toomuchplor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toomuchplor) wrote2007-12-27 11:55 am
toomuchplor) wrote2007-12-27 11:55 am
One More Year-End Meme
Hey, has everyone gone and read ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
linabean's latest fic? It has hot/sad Ronon! READ IT.
In other news, as I did last year... it's supposed to be the first line of fic written in each month of 2007, but because I, a) write so little and b) so sporadically, here is just the first line of each fic written in 2007:
I'm pasting this together like a series of weird drabbles because it's funnier that way. Also, I changed tenses and a few names so it works better. And changed the order of the first lines. And edited them to fake some kind of coherency. Ahaha, I'm destroying the original meme.
"So," said Rodney McKay, twirling his keys on his index finger, trying for a casual yet friendly tone.
“It’s my final paper, and it’s *huge*, and I *have to* do well on it,” explains Simpson, eyes wide.
"Wow, I thought you were pale before," says Rodney, mostly because no one is saying anything at all.
***
They’ve been pretty lucky in the Pegasus galaxy, as least as far as John can tell from reading SG-1’s mission reports. The gate on M5R-Y34 was perfectly ordinary except for the way it took off the gate team’s clothes as they stepped through the event horizon.
***
“It’s kind of weird, if you think about it,” says John, head bent down over an Erlenmeyer flask, wearing orange-tinted lab glasses that should in no way look as provocative as they do.
Rodney’s first words, upon seeing John glowingly pregnant, eight and three-quarters months along, hair riotously sticking up and the world’s hugest happiest smile plastered across his face, are: “Ugh, I’m trying not to imagine what you and that hippy vegan weirdo did in order to get yourself into this mess.”
Rodney made Keller run the test twice more, but as far as John is concerned, there's no doubt that she's right.
Tucked close around Sheppard’s lean body it’s difficult to remember that everything’s different now, that they’re different together; it’s even more difficult to remember that Rodney’s making an effort to keep his distance, to keep this from happening again.
***
"No, no, no,” says Rodney, as John pulls at the waistband of his t-shirt. “No,” repeats Rodney, reflexively squeezing his sandwich half so that mustard patters onto his cafeteria tray, “it is not ‘cool’ if you start seeing Katie Brown.”
***
Everyone knows about Rodney's epic manic phases; they've all had occasion to both witness them (not that crystal, for the love of -- give it, give it, give it -- yes, because I want us all to not die in the next half hour) and benefit from them (we didn't die, did we? and you're welcome, by the way).
Looking back, John mostly remembers their early days on Atlantis in contrast to the way life is now. Rodney has an alarm that crescendos them into consciousness, this small steady beep that carries all the data John will need for the next twenty to thirty minutes: it is six o'clock; he is in Rodney's bed; he has another five minutes to drowse after Rodney slams down on the snooze button.
***
“Another ding dong ditch,” Elizabeth says wearily as the team strides into the gate room, already geared up.
"The most important thing," Rodney announces, "is to find out who stole my DNA, track them down, and make sure they're not growing an army of super-geniuses and turning them evil for their own nefarious purposes."
***
Rodney roars into the gate room like a runaway freight train, so intense, moving so furiously, that John feels almost certain something is about to explode and Rodney is the only one who could stop it in time.
“Shit,” says Rodney. “I’m no good at stealthy."
Apparently I habitually start fic with Rodney-dialogue. Hmm.
linabean's latest fic? It has hot/sad Ronon! READ IT.In other news, as I did last year... it's supposed to be the first line of fic written in each month of 2007, but because I, a) write so little and b) so sporadically, here is just the first line of each fic written in 2007:
I'm pasting this together like a series of weird drabbles because it's funnier that way. Also, I changed tenses and a few names so it works better. And changed the order of the first lines. And edited them to fake some kind of coherency. Ahaha, I'm destroying the original meme.
"So," said Rodney McKay, twirling his keys on his index finger, trying for a casual yet friendly tone.
“It’s my final paper, and it’s *huge*, and I *have to* do well on it,” explains Simpson, eyes wide.
"Wow, I thought you were pale before," says Rodney, mostly because no one is saying anything at all.
***
They’ve been pretty lucky in the Pegasus galaxy, as least as far as John can tell from reading SG-1’s mission reports. The gate on M5R-Y34 was perfectly ordinary except for the way it took off the gate team’s clothes as they stepped through the event horizon.
***
“It’s kind of weird, if you think about it,” says John, head bent down over an Erlenmeyer flask, wearing orange-tinted lab glasses that should in no way look as provocative as they do.
Rodney’s first words, upon seeing John glowingly pregnant, eight and three-quarters months along, hair riotously sticking up and the world’s hugest happiest smile plastered across his face, are: “Ugh, I’m trying not to imagine what you and that hippy vegan weirdo did in order to get yourself into this mess.”
Rodney made Keller run the test twice more, but as far as John is concerned, there's no doubt that she's right.
Tucked close around Sheppard’s lean body it’s difficult to remember that everything’s different now, that they’re different together; it’s even more difficult to remember that Rodney’s making an effort to keep his distance, to keep this from happening again.
***
"No, no, no,” says Rodney, as John pulls at the waistband of his t-shirt. “No,” repeats Rodney, reflexively squeezing his sandwich half so that mustard patters onto his cafeteria tray, “it is not ‘cool’ if you start seeing Katie Brown.”
***
Everyone knows about Rodney's epic manic phases; they've all had occasion to both witness them (not that crystal, for the love of -- give it, give it, give it -- yes, because I want us all to not die in the next half hour) and benefit from them (we didn't die, did we? and you're welcome, by the way).
Looking back, John mostly remembers their early days on Atlantis in contrast to the way life is now. Rodney has an alarm that crescendos them into consciousness, this small steady beep that carries all the data John will need for the next twenty to thirty minutes: it is six o'clock; he is in Rodney's bed; he has another five minutes to drowse after Rodney slams down on the snooze button.
***
“Another ding dong ditch,” Elizabeth says wearily as the team strides into the gate room, already geared up.
"The most important thing," Rodney announces, "is to find out who stole my DNA, track them down, and make sure they're not growing an army of super-geniuses and turning them evil for their own nefarious purposes."
***
Rodney roars into the gate room like a runaway freight train, so intense, moving so furiously, that John feels almost certain something is about to explode and Rodney is the only one who could stop it in time.
“Shit,” says Rodney. “I’m no good at stealthy."
Apparently I habitually start fic with Rodney-dialogue. Hmm.
One More Year-End Meme
Love, max