fluff #nct fluff #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #ten fanfic #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #ten fluff #wayv soft hours #wayv drabbles #nct drabbles #ten scenarios #fr:ten

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razzle-zazzle · 4 years

Text

1371 Words; Six Ninjas, One Hero

Blame the discord for this one

“So this is what the fearsome Ninja looks like,” Tim said, harshly gripping Cole’s jaw. “It’s less than I expected.”

Cole snarled. He flexed against the handcuffs securing him to the wall. Were it not for the vengestone, Cole wouldn’t be in this mess.

“I noticed you were using geokinesis today.” Tim drawled, pacing back and forth in front of Cole. “I wonder what it would take to see your other powers as well.”

Cole said nothing. He couldn’t give this guy anything. He was not going to be the one responsible for revealing the secret.

“Of course, I don’t expect you to actually tell me.” Tim mused, “You might not even know how your own powers work.” He scoffed. “They’re certainly not persistent.”

Cole shifted awkwardly. He had to get out of this situation on his own, before Tim realized that geokinesis was pretty much all Cole could do.

Before the others had to break the facade to bail him out.

No, Cole would get out of here. Tim would have to take off the vengestone to see Cole’s powers in action, and Cole could knock him out and get away then. The fact that Tim had seen his face was a problem, but it could be dealt with later.

“Well!” Tim smiled, hands clasping together, “There’s no time like the present!” He stalked over to Cole, his trench coat swaying ominously. “Let’s get you to the testing chamber, then, and see if we can’t draw out some of your other abilities.” He smiled, face splitting in a way that promised only pain.

But there was also an opportunity, here. Tim would have to unhook the handcuffs, and to do that, he’d have to undo at least one cuff. It may not grant Cole his powers, but it would give him dexterity.

Cole waited with baited breath as Tim moved closer, and closer, and closer—

Something pricked Cole’s arm. Tim stepped back.

“Don’t worry, little Ninja,” Tim grinned, “I intend to make things as painless as possible.”

Cole was dizzy. Why was he dizzy?

And then it hit him. Oh. Tim wasn’t taking any chances.

As Cole slipped away from consciousness, he wondered how he was going to get out of this situation.

+=+=+=+=+

Tim stood in the observation deck, waiting for his guest in the test chamber to wake up. It had been a simple matter of moving Cole to the chamber—well, simple when Tim ignored how heavy Cole was. But that was to be expected of a guy with a strongman build.

Finding out Cole’s name had been easier—all Tim had needed to do was run his face through several databases until he found a match. Digging into the background of one Cole Brookestone-Loure had yielded interesting results. The son of a famous performer who was himself unknown to the public. A good cover, for the revered Ninja of Ninjago.

But something about Cole wasn’t adding up. It was right there, on the tip of Tim’s tongue, but he just couldn’t place what it was, exactly, that was bothering him.

Well, Tim mused to himself as his guest began to awaken, I have all the time I need to figure out this puzzle.

And oh, did Tim love puzzles.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole awoke with a start, panic rising in his chest at the unfamiliar surroundings.

It was a simple room, with no discernible doors or windows. Slats in the ceiling provided ventilation.

Cole stood up, trying to shake the pins and needles from his limbs.

An unseen speaker crackled. “I see you’re awake.” Tim drawled, from somewhere outside the room.

Cole glanced at the walls again, searching for any hidden cameras.

There, in the corner.

Cole glared at the camera, crossing his arms.

“I notice there’s no loss of attitude.” Tim commented wryly. “Regardless, let’s not waste any more time, alright? I’ve got a few tests to go through and only so much time to do them today.��

Cole continued to glare.

“Now,” Tim began, “You’ll notice there’s a metal band around your neck. If you’re capable of putting two and two together, which I’m sure you are, you’ll realize it’s extra… motivation.”

Cole’s hand traced along the edges of the collar.

Tim continued to ramble, noting how a shock collar would be ineffective on a Master of Lightning, and how it was designed to deliver pain in a different way. Once Tim slipped into discussion of the design, Cole tuned him out, moving over to the walls, tracing his fingers along them to search for any sign of a door.

His earth sense extended an inch or two before cutting out. Probably vengestone. It was the same for each of the walls as well as the floor; Tim truly wasn’t taking any chances.

“...but of course, that’s enough rambling.” Tim said, as Cole tuned back in. “Now then, let’s get on with Test #1: Geokinesis.”

A portion of the ceiling opened up, depositing a small pile of sand before closing.

“I wonder,” Tim mused, “Can you only manipulate specific kinds of earth?”

Those seemed to be the only instructions Cole was getting. It was obvious what Tim wanted.

But then an idea occurred to Cole. Why should he comply? Why not pretend that his powers had left him entirely? He moved to sit down, ready to wait it out—

Something pricked at his neck, which was the only warning Cole received before his head seemed to split open, pulsing pain pounding away like a jackhammer.

“The sand, Cole.” Tim warned, as the pain receded.

Cole stared at the pile of sand, hands shaking. He wasn’t sure he was willing to risk another dose of whatever that was.

With great uncertainty, Cole called upon the powers passed onto him from his mother, letting the sand slip into focus. A quick move of his hand, and the pile reared up like a serpent, coiling and twisting through the air as Cole thoroughly demonstrated his mastery of the earth.

“Direct the sand into the funnel, please.” Tim directed, as the wall opened up to reveal another chute. “I’d hate to accidentally bury you alive.”

Cole did as directed, focusing on the thought of freedom the entire time. He would get out of here, and he would keep the facade intact.

Cole just wasn’t entirely sure as to how.

Another chute opened up, dropping loamy soil. Cole took control of it quickly, shaping it into a sphere before depositing it in the refuse chute.

Another chute. Gravel. Easy.

Quartz. Granite. Basalt. Marble. Obsidian. Andesite. Diorite. Clay. Silt. Pebbles. Rhodochrosite. Kyanite. Some fossilized shells. All types of earth, deposited one by one, for Cole to manipulate.

Tim was probably learning a lot about Cole’s powers. More than Cole was comfortable with Tim knowing. But it was better that Tim knew about Cole’s geokinesis than that there was more than one ninja.

Eventually, it stopped. The speaker once again crackled to life.

“My my, how the time has gotten away from me. I had more tests planned, but I suppose they shall have to wait for tomorrow.” Cole wasn’t sure how Tim managed to convey a shrug over speakers, but he did, “Now, if you’ll just relax, you will be rendered unconscious promptly and returned to your quarters.”

Indeed, Cole was already beginning to feel woozy.

But that was okay. Presumably, his cell wouldn’t be nearly as scrutinized as this room, allowing Cole opportunity to escape.

And he had to escape, sooner or later. Hopefully sooner.

And with that thought, Cole blacked out.

+=+=+=+=+

Tim was practically vibrating with excitement.

So many villains had tried to take down the unpredictable Ninja. So many had tried and failed. But now he, Tim, was in possession of the greatest puzzle in Ninjago! He was the one to have finally figured out the Ninja’s weakness, he was the one to have finally captured the Ninja who had so easily slipped out of others’ grasps!

Furthermore, the Ninja’s powers were simply fascinating. How did they work? What triggered them? Why could he only draw on one set at a time?

It was such a complex puzzle, and Tim intended to figure it out.

And Tim was very good at solving puzzles.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #six ninjas one hero #zaz writes #cole ninjago #tim smith #blame the discord gang for this one lads #they're the ones who came up with this au #i was the one who made it colangst but like #they started it #there's not enough cole whump in this sad sad world #i'm not going to explain this au but if you figure it out then kudos to you :D

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0poole · 4 years

Text

Soul

Breaking news, everyone: Pixar made another slapper.

I’m gonna get it out of the way first, but the only (and yes, only. Not like someone trying to say “only” even though they have many more nitpicks that they just don’t want to talk about) problem I had at all was that the super high realism of the settings of Earth kind of made the more cartoony faces of the people look a little more off. But, it’s kinda like the same thing people were talking about with that cat in Toy Story 4. It looks super real, which is impressive, but I feel like it was almost too real compared to the faces. Obviously it was too real compared to the supernatural settings because that was intentional, but yeah. It’s not even a big problem, it’s just the only one I can think of. I do think the realistic renderings of hair, light, water, etc at least work with cartoony stuff, but apart from that it looked almost like it could’ve been a photograph, with no exaggeration in the buildings or anything else.

I mean, I love the faces, so I definitely wish they went the extra mile showing extra personality and character in the buildings, as faces do with characters. Considering the faces matter like a bazillion times more, I still think they knocked it out of the park on the visuals. People with more investment and knowledge into the topic already said that the faces of any of the people of color felt cartoony and unique while also being true to life and respectful (My family recently stumbled onto some old animations from the 30s and lemme tell ya... We’ve come a long way), but seriously the characters that sold me on the visuals were the Picasso-esque beings who may or may not be the Gods of the universe maybe?

Spoiler boundary of course. It’s definitely worth a watch.

And that’s honestly what made the realistic world so much better. When the accountant guy went into the real world to set the count right, it was one of the most fun I’ve had just watching something. The sheer contrast between him and the world was so much fun, and it even solidified that those beings weren’t even acting in a different dimension or anything. They’re literally just beings that exist, meaning that all the other parts with the unborn souls and such are just as real as Earth. Or, even better, they’re the ones who can just casually rip a hole in dimensions. As far as depictions of Gods go, if they are even Gods at all, I think they’re one of the best I’ve ever seen. They feel like they could actually be how Gods actually exist, since all the commonalities of Gods involve supernatural power, which would suggest they’re supernatural themselves. I mean, I have a story with Gods in it too and they’re basically just that although admittedly a lot less imaginative.

With those guys being my favorite design, second place definitely goes to the lost souls, although obviously for more subjective reasons. 1) They’re purple, 2) They have one eye, 3) That eye is yellow which I always think is the best compliment to purple, 4) Tentacles, 5) Creepy in a kid’s movie. Franky, I would’ve made them a lot creepier, but even then they’re super creepy, if not visually then in their behavior. They’d just be kind of sad if they were just mumbling around, but since the first introduction to them starts charging at the main characters like a deranged monster. Considering how weird everything in that dimension is, finding something that isn’t nearly as innocent as everything else instantly invokes fear, since you have no idea what that thing can and wants to do to you. Sort of similar, I would’ve also made the “In the Zone” moments a bit more crazy and colorful, like when Joe fell through the void between the road to the Great Beyond and the You-seminar (is that how it’s spelled?), but these “I would do it differently”s might just be a fault of my design ideas or just subjective interests. I would’ve watched 2 hours of pure, nonsensical abstract worlds like the You-seminar with no explanation to how they work.

I definitely have a relief with the story, mostly entirely revolving around 22′s character. I was kind of worried she’d be too childish to really enjoy, but I feel like she was done really well. All the major historical figures’ remarks on how hopeless she were both funny and also really tied into her character “flaw” at the end as she was a lost soul. It might not be the most unique character archetype of all time, but it definitely makes sense, with all the people bringing her down implanting in her mind that she was an anomaly, and after a while was just sort of following it. Plus, she seemed genuinely interested in Joe’s weirdness, instead of being super mindlessly irreverent. And her being able to expand Joe’s understanding about his own world, like with the barber and his student, brings her up as more than a whiny, bratty child in the scope of the story. She didn’t JUST learn.

Even though I kind of expected it from the get-go, I’m also relieved that the movie didn’t shy away as much with the dark elements of death. It was kind of suggested that this wasn’t going to be a perfectly casual romp through a magical afterlife like Inside Out was with the mind because of the unborn souls unabashedly saying “Hell” in the TRAILER of the movie. I feel like that alone made the story super interesting, because it shows they’re actually going to be a bit more serious with things instead of just simplifying the unknowable complexities of the before & afterlife. Even with the dead souls going into the Great Beyond, it was a mix of being weirdly peaceful for some and super scary for others. My family thought it was peaceful for the most part, but my mom specifically though it was terrifying, and even though it’s a lot more peaceful than almost all other depictions of death, I can’t blame her. The souls were just kinda accepting it, like they’d been brainwashed or something, but still acknowledged that they were dead and were going into the afterlife. Plus, Joe, being the main character who we are supposed to sort of reflect in a way, was super freaked out by it, so that could easily suggest it’s to be afraid of and the other people are the weird ones.

