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cinaedIf you happen to be working on some creative writing project, post one sentence (or more) from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favorite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre)if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
(In alphabetical order, no less)
Crossing Over Jordan With The Lights Off
“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip and sighing in relief as the blend of spices caressed rather than assaulted her tongue. A few more sips, and the tea had chased away the lingering sourness of the coffee Kate had forced herself to drink that morning, needing the quick caffeine boost to deal with an extremely agitated Rodney McKay attempting to take the hour slot of an equally stressed botanist fresh off the Daedalus who was still trying to adjust.
When she lowered the cup, she found Teyla watching her and smiling faintly, the corners of her eyes creased with amusement. “What?”
“Nothing,” Teyla said, but the slight smile continued to linger on her lips and actually widened at Kate’s raised eyebrow. Still, she didn’t elaborate; instead, she just took a slow sip of her own tea and lounged comfortably on her bed like a feline basking in the sun.
Full of Strange Oaths
Ronon hears the low, fervent curse behind him, and turns just in time to see Solen trip over a tree root and go down on one knee. He can’t help but snort as Solen continues to swear.
“Ever heard of the word covert?” he asks, smirking, and Solen glares at him.
“There’s a reason I was drafted, not a volunteer,” Solen mutters. His expression shifts to one of disgust as he rises and realizes that his pants are now muddy and damp.
In the Black
She smiled suddenly, and Rodney recognized the look as one of pure, unadulterated evil. “There’s a betting pool, if you want in--”
“Oh, please, like Radek’s going to get ensnared by your crazy gambling ways,” Rodney said, though apparently the other man was, judging by the way Radek’s eyes had gleamed with interest at the mention of a betting pool.
The sound of a door opening had all three heads turning towards Elizabeth’s office, and Elizabeth and Sheppard walked out. There was a flush on Elizabeth’s face and a pleased look on Sheppard’s, and either they’d finally resolved that whole sexual tension issue or the company had made a profit for the year. Rodney hoped for the latter, both because of, oh, his salary, and because the fact that Elizabeth and Sheppard actually getting their act together and dating would doom him to a lot more days of Sheppard stealing his desk.
Mechatronics
He was still looking when the door opened and a triumphant voice crowed, “Ha, I knew you’d change your mind!” Radek looked up and blinked at McKay, who stood in the doorway, arms folded against his chest and a pleased, smug smile on his face.
“What? I was just--”
McKay talked over him, smugness coloring every word. “That was a nice act in my office, but I knew you couldn’t resist the lure of astrophysics. You can sit-in on this class, of course, and I’ll speak to someone about changing your courses--”
“I am just here to find my roommate’s notebook!” Radek said loudly, and McKay finally paused. “I did not realize this was your classroom. If I had, I would not have offered to get his notebook on my way to the library.”
McKay snorted. “Nice try. Fine, be in denial.”
“I am not in denial,” Radek snapped, tempted to throw up his hands and suddenly understanding why Brendan had looked ready to punch the nearest wall.
O Canada, as the anthem goes
Radek raised an eyebrow at the strained smile that curved Jeannie’s lips. Catching his look, she sighed. “Mer isn’t too happy about me getting married. He seems to think I should be focusing on contributing to the scientific community, not getting married to the man I love-- hello, Mer.”
‘Mer’ turned out to be none other than Rodney McKay, who didn’t look much different than his pictures in various scientific articles. He was wearing a slight scowl and his tone was accusatory as he said, “Did I read the menu correctly? Tofu chicken?”
“Better than lemon chicken,” Jeannie said too sweetly, and Rodney rolled his eyes.
Our Conversations Are Like Minefields
“Go to hell,” Rodney says, and doesn’t recognize his own voice for a moment. The words are quiet, almost guttural, even he starts to shake, breath stuttering in his chest. “You just committed genocide, you psychotic bastard!”
