So do you think that somewhere on the Cylon homeworld somewhere there's one of those Cylon ressurection hot tubs with just a single eye floating in it, waiting for the rest of Tigh to catch up to it?
EDIT: Who knew I was spelling Tigh's name wrong and didn't correct me??
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
I don't know about that, but that small flesh-colored eye patch does disturb me. Very unseemly. I can't quite put my finger on why, but it's kind of obscene.
I think I'd go for the classic, Nick Fury black eye patch.
Dude, that's the thing about Tigh--you know he chose that BECAUSE it's creepy. I mean, seriously, who walks into the eyepatch store and says, "Give me the flesh-colored one?" I'll tell you who: Colonel fucking Tigh.
damn designers.
oops did i just click "publish your comment"?
She said his name like a whisper of ecstacy. "Saul" came out as a long, gentle sigh. His name, a zephyr on her lips.
With a delicate finger she traced the groove carved into his forehead by the strap of the patch, pulled taught against his leathered, dry skin. The Colonel realized where she was going, reached up and grabbed her wrist strong enough to hurt. "Not that."
But her voice, saying his name like a dust storm across pavement, etching the sound into his mind, coaxed his hand to release her wrist.
She removed the patch, slowly, undressing the man first from the top down. Her soft, delicate hands slid over his rough, stubbled face, one finger hovered near the ravaged duct preparing to touch the battle hewn soldier in the soft recesses of his oculus.
She plunged. He gasped.
Whoah. Tighpatch erotic fan fiction. The Cylons were right: we SHOULD be destroyed.
Post a Comment