Ficlet/Drabble Roundup #2
May. 19th, 2008 12:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kricketsYou guys remember this post where I took drabble requests, right? It's okay if you've forgotten, I almost did too. Here are a few more I've managed to work out. There are two more to go. I promise I will get to them! (Also, here's a link to the first roundup.)
Written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pellamerethiel:
only ashes, jack/claire, lost, pg13
Jack knows when she visits because of the smell of cigarettes.
It's the same every time. He'll offer her an ashtray and she'll laugh because they both know she doesn't really need one.
"I always wanted to be a smoker," Claire says, lounging on the leather chaise. "Mum was too much of a health nut. Sure, I was rebellious, but that? That was brainwash. I never touched the things."
Jack's tuning her out because he's heard it all before. He watches her ashes fall from the cherry and disappear into thin air.
"Why are you here?" he asks, just as always, standing beside her.
"Do you remember what it was like?" she says, moving her hands suggestively from her stomach to her breasts and reaches out to rest one on his hip. He can feel her, her hands warm and small, just as they were in life. That's the part that always confuses him.
"Yeah," he says, closing his eyes as she undoes his belt. "I remember."
fin.
Written fordayln03:
foothills, anders/tyrol, bsg, pg (could become a series?)
The path to Earth is a long and bloody one. Old allies give way to new enemies and it isn't long until it's just the two of them.
Sam has never been very good at goodbyes "We stay. We fight this," he says under a grove of trees, their backs shielded by a thick concrete wall and the sound of dogs barking in the distance.
Galen's eyes are dark and void of hope. It's been weeks since his last shave and even longer since the feel of Sam's skin. He no longer believes in a peace that ends with anything but the both of them dead.
"No," he says, shaking his head. "I will not drag you down with me, Sam. You defend me and they'll figure it out. Either way they kill you too. Got it? There's no other end to this. I go down, or we both do."
Sam knows he's right. Knows there's no other way. "Then we both go," he says and pulls the sidearm from behind him.
Galen shakes his head. "Absolutely not, soldier."
"There's word of sympathizers. In the foothills. They'll take us in." He brings his hand to rest on Galen's cheek, first contact in months and he can feel Galen relax under his touch.
Galen closes his eyes. "You always were a stubborn motherfrakker." Shots ring out. He looks. "They're getting closer, lets move."
fin.
Written fordemonqueen666:
every man for himself; gaius baltar, jayne cobb; firefly & bsg; pg
Serenity. It means peace, but on New Caprica it is nothing more than a simple incapacitated transport ship, firefly class. Her engine suffered major damage and the ship was of no use to cylon agents at the time of the occupation. Subsequently, her crew, a known group of felons, was allowed to keep her, busted up as she was.
The report on the president's desk says she was the second largest supplier of incendiary materials--smokes, booze, condoms, and all the trappings that made life in the fleet feel a little more like home. Somehow Serenity retained that position throughout the occupation. And given their position, central to the city, lots of hiding places, Gaius can see why. The cylons and the NCP have suggested a full takeover and imprisonment of the ship's crew.
But Baltar doesn't know anything about that. What Baltar knows is that he hadn't had a smoke in months and he would kill for a good cigar.
A burly man greets him at the cargo bay doors. "Jayne Cobb, public relations," he says, a cigar clenched between his teeth which he makes no attempt to hide. He's all muscle, bare arms crossed in front of him, marked with dirt, and stands taller than six feet. Though he carries no weapon, like all humans under occupation rule, he still gets his message across.
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you, Mr. Cobb," Gaius starts, once inside and out of the vicinity of prying ears. "I don't customarily make house calls."
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you, Mr. President," Jayne says. "Ain't nobody here in need of one."
"Yes, right. Well see that's the thing." Gaius continues. "That's just the thing. This is more of a courtesy visit. I--I want to help you..."
"How's that?"
"Cat's out of the bag, Mr. Cobb. Right now there's a group of NCP, aided by a heavy Centurion security detail, preparing to take you over come nightfall. Trust me, you and your crew and your passengers do not want that to happen."
Jayne gives a slight nod and small band of unarmed crew appears above them on the scaffolding, lead by a dark-haired man that Baltar recognizes as the ship's Captain, Malcolm Reynolds. "And how is it that you'd be helping us with that now?"
-
Jayne delivers Baltar's order personally under the cover of night, with an armed Centurion escort.
"You're bad for business," he tells Baltar one night while the guard waits outside.
"How is that, Mr. Cobb?" Baltar lights a match. "The way I see it, I'm the only reason you're still in business."