“Technically, I didn’t commit genocide,” Jackson points out calmly. “Genocide is legally defined as the wholesale murder and destruction of entire ethnic, linguistic or religious groups. I didn’t destroy Moscow and Beijing because they were Russian or Chinese; I eliminated them because they disagreed with me.” He smiles, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I also can’t be charged with crimes against humanity, in case you were wondering. Crimes against humanity are only committed by politically organized groups acting under color of policy, and since I haven’t been officially recognized as the world leader yet--”
Rodney makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob at that. “As if the UN will ever recognize you! Twenty million people dead in a single day, and I highly doubt you’ll stop there!”
Jackson’s smile dims, turns darker, colder, his eyes like blue chips of ice. “I suppose you’re rejecting the position then?”
Seven Children Rodney Never Had
Even as Fiona grabs his arm and drags him into a deserted classroom during lunch, Rodney realizes that he is a rebound guy; moreover, he’s probably the first guy she’s seen since the bell rang for lunch and she is just making do, but he’s sixteen and can’t really force himself to care much. He’s got dignity, sure, but this is Fiona Anderson. She’s the girl every guy stares at and secretly wants, but who has always been off-limits because she’s always been Seth’s, and you don’t mess with Seth unless you have a death wish.
Fiona is all soft curves, with a mouth firmly fixed in a pout, luminous green eyes the same shade as jade, and ringlets of gold that Rodney’s fingers itch to touch. Even the bruises still fading around her left eye from her dramatic break-up with Seth don’t detract from her beauty.
Skating on the Thin Ice of a New Day
“I should have never set them up on that blind date,” Sam said bleakly, several hours later, voice slurring a little from the vodka, and Rodney mournfully nodded his agreement into his fourth tumbler and swallowed another mouthful of Scotch. “No good deed goes unpunished, I guess.”
“Karma’s a bitch,” Rodney said, still nodding, and wow, he should probably stop the constant up and down movement of his head, because he was starting to feel a little dizzy. After a moment of stretched-out silence, he blinked and lifted his head to meet Sam’s vaguely suspicious look.
“Do you even know what karma is?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “Some hocus-pocus, new age thing,” he said and tried to drink some more of his Scotch, frowning when he realized his tumbler was empty. “It’s from Asia.”
Sometimes You Lose, And Sometimes You Just Don't Win
Rodney thinks it's sort of twisted how he hates the Ancients more than the Wraith right now, but staring at the dull gray walls of Area 51 and hearing only his own breathing, he hates the Ancients with every fiber of his being.
He closes his eyes, tries to pretend that he's back in the Pegasus Galaxy with the city humming softly under his feet and that when he opens his eyes he'll see the graceful, beautiful architecture of Atlantis.
He is still standing there a few minutes later, keeping his breath slow and even, eyes squeezed shut, when one of his assistants, a girl with large, luminous eyes that remind him of Miko, calls his name softly.
The Nutcracker and the Mouse King
The first sense that comes back to him is touch, in that he can feel the snow settling feather-soft onto his face, the snowflakes catching on his eyelashes and melting when they land on his uncovered skin. He’s lying on snow as well; he can feel it beneath his hands. He’s not cold though, and even only one-fifth of the way conscious, Rodney knows that’s a bad sign.
He struggles to open his eyes, to regain his sight, and after a moment they obey his commands and he finds himself staring into a sky that is darkening, no, almost bruising its way into a dark, dark blue. There is an ache at the back of his head, a dull throbbing that ebbs and flows with its intensity, and he winces even as he moves his fingers and toes, trying to coax his heavy limbs into moving or at the very least getting him up into a sitting position so that the snow doesn’t bury him.
Unfortunately, his body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate, eyes sliding shut on their own, and it seems odd how Rodney can feel the darkness shift, how there is a difference between the black beneath his eyelids and the black of his impending unconsciousness. He’s so fascinated by its sheer subtlety that he almost doesn’t hear the crunching of snow beneath boots, that it takes a moment for him to even process the sound.
