four snippets
Aug. 13th, 2005 11:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrAnd I'll get to the rest, don't worry ^_~ But ki-chan has helped me fix Midsummer's Moon, so I want to work on that a bit more today (and yes I am avoiding html'ing).
Chocolate Hot Tub
Charlie folded his arms across his chest and frowned at the Oompa-Loompas. "You're on the clock!"
For reply, the seven Oompa-Loompas in the hot tub simply tittered. He had to wonder, sometimes, what really set them off. Nothing anyone said or did was that amusing. Willy Wonka maintained it was the cacao beans - Charlie thought maybe they'd just never recovered from the green caterpillars.
He covered his eyes as one of the Oompa-Loompas climbed out, completely naked except for the chocolate - he wasn't quite sure why they were able to lounge around in a hot tub of melted chocolate but he was pretty certain Willy had helped make it possible. Anything for his beloved Oompa-Loompas, and if humoring them involved chocolate so much the better.
More tittering filled the room as Charlie heard more Oompa-Loompas climb from the hot tub and patter by in front of him. "What are you doing now?" He fought a smile at their replies, a series of clicks and chirps and whirs that to most anyone else would be little more than gibberish. "No, that is not working. When did you lot start becoming so slack?" He shook his head at the reply. "Come help me with the lollipops and I won't tell Willy I caught you goofing off during hours. You know what he'd do if he thought you were neglecting his candy."
A few token protests ensued, but the Oompa-Loompas were nothing if not hard workers. If they'd been goofing off, it was because they were able to. "I am not!" Charlie said in reply to a parting shot. Eyes still covered, he turned and headed in the direction of the door. He'd learned after the pool fiasco that learning certain rooms with his eyes closed was a very good idea.
The Famous Mr. Bucket
Charlie liked to go for walks around the village. Willy was always vaguely amused - he preferred people at a great distance - and often saw him out. He used to go with his grandfather, but lately the cold was too much for him.
Growing up, people had barely paid him any attention at all. He'd been a poor, wretched shadow.
Now everyone knew his face and name, and Charlie had more childhood friends than he'd known were in one small city. It was to the point he'd taken up Willy's tendency to go about in clothing and glasses that obscured his features - though it certainly did nothing to hide his identity it did put people off a bit. Only the truly brassy stepped up to talk to him, otherwise he was largely left alone.
He wasn't quite sure why he took the walks. Perhaps it was to remember what his life had once been like - too small clothes and threadbare jacket, cabbage stew and toothpaste caps. Holes in the roof and one chocolate bar a year. It was hard to believe that his dream had come true, and more besides, and that it was still going strong so many years later.
In the spot where his family's small house had once resided, he turned and looked back toward the factory - his factory. His and Willy's.
Charlie smiled, and then began to walk home.
Devoted Fan
Jason frowned at a couple of freshmen snickering unkindly at the front right lab table. Not only because they weren’t paying attention and had already unwittingly botched the experiment by doing the one thing he’d told them not to do – they were making fun of someone.
“You’re talking about the student that makes the snowmen,” he interjected quietly, politely, conversationally.
“Yeah,” the rightmost freshman grinned – not nicely. He laughed, pudgy cheeks seeming to shake with the effort. “Have you ever seen anything so freakin’ crazy? Freezing to death to make a bunch of snowmen that someone’s just going to knock down.”
Jason lifted one brow, keeping his irritation at bay. “He made those last year as a finals project. Wound up winning six different awards. He’s a grad student now, with three undergrad degrees and a half year away from a teaching certificate. He’s working on two Masters and already has schools eager to give him the money for his PhDs. He was specifically commissioned to build those snowmen again this year for a charity function. Only freshmen wouldn’t have heard about it.”
The second freshman rolled his eyes. “What are you, his fan?”
“Ever watch him work?” Jason ignored the question. “It takes him a day to do one snowman with ideal conditions. Even at a distance you should be able to appreciate the detail that goes into them. He’s arranged to do twelve of them – two weeks of work for something that could melt if this weather doesn’t hold. And will melt eventually no matter what. Plus he does it all barehanded – gloves are useless for molding the snow the way he needs. Think about that the next time you start to make fun of him. When was the last time you put that much effort into anything? You couldn’t even do a basic chemistry lab correctly.” Jason pointed to their beaker, the contents of which looked notably different from those of the rest of the class.
The first freshman grimaced. “Let me guess – you’re his biggest fan.”