"You go through these gorram things like water. May I?" He points to the box on the desk.
"Yes please," Baltar takes a puff. "I hate to smoke alone. Makes me feel... well... lonely I suppose, you know?"
Jayne looks at Baltar relaxing against the heavy leather chair. How he became so chummy with the President he'll never know. Still, it's better than an evening with the crew these days, always fussin' and worryin', always talkin' about takin' up with the resistance. Frak all that. It's every man for himself. That's always been his motto and it's served him well so far. And he has a feeling Baltar understands that more than Mal ever would. 'Sides, he thinks as he takes a seat on the couch, the furniture is loads more comfortable.
"Yeah," he says. "I know. Boy do I ever."
fin.
Written foro_glorianna:
obsession; six/azazel; bsg & spn; pg-ish
"I can see you, you know?" she says. "I always can."
"Do you consider that a weakness?" he asks. He's genuinely interested. She reaches past him and pulls a copy of People Magazine from the rack in front of him.
"No, but you probably do," she laughs. "You," she says pointedly, "are one obsessed little yellow-eyed demon."
"It's not that," he says, catching sight of himself in the window of a passing bus. Not a bad specimen, he thinks. He hadn't really gotten a good look before he'd leapt this time.
"But that's precisely it," she says. "It just drives you crazy that we cylons can't be possessed."
"Okay, so maybe that is it." He confesses, shoving his hands into his pockets defensively as he watches her pay the vendor.
"But you're forgetting something," she says as she climbs the steps to her apartment building, him at her heels.
"Oh?"
"There are..." she says, a coy smile on her lips, "other ways to get inside."
fin.
pellamerethiel:only ashes, jack/claire, lost, pg13
Jack knows when she visits because of the smell of cigarettes.
It's the same every time. He'll offer her an ashtray and she'll laugh because they both know she doesn't really need one.
"I always wanted to be a smoker," Claire says, lounging on the leather chaise. "Mum was too much of a health nut. Sure, I was rebellious, but that? That was brainwash. I never touched the things."
Jack's tuning her out because he's heard it all before. He watches her ashes fall from the cherry and disappear into thin air.
"Why are you here?" he asks, just as always, standing beside her.
"Do you remember what it was like?" she says, moving her hands suggestively from her stomach to her breasts and reaches out to rest one on his hip. He can feel her, her hands warm and small, just as they were in life. That's the part that always confuses him.
"Yeah," he says, closing his eyes as she undoes his belt. "I remember."
fin.
Written for
dayln03:foothills, anders/tyrol, bsg, pg (could become a series?)
The path to Earth is a long and bloody one. Old allies give way to new enemies and it isn't long until it's just the two of them.
Sam has never been very good at goodbyes "We stay. We fight this," he says under a grove of trees, their backs shielded by a thick concrete wall and the sound of dogs barking in the distance.
Galen's eyes are dark and void of hope. It's been weeks since his last shave and even longer since the feel of Sam's skin. He no longer believes in a peace that ends with anything but the both of them dead.
"No," he says, shaking his head. "I will not drag you down with me, Sam. You defend me and they'll figure it out. Either way they kill you too. Got it? There's no other end to this. I go down, or we both do."
Sam knows he's right. Knows there's no other way. "Then we both go," he says and pulls the sidearm from behind him.
Galen shakes his head. "Absolutely not, soldier."
"There's word of sympathizers. In the foothills. They'll take us in." He brings his hand to rest on Galen's cheek, first contact in months and he can feel Galen relax under his touch.
Galen closes his eyes. "You always were a stubborn motherfrakker." Shots ring out. He looks. "They're getting closer, lets move."
fin.
Written for
demonqueen666:every man for himself; gaius baltar, jayne cobb; firefly & bsg; pg
Serenity. It means peace, but on New Caprica it is nothing more than a simple incapacitated transport ship, firefly class. Her engine suffered major damage and the ship was of no use to cylon agents at the time of the occupation. Subsequently, her crew, a known group of felons, was allowed to keep her, busted up as she was.
The report on the president's desk says she was the second largest supplier of incendiary materials--smokes, booze, condoms, and all the trappings that made life in the fleet feel a little more like home. Somehow Serenity retained that position throughout the occupation. And given their position, central to the city, lots of hiding places, Gaius can see why. The cylons and the NCP have suggested a full takeover and imprisonment of the ship's crew.
But Baltar doesn't know anything about that. What Baltar knows is that he hadn't had a smoke in months and he would kill for a good cigar.