The Punishment of Tiresias
It takes a few weeks, but finally the snickers and ‘clever’ comments quiet down and people find someone else to torment. Rodney probably should be relieved, but he is still seething over the whole ordeal, and so far, plotting various ways for Cadman to meet an untimely death hasn’t lessened his feelings of wrath.
Still, at least people have stopped asking him when he’s going to sweep Carson off his feet. (And Carson’s finally stopped blushing every time Rodney comes to the infirmary.)
Things have quieted down, life has gone on, and so Rodney is more than a little bewildered when Katie Brown sits across from him in the commissary and proceeds to just stare at him.
The Slow and Subtle Art of Drowning
There was a familiar expression of determination and concentration on Rod’s face, one he always wore when he was trying do something undoable. The familiarity of the look made a lump form in Radek’s throat, and before he could really consider his words, he commented, “We make a good team, you and I.”
Rod looked at him at that, raised an eyebrow. “A good team,” he echoed, half-smiling, as though pleased by the compliment but doubting Radek’s sincerity.
“No, no, I mean it,” Radek said, and sighed. “Believe me, it would be much easier for me if we didn’t work well together. I could retreat to one of the smaller labs, you could reign as king, and my life would be far, far easier.”
Rod shot him a sideways glance, his half-smile now a touch rueful. “You know, most people enjoy working with me. It’s only you -- and well, Sheppard, but he complains about everyone, so he doesn’t really count -- who makes interacting with me seem like a trial and tribulation of some sort.”
“That is because it is a tribulation,” Radek muttered.
The Unfortunate Pied Piper
“Look, I’m not making you soup!”
“Now,” the little girl said, and there was a definite growl in her voice.
Rodney squinted suspiciously at her. “Are you trying to threaten me?” When she just offered him another angelic smile, he scowled. “Even if I was a bit unnerved by that threat -- which I wasn’t, mind you, because I'm not scared of a five-year-old -- I can’t cook. At all. You wouldn’t like my soup.”
One of the boys tilted his head and eyed him. “You hafta be a good cook. Otherwise you’d be skinny, and you're not.”
Now Rodney squinted suspiciously at the boy, suspecting he’d just been called fat. “I told you, I can’t cook! Besides, you all have mothers waiting at home to give you soup and whatever the hell children eat. Go home to them.”
Till Human Voices Wake Us
“I still do not see why you could not do this yourself, McKay,” Radek complains into his radio, shining his flashlight down the hall and ignoring the sergeant walking next to him who is fighting back an amused grin. “But I think I understand. There is an abandoned Ancient outpost giving off strange energy readings, half-submerged in a lake, and you need someone to investigate. You see it is damp and smelly, and think, oh, Radek can do this job. He likes the damp and the smell.”
“Beckett said I couldn’t get my cast wet, Radek.” Despite his words, Radek can hear the smirk in Rodney’s voice, and if the other man had been in view, he would have been on the receiving end of a very dirty look. “You’re just lucky I convinced him to let me even come to the planet, period.”
“Oh yes, I feel extremely blessed by Lady Luck,” he says shortly and then wrinkles his nose, trying to ignore the rancid smell.
You Could List Your Friends, But You Can't Count On Them
The Wraith dies screaming before Aiden even aims his gun, and he just stares as the Wraith writhes on the ground, as it twists and convulses and finally goes deathly still.
After a moment, he kneels and begins to carve the enzyme out of the corpse with quick, measured gestures. He’s still kneeling when Micah runs up to him, breathless, saying, “Sir, sir, the Wraith, they just--”
“All of them?” Aiden asks. Something is tightening in his chest, his lungs beginning to burn with something like panic, but he just nods when Micah says, “Yes, sir, all of them. They were screaming--”
Aiden looks at the enzyme in his hand. The tightness in his chest eases, is replaced by something that’s almost like relief, and something akin to bittersweet acceptance.