I think the true message of the story being so strange was better too, because it would’ve been so boring if it fell into a super basic message we’ve heard millions of times. I feel like it has a similar sentiment to the basic messages, but is at least a more interesting way of saying it, if it is even like that in the first place, because it’s also somewhat vague in a good way. I think my brother/mother misinterpreted and simplified things a bit too much, where they thought it was sort of like a happier way of saying “accept your lot in life and don’t change it.” I could probably go on a full other rant about why I think this is wrong, but part of it is I don’t really know how they came to this conclusion in the first place, considering with that scene with that guy who threw the computers off his desk as his lost soul was cured (I guess you could call it that?), who obviously realized he wasn’t okay with his lot in life and was destined to change it. I think they sort of misinterpreted “the spark” and other things it as a 100% for-real, this-is-how-the-real-world-works sort of way, and not as much as a fictional way of saying things. Not necessarily symbolic, but I guess symbolic also? It has some of the same weird logical problems as the Cutie Marks from My Little Pony, except they’re obviously better since Cutie Marks determine your life down to your very job some of the time, while “sparks” are more vague and seemingly up to you. They’re more like when an unborn soul realizes there’s something on Earth they want to figure out, not necessarily their hobbies or jobs. For example, they kind of cited the barber character as the one who supported their point, but I think he does the complete opposite. He wanted to be a vet, but he ended up being a barber. But, they sort of assumed his “spark” was to be a barber, and that his personal interests didn’t matter because the “spark” forced him into a less favorable job. But, in reality, I feel like his “spark” is more his interest in love for the people around him, which is why he decided to get a more practical job to support his daughter (wife? one of the two) when he really needed to. Plus, he still enjoys being a barber because his devotion to love lets him connect to people as he cuts their hair. After all, he seems to be succeeding in his goal, since Joe was just like “Hey, let’s go see this guy he’s the exact guy we need!” People who don’t show love and interest for others don’t make that kind of impression in people’s minds. I feel like if we knew each story of everyone’s life down to the last detail we could fully determine what the mechanics of the world and its people are meant to say from a fictional context, but with such a limited selection I don’t think you can say something so sure. Sure, every choice in a movie is made specifically for a purpose, but I feel like if a movie tries to hard to be like “Oh but don’t worry here’s an exception” a million times it gets bogged down by its own attempt to make the message as obvious as possible.

Anyway...

There are also a lot of neat little details I loved, like how even though they did this for basically no other point in the movie, they made sure to include people from all around the world in that mess of dead souls, firmly sort of putting in the idea that the entire globe is in a sense one single entity that leads to the same place. They could’ve so easily just made everyone speak English for that throwaway scene, but I feel like including people from all around the world was very beneficial. Even the EXTRA little things, like the path to the Great Beyond looking like the neck portion of a guitar with the metal bits that separate the notes, or the facial features of the Gods blurring when they turned their heads in the other direction.

But yeah, who would’ve guessed Pixar made another good movie, right? Even then, Soul’s in the upper echelon of Pixar films. I really hope they (and Disney) realize they can go bonkers with a movie and still benefit/survive from it, since they’re so damn rich and inherently profitable. I think AAA animated movies like this that are the perfect amount of artsy are few and far between, and we need more of them. If anything, I hope they get more artsy, but I guess I’ll still never say no to a fun fantastical romp either. Basically, Pixar has looped me into watching any and everything they produce because it’s never “bad” I think. In the grand scheme of quality, even their worst work (Cars 2) is still not “terrible,” per se, even if it feels like it exists more as a cash grab than a genuine tale.

#soul #pixar #christmas #disney plus #disney+#poole #opinions #rant #rambling #review #thoughts

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rocksandrobots · 4 years

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 27 - The Party

this 'episode' will discuss underage drinking and its connection to mental health. This storyline will conclude in three chapters if you want to skip it.

Varian's back ached and he was beginning to get a crick in his neck, but he dared not move. He was in the middle of posing for a picture. Honey Lemon had asked him to be her model for her latest painting.

They were both sitting inside one of the art studios on the SFAI campus. The San Fansokyo Art Institute was the artistic counterpart to SFIT and Honey Lemon was a part time student here as well. She had a final coming up and needed to complete a portrait before the end of next week and so Varian had volunteered to be her subject; any excuse to spend more time with the pretty redhead.

Though his plans to spend some quality time with his crush weren't going quite like he had hoped. She was too busy concentrating on her work to really talk to him and his joints felt stiff from standing still for so long in one position. He was also really, really bored. She had instructed him to stand facing to the side and all there was to look at was the blank wall opposite himself.

He sneaked a sidelong glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She sat upon an odd looking bench with an easel attached to the front. In one hand she held a palette and a paintbrush in the other. She chewed on the end of its long handle in thought as she straddled the 'art horse' before her face lit up in inspiration. She then leaned down to apply paint to the bottom portion of the canvas. Varian watched as her brow furrowed in concentration and she stuck out the tip of her tongue as she tried to delicately get the stroke just right.

Varian had to stifle a laugh. She looked so silly and beautiful and adorable all at the same time. He could just watch her all day he thought. Shame he was stuck facing the dang wall.

Honey Lemon heard him anyways and looked up from her work.

"Getting tired?" She asked with sympathy.

"No. No. Not at all." Varian lied but he couldn't resist rolling his shoulders anyways to try an ease the soreness in his neck.

"I just got this one little section to finish and then we can take a break and you can stretch, promise."

"It's okay, take your time." He assured her.

It took her another ten minutes to come to a stopping point.

Finally free to move, Varian stretched his arms wide and then proceeded to rub the side of his neck as he walked over to look at Honey Lemon's handy work. It was very good he had to admit. It wasn't finished but what she had completed was rendered in great realistic detail. But was his nose really that long? He self consciously peered down at the tip of own nose, not that he could really gauge it's length that way.

His thoughts were interrupted though by Honey Lemon.

"I usually don't do realism" She nervously excused herself, "but the assignment was to render fabric on a person. What do you think so far?"

"Well, it looks great to me!" He encouraged. "It's every bit as good the royal paintings inside Corona's palace."

"Really!?" She blushed. "That's quite the compliment. I bet they have a lot of priceless artworks. I don't know if it's that good, but I did have fun painting your googles." She reached her hand up to readjust his headgear.

He laughed and bent down to give her a better angle. Once she was done he looked at her and they shared a smile. It was nice being at her eye level for once. Oh, why did have to be so short!?

He was going to give her another compliment. Tell her how lovely he thought she was, but the moment was ruined by another student walking in on them.

"Hey, Honey Lemon! Getting a head start on midterms hun?" The tall guy said as he sauntered over. He had blonde hair and wore a red blazer and tan dress pants.

"Well it's due next week, so I don't know how much of a head start this is?" She laughed.

"Two schools, dual majors, and a part time job; when do you ever find time to just have fun?" He teased.

"Oh but I have lots of fun learning!" She sang and they both broke out in laughter.

Varian felt a little left out. Apparently this was one of Honey Lemon's friends at the art school and they were sharing some sort of inside joke that he wasn't privy to.

"Oh, Brad, I'd like you to meet my friend Varian." She introduced, "He goes to SFIT. Varian this is Brad. He's in my drawing class."

"Ah, a member of the nerd school!" Brad said not unkindly as he offered to shake Varian's hand, "It's rare to get a visit from you mad scientist types. Got any interest in the arts?"

"Eh, I draw sometimes." Varian admitted. "Usually drafting."

"He's really good at it. You should see his naturalist drawings." Honey Lemon praised and Varian had to blush. He didn't really consider himself an artist, but drawing was often very helpful in his researches.

"Oh, well maybe you should bring some by to the party and show them off." Brad said. "We're holding our annual Fourth of July blow out bash at the fraternity house tonight. The whole school is going to be there. That's why I drop by, to invite you Honey Lemon. You're both welcome to come, and bring the rest of your nerd friends too. I bet they'd like a break from their test tubes as well." He laughed at his own joke.

"Oh, well, that's very nice of you Brad, but I don't know if I'll be able to make it." Honey Lemon apologized. "I gotta work a shift tonight."

"Awe, that's a shame. Well, if you manage to get off the party starts at eight. See ya around." He waved goodbye and walked out the door.

After he left Varian spoke up, "You're going on patrol on a holiday?"

"Well, maybe," she bit her lip and then confessed, "I didn't want to say anything to Brad, but those frat parties aren't really for me. They can get kind of...wild."

Varian laughed, "Not as wild as a Saporian party I bet. One time they released all of horses from the stables and built a bonfire right on the front lawn of the palace using all the saddles as kindling. They said something about 'burning the bonds of oppression'. Anyways the party lasted till dawn. They were still at by sunup. Now that was wild, if a little weird."

Honey Lemon stared blankly at him in confusion. "You...you mean like a protest? Are the Saporians activists?"

"Yeeeah, you might could say that." Varian slowly said in a strained voice. Then he gave an awkward coughed and tried to change the subject, "Why don't we finish up here and go grab something to eat? My treat."

She agreed and he took up his pose once more so that she could get a little more work done before they left.

-----------------------------

"Hi Aunt Cass!" Varian sang as he entered the Lucky Cat Cafe and swung behind the counter to nab a chocolate muffin.

"Oh hi sweetie! How was your day?" Aunt Cass replied as she placed two steaming cups of cappuccino onto the counter. "Hernandez!" She called and a customer walked forward. "You're soy mocha cappuccinos are ready sir, and I added in a splash of honey in one just like you requested."

Varian watched as she finished handing the customer his coffee before answering. "It went fine. I helped Honey Lemon with her painting assignment and we had lunch together. Then I did some work on my own project afterwards."

"How did that go? I know you mentioned having some trouble with, what was it, the turbines?"

Varian gave a dismissive shrug and took a big bite of the muffin he was holding. He didn't feel like getting into any great details about his project with Aunt Cass. Not the least of which because she didn't know he was from another world.

Aunt Cass however sensed his evasiveness. "Look, I know that you're still disappointed about the fireworks, but today has been kind of slow. Maybe I can close shop up early and all three of us can go watch the official city fireworks down at the park?"

Varian considered her offer but he didn't want her to go out of her way to just to accommodate him. "It's okay, you don't have to do that. I know there'll be a big crowd afterwards and you'll want the shop open for that."

"Crowds, shmowds, there'll be plenty of opportunities to make money later." She dismissed. She walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun; our first family outing together." She gave him an encouraging smile as she waited for his answer.

Before Varian could reply though, Hiro burst through the door.

"Hi Aunt Cass! Bye, Aunt Cass!" He yelled in the same breath as he ran pass. Fred followed close behind, gave them a wave, and bounded up the stairs after him.

"I think, Hiro, might have other plans." Varian said slowly.

Aunt Cass gave a frown.

"Honey Lemon and I got invited to a party tonight, over at the art institute, but she said she couldn't make it. I think her and Hiro and all them have a meeting of their ‘study group’ tonight." He explained.

"On Fourth of July weekend?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, midterms do start next week."

"So, what are your plans? Are you going with the study group or to this, what was it, a painting party?"

Varian shrugged. "I figured I just help you at the cafe. I'm not really in the study group and I don't know anybody at that art school besides Honey Lemon."

Aunt Cass studied him for a moment before answering, "I think you should go."

"Really?"

"Yeah, get out and meet people, make a new friend, try something new. If you make a painting I'll hang it up on the wall." She joked. "Look, I don't want you cooped up here or at school all the time. Go, have fun; be a teenager while you still can."

"You sure? You don't need me to help…"

"I'm sure. Just text me when you get there and don't stay out too late. I would like your help in the morning opening up."

"Okay, then I'll go get ready. It starts at eight."

"Good, and don't forget to wash your face." Aunt Cass teased as she wiped a chocolate smudge from the corner of his mouth with her thumb.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation and tried to pull away, but he flashed her a smile afterwards to show her that he wasn't really upset. Then he turned around and headed upstairs to get ready for the party.

-----------------------------

Varian stepped off the bus in front of the SFAI campus. It was easy enough to find where the party was held. When Brad had said the whole school would be there, he hadn't been kidding. Varian followed the sound of blaring music and crowds of other students to the fraternity house. Right next to it was also the sorority house. They were each a couple of three story buildings painted with fanciful colors and designs and both had party goers running in and out of them. The crowd was so large that they spilled out onto the front lawns and a DJ was stationed in the middle pumping out loud drumming music for everybody to dance to.

