[identity profile] kahvi.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] reddwarfslash
I had so much fun writing that drabble yesterday, that I thought I'd suggest a drabble tree. For those who've never participated in one before, here's how it works:

Below the cut is a drabble (100 words exactly). Anyone who wants to participate replies to this post with another drabble containing one of the sentences or phrases from the original drabble. The subject line should be the words you took. The next person should continue the trend, stealing a sentence or phrase and beginning their own.

Any particular drabble can be drawn from as many times as you want. If you don't feel like posting 100 words exactly, that's OK. Near-drabbles of approximately 100 words are fine too. It's about having fun, not exact definitions. ;)

Still confused? Here's one we did earlier!



Why hadn't they thought of this before? Holly controlled all of Rimmer's senses; turning off his hearing was 'easy-peasy', as she put it.

Now they sat in their quarters; Lister working his way through The Best Of Rasta Billy Skank from memory. He thrilled at the feel of strings beneath his fingers; the twangy sound of each chord. Then he noticed Rimmer.

The hologram sat, ogling Lister's moving fingers, his face flushed, his eyes wider than his nostrils. For some reason, he was crossing his legs.

"Holly, turn it on again," Rimmer mumbled. She did, and relief flooded his face.

Lister drains bottle after bottle...

Date: 2008-10-24 07:41 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ldhenson.livejournal.com
Lister drains bottle after bottle, until his thoughts dull and mellow; props his feet up, smiles at nothing in particular. Even Rimmer, he notes, is pretending not to see the Cat dozing in the hologram's own bunk.

Rimmer hasn't turned a page in twenty minutes. Lister's rarely seen him like this: brow unfurrowed, mouth unmarked by a sneer. Only the gleaming 'H' mars that profile...well, that, and..."Where'd you get that scar on your jaw anyway, man?"

He regrets it the instant the lines of strain return to Rimmer's eyes.

But before he can retract the question, Rimmer blinks and says, very quietly, "I suppose my trunk wasn't the only thing my father ever gave me."

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