(In alphabetical order, no less)
Crossing Over Jordan With The Lights Off
“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip and sighing in relief as the blend of spices caressed rather than assaulted her tongue. A few more sips, and the tea had chased away the lingering sourness of the coffee Kate had forced herself to drink that morning, needing the quick caffeine boost to deal with an extremely agitated Rodney McKay attempting to take the hour slot of an equally stressed botanist fresh off the Daedalus who was still trying to adjust.
When she lowered the cup, she found Teyla watching her and smiling faintly, the corners of her eyes creased with amusement. “What?”
“Nothing,” Teyla said, but the slight smile continued to linger on her lips and actually widened at Kate’s raised eyebrow. Still, she didn’t elaborate; instead, she just took a slow sip of her own tea and lounged comfortably on her bed like a feline basking in the sun.
Full of Strange Oaths
Ronon hears the low, fervent curse behind him, and turns just in time to see Solen trip over a tree root and go down on one knee. He can’t help but snort as Solen continues to swear.
“Ever heard of the word covert?” he asks, smirking, and Solen glares at him.
“There’s a reason I was drafted, not a volunteer,” Solen mutters. His expression shifts to one of disgust as he rises and realizes that his pants are now muddy and damp.
In the Black
She smiled suddenly, and Rodney recognized the look as one of pure, unadulterated evil. “There’s a betting pool, if you want in--”
“Oh, please, like Radek’s going to get ensnared by your crazy gambling ways,” Rodney said, though apparently the other man was, judging by the way Radek’s eyes had gleamed with interest at the mention of a betting pool.
The sound of a door opening had all three heads turning towards Elizabeth’s office, and Elizabeth and Sheppard walked out. There was a flush on Elizabeth’s face and a pleased look on Sheppard’s, and either they’d finally resolved that whole sexual tension issue or the company had made a profit for the year. Rodney hoped for the latter, both because of, oh, his salary, and because the fact that Elizabeth and Sheppard actually getting their act together and dating would doom him to a lot more days of Sheppard stealing his desk.
Mechatronics
He was still looking when the door opened and a triumphant voice crowed, “Ha, I knew you’d change your mind!” Radek looked up and blinked at McKay, who stood in the doorway, arms folded against his chest and a pleased, smug smile on his face.
“What? I was just--”
McKay talked over him, smugness coloring every word. “That was a nice act in my office, but I knew you couldn’t resist the lure of astrophysics. You can sit-in on this class, of course, and I’ll speak to someone about changing your courses--”
“I am just here to find my roommate’s notebook!” Radek said loudly, and McKay finally paused. “I did not realize this was your classroom. If I had, I would not have offered to get his notebook on my way to the library.”
McKay snorted. “Nice try. Fine, be in denial.”
“I am not in denial,” Radek snapped, tempted to throw up his hands and suddenly understanding why Brendan had looked ready to punch the nearest wall.
O Canada, as the anthem goes
Radek raised an eyebrow at the strained smile that curved Jeannie’s lips. Catching his look, she sighed. “Mer isn’t too happy about me getting married. He seems to think I should be focusing on contributing to the scientific community, not getting married to the man I love-- hello, Mer.”
‘Mer’ turned out to be none other than Rodney McKay, who didn’t look much different than his pictures in various scientific articles. He was wearing a slight scowl and his tone was accusatory as he said, “Did I read the menu correctly? Tofu chicken?”
“Better than lemon chicken,” Jeannie said too sweetly, and Rodney rolled his eyes.
Our Conversations Are Like Minefields
“Go to hell,” Rodney says, and doesn’t recognize his own voice for a moment. The words are quiet, almost guttural, even he starts to shake, breath stuttering in his chest. “You just committed genocide, you psychotic bastard!”