Varian paused on the sidewalk unsure of where to go or what to do. He didn't see a single familiar face in the crowd and the dancers were lost in their own little worlds. It felt out of place to jump right on in with them.

He scanned the scene and debated about just leaving. Maybe it wasn't too late for just him and Aunt Cass to go see the fireworks. Then he noticed a girl standing at the doorway of one of the houses greeting people.

She was a petite woman with curly brown hair and a wide friendly smile. She wore a simple white dress to match said smile and her sing song voice carried itself over the noise of the party.

"Y'all go on in and have fun!" She told a couple as they walked inside. She then spotted Varian as he made his way up the front porch stairs. "Howdy!" She exclaimed. Her voice had a slight accent to it that told Varian that she was from a different province than California; possibly one of the eastern southern states of the country but he was no expert.

"Hi, is this the fraternity house?" He asked.

"No, that's next door. This is the sorority house, we're co-hosting the event. I'm Carol by the way." She held her hand for Varian to shake and he introduced himself.

"Varian."

"Well nice to meet ya, Varian. I don't think I've ever seen you around campus before. What major are you in?"

"Physics, I go to SFIT. Brad invited me."

"Oooh the nerd school. I gotcha. Yeah we got people from all over here tonight. Follow me, I'll show ya around." She gave another winsome smile and Varian followed her inside.

They entered into a large living room adjacent from an open kitchen. On the opposite side of the stairwell Varian could see a den which housed a tv, card table, and billiards. Groups of students clustered around eating, drinking, and playing various games.

"That's the game room," Carol said,"and we got three bathrooms, one on each story." She pointed towards a little hallway that ran past the stairs,"feel free to make yourself at home, just know that the bedrooms are off limits. We're trying to avoid a repeat from last semester."

"What happened last semester?"

"We were hosting a St. Patrick's Day party and some jerks trashed this poor girl's room, broke her vanity set, so no sneaking up there anymore to make out. If ya meet someone, take it to the frat house. Those guys don't care what you do." She rolled her eyes and Varian casted a confused glance at the stairs.

"Who'd be so rude as to break into someone else's bedroom?"

"I know right!" She agreed enthusiastically. "Some folks just ain't got any class."

They made their way to the kitchen. There was a vast spread of food on the dining table and cups, plates, and silverware were sitting on the countertop behind that.

"We got chips and dip, sandwiches, all kinds of snacks. There's ice cream in the freezer if ya want some, and of course the boys have more food over at their place." Carol walked over to an ice chest sitting at the end if the table. "Unfortunately all we got to drink though is coke and beer." She reached into the ice chest pulled out two cans. "I told everybody we should've gotten like some tequila or rum as well, but nobody wanted to spring for it." She gave an over dramatic sigh and then flashed Varian another one of her charming smiles to show that she wasn't fully serious about her disappointment in alcohol choices.

She offered him one of the cans she was holding.

It was the aforementioned beer and Varian hesitated to take it. He remembered his and Gogo's fight last month over his attempts to buy an ale for himself. But the law was just about purchasing alcohol, it didn't say anything about drinking it in your own or in someone else's home. There was no way every single person at this large party was over 21 and clearly everybody else was drinking too. After all, he was a college student same as them. Besides it'd be impolite to turn down a drink from such a nice hostess.

He thanked her and took the drink from her hands. It was a lighter grain than the darker ales he was use to, but there was no mistaking the familiar taste and smell of a good beer. It was comforting in a way. The drink reminded him of dinners with his dad on cold winter nights, gathering at the tavern to hear gossip and stories from from the old farm hands and to escape the midday sun, and of fall festivals and summer parties, like this one, where the whole village would be gathered to celebrate a bountiful harvest or to commemorate some ancient holiday. Perhaps it was an odd thing to feel homesick over, but going without something for two months that was once an ubiquitous part of his life hit him harder then he had realized. He really did not understand Americans' hang ups and silly rules over alcohol.

"So how long have you been going to SFIT?" Carol asked as she popped open her own tab and took a sip.

"This is my first semester. I just moved here from Europe."

"Really!? Where from?" She asked excitedly.

Varian had to give a chuckle, people always seemed so surprised and impressed just because he grew up in a different country. "Uh, if you looked on a map it'd currently say 'Russia' but we've always called Old Corona." He explained. "It's a German speaking country. My dad is the only native Russian speaker I know and he moved there from Umbra."

"Umbra?" She asked confused.

"The Dark Kingdom." Varian explained. "It's a region that's far north of Corona. So far that the days are really short and nothing can grow up there, according to my dad that is. I've never been there."

"So it's like the frozen tundra? I'm guessing Corona is warmer then."

"Warm enough to grow things, but not nearly as hot as it is here in San Fansokyo."

Carol laughed, "You wanna talk about hot? I grew up down in Mississippi."

"Mississippi? That's..that's the state with the really big river in it, right?" Varian asked, trying to recall what little he knew of the place.

This only elected more laughter from the pretty girl. "Yeah, that's the one. This is my first year here, music major, I moved from Tupelo and it's not only hot but muggy. The humidity was murder on my curls. It couldn't stop them frizzing no matter what I tried."

"Oh, well, I think your hair looks nice." Varian complemented.

"Oh, why thank you!" Her whole face lit up and her grin became even wider. She raised her hand to her head to give a light pat to the side of her afro. "I spent all mornin' styling it for the party. Not many people understand how much work goes into keeping hair like this lookin' good. How about you? Do you dye your hair yourself or go to get it done?"

"Oh, uh," Varian's brain stalled as he realized she was talking about his stripe of blue hair. "It's not dyed at all…this? This was a...a..a lab accident. I can't seem to get rid of it." He awkwardly laughed and pushed his bangs to the side before taking another gulp of his beer.

She suppressed a snicker. "A lab accident? What do y'all do over there at that nerd school?"

"Well I'm researching portal technology, but all kinds experiments go on there all the time." He said, happy to steer the conversation away from his mysterious physical anomaly.

"Portals? Like the kind that's suppose to let you travel all over the world or even enter another other worlds?"

"Yup." He gave a proud smile.

"That's sooo cool!" She cheered. "Y'all over there makin' sci-fi a reality and all I'm doing is singing for my supper."

"You're a singer? Like for musicals or opera?" He asked enthusiastically.

"Well I'm in the choral program here at SFAI, so I can technically sing opera, but really I wanna be a pop singer. I'm hoping after college I can move down to L.A. and try my luck."

"Oh I bet you'll do great, and then I can tell people I met a real life pop star."

She giggled, "You haven't even heard me sing yet. How do ya know?"

"Well then let's hear it!" He encouraged and then took another swig of his drink. He was beginning to relax and his more outgoing nature was starting to show. Though whether that was because of the alcohol or the attention he was receiving from the lovely young woman before him, he couldn't tell.

She laughed harder. "Oh no! I can't! There ain't even any music to sing too."

"Then let's make some." He said as he leaned down closer to her with a cheshire grin across his face. She was lot shorter than him and for once it felt good to be the taller person in a conversation. "If ya got a guitar or piano lying around, I could play something for ya to sing too."

She bit her lip in thought, "I think Jake might have one over at the frat house. We could go ask him." She said then she grab Varian's sleeve and they both ran out the door.

-----------------------------

Varian stood next to the bus stop waiting for the tram to arrive. Carol came along with him to see him off. He had thoroughly enjoyed the party and he hated to leave. He felt more at ease here than he had in weeks and he was really hitting things off with this new girl. But he had promised Aunt Cass and he took promises very seriously.

"It's sweet that you help out your aunt, but it's a shame you have to leave so early. It's only 12:30." Carol said.

"Yeah, I know, but I gotta be up by six to unlock the doors to the cafe. You should come by sometime. I'll make you my patented special."

"What's that?" She asked.

"Shortbread cookies and an espresso."

She giggled, "Did you bake the cookies homemade?"

"Sure did." He gave her a wink which only ignited more laugher between them. They were both lightheaded from drink and merriment and would laugh at just about anything.

"Ooooh you know what!" Carol suddenly exclaimed. "You should come dancing with us tomorrow night. We're going to Monroe's for Jessica's birthday."

"You sure she'd want me around. I mean we don't really know each other.." Varian had met Carol's friends at the party. They all seemed like nice people and they had included him readily into their little group. They played games and music and generally just goofed around all night. But even then he didn't want to intrude.

"Oh it'll be fine. The more the merrier! I'll text her right now and tell her you're comin'."

She pulled out her phone and typed up a message. They heard the ding that indicated that she had gotten her reply.

"She says, 'Sure, and bring a gift.'" Carol rolled her eyes. "She's jokin'. You don't have to get her nothin'."

"Naw, it's her birthday. I'll get her a card at least. If I can get off work."

Just then the bus pulled up.

"Here, let me give you my number real quick." Carol offered and Varian handed her his phone. She entered her name and number into his contacts. "Let me know if you can come and I'll text you the address." She said as she handed him back the device. "It's easy to find and you can just meet us there."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll be there." He waved goodbye and got on the bus to head back home.

-----------------------------

Varian was almost to the cafe when saw Hiro and Baymax standing in the doorway. Baymax was wobbling back and forth while the smaller boy was trying and failing to push him inside. It didn't help matters that they were still dressed in their armour and Baymax was almost too tight to fit.

"Come ooon…" Hiro spotted him as he came up. "Hey, lend a hand?" He asked.

Varian did and together the started to push.

"Why not enter in another way?" He grunted.

"Ahh...well…" Hiro stumbled but Baymax answered for him.

"Oh Hey, VarAI-ann,...We JUMped OFF a rooooffff..f and into the traaaashhh.." The robot slurred.

"His battery is low." Hiro explained. "It's hard to get him to follow orders when he gets like this."

"You have weird haaair." Baymax lent down to examine Varian's hair stripe more closely.

Varian gave the robot an extra hard push to stop him from commenting further. It was just what was needed. All three of them landed in a heap on the floor. They froze, worried that they may have woken Aunt Cass.

However it was only Mochi that greeted them.

"HAIRy baBY" Baymax exclaimed and got up to chase after the cat.

The boys ran after him. Which caused only more of a commotion.

Hiro casted his eyes about looking for a way to distract the robot while Varian fruitlessly tugged on the machine's arm. That's when Ruddiger popped up beside him, curious as to what was going on. In a panic Hiro grabbed the raccoon and held him out in front of the robot's face.

"Hey look Baymax! A cute trash panda!" Hiro backed away towards the stairs still holding the unfortunate raccoon in midair.

"He's not a trash panda!" Varian protested indignantly but was interrupted by Baymax suddenly changing course.

"Ooooo" he cooed and made off after Hiro and this new object of interest, which sent Varian tumbling to the ground.

Hiro managed to get the robot to follow him up stairs to the second floor with Varian following close behind, casting annoyed glares at both of them.

"Cooome on… juuust a little further...oof!" Ruddiger had had enough and wiggled out of Hiro's grasp and jumped on his head. He tried to grab the raccoon before he got away but that just made the creature struggle harder, knocking off his helmet and pushing him to the ground as it bounded away up the second flight of stairs.

Varian laughed. "Ha! Serves you right for calling him a 'trash panda'."

"Awwww….masked BAby go BYE bye." The robot said in disappointment and then turned to wobbled into the upstairs kitchen instead.

Hiro gave an indistinct whine in frustration and Varian just rolled his eyes before following after the robot once more.

Hiro picked himself up and dragged himself into the kitchen slumping down into a dining room chair in defeat. He rested his head on the table while he wearily eyed Baymax who was now playing with a drinking glass. The robot had amused itself with rolling the glass back and forth and back and forth.

"How did the party go?" Hiro asked.

"Fine." Varian said as he walked over to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.

"Did you paint anything?" Hiro said teasingly.

"It wasn't a painting party."

"Then what kind of party was it?" Hiro asked confused.

Varian shrugged "Just a regular party." He dismissed before taking a long gulp of water.

Hiro watched him with growing suspicion. "Then why did you tell Aunt Cass that it was?"

"Because I didn't tell her. All I said was that it was a party. What's the big deal?"

