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Ficlet offer/request - Light One Candle

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November 1st, 2006

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01:56 pm - Ficlet offer/request
Okay, I need to get my head out of the tired/emotional place it's in. Writing is usually the best way for me to do that, and I still haven't figured out what I'm doing about NaNo.


The first five people who comment with the name of a character in any of my fandoms (see my interests, etc) will receive a drabble or ficlet with said character.

The theme will be the same for all the fics: weariness, tiredness, and any variations thereof. I will take suggestions for the form you want for the charater you request. :-)
Current Mood: exhaustedexhausted

(27 lit candles | Light a candle)


[User Picture]
Date:November 2nd, 2006 09:51 pm (UTC)

private treason


It feels as if he hasn’t slept for weeks. That must be why Ziggy’s mellow alto filters through the darkness like one more dream. “Admiral, Doctor Beckett has Leaped in.”

The pillow is warm from his own breath when Al folds it over his ears and decides he is dreaming. That way, he doesn’t have to get up. Doesn’t have to do this again, not right this second, doesn’t have to walk through that door to see what trouble’s brewing this time.

“Admiral, Doctor Beckett has Leaped. You’re needed in the Control Room.”

Screw you, you multi-million-dollar piece of junk. I need my sleep. His limbs are too heavy to let him get up and turn off the speaker, though some part of his brain suggests that as a bright alternative.


What do I have to do to get some rest around here? When do I get to stop doing this? When is this gonna end?

It takes his addled brain a few seconds to process what “end” might mean, in terms of the Project, of what they do here, in terms of . . .

Al’s not sure whether Verbeena would call this feeling guilt, or horror, or just plain fright, but it works better than coffee. He’s out of bed before he knows it, fumbling for the light switch with one hand and his pants with the other. “I’ll be right there, Ziggy.”

“Very well, Admiral.”

He gets his boots on the wrong feet, first try, and has to pull them off. I’m sorry, Sam, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, I’ll be right there, I’ll always be there, I promise, I didn’t mean it, hang on, I’ll be right there. . . .

(Deleted comment)
[User Picture]
Date:April 9th, 2009 07:28 pm (UTC)

Re: private treason

I'm glad you found and enjoyed this! And yeah, Al was no kid. I bet this happened more often than he wanted it to.

(Someday I will get around to telling you in detail how much I have enjoyed your QL fics. *embarrassed*)

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