“Technically, I didn’t commit genocide,” Jackson points out calmly. “Genocide is legally defined as the wholesale murder and destruction of entire ethnic, linguistic or religious groups. I didn’t destroy Moscow and Beijing because they were Russian or Chinese; I eliminated them because they disagreed with me.” He smiles, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I also can’t be charged with crimes against humanity, in case you were wondering. Crimes against humanity are only committed by politically organized groups acting under color of policy, and since I haven’t been officially recognized as the world leader yet--”
Rodney makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob at that. “As if the UN will ever recognize you! Twenty million people dead in a single day, and I highly doubt you’ll stop there!”
Jackson’s smile dims, turns darker, colder, his eyes like blue chips of ice. “I suppose you’re rejecting the position then?”
Seven Children Rodney Never Had
Even as Fiona grabs his arm and drags him into a deserted classroom during lunch, Rodney realizes that he is a rebound guy; moreover, he’s probably the first guy she’s seen since the bell rang for lunch and she is just making do, but he’s sixteen and can’t really force himself to care much. He’s got dignity, sure, but this is Fiona Anderson. She’s the girl every guy stares at and secretly wants, but who has always been off-limits because she’s always been Seth’s, and you don’t mess with Seth unless you have a death wish.
Fiona is all soft curves, with a mouth firmly fixed in a pout, luminous green eyes the same shade as jade, and ringlets of gold that Rodney’s fingers itch to touch. Even the bruises still fading around her left eye from her dramatic break-up with Seth don’t detract from her beauty.
Skating on the Thin Ice of a New Day
“I should have never set them up on that blind date,” Sam said bleakly, several hours later, voice slurring a little from the vodka, and Rodney mournfully nodded his agreement into his fourth tumbler and swallowed another mouthful of Scotch. “No good deed goes unpunished, I guess.”
“Karma’s a bitch,” Rodney said, still nodding, and wow, he should probably stop the constant up and down movement of his head, because he was starting to feel a little dizzy. After a moment of stretched-out silence, he blinked and lifted his head to meet Sam’s vaguely suspicious look.
“Do you even know what karma is?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “Some hocus-pocus, new age thing,” he said and tried to drink some more of his Scotch, frowning when he realized his tumbler was empty. “It’s from Asia.”
Sometimes You Lose, And Sometimes You Just Don't Win
Rodney thinks it's sort of twisted how he hates the Ancients more than the Wraith right now, but staring at the dull gray walls of Area 51 and hearing only his own breathing, he hates the Ancients with every fiber of his being.
He closes his eyes, tries to pretend that he's back in the Pegasus Galaxy with the city humming softly under his feet and that when he opens his eyes he'll see the graceful, beautiful architecture of Atlantis.
He is still standing there a few minutes later, keeping his breath slow and even, eyes squeezed shut, when one of his assistants, a girl with large, luminous eyes that remind him of Miko, calls his name softly.
The Nutcracker and the Mouse King
The first sense that comes back to him is touch, in that he can feel the snow settling feather-soft onto his face, the snowflakes catching on his eyelashes and melting when they land on his uncovered skin. He’s lying on snow as well; he can feel it beneath his hands. He’s not cold though, and even only one-fifth of the way conscious, Rodney knows that’s a bad sign.
He struggles to open his eyes, to regain his sight, and after a moment they obey his commands and he finds himself staring into a sky that is darkening, no, almost bruising its way into a dark, dark blue. There is an ache at the back of his head, a dull throbbing that ebbs and flows with its intensity, and he winces even as he moves his fingers and toes, trying to coax his heavy limbs into moving or at the very least getting him up into a sitting position so that the snow doesn’t bury him.
Unfortunately, his body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate, eyes sliding shut on their own, and it seems odd how Rodney can feel the darkness shift, how there is a difference between the black beneath his eyelids and the black of his impending unconsciousness. He’s so fascinated by its sheer subtlety that he almost doesn’t hear the crunching of snow beneath boots, that it takes a moment for him to even process the sound.
