Drabble/Ficlet Weekend: Final Day
Sep. 25th, 2011 09:46 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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no_takebacks
WHAT THE FRAK?
For today's drabbles, I wanted to try something amusing. I want you to think of the weirdest prompts you can imagine for Pilots. (Prompts that you can't even imagine fic for!) Leave them, one per comment, and the writers can challenge themselves to use that prompt in a fic. Have fun!
NEW WISHES GRANTED
Wish granted for
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word_vomity: I have this regret by rachelindeed.Wish granted for
kl_shipper1: Pilot Icons by trappermcintyre.******All wishes are due by tonight. If you will be unable to fill a wish, please let me know.******
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Date: 2011-09-25 01:58 pm (UTC)Re: wishes
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Date: 2011-09-25 02:08 pm (UTC)As for a prompt,
dry erase markers
Dry Erase Markers (G)
Date: 2011-09-25 02:56 pm (UTC)On Friday he finds Kara there, her attention is focused on the whiteboard. It isn’t white any longer. She has six uncapped markers scattered around the podium and resting on the ledge, and she’s using the blue to depict the gas cloud around a nebula.
He’d almost forgotten her painting, back on Caprica. They’re just soldiers now; the rest is too painful. Lee watches her, chest aching, until she reaches caps the marker, leaves before she sees him.
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Date: 2011-09-25 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-25 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-25 04:11 pm (UTC)“What was that?” She asked confused.
He shrugged. “You looked like Sleeping Beauty.”
She licked her lips and stared him down.
“Sorry,” He mumbled, before hurrying away embarrassed.
The next morning her lips on his woke him.
“Kara...?”
Smiling down at him, she whispered, “You looked a little froggy. I was trying to make a prince charming our of you.” She laughed as she headed out of the hatch.
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Date: 2011-09-25 02:41 pm (UTC)Warning: BDSM, PTSD, messed-upness
Date: 2011-09-25 06:01 pm (UTC)It was long after they became lovers before she agreed to join him in his quarters for dinner. He said he'd cook for her, some approximation of a Tauron specialty his great uncle used to make, only with algae. Said he missed having someone to cook for, with Dee moved out. When the food was on the table he rubbed her shoulders. They were tense, like she was going to hit him. She clutched the fork, turned it over and over in her hands.
"I want to hurt you," she said, later. And he didn't want to be hurt, but he didn't want her to leave. "I don't know how to love any other way. I guess I know that now." And he'll take it, it's better than anything he had while she was gone. So he lay down with her, naked, and let her pull the tines of the fork sharply over his chest.
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