Jason finally let his ire show. He wasn’t by nature intimidating, but he had been raised by his mother and had grown up with Paige. So while intimidation wasn’t a natural skill, it was a well-learned one. “The next time you decide to be thoughtless jerks and make fun of someone within my hearing, make sure it’s not my boyfriend you’re discussing.” He turned a page in his teacher’s manual, enjoying the mixed expression on the faces of his students. “Now let’s go to part two of this experiment, except for Mr. Thomas and Mr. Bradley – you will have to clean your equipment and redo number one.”
Rock Climbing
“This was a bad idea.” Cyan spoke to the rock in front of him, as moving his head to look at Einn would require looking down and he really didn’t want to do that. There was entirely too much wind and too much rock and none of it close enough to his feet in the way he’d prefer.
A deep chuckle was Einn’s reply, and a heartbeat later the Fornarian appeared at his side, grinning like a little kid at his favorite playground. Only Einn would look perfectly content and too damn comfortable this high off the ground – and Cyan had stopped counting how high a long time ago. “You never struck me as the type to be scared of heights.”
“I’m not,” Cyan snapped. “Except apparently when I’ve got nothing but a rock wall to cling to and nothing but a long drop below me. Not all of us can stick to rock you know.” He glared at Einn, then snapped his eyes back to the cliff, not liking the view beyond Einn. It reminded him how high they were.
Einn’s smile faded a bit, turning concerned. Cyan didn’t notice, too busy taking a few deep breaths and looking up to see how much further he had to climb. It looked so far away…but he’d be damned if he chickened out now.
Besides. He wasn’t all that certain he could climb down. Cyan dug his fingers into the rock and closed his eyes, trying to remember everything Einn had been teaching him about rock climbing. It was hard. Give him criminals to fight any day.
He opened them, starting, when he felt something move behind him. But in the next instant he recognized the feel of Einn, all bone and trim muscle, at his back. And then he saw the slender arms near his, Einn’s hands holding the rocks lightly. The Fornarian was as relaxed clinging vertically to rock as most people only were half-asleep in bed.
Cyan was impressed and unsettled all at once. To hear Einn talk about it was one thing – being amidst it was something else altogether.
Lips brushed the side of his neck. “I wouldn’t let you fall, Cy.”
“Don’t do that,” Cyan shivered. “And I know. But that doesn’t make the being high up go away.”
Einn pressed more kisses to his neck. “Do what?”
“You are not doing that while I’m clinging to a cliff!”
“I’m just trying to reassure you, relax you.” Einn laughed softly in his ear.
“Not relaxing!”
Einn laughed again. “Then we should probably get to the top so you can unwind.”
“I hate you.” Cyan groused and started climbing again.
Chocolate Hot Tub
Charlie folded his arms across his chest and frowned at the Oompa-Loompas. "You're on the clock!"
For reply, the seven Oompa-Loompas in the hot tub simply tittered. He had to wonder, sometimes, what really set them off. Nothing anyone said or did was that amusing. Willy Wonka maintained it was the cacao beans - Charlie thought maybe they'd just never recovered from the green caterpillars.
He covered his eyes as one of the Oompa-Loompas climbed out, completely naked except for the chocolate - he wasn't quite sure why they were able to lounge around in a hot tub of melted chocolate but he was pretty certain Willy had helped make it possible. Anything for his beloved Oompa-Loompas, and if humoring them involved chocolate so much the better.
More tittering filled the room as Charlie heard more Oompa-Loompas climb from the hot tub and patter by in front of him. "What are you doing now?" He fought a smile at their replies, a series of clicks and chirps and whirs that to most anyone else would be little more than gibberish. "No, that is not working. When did you lot start becoming so slack?" He shook his head at the reply. "Come help me with the lollipops and I won't tell Willy I caught you goofing off during hours. You know what he'd do if he thought you were neglecting his candy."
A few token protests ensued, but the Oompa-Loompas were nothing if not hard workers. If they'd been goofing off, it was because they were able to. "I am not!" Charlie said in reply to a parting shot. Eyes still covered, he turned and headed in the direction of the door. He'd learned after the pool fiasco that learning certain rooms with his eyes closed was a very good idea.
The Famous Mr. Bucket
Charlie liked to go for walks around the village. Willy was always vaguely amused - he preferred people at a great distance - and often saw him out. He used to go with his grandfather, but lately the cold was too much for him.
Growing up, people had barely paid him any attention at all. He'd been a poor, wretched shadow.
Now everyone knew his face and name, and Charlie had more childhood friends than he'd known were in one small city. It was to the point he'd taken up Willy's tendency to go about in clothing and glasses that obscured his features - though it certainly did nothing to hide his identity it did put people off a bit. Only the truly brassy stepped up to talk to him, otherwise he was largely left alone.
