Welcome to the prompt fest! In case you're new to the comm, this is just a day of the week where I give you ten prompts, and you pick one to write a drabble on and post it in the comments
( Read more... )
I'll wait for youtehprincessjJune 7 2011, 17:38:50 UTC
Hawke shied away from the soft palm of the mage before her.
"What's wrong? I know that you had something with Fenris. But it's over now, right? You should move on. Try to be happy." His voice was soft and wonderful, and her skin buzzed with the need to feel the warmth of his hand.
She was lonely, aching for contact, and maybe losing herself in something physical wasn't a terrible idea. He'd left. And looking at the man before her now, she felt her chest ache with want.
But she couldn't.
Taking a step back, she gave Anders a sad smile. "I'm sorry."
prompts 1.I was told there would be cake 2.my cooking will kill us 3.the ghost of you
Where the streets have no namefeatheredravenJune 7 2011, 18:10:44 UTC
The Fade is a familiar place, though it still frightens her. It is half spent dreams and shadows of things that she doesn't want to see. Sometimes, the places she sees when she wanders there are real, sometimes they are twisted imaginings, places that exist nowhere except for here.
In these half-dreams, she wanders, things nightmarish plaguing her, memories and fears, and when she wakes it is with the same wonder that she always has to see Anders beside her, and with the same disbelief that Justice is still here, when the spirit is one of the faces of her many nightmares. --- Prompts: - Swamp lights - Morning rituals - Is this real?
A good man goes to wartersaJune 7 2011, 22:27:16 UTC
He tightened the strap on his vambrace and paused, memory washing over him of another time and place.
“Sebastian,” Marian had said with annoyance, “they have Bethany, will you please let me help you with your armor so we can get going?”
Her hands had been warm on his skin as she placed the pieces, unintentional caresses that still set fire to his loins and brought a blush to his cheeks.
She’d patted his cheek before putting on her helmet and marching out of the Chantry
He sighed.
“Your grace?” the man near the door asked with uncertainty.
The Prince of Starkhaven turned to face him. “Tell the men we’re ready. We move out within the hour.”
PROMPTS: - Only the good die young - We left as inmates of an asylum - You used to call me paranoid
Put On Your Sexy Bootstempus_teapotJune 7 2011, 19:34:32 UTC
Isabela stood at the bow of the small ship she had appropriated by means of bribes, sexual favors, and one notable instance of a threatened castration and let the salt spray cool and tighten her skin.
She should feel free. She was free.
But….
But she knew that if she looked back over her shoulder she would see smoke rising in the distance from the city she had left behind.
Hawke was back there fighting a battle that Isabela had started.
She had left him a note, that should be good enough. It was better than she usually offered.
Hawke was back there and the qunari would be enraged.
Not her problem.
Hawke was back there and he was a damn fine lay.
There would be others. She could go look up Zevran.
Hawke was back there and he was her friend.
Bastard.“There’s only one thing to do about this,” she murmured to herself. “Put your sexy boots on and go back there to kick some ass with them
( ... )
Elissa stood on the parapets of Amaranthine looking south, to something she couldn’t see, but knew was there, her cloak wrapped close around her against the winds skirling through the crenels. This year, her eyes were dry.
A hand touched her shoulder, Nathaniel’s gravelly voice soft, as it always was on this day. “They’re waiting for you.”
She turned her head to kiss the back of his hand briefly, in gratitude, then squared her shoulders and headed down the stairs to the celebration.
PROMPTS: - Steerage - Steamed windows - That sinking feeling
My cooking will kill uscowards_kissJune 8 2011, 00:13:25 UTC
“I think it's Anders' turn to cook tonight,” Hawke announced, four days into their trek across Sundermount. The mage in question frowned.
“No, I cooked the first night. Then Merrill, then Aveline. Which makes it your turn.”