Hiro frowned and then he sniffed the air as if just now noticing something. "What's that smell?"

"Who ever smelt it dealt it." Varian sneered.

"No! It's not that!" Hiro protested. "No. It smells.. yeasty…like .. like I don't know.." Hiro racked his brain trying to describe what the smell was and where he had come across it before. "Like whenever Aunt Cass tries to make beer battered fish…" he paused and looked at Varian who had stood there frozen and pensive.

"I LIKE Fisshyes.." Baymax slurred but both boys ignored him.

Hiro got up and walked over to Varian, the smell was definitely coming from him. "Were you drinking?" Hiro accused.

"So I had a beer at the party." Varian brushed him off. "Big deal."

Hiro placed a hand on Varian's shoulder to stop him from walking away. "Very big deal. Drinking is illegal."

"Nooo, purchasing alcohol if you're under 21 is illegal." Varian corrected and firmly removed Hiro's hand. "The law doesn't say anything about just drinking it. Besides it's stupid law anyways."

"I don't care how stupid you think it is." Hiro admonished. "There's a reason for it. Drinking's unhealthy and dangerous."

Varian gave a sardonic laugh."Oh and soda isn't? Hiro, you don't get it. I've been drinking beer since I was five. We drink it in Corona like you do coke cola. Besides one beer isn't going to hurt you. It can't even get you drunk." He rolled his eyes, put the glass of water down, and started to leave.

Hiro wasn't ready to give up the argument just yet though. "Oh, so you think that makes it okay to lie to Aunt Cass and then just sneak off to who knows where?"

Varian stopped in his tracks and screwed up his face in anger before rounding on the other teen. "Oh and look who's the one wearing armor and sneaking a robot back into the house in the middle of the night! I told Aunt Cass where I was going and I went there and I came back on time just like she asked. You've been lying to her since before I ever even arrived."

"That's different!"

"Is it!? Is it really, Hiro? How many lectures have I had to sit through just to cover your butt? How many lies have I had to tell to keep your secret? How many times have I had to step in before you got hurt? Yet, I go out to have fun for one night, to just be normal for once, and suddenly I'm the bad guy."

Hiro pouted and angry tears stung his eyes, but he couldn't come up with a response.

"Ssssh… you'll wake the Hairy Baby…" Baymax's voice pierced the silence and the boys turned to find him now cradling Mochi in his arms. "Who'sss a good BAby...wh-who'sss a goooood baBY."

"You're robot's more drunk than I am." Varian said flatly.

Hiro sighed in exasperation, "It's not about that.."

"Then what is it!?" Varian angrily interrupted, "That I'm not a goody two shoes like you? That I'm a jail bird while the rest of y'all are superheroes? That I'm not Mr. Perfect like Tadashi was?"

"N-no.." Hiro backed away in shock, but before he could gather his wits Varian pressed on.

"Look, go ahead and tell Aunt Cass." He said bitterly."See if I care. I'm going to go take a shower." He then turned around on his heel and stormed down the hall to the bathroom.

"Varian…" Hiro ran after him but the other teen just slammed the door in his face.

Hiro angrily pounded on the door but Varian ignored him and Hiro could hear the sound of the faucet being turned on. He turned away defeated as he debated on what to do. Just then the door to Aunt Cass's bedroom started to open.

Hiro looked down at the armor he was still wearing terrified. He then dove into the living room, flung himself on the couch, and wrapped the throw blanket around seconds before Aunt Cass walked in.

She yawned and mussed up her hair "Hiro is that you?" She said sleepily.

"Y-yeah" he squeaked.

She walked over to him and tenderly ran her hand through his hair. He tensed, knowing how close he was to being caught.

"How was your study group?"

"Fine."

She paused and listen to the water running. "Did Varian make it in?"

"Yeah, h-he's taking a shower right now." Hiro sighed. If he was going to tell Aunt Cass what had happened now would be the time, but his mind still raced with worry and indecision.

"Oh, well I hope he had a good time at the party." She yawned again. "I'm glad your both back safe." She kissed Hiro on the forehead. "Don't stay up too late, okay."

"O-okay."

She headed back to bed but stopped long enough to wish Hiro a happy fourth.

"You..you too."

"Next time we should plan ahead for all us to go on a trip or something." She smiled.

"Sounds great." Hiro responded with a strained voice and he only relaxed when heard Aunt Cass close the door to her room. Only to tense up a again as he heard a loud crash come from the kitchen along with cat hissing in anger. When Aunt Cass didn't reamerge he let out a long weary sigh. He still needed to pull Baymax back into his charging case.

However, before he went to do so, Hiro paused long enough to look at a picture of him and Tadashi hanging on the wall.

"What would you do?" He asked the picture in despair. He felt so lost. Tadashi would have known how to reach Varian, Hiro was sure of it. But he wasn't Tadashi.

Another crash came and Hiro shoved aside his worries with a heavy sigh before checking on his robot.

#varian #hiro #tangled #big hero six #Honey lemon #aunt cass #baymax #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #of rocks and robots #bh6

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liray-stylespk · 4 years

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pinestripes · 5 years

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Braids (The Dark Crystal)

Summary:

Jen is at his wit's end with his hair. Luckily, Kira knows more about hair care than he does. Jen/Kira. Oneshot, inspired by The Age of Resistance. Tooth-rotting fluff.

“You seem to know a lot about hair. No wonder yours is so shiny,” Jen says, giving her a shy smile. “Well, my mother says that our people—the gelfling—took a lot of pride in their hair.”

Rating: K

Can also be read here on AO3 and here on FFN.

Author’s Note:

Hi, I'm pinestripes and I'm obsessed with fantasy Muppets. I watched The Dark Crystal for the first time this past September, tore through Age of Resistance immediately after, and absolutely adored both.

Anyway, the rich worldbuilding of the show really hits home how removed Jen and Kira are from their people and culture, which makes me really sad. I have a headcanon that the podlings who raised Kira knew just a little bit about gelfing culture and shared it with her while she was growing up. On the other hand, the Mystics probably taught Jen very little about such things, so he knows essentially nothing about his roots. This fic was the tooth-achingly sweet result.

As always, dedicated to @thebusytypewriter for being my beta and best friend. Also dedicated to the lovely @artistefish, whose blog and writing have given me many hours of happiness over the last few years. Also, her posts about Age of Resistance were what prompted me to finally go watch the movie! Thank you! You ruined my life (in a good way!).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jen enjoys watching Kira braid her hair. She always does it in the morning, after brushing through it, usually humming, sometimes doing one braid, sometimes two. The braids sometimes hang loose by her face, and sometimes she has them meet at the back of her head, where she ties them together. Her hair is long and shiny, and it flows through his fingers almost like water (though he only finds that out much, much later—nearly a trine after the Great Conjunction, when he is finally brave enough to ask to touch it).

His hair, on the other hand, is thick and coarse. The brush barely gets through when he tries to untangle it. It grows so quickly that he finds himself chopping at it unevenly almost every unum, when it starts hanging in his eyes. One morning Kira comes into his one-room hut to see him trying to force the brush through it, grumbling under his breath in frustration. Behind him, she giggles and startles him.

"Oh, Kira!" He spins around on his little stool in surprise. He can feel his ears going hot in embarrassment. "I was just—well—"

"What's wrong, Jen?" she interrupts before he can babble any longer, trying to stifle her amused smile.

"It's this old mop of mine." He holds up a lock of hair before letting it rest against his shoulder again. "It's all in knots, and I can't seem to get it sorted out."

Kira walks over and holds her hand out expectantly. "Here, let me try."

He hands over the brush and she gets to work. "You have to brush the ends first. If you start by your head right away it's harder for the brush to get through."

And in another few minutes she's done, having untangled his hair faster than he's ever been able to do. Suddenly he feels her fingers brush the back of his neck as she picks up a lock of his hair. He tries not to jump in surprise, and only half succeeds.

"You know, your hair feels a little dry," she says. "I have an oil you could use."

"An oil?"

"Wait here." She darts out, presumably to the hut she shares with Ydra, before returning with a little bottle in tow. She takes out the stopper and carefully pours a tiny bit into her palm. She then rubs it between her hands, covering them both. "When your hair is dry, you take just a little and smooth it over the ends, like this." She does so, and continues, "When it's wet you can use a bit more."

"I see," Jen manages to respond, as stiff and upright as one of the great trees.

Finally, Kira seems to have decided his hair is sufficiently cared for, as she puts the stopper back in the bottle and sets it on the table. "You can keep that. I have plenty. It's made from a plant that grows near here, and the Podlings don't care for it."

"You seem to know a lot about hair. No wonder yours is so shiny," Jen says, giving her a shy smile.

"Well, my mother says that our people—the gelfling—took a lot of pride in their hair."

Jen is taken aback. "Really?"

Kira nods. "Mm-hmm. They had all sorts of tricks to keep their hair healthy and shiny. They wore really complicated braids too." A hint of sadness creeps into her expression. "Mother doesn't remember most of their styles, though."

Jen frowns. "I see." He thinks for a moment, and then suggests, "Maybe you could come up with some styles of your own?"

"I've tried. It's so difficult when I can't see the back of my head."

The sadness is still in her expression, and Jen, anxious to comfort her, blurts out, "You could practice on me."

Kira lights up and in excitement kneels down to be on level with him. "Oh, Jen! Really?"

The twinkle in her eyes encourages him to agree. "Really. I never know what to do with mine, anyway.""Thank you!" She kisses him on the cheek, rendering him speechless.

In an hour or so, a large portion of Jen's hair is tied back in a series of braids. Strands of hair are falling out. The whole thing is rather uneven. Some of the podlings giggle and tease him when they see it. Yet Kira's cheeks flush and eyes shine with happiness, so he wears his hair with pride.

#the dark crystal #the dark crystal: age of resistance #jen #kira #jen/kira #tdc #my writing #pinestripes babbles #i love my gelfling kids #sorry the a/n is so long #i had a lot to say haha

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wafflesetc · 6 years

Text

All I want for Christmas is You- Chapter 3 (previously)

A/N: On-call room goodies. Candy canes. Pining. Jamie and Claire. You were warned. A huge amount of gratitude to @missclairebelle and @kkruml for taking the time to help fix this monster. XO.

Happy Holidays everyone!

I felt the world swaying on its axis. My eyes lids filled with stars, his mouth hot on my neck.

In any other moment, I was as professional as they came around these parts. But James Fraser had a knack for sliding under my skin in the most maddening of ways. The way his blue eyes sparkled as he charmed his way with the nurses or kept those broad shoulders square as he delivered a speech to all the employees of the hospital- it frustrated me, made my blood boil. Never once did I allow myself to imagine this very moment. Or that Jamie Fraser could actually be mine.

“Claire,” He breathed lightly as he kissed the base of my neck. “I canna, we canna...”

I took his face between my hands and scanned his eyes searching for a hint of something, anything.

“What do you mean?” I kissed him softly, tracing his bottom lip with my tongue.

“Of all the times I have burned for ye to ask me to her bed, I never thought the day would come...”

“And now that it’s here?” I reached for the hem of his shirt as he pushed my body against the back of the door.

“I just want to make sure you are sure...”

I laughed at that and bit his neck. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He let out a husky, breathless chuckle that only ignited the fire deep in my belly more. “I watch you come through the hospital, flashing that smile with the nurses, the elderly patients, even that one female anesthesiologist… You’re a bloody charmer, Mr. Fraser.”

“And?” He smiled down at me with a devilish grin.

“And it made me jealous.” I pressed a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. “But I have been too proud to admit it.”

“Mmmphm.” I heard the noise emerge from his throat and felt his hands cupping my jaw, his eyes searching my face for any sense of hesitation. We were drowning in the heat of the moment and it was either sink or swim.

“Do you want me?” I finally asked, carte blanche, it was now or never- no turning back.

“Yes,” Jamie moaned as his hands pushed my scrub top up. His thumbs drew circles on my hips. “Yes, I do want you.”

I pulled his shirt up, just above his torso as his hands suddenly took control and he rapidly stripped it off, flinging it on the tile floor behind us.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” I breathed scanning his bare body, “That’s definitely an 8 pack.”

“Fair’s fair.” He gawked at me. His hands were hot on my skin as my scrub top left my body and ended somewhere in the depths of the on-call room.

Suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed, I could sense the temperature rise in my cheeks. My sports bra was grey and I knew the panties I wore under my scrubs did not scream ‘I want to get laid.’

As if he could feel my embarrassment, he ran his hands down my arms, whispering something in Gaelic. Something I couldn’t understand.

“I want to see you.” His voice was reassuring and warm as he trailed kisses across the bottom of my neck.

I arched my back into the alignment of his body, still pinned against the back of the door. “Ah, Dhia.”

“Well, it’s not much to see, Jamie…” My voice was meek and quiet, barely audible in the already silent room. “But whatever it is, it’s yours- if you want it.”

His hands were warm as they slid up my back and under my sports bra.

“If I want it,” He scoffed, “Christ ye really are daft, are ye no’?”

I shook my head in dismay as he pushed the bra off my petite frame.

“Of course I want ye…” I felt a cold rush across my breasts as the cotton fabric ended somewhere in the vicinity of our feet.

I heard an audible gulp come from him as he took a step back, eyeing me from head to toe.

“Christ, Claire, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I took a step closer towards him, my hands on the waistband of his pants. “I want to see you.”

Slowly I unbuttoned and pushed his trousers down to his ankles. He kicked them under the bunks, leaving the remnants of our encounter scattered throughout the on-call room.

Now it was my turn to take in his appearance- well-defined everywhere- I thought to myself in amusement. A smile must have formed on my face because I saw a flicker of eagerness cross his face.

“Come here.” He reached for my hand and pulled us towards the bottom bunk beds. He sat on the edge of the mattress and grabbed my hips straightening my frame between his legs. “Ye still have yer pants on.”

“I kn-…” I started to untie the strings holding my scrubs up when I felt his hands grab my ass firmly.

“My god, ye have the roundest arse I’ve ever seen,” I laughed as his left hand finagled what was in my back pocket. “What’s that you have in there?”

“A candy cane, I was seeing some of the children in the PICU earlier…”

I heard a Scottish noise of amusement come from his chest as he reached in my pocket and took the piece of candy out. “I have half a mind to unwrap this and see what tastes better.”

“What might taste better” I smiled coyly, “We have to find out.”

I undid the strings and let the scrub bottoms fall to the floor. “Don’t make fun of my underwear- I didn’t think we’d be here…”

I heard the crinkling of the plastic as I shimmied my cotton panties down my legs.

Thank god I had half a mind to shave this morning.

I looked up bringing my face down to his level, sticking my mouth over the hooked portion of the candy.

“Mmmm.” I hummed, “Pepperminty.” I took one more lick of the sweet treat and then tilted Jamie’s face up towards mine.

I kissed him, slowly, delicately, tracing his bottom lip with my tongue.

“And the verdict is?”

“It tastes,” He mumbled between kisses. “Much better off yer lips.”

I took his mouth and claimed him with mine. The lines of my body molded to his and the weight of our bodies fell backwards onto the stiff mattress.

“You’re the one who still has clothing on.” I smirked with my hands on his waist.

In a rapid fury he discard the remnants of his boxers and we were laid bare before each other, our faces just inches apart. With great admiration, he took my face between his hands and kissed me once. His blue eyes searing into mine, waiting for a moment. Then he kissed me senseless- with an eagerness, ferocity, and longing I had only read about in books.

Our legs were intertwined, my feet running up and down the back of his calves as his whispered terms of adoration in Gaelic.

His kisses trailed down my neck, to my chest all the way to my navel. He kissed with a delicate touch- as if I were a piece of fine China he was scared to shatter. We had only just begun, but I felt the most treasured I had in my entire life.

Rendered breathless, he cupped my face between his hands. “I canna wait but I dinna have…”

“It’s ok. I have an IUD.” I opened my eyes and saw a small sense of panic cross his face that grew into acceptance at our unsaid decision.

“Do it now,” I demanded not wanting to wait myself, “And don’t be gentle.”

Despite my admonition, he filled me gently, fulfilling a need I had not ever realized I had and leaving me completely at his mercy. Not that I cared or that it mattered, I was rendered helpless and was more than alright with it.

It was an odd sensation to be so full, to bare one’s soul to another and feel at home. My hands clawed at his back.

I arched my hips into his, urging him to move, just a little faster. The fire deep in my belly was raging and I wanted to feel the combustion I was close to.

He moved then, slow at first, our legs tangled together. Gradually, he picked up the pace and I closed my eyes, burrowing my head into the crook of his neck. I heard the soft ‘thump’ of the metal bedframe as it hit the wall.

His breath became ragged and erratic as our hips moved in unison and he had me seeing stars, saying his name- a prayer against my lips.

I could feel his muscles contracting as he was starting to unravel and I came back down to realitiy. The grip on his intensity slowly slipping, leaving us nothing more than a collection of heartbeats and flesh mingling together.

“Ye taste so much better than that candy cane, Sassenach.” He held me tenderly to his chest, his voice as soft as snow falling outside the window.

“Mmmm.” I said, closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep.

“Ye’re all I want for Christmas,” I thought I heard him mutter or it might have only been in my dreams.

When I woke up the next morning I was alone with an unopened candy cane next the pillow.

#Outlander #Jamie x Claire #Outlander fanfic #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #All I want for Christmas AU #fml #have some smut #TGIF #myfic!#I gifted you candy canes NOW I WANT AVOCADOS

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purplepersnicketywrites · 6 years

Note

Hi! I absolutely love your fic Purple Kiribaku Drabbles so I wanted to send in a prompt! I'd love to see Bakugou taking care of a very sick Kirishima I know there are many sickfics in this fandom, but to me they are never enough ;)

God yes,, , I love sickfics, , , and i love,, feverish Kirishima. let’s see…

Oops i think i just wrote a whole oneshot fic? this is not just a drabble and i don’t know… what happened… this is like 2.5k… tfw ur muse holds a gun to your head....

there’s a lot of Science here at the beginning too, lemme know if any of it’s too obtuse!!! I think i could write so much more on the science behind the effects of quirks but i caught myself before i rambled too much, I hope!

One aspect of Katsuki’s quirk that no one ever really thought about was what it did to his body temperature. Katsuki was a full two degrees warmer than average, something that had caused great alarm to his parents when he was younger.

It wasn’t something that weird - bodily temperature changes caused by quirks were hardly unheard of - but it was different enough that doctors had been interested in him. It turned out that temperature was important. He’d had all sorts of blood tests, and samples of his digestive juices taken (he did not want to fucking think about that, thanks).

His enzymes were different, apparently, suited to working at 39.5C at their optimum. It didn’t sound like much of a difference, but enzymes were special proteins with specific shapes set by a specific order of molecules that was what DNA itself coded for. They had to be in certain shapes to do what they needed to do. It wasn’t just digestion - enzymes did everything. They built all the body’s structures, or built the things that needed to build them. They moved things between the body’s cells. And Katsuki’s were different because they worked at a higher temperature, one that might cause other enzymes to denature - for the heat to warp their shapes and render them useless.

So his DNA was weird - a little different to either of his parents. Samples of his own specific enzymes were stored in a lab somewhere, with little white labels stuck to each tube.

Protease-Var.47334758-BK

Lipase-Var.47334758-BK

Amylase-Var.47334758-BK

And so on. They also had samples of, ugh, his fucking gut and skin flora. Apparently, the fact that all the beneficial bacteria in his gut or on his skin could incubate at a much higher temperature than normal was interesting. Katsuki wondered if bacteria could get quirks at all, and if his counted.

Thanks to all of that, Katsuki’s immune system was extremely robust. Hardly anything he caught lasted long enough to cause him any trouble. His body reacted to everything with a mild fever, and as he was already so warm, he hardly noticed it.

It was kinda satisfying. Fuck off, pathogens, unless you wanna be burned. Yeah, so, that was kinda cool.

Unfortunately, Kirishima was currently way too out of it in his own fever to really take in a word of what Katsuki was trying to explain to him about his quirk.

“No Baku-man,” Kirishima slurred. “You can’t be here, you’ll die.”

“I fuckin’ doubt that,” Katsuki muttered. Part of him cursed the rest of their friends, who had volunteered him for Taking Care Of Kirishima Duty Because Dude You Almost Never Get Sick It’s Like Magic. Part of him was planning to cook them all a meal as thanks, because holy shit Kirishima was weirdly adorable while suffering from feverish delusions and Katsuki was heartily enjoying himself.

“I can’t let you die, Bakubro,” Kirishima said, trying to sit up. “You’re my best friend and it wouldn’t be manly.”

“I’m not gonna die, dumbass,” Bakugou rolled his eyes and pushed the other boy bak down, again. He retrieved the cloth from where he had had it soaking and laid it over Kirishima’s forehead.

“Feels good,” Kirishima murmured at the cool cloth. “But- But dude you gotta leave. I’m full of viruses and they’re gonna get you too.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Katsuki declared.

Kirishima’s brow furrowed. “You can’t see viruses, Buddy-gou! They’re invisible.”

“They’re not invisible, they’re just really small,” Katsuki snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, they’re sneaking- Sneaky,” Kirishima said. “They’re not manly, Brokugo, I have so much not-manly in me and it’s going to spread.”

“Not to me,” Katsuki said. He’d flick Kirishima’s forehead, but the other boy probably had a killer headache and he wasn’t that much of a dick. “You hungry?”

Kirishima blinked. “Am I what?”

“Hungry,” Katsuki said. Kirishima’s eyes widened. What? “Hungry, Kirishima? Like, do you want food?”

“Oh hungry,” Kirishima said. Katsuki wasn’t sure what Kirishima had heard and he didn’t want to know. “You should eat so you don’t die more.”

“I’m not going to die, holy fuck,” Katsuki snickered. “What ab-”

“But everyone dies,” Kirishima said in a small voice. What the fuck. “No one lives forever. And that’s sad. I’m sad, Bak-you’ll-be-gone.”

“Oi,” Katsuki said, moving the cloth on Kirishima’s forehead a little. “Don’t go getting all depressed and existential while you’re fucking feverish. You should be telling me there are lizards on the wall, not lamenting about the mortality of man.”

Kirishima looked at the wall and spoke with keen interest. “Where are the lizards?”

“Keep looking,” Katsuki said. “Do you want food or not, Kirishima?”

Kirishima gazed at him with hazy eyes. “Hungry? Yeah, yeah, I’m hungry! Food me.”

Katsuki snorted. “Gotcha. I’ll be back soon, you idiot.”

“Hey’m not an idiot,” Kirishima stuck his tongue out and then clamped his hands over his face. “Oh no! The virus!”

Katsuki snorted again and made for the door.

When Katsuki got back to Kirishima’s room with food for the both of them, Kirishima was crying.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Katsuki said under his breath, setting the food on Kirishima’s desk for the time being. “Oi!”

Kirishima looked up at him, tears dripping down his cheeks. “There is water coming out of my face.”

Katsuki sighed and sat back on the bed. He pulled the cloth off Kirishima’s forehead - it was already drying - and used it to wipe at Kirishima’s face before he dumped it back in the water bowl.”That’s ‘cause you’re crying.”

“I’m crying?” Kirishima asked. He sounded horrified. “Why?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Katsuki said. He gave Kirishima’s leg a pat and then put the cloth back on his forehead. “I left the room to make food.”

“Oh,” Kirishima said. He frowned. “Wait, you shouldn’t have come back! What if you catch this thing off me?”

“I’m not gonna catch it, Kirishima,” Katsuki said, rolling his eyes.

“But what if you do? You might die,” Kirishima said. Back to this for the millionth time? Honestly. Katsuki didn’t reply, instead going to the desk to grab their food.

“Here,” Katsuki said, giving Kirishima one of the bowls.

Kirishima’s eyes sparkled. “Food! You’re so nice.”

Katsuki shook his head, and watched to make sure Kirishima was eating before he started on his own. He didn’t seem to be doing all that well with his chopsticks. Katsuki set his own bowl aside and plucked Kirishima’s chopsticks from him. “I’ll do it, dumbass.”

Kirishima blinked when Katsuki shoved the first piece of chicken into his mouth. He caught on quickly, though, and they got about halfway through the dish until Kirishima held up one hand. “Not hungry any more.”

Katsuki frowned. He hadn’t made huge portions. Still, better not push the sick person into eating too much.

