#set 23

[gobs-o-dice]

Dice Set #23: Peaches & Cream

Bonus:

[wellamarke]

Drabble #246

IV: curtain fic

They don’t make curtains the right size for Martin’s little attic window; but he makes do with the smallest ones on sale: blue fabric with a pale grey fleck. He barely ever pulls them anyway, prefers to see the sky whenever he can.

Helena had chosen the curtains. It seems pointless to change them once she’s gone, but Douglas would never have picked such a deep red, and it bugs him that she didn’t match them to the lampshade a little better. He keeps them, though: something tangible to be irritated by, because there’s precious little left of her here.  

[gobs-o-dice]

Old Dice Staging Methods: Batch #5

[wellamarke]

Drabble #250

VIII: “freaky friday” flip

There’s no way to describe it without sounding like madmen - so they don’t. In company, they do their best imitations. Alone, they sit in awkward silence, which for Douglas is a new experience in itself.

Arthur brings them their drinks, but stops in the doorway, puzzled. “Chaps? Why are you sitting the wrong way round?”

Martin gives a start. “Oh! We were just…”

“It was a bet,” says Douglas smoothly. “I won.”

“Really, Skip? Wow, well done!”

“There’s no need to sound so surprised,” says Martin, resentfully. “Um, I mean… yes, Martin… Well done.”

“Subtle,” murmurs Douglas, grinning Martin’s grin.

[wellamarke]

Drabble #245

III: death fic

“It’s hard to believe he’s gone,” said Douglas, solemnly. “One of those people you assume will last forever.”

Carolyn hummed in agreement. “Stand by to distract Arthur. I’m not sure how he’ll be about it all.”

“Roger that.” He paused. “D’you think we ought to go to the funeral? It is rather the end of an era.” 

“It’s a rest day,” Carolyn pointed out. “I have no claim over your whereabouts.” She huffed. “I do wish I hadn’t ordered his Talisker in so early, though. Such a waste.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Douglas, grinning. “How about one last match?”

[wellamarke]

Drabble #248

VI: exotic equipment

“What is all of this, anyway?”

“Ours is not to wonder what, Arthur, ours is just to pack it as small as it’ll go so we’ve got a chance of closing the hold door over it.”

“These bits don’t even look like they should be part of it.”

“Can you just – stop pulling that. Alright, Martin, forward march.”

“Am I allowed to ask the people who pick it up the other end?”

“You can try. I don’t know that they’ll be very chatty - apparently the sender was very abrupt on the phone. And that’s coming from your mother.”

[wellamarke]

Drabble #247

V: doppelgänger crossover

“Hello… MJN Air? My name’s Chris, I was just calling to see–”

“Arthur, stop it. I can tell it’s you putting on a voice.”

“I’m sorry? Have I got the wrong number?”

“Very funny. Have you landed already? Go and ask Douglas to find you something to do, you’re blocking the line.” 

“Madam, I think you’re mistaking me for someone else. As I was saying, my name is Chris, and my wife Alison and I are interested in booking one last trip together, as a couple, you know, before the baby comes–”

“Yes, see you tonight, Arthur. Bye-bye.”

[wellamarke]

Drabble #249

VII: film fic (specify the franchise?)

“Hey, Launchie. Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you.”

Martin meets his commander’s gaze timidly.

“Guess what? We’re shot of you. They took their time, but they’re transferring you now. The order just came in.”

A screen is thrust in Martin’s face. He sees the message, outlined in black to show it’s from the Teachers, not a fellow soldier.

Transfer: Martin Crieff. Otter Army. Effective immediately.

“See? Now scram.” A snort of derision. “Otter Army. Figures. Only girl commander in the whole school, no one else will have you.”

Martin leaves the barracks empty-handed; he has nothing to pack.