“What? No. Nonononono. No.” With each consecutive no Hawke shook her head a little harder until she was all but slapping herself in the face with her own hair. “I don't cook. I'm not allowed to - it's in the rule book. My cooking will kill us.” At Anders' raised eyebrow, she rushed to explain. “No, really, it will. It will take on a life of its own, rise out of the cooking pot and murder us all. Death by reanimated rabbit. And we are all far too pretty to die at the hands of zombie food
( ... )
"What's wrong? I know that you had something with Fenris. But it's over now, right? You should move on. Try to be happy." His voice was soft and wonderful, and her skin buzzed with the need to feel the warmth of his hand.
She was lonely, aching for contact, and maybe losing herself in something physical wasn't a terrible idea. He'd left. And looking at the man before her now, she felt her chest ache with want.
But she couldn't.
Taking a step back, she gave Anders a sad smile. "I'm sorry."
prompts
1.I was told there would be cake
2.my cooking will kill us
3.the ghost of you
Reply
Mostly, though, she sees Anders in the face of her son whose brown eyes are brimming with questions that she will one day have to answer.
===
Prompts!
+ Delivery or takeout?
+ Where the streets have no name
+ Put on your sexy boots
Reply
In these half-dreams, she wanders, things nightmarish plaguing her, memories and fears, and when she wakes it is with the same wonder that she always has to see Anders beside her, and with the same disbelief that Justice is still here, when the spirit is one of the faces of her many nightmares.
---
Prompts:
- Swamp lights
- Morning rituals
- Is this real?
Reply
Reply
“Sebastian,” Marian had said with annoyance, “they have Bethany, will you please let me help you with your armor so we can get going?”
Her hands had been warm on his skin as she placed the pieces, unintentional caresses that still set fire to his loins and brought a blush to his cheeks.
She’d patted his cheek before putting on her helmet and marching out of the Chantry
He sighed.
“Your grace?” the man near the door asked with uncertainty.
The Prince of Starkhaven turned to face him. “Tell the men we’re ready. We move out within the hour.”
PROMPTS:
- Only the good die young
- We left as inmates of an asylum
- You used to call me paranoid
Reply
Reply
Reply
She should feel free. She was free.
But….
But she knew that if she looked back over her shoulder she would see smoke rising in the distance from the city she had left behind.
Hawke was back there fighting a battle that Isabela had started.
She had left him a note, that should be good enough. It was better than she usually offered.
Hawke was back there and the qunari would be enraged.
Not her problem.
Hawke was back there and he was a damn fine lay.
There would be others. She could go look up Zevran.
Hawke was back there and he was her friend.
Bastard.“There’s only one thing to do about this,” she murmured to herself. “Put your sexy boots on and go back there to kick some ass with them ( ... )
Reply
The smell of roses in the summer.
The first wheels of cheese in the autumn.
Firelight and furs in the winter.
Elissa stood on the parapets of Amaranthine looking south, to something she couldn’t see, but knew was there, her cloak wrapped close around her against the winds skirling through the crenels. This year, her eyes were dry.
A hand touched her shoulder, Nathaniel’s gravelly voice soft, as it always was on this day. “They’re waiting for you.”
She turned her head to kiss the back of his hand briefly, in gratitude, then squared her shoulders and headed down the stairs to the celebration.
PROMPTS:
- Steerage
- Steamed windows
- That sinking feeling
Reply
Reply
(I'm apparently all out of meaningful things to say in my acknowledgement comments LOL. :)
Reply
“No, I cooked the first night. Then Merrill, then Aveline. Which makes it your turn.”
“What? No. Nonononono. No.” With each consecutive no Hawke shook her head a little harder until she was all but slapping herself in the face with her own hair. “I don't cook. I'm not allowed to - it's in the rule book. My cooking will kill us.” At Anders' raised eyebrow, she rushed to explain. “No, really, it will. It will take on a life of its own, rise out of the cooking pot and murder us all. Death by reanimated rabbit. And we are all far too pretty to die at the hands of zombie food ( ... )
Reply
Leave a comment