“You feeling any better, Kirishima?” Katsuki asked.

Kirishima considered. Then his eyes began to water and he shook his head. Ah, fuck, what?

“My head hurts and the room is spinning and I don’t want you to die,” Kirishima choked out in a half-sob. Augh. “And I’m sick and I don’t want to die either.”

Katsuki shuffled up the bed so he was sitting next to Kirishima to pull him into a slightly awkward one-armed hug. Kirishima was way better at doing this stuff. “You’re not gonna die, Kirishima.”

“I will one day,” Kirishima said, leaning heavily into Katsuki. He frowned. “I have- There are words I can’t get ‘cause my brain is melting. Bakuguy you make my brain melt.”

Katsuki squeezed Kirishima’s shoulders. “Pretty sure that’s the viruses.”

“Bas’ards,” Kirishima muttered. “But I get the brain-melties around you even without all the viruses.”

“What?” Katsuki stared at Kirishima. Nope, no way was he receiving a fever-addled confession from his best friend right now, right?

“Ooh, I shouldn’t have said that,” Kirishima shut his eyes. “You’re gonna be mad at me when I’m better.”

“Why the fuck would I be mad?” Katsuki asked. Why on earth would Kirishima think that? Kirishima squirmed.

“Gonna be,” he said. He looked at the wall. “I don’t like lizards.”

Katsuki squinted. “You’re deflecting. That’s not a real fever-dream.”

Kirishima pouted at him. Fuck, he was cute.

“We’re gonna talk about it when you’re better,” Katsuki said. “But I’m not mad, alright?”

“Hm,” Kirishima said, head lolling onto Katsuki’s shoulder. “I hope not. You’re my best friend, Katsuki.”

And with that, Kirishima fell asleep.

Katsuki didn’t pounce with questions the second that Kirishima was back to being lucid. No, he waited until the evening after he’d been declared healthy enough to return to classes.

“Man,” Kirishima said, when Katsuki walked into the redhead’s room to find him setting down a pair of dumbells and sitting heavily on the floor. “I think I lost a few pounds being sick. I need to build myself up again, you think?”

Katsuki took a few moments to admire Kirishima’s physique. “You look fuckin’ fine.”

“Hm,” Kirishima hummed. “Still, wouldn’t mind someone to spot me in the gym some time.”

Kirishima grinned at Katsuki. Ah, the perfect moment had been presented.

“You sure about that?” Katsuki asked, tilting his head and arching one eyebrow. “Didn’t you say I make your brain melt?”

Kirishima stiffened, and a bright red blush bloomed over his face and down his neck. “I said what?”

Katsuki grinned, and went to flop over onto Kirishima’s bed. “‘Oh Bakugou, I get the brain-melties around you!’”

“Oh my god,” Kirishima groaned and covered his face. “I’m going to go back in time and kill fever-me.”

Katsuki snorted. “No, for two reasons.”

Kirishima peeked at Katsuki between his fingers.

“One: you were pretty damn concerned about dying the whole damn time, and I put a lot of effort into assuring you that you’d be fine,” Katsuki said. “Don’t make me a liar. Second: it was cute as fuck.”

Kirishima went a few shades darker behind his hand. “Wh- What?”

“What was all that about anyway?” Katsuki asked, intending to prolong this as long as he could, sitting up and crossing his legs. “You got all weepy and morbid. You really didn’t want me to die.”

Kirishima looked away. “Fuck. Uh.”

Katsuki waited.

“Ah, I, um,” Kirishima continued. Pinnacle of eloquence, this one. “That’s something I’ve been- Since the raid- We’re all heroes, y’know, man? Or, well, we will be.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said. Where was Kirishima going with this?

“Well, it’s… It’s not the safest profession we’ve chosen. Especially if you make it big. The better you do, the more dangerous it becomes, which, well, it makes sense,” Kirishima said. His hands had moved from his face to hug his knees. “It’s something- Of course no one wants it to happen, but it’s something we accept for ourselves. Dying on the job. ‘Cause it does happen. And sometimes it happens to people you know.”

Katsuki swallowed. He was beginning to regret asking about this now. “Right.”

“That’s, uh, sort of the part I haven’t made peace with, yet,” Kirishima said. “That if someone has to die, it might not be me? So I guess, the idea of you dying is. It’s the worst thing I can think of.”

“Me?” Katsuki asked. Kirishima looked back at him then.

“Yeah,” Kirishima said. He bit his lip for a moment, and then continued. “I know that’s- I know it’s kinda stupid.”

“It’s not,” Katsuki said.

There were a few moments of silence between them.

“Even if we get to grow old,” Kirishima said. “One of us is gonna die before the other. From, from a heart attack, or something. There’s gonna be a time where only one of us exists. That’s scary.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki said, running a hand over his face. “That’s fuckin’ heavy. I came here to flirt with you and you go and drop an existential bomb like that?”

“Ah, sorry, Ba-” Kirishima paused. “You came to what? But you-”

“You’re not the only one who gets the brain-melties, Kirishima.”

“That-” Kirishima shook his head. “Dude, mood whiplash. What the hell.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You’re in the mood?”

“Hhhaah?” Kirishima spluttered. “You can’t just- You’re sitting on my bed!”

“And, weirdly, you’re not,” Katsuki said. He grinned at Kirishima’s reddened face. “Come up here and let me ask you out properly.”

“Oh my god,” Kirishima said, scrambling up. “I’m gonna kiss your annoying mouth off.”

“I don’t kiss until after a date,” Katsuki said, as Kirishima sat down beside him. “So hold that thought.”

Kirishima pulled him into a hug. “You’ve never been on a date, Bakugou.”

“Never kissed anyone, either,” he said.

Kirishima moved back to squint at him. “You’re serious, oh my god.”

“You know I’m not fuckin’ into people,” Katsuki shoved at him, but lightly. “Or into f-”

Kirishima covered Katsuki’s mouth with a hand. “But… you are apparently into me?”

Katsuki grabbed Kirishima’s hand from his mouth and held onto it.

“Yeah, so go on a date with me and we’ll see how the kissing thing works out,” Katsuki said.

“God, I thought you were just gonna make fun of me for liking you,” Kirishima said. What?

“I’d never fuckin’ make fun of you for that!” he shouted, outraged. That was just fuckin’ rude. He took his hand back. “I’m not that much of an asshole!”

“No, no, no, no! I know that! Not in like, a mean way,” Kirishima said, taking Katsuki’s hand again. “More in a ‘haha I’m flattered but my barn door doesn’t swing that way, it doesn’t swing any way, my barn door is locked and you already know that’ sort of making fun.”

Katsuki snorted. “Now that’s a fuckin’ metaphor. Guess you have the key, or whatever.”

“Aww, the key to your heart?” Kirishima sparkled at him.

“Don’t be so fuckin’ mushy,” Katsuki growled. Kirishima sparkled harder. “Yes, okay? Fuck you.”

“Which date does that come after?” Kirishima asked. Katsuki felt himself turning red now. Great.

“Shut up,” Katsuki mumbled. “Where d’you wanna go for the first one? Meal? Movie? Both? Neither?”

“Anything would be good, dude! Oh... Are we even allowed to go out?” Kirishima mused. His thinking face was so cute that Katsuki should maybe have thought a little harder about imposing kissing restrictions on himself like a goddamn moron. “I mean like, physically. I don’t think anyone can stop us from dating.”

“I would kill anyone who tried.”

“That’s so sweet,” Kirishima said, and squeezed Katsuki’s fingers. “Oh my god we’re dating. Or maybe I’m still having a fever-dream.”

Katsuki pinched him, hard enough to make him yelp. “Nope. You gotta deal with me in the real world forever, now.”

“Sure sounds like a dream,” Kirishima said. He smacked away Katsuki’s hand going in for a second pinch. “Hey, hey, I get it! I’m just trying to call you dreamy.”

Fuck. “Fuck.”

“Oh no, what am I supposed to say to the others when they ask about how you asked me out?” Kirishima asked, eyes widening with horror. “Because I told you I had ‘the brain-melties’ while in a feverish delirium? They’re gonna laugh at that forever.”

“I’m gonna laugh at that forever,” Katsuki said, smirking. “Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Simple, but a little crass,” Kirishima said. “And no match for their nosiness.”

“Change the story every time they ask,” Katsuki suggested.

Eijirou groaned. “And when they ask you?”

Katsuki just grinned.

#kiribaku #bakushima #my fanfiction #reply #anon #drabble #but not really

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polarisavi · 5 years

Note

Hi! big, HUGE fan of your band au! could you write something from it? like, anything at all or you can totally ignore this message too. no problemo

hey anon! I’m not sure when i’ll make a full on sequel, but please have this scene that will be part of any sequel and has been clear in my head since writing somehow escape. it takes place before lucas’ european tour when they’re both in france. i’m not sure what you expected, but after all the pining of the last one I wanted to write them cozy and together, so i hope you like it. and sorry this took a few days! i wanted to finish up something else before writing it.

eliott is taller than him, but not that much broader, so some of lucas’ shirts slide over his shoulders easily and sit inconspicuous on his frame. it takes a few minutes to even notice the shirt, honestly. lucas’ hair is still wet from the shower, stray water drops tickling his neck, muscles pleasantly buzzed from a morning run, and the familiar burgundy shirt is rendered largely irrelevant relative to eliott. eliott, awake but still in bed where lucas left him earlier, rolling out of bed with the small knowing thrill that, unlike other times, leaving eliott in bed is only temporary, that he will be able to roll right back into him when he returns, will not be separated by obligations that force the thread between them elastic. eliott, sleep soft and probably still warm, staring out the window and undoubtedly a thousand miles away. eliott, who, regardless of where his thoughts have taken him, has a guitar on his lap and is coaxing something beautiful out of it.

eliott demaury, lead guitarist of award winning indie pop band intricate teacups, film student, raccoon enthusiast, and lover of virginia woolf, abstract art and lucas lallemant.

it still feels like a trick, sometimes, like he’s stumbled into something fantastic and fun and finite, just waiting for someone to tap his shoulder and drag him away. sorry sir there’s been a mistake, this was never meant for you. except eliott has noticed him now, eyebrows flicked up in a question (most likely about why lucas is standing in the doorway, still and silent, instead of crawling into bed, or making them coffee) and an easy smile on his lips. the song morphs suddenly, between one chord and the next, into a familiar comfortable arrangement, one he used to listen to non stop. it’s a reminder, yes, an inside joke between them no one else is allowed to be let in on, but also a prompt for lucas to do something, to get into arms reach, to talk or move. lucas takes the invitation for what it is, and sings a few words quietly as he crosses the room.

“well, i’ll run, babe, but i’ll come running, straight to you.“

it has the desired effect, and by the time lucas crawls over the bunched up sheets eliott is giggling, eyes gilded in delight, and the guitar categorised as secondary, shoved to the side and scooping lucas in his arms instead to take its place. lucas’ knees land on either side of his thighs and eliott’s hand lands, as it always does when they’re in this position, on the tattoo on his thigh, only a couple months old. mari had done it herself, in the end, rolling her eyes but acquiescing when he’d asked. it’d been a few years since she had worked as a tattoo artist professionally, officially, but her talent hadn’t faded an ounce, smiling and serious as she took a needle to his skin. bunches of tangled flowers, vivid petals and unexpected thorns and curled up leaves, peer through the spaces between eliott’s fingers. lucas’ arms loop around his neck, and he nudges their noses together, gently leans forward to place his forehead on eliott’s, his skin humming and breathing easy.

unbidden it reminds him of that death cab song imane adores about distance and yearning. her boyfriend, sofiane, of soft eyes and endless support and spectacular dance moves, who lucas has yet to meet, has spent the previous few years out of the country frequently, obligations in morocco that imane isn’t always able to join him in due to her own job. it’s hardly the exact same situation, but lucas understands why she listens to it a lot; he is always surprised, though perhaps he shouldn’t be, that they have so much in common. the lyrics, particularly applicable when they were apart, are somehow still relevant. most of the time any great space between them feels villainous; his skin, craving eliott’s, their hands tangled, ankles crossed, shoulders pressed close, anything.

i need you so much closer.

eliott leans back so they can see each other properly. “where did you go this morning? sleeping with the aircon only works if you’re there to keep me warm,” he adds with a teasing pout, thunderstorm eyes glinting in the light streaming through the window.

lucas mirrors his pout but runs a hand across his head, fingers scratching lightly. in response eliott leans forward, head almost on lucas’ shoulder. “poor baby. i went for a run. and i was thinking we should go to the ocean today, if you want?"

eliott huffs out a laugh, a flutter of warm air on his shoulder. "i want. i thought we were having lunch with mari, though?"

