first paragraph meme V
Sep. 2nd, 2005 10:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seldearName a pairing or character (that I'm familiar with, in a fandom I'm familiar with) and I will write the first paragraph or segment of a story for it.
The Simon/Kaylee is short, the Tyrol/Boomer is long, I like the Alfred piece, but the Kara/Lee short seems to lack something.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cheekygal and aricadavidson:
Girl Who Doesn’t Care
(Simon/Kaylee)
His father would have something to say about this girl 'from the wrong side of the tracks' whose head rests in Simon's lap.
Not that Simon would pay much attention to what his father thought. Not anymore. Not after his father abandoned River to the mercies of the Academy and renounced Simon for giving up prestige in favour of loyalty to his sister.
Her fingers drum a rhythm on her stomach in time with the rattle of the engines, a faint vibration that never stops as long as they're in space. She's not doing anything much, just humming to herself, in time with the changing music of the engines.
She's so different from the girls he's known. Less formal, less decorous, less conventional; less proud, less prim, and yet so much more than the women who flirted and name-dropped their way through his social strata before.
He used to be so flattered by the attentions of the young women, by the way they fawned over Dr. Tam.
Simon's almost surprised to find how much he likes a girl who doesn't care about his family or career.
--
Forroseredathena:
Clarity
(Tyrol/Boomer[Galactica])
It is said that in the moment of your death, your life flashes before your eyes.
She feels the bullet in her chest; knows that her heart is cramping, slowing, stopping as the blood that should flow to it spills out through the hole in her skin, spills into her body.
It is said that in the moment of your death, clarity comes.
Cally steps back, her expression satisfied, even as they disarm her and drag her away.
Sharon's mind registers the bullet's presence, her body registers the pain. And under the scalpel of pain, the memories of Lieutenant Sharon Valerii, human-Cylon agent, begin to unravel, like a knitted sweater with one loose thread.
She doesn't remember her childhood anymore - the childhood that never happened. She doesn't remember how she came into being, which memories are real and which memories were implanted into what passes for brain matter, what programming was hidden in her before she was set loose on the world.
Half her life is a lie, and she doesn't know when the lies start, although she can guess.
There are things she knows that be true to who she believed herself to be. There are things that happened to her, that she experienced in person and not through the lens and scope of the memories implanted in her by the Cylons.
In the seconds between the bullet and the fall, Sharon remembers.
She remembers Fleet Academy, the cocky grins of the pilot cadets, the gruff bark of their drill instructor as he runs them ragged through the forest floor that is more rock than root. The switches on the old, ground-bound Raptor are worn smooth by the fingers of many cadets, flipping them back and forth, their colours flaking off and replaced by rough paint jobs.
Her hand reaches for her side and she stumbles back, into the arms of the sergeants who'd been escorting her to her end.
She remembers meeting Kara, watching the cocky swagger of the young pilot as she sauntered into class. She remembers the first time she and Kara got hammered together: Kara was drinking whiskey, Sharon was drinking this godawful vodka that was harsh as a scrubber shoved down her throat.
Faces blur and whirl, voices blend and buzz, but one voice, one face stands out.
She remembers meeting the Chief on the Galactica, watching the cool competence of his authority as he looked over the Raptor she'd been assigned. She remembers listening to his voice rather than the words he spoke, watching his face rather than the things he was pointing out, and dragging her thoughts back to the matter at hand when he demanded whether she was paying any attention to what he was saying.
What is real and what is not?
Who was Sharon Valerii and how will she be remembered?
Will they mourn her? Or will they wash their hands of yet another Cylon and be glad?
A fragment of memory asserts itself - the first time she saw him smile at her. Warmth, amusement, and the glimmerings of affection that would later blossom into love.
Sharon looks up at him. She hopes that this will exonerate him, that he'll be able to move away from the stain of her influence, of what she became. Without her on the Galactica, maybe he'll be free.
I love you, Chief.
Clarity.
--
Forfaith_of_borg :
The Well-Trained Butler
(Alfred)
The well-trained butler should be many things to his employer. More than a mere servant, he should be the major-domo of the household. More than a discreet assistant, he should be a trustworthy repository of family secrets. More than a personal aide, he should be an extension of the employer's will.
Alfred was a well-trained butler.
However, he was quite certain that cook, valet, personal advisor, surgeon, and costume designer were not in the usual job description for a butler.
On the other hand, a well-trained butler should be capable of adapting to the vagaries of his employer.
So Alfred considered himself a very well-trained butler.
--
Forssmith_12 :
Panic
(Kara/Lee)
His words surprised her, but not as much as her panic at his words.
Her eyes widened and her mouth twitched, but the tension roared through her muscles and her heart was suddenly on an adreanaline rush as fierce as any she'd felt while on Caprica.
I'm your friend. I love you. If you want to talk...
She made light of it, testing him. Did he mean it? Was it a slip of the tongue? Could he mean it even if it was a slip of the tongue?
And why did she panic if he meant it?