The Punishment of Tiresias
It takes a few weeks, but finally the snickers and ‘clever’ comments quiet down and people find someone else to torment. Rodney probably should be relieved, but he is still seething over the whole ordeal, and so far, plotting various ways for Cadman to meet an untimely death hasn’t lessened his feelings of wrath.
Still, at least people have stopped asking him when he’s going to sweep Carson off his feet. (And Carson’s finally stopped blushing every time Rodney comes to the infirmary.)
Things have quieted down, life has gone on, and so Rodney is more than a little bewildered when Katie Brown sits across from him in the commissary and proceeds to just stare at him.
The Slow and Subtle Art of Drowning
There was a familiar expression of determination and concentration on Rod’s face, one he always wore when he was trying do something undoable. The familiarity of the look made a lump form in Radek’s throat, and before he could really consider his words, he commented, “We make a good team, you and I.”
Rod looked at him at that, raised an eyebrow. “A good team,” he echoed, half-smiling, as though pleased by the compliment but doubting Radek’s sincerity.
“No, no, I mean it,” Radek said, and sighed. “Believe me, it would be much easier for me if we didn’t work well together. I could retreat to one of the smaller labs, you could reign as king, and my life would be far, far easier.”
Rod shot him a sideways glance, his half-smile now a touch rueful. “You know, most people enjoy working with me. It’s only you -- and well, Sheppard, but he complains about everyone, so he doesn’t really count -- who makes interacting with me seem like a trial and tribulation of some sort.”
“That is because it is a tribulation,” Radek muttered.
The Unfortunate Pied Piper
“Look, I’m not making you soup!”
“Now,” the little girl said, and there was a definite growl in her voice.
Rodney squinted suspiciously at her. “Are you trying to threaten me?” When she just offered him another angelic smile, he scowled. “Even if I was a bit unnerved by that threat -- which I wasn’t, mind you, because I'm not scared of a five-year-old -- I can’t cook. At all. You wouldn’t like my soup.”
One of the boys tilted his head and eyed him. “You hafta be a good cook. Otherwise you’d be skinny, and you're not.”
Now Rodney squinted suspiciously at the boy, suspecting he’d just been called fat. “I told you, I can’t cook! Besides, you all have mothers waiting at home to give you soup and whatever the hell children eat. Go home to them.”
Till Human Voices Wake Us
“I still do not see why you could not do this yourself, McKay,” Radek complains into his radio, shining his flashlight down the hall and ignoring the sergeant walking next to him who is fighting back an amused grin. “But I think I understand. There is an abandoned Ancient outpost giving off strange energy readings, half-submerged in a lake, and you need someone to investigate. You see it is damp and smelly, and think, oh, Radek can do this job. He likes the damp and the smell.”
“Beckett said I couldn’t get my cast wet, Radek.” Despite his words, Radek can hear the smirk in Rodney’s voice, and if the other man had been in view, he would have been on the receiving end of a very dirty look. “You’re just lucky I convinced him to let me even come to the planet, period.”
“Oh yes, I feel extremely blessed by Lady Luck,” he says shortly and then wrinkles his nose, trying to ignore the rancid smell.
You Could List Your Friends, But You Can't Count On Them
The Wraith dies screaming before Aiden even aims his gun, and he just stares as the Wraith writhes on the ground, as it twists and convulses and finally goes deathly still.
After a moment, he kneels and begins to carve the enzyme out of the corpse with quick, measured gestures. He’s still kneeling when Micah runs up to him, breathless, saying, “Sir, sir, the Wraith, they just--”
“All of them?” Aiden asks. Something is tightening in his chest, his lungs beginning to burn with something like panic, but he just nods when Micah says, “Yes, sir, all of them. They were screaming--”
Aiden looks at the enzyme in his hand. The tightness in his chest eases, is replaced by something that’s almost like relief, and something akin to bittersweet acceptance.
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Date: 2007-08-29 10:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-29 10:43 pm (UTC)Any one of the fics in particular you really want me to finish? I swear, I've got too many choices!