A burly man greets him at the cargo bay doors. "Jayne Cobb, public relations," he says, a cigar clenched between his teeth which he makes no attempt to hide. He's all muscle, bare arms crossed in front of him, marked with dirt, and stands taller than six feet. Though he carries no weapon, like all humans under occupation rule, he still gets his message across.
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you, Mr. Cobb," Gaius starts, once inside and out of the vicinity of prying ears. "I don't customarily make house calls."
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you, Mr. President," Jayne says. "Ain't nobody here in need of one."
"Yes, right. Well see that's the thing." Gaius continues. "That's just the thing. This is more of a courtesy visit. I--I want to help you..."
"How's that?"
"Cat's out of the bag, Mr. Cobb. Right now there's a group of NCP, aided by a heavy Centurion security detail, preparing to take you over come nightfall. Trust me, you and your crew and your passengers do not want that to happen."
Jayne gives a slight nod and small band of unarmed crew appears above them on the scaffolding, lead by a dark-haired man that Baltar recognizes as the ship's Captain, Malcolm Reynolds. "And how is it that you'd be helping us with that now?"
-
Jayne delivers Baltar's order personally under the cover of night, with an armed Centurion escort.
"You're bad for business," he tells Baltar one night while the guard waits outside.
"How is that, Mr. Cobb?" Baltar lights a match. "The way I see it, I'm the only reason you're still in business."
"You go through these gorram things like water. May I?" He points to the box on the desk.
"Yes please," Baltar takes a puff. "I hate to smoke alone. Makes me feel... well... lonely I suppose, you know?"
Jayne looks at Baltar relaxing against the heavy leather chair. How he became so chummy with the President he'll never know. Still, it's better than an evening with the crew these days, always fussin' and worryin', always talkin' about takin' up with the resistance. Frak all that. It's every man for himself. That's always been his motto and it's served him well so far. And he has a feeling Baltar understands that more than Mal ever would. 'Sides, he thinks as he takes a seat on the couch, the furniture is loads more comfortable.
"Yeah," he says. "I know. Boy do I ever."
fin.
Written for
o_glorianna:obsession; six/azazel; bsg & spn; pg-ish
"I can see you, you know?" she says. "I always can."
"Do you consider that a weakness?" he asks. He's genuinely interested. She reaches past him and pulls a copy of People Magazine from the rack in front of him.
"No, but you probably do," she laughs. "You," she says pointedly, "are one obsessed little yellow-eyed demon."
"It's not that," he says, catching sight of himself in the window of a passing bus. Not a bad specimen, he thinks. He hadn't really gotten a good look before he'd leapt this time.
"But that's precisely it," she says. "It just drives you crazy that we cylons can't be possessed."
"Okay, so maybe that is it." He confesses, shoving his hands into his pockets defensively as he watches her pay the vendor.
"But you're forgetting something," she says as she climbs the steps to her apartment building, him at her heels.
"Oh?"
"There are..." she says, a coy smile on her lips, "other ways to get inside."
fin.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-05-19 06:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-19 07:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-19 08:10 pm (UTC)Yup. Still perfect!
CHIEF!
no subject
Date: 2008-05-19 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-19 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-19 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-20 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-20 01:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-20 04:21 am (UTC)FF + BSG = LOVE BEYOND WORDS
Jayne Cobb, public relations *heehee*
I do love this one soooo much ♥ Both characters are exactly as they should be and I can see this scene in my head and it is amazing. Kudos, my friend. You just made my monday :D
Oh, and yous is a very good writer!
no subject
Date: 2008-05-20 01:22 pm (UTC)Thank you, babe! ;) Glad to be of service.
no subject
Date: 2008-05-20 08:00 pm (UTC)*reads again and adds to memories*
no subject
Date: 2008-05-20 06:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-20 01:27 pm (UTC)You know I never wrote that second slashathon fic? Planned. Never wrote. I'm like the worst mod ever. Maybe I will finish it yet.
While we're on the subject. I was thinking of doing like an anonymous request-a-thon over at the 'thon. We could make a post open to anonymous comments and have people make as many "pairing, prompt" requests as they like and then compile a list and just say "go!" and give it like a week (two?) and however many get written do and however many don't, don't. (Since people can request as many as they want.) Try to encourage members... try to encourage drabbles and ficlets (so more gets written.)
Sound like an idea? Doesn't have to be "now." But soon? Thoughts?
no subject
Date: 2008-05-20 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-20 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-20 09:11 pm (UTC)