"we still are. i was thinking later on, around sunset, maybe. i know a place, it’ll be chill. quiet.”

"quiet as in not crowded?"

"yeah. or, it usually isn’t.”

“perfect,” he says, the corner of his lips tilted up in the way that means he’s planning something, a secret tucked into his cheek.

speaking of, “what were you playing? i don’t think i’ve heard it before.”

“it’s new. i, uh, accidentally overhead an argument yesterday and got inspired,” he answers, sheepish but not ashamed, amusement twitching his lips.

“lovers quarrel?”

“no, i think it they were friends. i’m mostly sure the argument was officially about gardening techniques but it sounded very…personal.”

lucas considers this. “broccoli as a metaphor?

they’re so close he can feel eliott’s chest bounce as he laughs, the sound vibrating right into his own body. “exactly, broccoli as a metaphor, and maybe snowpeas too.”

they just smile at each other for a small stretch of seconds, before somthing occurs to him. “have you eaten yet? had any coffee?” eliott shakes his head, so lucas kisses his cheek. "i’ll bring you something.”

“lucas, you don’t have to.”

“i know. i want to. and i’m hungry too, so it’s not entirely selfless. be right back."

in the kitchen he makes a bee line to the fridge, already knowing exactly what he wants. sitting on the second shelf is a bowl of lychees, almost overflowing, gifted to him by arthur, who in turn had been given way more than any one person could ever need as payment for a piece of jewellery he’d given them. it had been a beautiful ring, the band composed of three braided strands textured like tree branches, and made out of recycled black metal. it was definitely worth the boxes of fruit and jars of honey and jam he had received in return, even if a lot of the produce had to be passed forward before it could rot. that night, a considerable portion of his payment was used for making various daiquiris and desserts, the close circle of friends he’d managed to maintain despite his restlessness cluttered into arthur’s kitchen, overly spoiling his dog with treats and attention, yelling over the video games and spanish music someone, probably mahdi or esra, had put on, the remnants of rum and cherry crumble and pavlova on every available surface.

it’d happened a few nights before eliott arrived. he should try and organise something like it again, before he leaves. he can picture it vividly, suddenly, wisps of how eliott would fit into their group drifting across his mind like they’ve already happened. it makes his heart go terribly soft, thinking about how easily eliott fits into his life. how gently they’d bumped into each other, and how natural it felt falling into the possibility of them. if he was someone else, lucas might think the word fate, or destiny. as it is, he thinks about entropy and serendipity, the sea of chaos that put them in the same room, the deliberate choice of everything that came after.

he returns to his room with a tray laden with a pot of coffee, two mugs, a bowl of lychees, and the portable speaker that he’d left in the living room. he places it on the bed but snatches the speaker and moves it to the desk in the corner. eliott doesn’t like any of the properly hard music lucas has in his library, so he opts for pantera, quiet enough for them to speak at normal volumes. if and when eliott gets sick of it, he will not be shy about telling lucas. until then, he sets his favourite album on repeat and focuses his attention where it should be.

eliott has already dragged the tray close and broken open a lychee, juice glistening on his fingers. his house is high up and the view outside his window beautiful, early enough that the sky is partially bruised yellow and pink, the sunrise not yet flattened out. when he settles close to eliott, their knees bumping together, he is handed a mug of coffee.

"i like being in your city, with you here to show me all of its secrets. it’s nice seeing you so settled. comfortable.” ‘as opposed to in america’ is left unsaid.

“you’ll have to do the same when i visit you in paris. tiny, overlooked secrets or bust, baby.” aka show me the places that are imbued with meaning and memories for you, too.

“i already have an itinerary,” eliott says solemnly. coming from anyone else lucas would presume it a joke, but with eliott he might be serious, a carefully crafted list of places they could enjoy together sitting innocently in his phone, or a notebook, a collection of neon post it notes.

he pivots, shoulder perpendicular to the wall, to face him properly. “we’ll need to figure out when i can visit you. the semester starts in about a month, right? and then it’ll only be a handful of weeks before i have to go back to the states for rehearsal and then directly to dublin.”

eliott smooths a hand over lucas’ shoulder, down his arm, and it does settle him some, but not all, nervousness fluttering in his gut. “i know we do,” he says, low and faintly plaintive. “is it awful that i want to be selfish and, just, not think about that yet? it’s so much nicer only focusing on this day,” a kiss on lucas’ forehead, “this hour,” a kiss on the bridge of his nose, “this minute,” a kiss on his cheek, “here with you.”

he opens his mouth to say - something, but eliott holds a lychee to his lips and he bites into that instead, cold and lush. delicious and gives him time to think of a proper response.

“i think that we should talk about it soon, before you have to leave, but…yeah, okay, we can be selfish. i’d like that.”

he is reminded, once again, of entropy and choice. nothing is ordained, or destined, and any future days between them not promised by the universe. recognising his active participation feels almost startling, his mind wide awake. eliott steals his phone to turn off the music and pick up his guitar, hand big on the neck, crafting something jaunty and stumbling, fingers occasionally tripping over decisions.

lucas breaks open another lychee.

#yes the decision to exclude basile was deliberate #boy doesn't have enough texture and fun to fit into this verse #my fic #Anonymous #Ask

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raendown · 6 years

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Chapter: 5/7 Word count: 1811 Summary: Now attending the university here in their hometown as he begins his Master’s, Tobirama develops a problem with falling asleep in the strangest of places. Madara, poor innocent never-deserved-any-of-this Madara, gets mistaken for a mattress one too many times. All he wanted to do was focus on his career but instead he finds himself forcibly tasked with herding his secret crush towards better sleep habits. It’s driving him up the wall.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI in the blog header!

Chapter 5: Who Needs Sanity Anyway?

“Where do you eat if you never go home?” Madara furrowed his brows as he watched the man across from him pack away his third portion of fish and rice. It wasn’t even that great; he’d been eating his own cooking long enough to admit he was no world class chef but it was disappearing from the man’s plate so fast he started questioning if it had ever been there at all. Tobirama shrugged and patted his mouth daintily with a napkin.

“A lot of my professors buy me meals between classes,” he said, already dragging his textbook closer from where he had shoved it out of the way for dinner.

“Huh. What, just out of the goodness of their hearts?” That seemed unlikely. And suspicious. Madara narrowed his eyes at just the thought of a teacher making advances on their student. That was the sort of thing that got people fired – and he was the kind of man who reported this sort of stuff.

“It pays to take an interest in one’s own education, I suppose.”

Madara let his suspicions fall away and sniggered openly when he saw the tiny smirk curling one corner of Tobirama’s mouth. There was nothing to worry about, apparently. It was not the teachers who were taking advantage of anyone here.

Since he wasn’t even done his first plate yet Madara was content to just sit quietly and watch Tobirama work while he picked at his own fish. It was surprisingly relaxing to take a few moments and watch the way his face moved as he read over his class notes, wrinkling with distaste when he couldn’t read his own writing, lighting up with excitement as he lunged forward to jot something down in the margins of one of his textbooks. For someone whose job was so full of stress during the day Madara was grudgingly grateful to have such a pleasant stress reliever in his home so often now.

Which brought to mind something else he’d been meaning to bring up since Mito had summarily dumped couch and couch potato in his apartment a couple weeks ago.

“You scam free meals off of people between classes. You fall asleep behind the printers at school whenever you please. Are you ever planning to go back to your apartment longer than it takes to get changed?” He was reveling in his own amusement until Tobirama responded with a hum and a thoughtful face.

“I guess I live here now.”

“Wait, what?”

With an easy shrug and nothing more on the matter Tobirama went back to his books. Madara was left to stare with his mouth wide open and his brain screaming louder than it ever had before. Live here? When did they agree on that? It was just supposed to be him helping a poor struggling student to get some better rest so he would stop falling asleep on park benches and the like. Nowhere in any of their conversations could he remember there being any mention of permanent living arrangements.

Gathering himself and trying his best to ignore the way he was spluttering indignantly, Madara opened his mouth to let this perma-guest know exactly what he thought about that plan. He was cut off before he could start when Tobirama looked up again to level him with an analyzing stare.

“You know, you’re actually quite attractive.” His tone suggested he was only just noticing for the first time. “If you ever wanted to do something other than sleep on that couch I would not be opposed.”

Madara was rendered stupid for the second time, barely able to keep breathing.

“Did you just…”

“A little quiet, if you please, I’m trying to design an experiment here.”

“But you…?”

“Is this important?” Tobirama sighed, then paused when he looked up and saw Madara’s expression. “Hm. You’re as pale as a sheet. Is something wrong?”

“Wrong!?”

Rolling his eyes impatiently, he said, “Yes, you look unwell.”

“I’m–! Well you can’t just drop something like that on people without any warning! And without being clear on what you mean!” He paused to clear his throat and meet Tobirama’s eyes before looking away awkwardly. “Because what you said could mean a lot of things and I would hate to, uh, misinterpret that.”

“What is there to misinterpret? All we do is sleep. I would be open to making out sometimes if you have an interest.” Surely there had never been a more casual solicitation.

“Just making out?” Madara ventured. Tobirama lifted one shoulder.

“I wouldn’t turn down sex,” he said.

Madara spluttered again. That wasn’t at all what he had been getting at but he supposed for someone who consistently lived with their head up in the clouds like Tobirama did, lost in his own world away from the rest of humanity, it probably seemed like a perfectly logical conclusion to come to. In the part of his mind that wasn’t screaming loudly enough to wake the neighbors he wondered what had really sparked this sudden offer. They had been spending a lot more time together since that infernal couch had been delivered, actually doing more than falling asleep the moment they were in the same room together.

None of that clarified whether Tobirama was only looking for something physical or if he had finally noticed the fool that fell for him a long time ago. Sadly, Madara was willing to bet on the first option.

“Right,” he said faintly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do. Now, may I get back to what I was doing?” Tobirama waited but when he got no reply he simply bent his head and did just that.

Madara forced himself to stand up and collect the dishes, his appetite entirely gone. Or, more accurately, it was no longer food that he had an appetite for. All sorts of images chased each other back and forth across his brain until he was afraid that he might tackle the other man away from the table and commit several unspeakable acts right there on the kitchen floor.

To distract himself he did the washing up and then turned his attention to the rest of the apartment. Chores had never been his favorite thing but they did need to get done and he had learned from his very first job how to take proper advantage of his days off. When the week was over he spent his first day off in a whirlwind of cleaning and got everything done at once, leaving the second day free for lounging and general laziness. Most of the gross chores like cleaning bathrooms had been done earlier in the day. Now that dinner was over and the dishes were taken care of his next target was to clean the floors.

After vacuuming, mopping, and tossing in a load of laundry Madara drew an arm across his forehead and turned towards his bedroom out of habit. Then he stopped and floundered because there wasn’t much of a need to make his bed when the blankets hadn’t been disturbed in weeks. Feeling a little off balance, he made his way back out to at least straighten the blankets they’d been using on the couch instead, fluffing out the extra pillow he’d taken from the linen closet. They only needed one since Tobirama always ended up curling on top of him anyway

He started these shenanigans as a glorified space heater and somewhere along the way he’d been upgraded to human pillow. Madara honestly wasn’t sure if that was worse or better.

By the time Tobirama resurfaced from his papers Madara was showered and sitting on the bed-couch with his legs crossed in front of him on the cushion like a child, eyes trained on the television to watch some mind-numbing comedy show. He wasn’t at all surprised to be shoved over sideways for a hand to tug at his legs. Madara rearranged himself to where he was usually wanted and kept his eyes on the TV, expecting Tobirama to simply collapse on top of him and fall asleep like always.

