Who I am without you (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whoiamwithoutyou) wrote2017-11-03 07:31 pm
whoiamwithoutyou) wrote2017-11-03 07:31 pm
Friendship can Ignite the Sky
Who: Young Anakin (Star Wars) and Eleven (Stranger Things)
What: Ficlet - Preteen super power children being cute
Rating/Warnings: None needed
…
“Oops.”
That was all that was said a mere breathless half second before the explosions blossomed in the sky before the awe-struck preteens.
Who said it? One or the other or both, perhaps? Did it matter? It was a sentiment both half knew well enough to share, and yet not fully appreciate as their large, transfixed eyes gloried at the marvelous pyrotechnic display danced with the stars across the night sky. Grins of wonder grew with each new blast that added to the cacophony.
“Anakin!” a male voice of disapproval shouted from across the landing pad.
“Eleven!” this voice was a woman’s, but filled more with concern.
The two children, called back from their revelry, but eyes still wide, looked at the adults coming towards them. One adult, angry to the tips of his red beard; the other, her brown hair whipped back by the force of the light-show still igniting the sky, seemed to sense the severity of the on-coming confrontation and tried to begin mitigating tensions by first turning and talking the Jedi Knight down from his frustrations.
But Anakin and Eleven weren’t going to wait to see if Joyce was successful.
“Uh… we… gotta go,” Anakin said as he reached for El’s hand. “Run,” he said, urgently, but with a lilt to his voice that was more mischievous than was fitting for someone holding the station of a padawan.
But decorum was burning in the sky.
“Now!”
They were full on laughing as they broke for the crates stacked near the northern stair exit of the landing pad. The light from their joint efforts illuminating their backs as they dashed away. Joyce's efforts were not successful.
What: Ficlet - Preteen super power children being cute
Rating/Warnings: None needed
…
“Oops.”
That was all that was said a mere breathless half second before the explosions blossomed in the sky before the awe-struck preteens.
Who said it? One or the other or both, perhaps? Did it matter? It was a sentiment both half knew well enough to share, and yet not fully appreciate as their large, transfixed eyes gloried at the marvelous pyrotechnic display danced with the stars across the night sky. Grins of wonder grew with each new blast that added to the cacophony.
“Anakin!” a male voice of disapproval shouted from across the landing pad.
“Eleven!” this voice was a woman’s, but filled more with concern.
The two children, called back from their revelry, but eyes still wide, looked at the adults coming towards them. One adult, angry to the tips of his red beard; the other, her brown hair whipped back by the force of the light-show still igniting the sky, seemed to sense the severity of the on-coming confrontation and tried to begin mitigating tensions by first turning and talking the Jedi Knight down from his frustrations.
But Anakin and Eleven weren’t going to wait to see if Joyce was successful.
“Uh… we… gotta go,” Anakin said as he reached for El’s hand. “Run,” he said, urgently, but with a lilt to his voice that was more mischievous than was fitting for someone holding the station of a padawan.
But decorum was burning in the sky.
“Now!”
They were full on laughing as they broke for the crates stacked near the northern stair exit of the landing pad. The light from their joint efforts illuminating their backs as they dashed away. Joyce's efforts were not successful.