He wasn't quite sure why he took the walks. Perhaps it was to remember what his life had once been like - too small clothes and threadbare jacket, cabbage stew and toothpaste caps. Holes in the roof and one chocolate bar a year. It was hard to believe that his dream had come true, and more besides, and that it was still going strong so many years later.
In the spot where his family's small house had once resided, he turned and looked back toward the factory - his factory. His and Willy's.
Charlie smiled, and then began to walk home.
Devoted Fan
Jason frowned at a couple of freshmen snickering unkindly at the front right lab table. Not only because they weren’t paying attention and had already unwittingly botched the experiment by doing the one thing he’d told them not to do – they were making fun of someone.
“You’re talking about the student that makes the snowmen,” he interjected quietly, politely, conversationally.
“Yeah,” the rightmost freshman grinned – not nicely. He laughed, pudgy cheeks seeming to shake with the effort. “Have you ever seen anything so freakin’ crazy? Freezing to death to make a bunch of snowmen that someone’s just going to knock down.”
Jason lifted one brow, keeping his irritation at bay. “He made those last year as a finals project. Wound up winning six different awards. He’s a grad student now, with three undergrad degrees and a half year away from a teaching certificate. He’s working on two Masters and already has schools eager to give him the money for his PhDs. He was specifically commissioned to build those snowmen again this year for a charity function. Only freshmen wouldn’t have heard about it.”
The second freshman rolled his eyes. “What are you, his fan?”
“Ever watch him work?” Jason ignored the question. “It takes him a day to do one snowman with ideal conditions. Even at a distance you should be able to appreciate the detail that goes into them. He’s arranged to do twelve of them – two weeks of work for something that could melt if this weather doesn’t hold. And will melt eventually no matter what. Plus he does it all barehanded – gloves are useless for molding the snow the way he needs. Think about that the next time you start to make fun of him. When was the last time you put that much effort into anything? You couldn’t even do a basic chemistry lab correctly.” Jason pointed to their beaker, the contents of which looked notably different from those of the rest of the class.
The first freshman grimaced. “Let me guess – you’re his biggest fan.”
Jason finally let his ire show. He wasn’t by nature intimidating, but he had been raised by his mother and had grown up with Paige. So while intimidation wasn’t a natural skill, it was a well-learned one. “The next time you decide to be thoughtless jerks and make fun of someone within my hearing, make sure it’s not my boyfriend you’re discussing.” He turned a page in his teacher’s manual, enjoying the mixed expression on the faces of his students. “Now let’s go to part two of this experiment, except for Mr. Thomas and Mr. Bradley – you will have to clean your equipment and redo number one.”
Rock Climbing
“This was a bad idea.” Cyan spoke to the rock in front of him, as moving his head to look at Einn would require looking down and he really didn’t want to do that. There was entirely too much wind and too much rock and none of it close enough to his feet in the way he’d prefer.
A deep chuckle was Einn’s reply, and a heartbeat later the Fornarian appeared at his side, grinning like a little kid at his favorite playground. Only Einn would look perfectly content and too damn comfortable this high off the ground – and Cyan had stopped counting how high a long time ago. “You never struck me as the type to be scared of heights.”
“I’m not,” Cyan snapped. “Except apparently when I’ve got nothing but a rock wall to cling to and nothing but a long drop below me. Not all of us can stick to rock you know.” He glared at Einn, then snapped his eyes back to the cliff, not liking the view beyond Einn. It reminded him how high they were.
Einn’s smile faded a bit, turning concerned. Cyan didn’t notice, too busy taking a few deep breaths and looking up to see how much further he had to climb. It looked so far away…but he’d be damned if he chickened out now.
Besides. He wasn’t all that certain he could climb down. Cyan dug his fingers into the rock and closed his eyes, trying to remember everything Einn had been teaching him about rock climbing. It was hard. Give him criminals to fight any day.
He opened them, starting, when he felt something move behind him. But in the next instant he recognized the feel of Einn, all bone and trim muscle, at his back. And then he saw the slender arms near his, Einn’s hands holding the rocks lightly. The Fornarian was as relaxed clinging vertically to rock as most people only were half-asleep in bed.
Cyan was impressed and unsettled all at once. To hear Einn talk about it was one thing – being amidst it was something else altogether.
Lips brushed the side of his neck. “I wouldn’t let you fall, Cy.”
“Don’t do that,” Cyan shivered. “And I know. But that doesn’t make the being high up go away.”
Einn pressed more kisses to his neck. “Do what?”
“You are not doing that while I’m clinging to a cliff!”
“I’m just trying to reassure you, relax you.” Einn laughed softly in his ear.
“Not relaxing!”
Einn laughed again. “Then we should probably get to the top so you can unwind.”
“I hate you.” Cyan groused and started climbing again.