--
ssmith_12? That was sneaky, putting in not one but six options for three fandoms! But I'm onto you! You got both a Sam/Jack and a Kara/Lee - so I'm going to move on to the next requests! (Although the prospect of Daniel/Vala was certainly interesting. *g*)
The Simon/Kaylee is short, the Tyrol/Boomer is long, I like the Alfred piece, but the Kara/Lee short seems to lack something.
For
cheekygal and aricadavidson: Girl Who Doesn’t Care
(Simon/Kaylee)
His father would have something to say about this girl 'from the wrong side of the tracks' whose head rests in Simon's lap.
Not that Simon would pay much attention to what his father thought. Not anymore. Not after his father abandoned River to the mercies of the Academy and renounced Simon for giving up prestige in favour of loyalty to his sister.
Her fingers drum a rhythm on her stomach in time with the rattle of the engines, a faint vibration that never stops as long as they're in space. She's not doing anything much, just humming to herself, in time with the changing music of the engines.
She's so different from the girls he's known. Less formal, less decorous, less conventional; less proud, less prim, and yet so much more than the women who flirted and name-dropped their way through his social strata before.
He used to be so flattered by the attentions of the young women, by the way they fawned over Dr. Tam.
Simon's almost surprised to find how much he likes a girl who doesn't care about his family or career.
--
For
roseredathena: Clarity
(Tyrol/Boomer[Galactica])
It is said that in the moment of your death, your life flashes before your eyes.
She feels the bullet in her chest; knows that her heart is cramping, slowing, stopping as the blood that should flow to it spills out through the hole in her skin, spills into her body.
It is said that in the moment of your death, clarity comes.
Cally steps back, her expression satisfied, even as they disarm her and drag her away.
Sharon's mind registers the bullet's presence, her body registers the pain. And under the scalpel of pain, the memories of Lieutenant Sharon Valerii, human-Cylon agent, begin to unravel, like a knitted sweater with one loose thread.
She doesn't remember her childhood anymore - the childhood that never happened. She doesn't remember how she came into being, which memories are real and which memories were implanted into what passes for brain matter, what programming was hidden in her before she was set loose on the world.
Half her life is a lie, and she doesn't know when the lies start, although she can guess.
There are things she knows that be true to who she believed herself to be. There are things that happened to her, that she experienced in person and not through the lens and scope of the memories implanted in her by the Cylons.
In the seconds between the bullet and the fall, Sharon remembers.
She remembers Fleet Academy, the cocky grins of the pilot cadets, the gruff bark of their drill instructor as he runs them ragged through the forest floor that is more rock than root. The switches on the old, ground-bound Raptor are worn smooth by the fingers of many cadets, flipping them back and forth, their colours flaking off and replaced by rough paint jobs.
Her hand reaches for her side and she stumbles back, into the arms of the sergeants who'd been escorting her to her end.
She remembers meeting Kara, watching the cocky swagger of the young pilot as she sauntered into class. She remembers the first time she and Kara got hammered together: Kara was drinking whiskey, Sharon was drinking this godawful vodka that was harsh as a scrubber shoved down her throat.
Faces blur and whirl, voices blend and buzz, but one voice, one face stands out.
She remembers meeting the Chief on the Galactica, watching the cool competence of his authority as he looked over the Raptor she'd been assigned. She remembers listening to his voice rather than the words he spoke, watching his face rather than the things he was pointing out, and dragging her thoughts back to the matter at hand when he demanded whether she was paying any attention to what he was saying.
What is real and what is not?
Who was Sharon Valerii and how will she be remembered?
Will they mourn her? Or will they wash their hands of yet another Cylon and be glad?
A fragment of memory asserts itself - the first time she saw him smile at her. Warmth, amusement, and the glimmerings of affection that would later blossom into love.
Sharon looks up at him. She hopes that this will exonerate him, that he'll be able to move away from the stain of her influence, of what she became. Without her on the Galactica, maybe he'll be free.
I love you, Chief.
Clarity.
--
For
faith_of_borg : The Well-Trained Butler
(Alfred)
The well-trained butler should be many things to his employer. More than a mere servant, he should be the major-domo of the household. More than a discreet assistant, he should be a trustworthy repository of family secrets. More than a personal aide, he should be an extension of the employer's will.
Alfred was a well-trained butler.
However, he was quite certain that cook, valet, personal advisor, surgeon, and costume designer were not in the usual job description for a butler.
On the other hand, a well-trained butler should be capable of adapting to the vagaries of his employer.
So Alfred considered himself a very well-trained butler.
--
For
ssmith_12 : Panic
(Kara/Lee)
His words surprised her, but not as much as her panic at his words.
Her eyes widened and her mouth twitched, but the tension roared through her muscles and her heart was suddenly on an adreanaline rush as fierce as any she'd felt while on Caprica.
I'm your friend. I love you. If you want to talk...
She made light of it, testing him. Did he mean it? Was it a slip of the tongue? Could he mean it even if it was a slip of the tongue?
And why did she panic if he meant it?
--
ssmith_12? That was sneaky, putting in not one but six options for three fandoms! But I'm onto you! You got both a Sam/Jack and a Kara/Lee - so I'm going to move on to the next requests! (Although the prospect of Daniel/Vala was certainly interesting. *g*)
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-03 04:01 am (UTC)