Three ficlets!
Apr. 6th, 2013 09:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lady_ganeshFrom Dreamwidth first, for no particular reason. Well, okay, so I could write about Nathan, but can you blame me?
Forinarticulate, quiet moments: Nathan and Kotetsu, Tiger & Bunny:
Kotetsu had accepted him right from the start. No questions, no problems. They were friends. Tomoe was delightful and he'd helped her find the best deals on makeup when she came into the city. He hadn't realized how much they both meant to him until she died.
It was never the same after that, but sometimes when they were out late or things were just getting to Kotetsu, he slept over.
Sometimes he'd talk to Tomoe in his sleep. Nathan would sober up just enough to rub his back and murmur something soothing, and half the time they'd both fall asleep together, Kotetsu's arm around Nathan's waist.
"I wasn't weird or anything, was I?" Kotetsu would ask in the mornings. Usually he was up first and made them both coffee; his way of saying thank you.
"Never," Nathan said, taking the biggest cup in the cupboard and filling it.
Forranalore, an actual drabble, Tatsumi/Hisoka, books. I cheated and used the Bookverse.
Hisoka dreams of the Earl's book, the pages dissolved into reality, a mansion full of secrets (not like the mansions he knew; Western, stately, dry and warm where his childhood home was cold and damp).
The Steward's words are sharp, but there is passion beneath them.
Young Master, you wished to see me?
Hisoka is haughty in this dream, sharp, uncompromising. The silk tie comes undone with a single pull, exposing the Steward's white throat.
In the morning, he remembers the long hair wrapped around his hand, the scent of cologne, and he sighs and changes the sheets.
And forlynndyre, Lord of the Rings, textures in the dark. I really liked this one and hope I haven't contradicted canon too much, I've never really soaked into LOTR:
Gimli knows, at a touch, quartz from beryllium from hematite from corundum. He has since before he learned to walk. He knows when a vein is likely to be deep or thin; he knows when metal has been well or poorly tempered. These are things as familiar to him as air, as water, and he misses the comforts of stone and metal.
The surface of the earth is the only thing that soothes him, these nights, with moon and starlight unfamiliar and alien to his eyes, the wind rustling in the trees a torment to his ears. He puts his hands flat on the ground and reaches in until he feels the blessed, familiar soil, in which all things rest, and only then can he put aside his fears and sleep.
He is not home, but he reminds himself his home is never far, and when he dreams - when the dreams are good - he is under earth again; sometimes home with his family, sometimes with his new companions, the cool air of the caves a welcome touch against his face.
For
inarticulate, quiet moments: Nathan and Kotetsu, Tiger & Bunny:Kotetsu had accepted him right from the start. No questions, no problems. They were friends. Tomoe was delightful and he'd helped her find the best deals on makeup when she came into the city. He hadn't realized how much they both meant to him until she died.
It was never the same after that, but sometimes when they were out late or things were just getting to Kotetsu, he slept over.
Sometimes he'd talk to Tomoe in his sleep. Nathan would sober up just enough to rub his back and murmur something soothing, and half the time they'd both fall asleep together, Kotetsu's arm around Nathan's waist.
"I wasn't weird or anything, was I?" Kotetsu would ask in the mornings. Usually he was up first and made them both coffee; his way of saying thank you.
"Never," Nathan said, taking the biggest cup in the cupboard and filling it.
For
ranalore, an actual drabble, Tatsumi/Hisoka, books. I cheated and used the Bookverse.Hisoka dreams of the Earl's book, the pages dissolved into reality, a mansion full of secrets (not like the mansions he knew; Western, stately, dry and warm where his childhood home was cold and damp).
The Steward's words are sharp, but there is passion beneath them.
Young Master, you wished to see me?
Hisoka is haughty in this dream, sharp, uncompromising. The silk tie comes undone with a single pull, exposing the Steward's white throat.
In the morning, he remembers the long hair wrapped around his hand, the scent of cologne, and he sighs and changes the sheets.
And for
lynndyre, Lord of the Rings, textures in the dark. I really liked this one and hope I haven't contradicted canon too much, I've never really soaked into LOTR:Gimli knows, at a touch, quartz from beryllium from hematite from corundum. He has since before he learned to walk. He knows when a vein is likely to be deep or thin; he knows when metal has been well or poorly tempered. These are things as familiar to him as air, as water, and he misses the comforts of stone and metal.
The surface of the earth is the only thing that soothes him, these nights, with moon and starlight unfamiliar and alien to his eyes, the wind rustling in the trees a torment to his ears. He puts his hands flat on the ground and reaches in until he feels the blessed, familiar soil, in which all things rest, and only then can he put aside his fears and sleep.
He is not home, but he reminds himself his home is never far, and when he dreams - when the dreams are good - he is under earth again; sometimes home with his family, sometimes with his new companions, the cool air of the caves a welcome touch against his face.