What he did find surprising was the pair of lips that attached themselves to his own without any warning. Tobirama was warm above him, thighs sliding over to encase his own and hands braced against the cushions beside his head. Madara groaned. Not for a moment had he forgotten their conversation from earlier but he’d hardly expected anything to come of it so soon. If anything he would have thought Tobirama would be the one to forget about it or wait for Madara to make a move, too caught up in his own world as usual to seek out anything other than his books and sleep.

One hand lifting up to slide down his chest jolted Madara back to reality and he groaned again when Tobirama tilted his head to get a better angle. The taste of mint toothpaste was light on his tongue and he wondered when the other man had slipped away to brush his teeth.

Then it was over as quickly as it began, Tobirama sitting upright where he was straddled over Madara’s hips. Madara gaped up at him, watching those pretty pink lips smack together thoughtfully.

“Hmm yes. An excellent experience. I would certainly not be opposed to doing that on occasion.” He nodded to himself decisively and then collapsed forward to bury his face in Madara’s neck, melting over top of him in the way that meant he had every intention of being asleep within the next ten seconds. It was safest not to disturb him at that point.

Not that Madara could have even if he wanted to. Shock had once again rendered him completely still; by the time he gathered his flustering thoughts he looked down to find Tobirama completely at peace, far away in dreamland.

This was probably what it was going to be like every time, he realized distantly. Without a doubt this is what he had to look forward to. Tobirama was going to maul him at random until the man had found whatever satisfaction he was looking for and then he would be left reeling in the aftermath, aroused and frustrated and completely unable to fulfil his own sudden needs, not unless he wanted to reach between their bodies while trying not to disturb his companion.

Something had to give. Madara closed his eyes and let his head fall back with an explosive sigh. There were a lot of things he could live with for Tobirama’s sake but he wasn’t sure he would survive this latest development in their very weird relationship.

Maybe Mito was right to force a little privacy on them. He definitely didn’t want any witnesses here when he finally got up the courage to confront Tobirama – or when he crumbled afterwards in the wake of the inevitable rejection.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction

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jewishlensnart · 6 years

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So it’s the holiday season, which in a lot of households means presents. You know who has more merch than almost any other Flash villain (1. being Reverse Flash as of my last count)? Captain Cold!

Have a Len lover in your life? Need to give your family gift ideas? Peep this list, y’all!

I used to own...basically everything with Len on it. I had the largest Flash collection in the southern US until about 3 years ago, when I sold the vast majority of it, and gave away even more. These reviews come from in-hand experience. Let’s start with the Original Lad:

DC Direct Captain Cold

Holy macaroni, was this figure terrible. Yes it was comic-accurate at the time, but you could not pose it, you could not keep it standing, and the face when you removed the glasses? Nightmare fuel. Still, it was a figure from 2001, and they really were doing their best, so I’d have to rate this guy a 2 out of 5.

These next two came out around roughly the same time, but could not be more different in quality. First up, DC Direct Justice Captain Cold

Strictly speaking, this figure was beautiful. Yeah it was in the hyper-realistic style of Alex Ross, who I’ve never been a fan of, but it was toned down in a way that made it less uncanny valley. The figure had stubble painted on, and if you removed the hood (which you technically could but shouldn’t), he had hair under there! But still, this was a DC Direct figure from 2008, so it had all the same flaws that a figure from that time period tended to have: absolutely a bitch to pose, hard to keep upright without the base (I let mine lean against the wall whenever I needed the base for even more precarious figures), joints prone to snapping if you worked him too hard. Still, by far my favorite of the DC Direct/Collectibles Len figures, if not my favorite full-size figure. 4.5 of 5.

Meanwhile in big box stores across the nation, DC Universe Classics was releasing their best wave yet, wave 7. Man, I had that whole thing aside from Aquaman; Big Barda, Flash, Kid Flash, Blue Beetle, Booster Gold, and of course, Captain Cold

This is the ugliest Len figure. Hands down, the least visually appealing. Which is a shame, because it’s also one of the best! Completely comic accurate until you hit the upper torso/head area, a ridiculous amount of articulation, with the single best cold gun of any of these figures...but jfc that expression. The weird poncho/hood always bothered me too, because while it was almost comic accurate, something just threw it off the track and made it look more ridiculous than cool. 3.5 out of 5.

After the New 52 hit, DC Collectibles released 2 Captain Cold figures in rapid succession, one that was packaged alone, and one that came as part of a 7-figure set

Can you spot the differences? There’s just one: the Len from the 7-figure set is in a dark blue suit, and doesn’t come with the ice mace and ice dagger. Like all DC Direct figures before them, these DC Collectibles figures are pretty to look at, but offer very little in the way of articulation. They could be hard to keep upright, which was annoying, as neither came with a stand, and do not try to take off the hood. Nothing under there. Still, they were very pretty depictions of a popular redesign, so I feel alright giving these guys a 3 of 5.

DC Collectibles spat out a final Len figure for the CWverse line back in 2015

As a big fan of Wentworth Miller and his face, I feel this figure could have been better. I mean, I’ve seen Arrowverse figures that are spot on, and this one just is not. Maybe it’s because the goggles obscure a good portion of the face, I don’t know. That being said, I love this figure, and it’s actually one I re-bought at a convention recently, along with the Heatwave figure from the same line, that hadn’t been released when I’d started selling off all of my toys. The costume is show-accurate, the figure comes with an extra set of hands, and the gun is just really cool. This is a solid 4 of 5 figure.

These next toys aren’t action figures per say, as they don’t do much in the way of action, but they’re cute and I like them, for the most part.

Funko took over the market and the world back in 2010 when it first introduced the Pop Vinyl figures, but it took a hit TV show to get Flash villains other than the Reverse Flash into production. There are 3 Captain Cold Funko products currently out, the two Pop Vinyls and a Re-Action figure

Now, I love the first Pop Vinyl. The round, lifeless black eyes of the Pops have freaked me out for a long time, but with Len in his sweet goggles, this Pop is perfect for me. I actually have him on a shelf in my closet. The variant...look, I like how they included the actual real-life hairline Wentworth Miller has, but those creepy eyes just kill it for me. The Re-Action figure, by the way, is garbage. They’re supposed to be based on the lines of toys that came out back in the 80s, but all that means to me is little to no articulation, weird molds that look nothing like the character they’re supposed to be, and few if any accessories. Why is he wearing a tie??? Just. The worst. 5 of 5 for Pop 1, 3 of 5 for Pop 2, and 1 of 5 for the Re-Action figure.

There are a bunch of figures that came out before Funko’s reign that have little to no articulation, and here they are:

Action League Citizen Cold, from the Batman: The Brave and the Bold line

I love a good boy??? 5 of 5, absolutely perfect. No you can’t pose him, but he already comes in a dynamic, interesting pose. This is my absolute favorite of all the non-poseable figures, and I miss mine all the time.

Imaginext, a line of toys for very young superhero fans, made a New 52 Captain Cold a few years back

Honestly, Imaginext toys are ridiculous, and I love every single one of them. They’re great toys for little kids, and yeah, Len is completely bald underneath that hoodie and ice gun backpack, but he has a snowball cannon to compensate with, so who’s the real loser?! 5 of 5, beautiful.

Did you kno w that back in 2011, McDonalds put out a line of Happy Meal Young Justice toys featuring Captain Cold??? Did you want to know? Too bad, you know now.

My dad’s dog chewed up his ice projectile, rendering the actual immobile figure completely useless...but I still really like it??? Like, it’s a toy that came with food that I sweet-talked the counter guy into giving me. It’s a worthless little nothing of a toy...but I still like it. 3 of 5.

Pocket Heroes were a weird little line of 3-inch figures that came in two-packs. One of those packs contained Flash and Captain Cold

You can basically only move their arms and legs, and while this figure comes with a cold gun and a remarkably ripped set of abs and pecs, the design never really appealed to me. 2.5 out of 5.

I collected MiniMates once upon a time. 2.5 inch figures that were basically fancy LEGOs? Deal me in! ViniMates are uh. Not that.

ViniMates are 6-inch figures and I Do Not Like Them. Being made of vinyl makes them almost completely free of articulation, so the post you get them in is the one they stay in. Also, this one is based on the show-interpretation of Len and it seems to be smoldering at me. Don’t like that. 1 out of 5.

On the other end of the vinyl spectrum, the Mini-Mezitz line from Mezco is simply delightful.

Mini-Mezitz were 2-inch figures with articulation in their arms, legs, and neck joints. I love mine, and they have been hanging out on the top of my bookcase for like 7 years now. 4 out of 5, absolutely weird-dorable.

Eaglemoss once put my blog on the front page of their website without telling me, back when I was actively snapping pictures of my Flash collection. The Eaglemoss lead figures, once you get past the fact that yes, these dudes are made of painted lead so maybe handle with care, are a good staple in any collection. Captain Cold got two

Both Eaglemoss figures came with information booklets about Captain Cold, though the chess piece New 52 version focused almost solely on his New 52 history. They’re both very detailed, and I really like them. 3.5 out of 5.

I never watched Thomas the Tank Engine as a kid...but I saw this weirdass thing in a HomeGoods one day and just kinda. Stopped and stared.

He’s a train. Len is a train now. Don’t like it. 1 out of 5.

So there’s this company called Kotobukiya. They’re most famous for their bishoujo statues, but they make guys too. I had the Flash Kotobukiya statue, back in the day. I was not collecting Flash stuff when they made a Captain Cold one.

I’m actually apparently getting this as a gift from my boyfriend for Hanukkah. He finally got access to my wishlist. This statue is based on the Francis Manapul New 52 redesign, and it is what we call Big Sexy. Frankly, I give it a 5 out of 5.

No offense to Wentworth Miller, but my favorite Captain Cold TV appearance is always going to be his role in the JLU episode, Flash and Substance.

The JLU figures were all godawful, but hell if we as a fandom didn’t gobble them up back in the day. I had all the available Rogues, Len, Heatwave, Captain Boomerang, Weather Wizard, “Justice Lords Flash” (who was really just Reverse Flash, let’s be real), Mirror Master...it’s the most complete set of Rogues you can get, actually. But they were terrible figures; the Dorito-like shape of the shoulder to waist ratio combined with the narrow feet of the figure guaranteed that these toys would not stay upright without a stand. They had no articulation, and most came without weapons. But you could get three-packs of them in Target for like $12, and they were designed with children in mind, so. 3.5 out of 5, because frankly, the Timmverse designs will always tug at my nostalgia strings.

Captain Cold is available in two official LEGO forms

The first is from the Mighty Macros line, and features Len vs the Flash in a racecar vs snowmobile race. It’s very cute and easy to build. The second is the more challenging Gorilla Grodd Goes Bananas set, which also includes Flash, Grodd, and strangely enough, Batman and Wonder Woman. I never owned that set, and it’s pretty hard to find these days, regularly running $80 and up. Both sets are a 5 out of 5, though, because LEGO does not mess around when it comes to quality fun.

I saved my favorites for last. In the 70s, there was a line of toys called MEGOs, which were plastic-bodied toys with cloth suits. Mattel, and later the Figures Toy Company, would both do their own versions of Captain Cold

The first version, by Mattel, is amazing. Mine is literally sitting next to me as I type this. I took him to Universal with me when I won a trip to Halloween Horror Nights back in 2015, I take him to the movies with me when I don’t have anyone else to go with, he’s my little buddy. My dad’s dog, again, chewed his left arm completely off at one point, but I don’t care. I love him. As for the Figures Toys version, I actually won a fairly cheap auction for him earlier this week, so we shall see! I don’t know if I like how he has the whole “Super Friends hypothermia Len” look going on, but I do like how his costume isn’t just cheap, tearable vinyl. We shall see what’s under that hood soon. I give the Mattel one a 5 out of 5 for the years of joy he’s given me. The Figures Toys one is pending, but I’m gonna give a tentative 4 out of 5, because it really does look nice.

You could get Len in other forms, like as a game piece in the Heroclix and Dice Masters games, as a paintable figure for a Batman tabletop roleplaying game, as trading cards, as a set of guitar picks, as a card holder, as a very hard to find but still lovely statue from DC Direct, in official pin form from Funko and Fansets, on an old 7-Eleven cup, and of course, in the pages of the comics...but I’ve always liked toys, so that’s what I decided to go over. Hope y’all enjoyed this, and maybe got some ideas for your own collections.

#Len Snart #Captain Cold #Flash Rogues #toys #long post #image heavy

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