"dance me to the end of love"
Nov. 30th, 2009 10:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hihoplasticpost a sentence/paragraph from every wip you can find. no explanations allowed, just the excerpt.
1)
'What are you doing?' she murmurs, but he shushes her, carefully wrapping an arm around her waist and taking her hand in is, bringing them up near their shoulders. He shuffles closer, not quite chest to chest, but close enough to rest his temple against hers. Elizabeth sighs shakily and turns her face slightly into his, feeling his lips curve up against her skin.
And then he begins to hum, first just a low rumble that she feels more than hears, and, without moving their feet, sways them just slightly, back and forth, back and forth. When she finally makes out the words, she smiles.
2)
'Hey. What are you thinking about?'
The pause is a little too long. 'Nothing.'
John kisses her bare shoulder. 'Liar,' he murmurs.
He waits. The quiet stretches. He sighs. 'Lizabeth.'
'I don't want to talk about it.'
For the first time, he notices the shaky edge to her voice. Frowning, he leans over and brushes her hair from her cheek. Elizabeth closes her eyes, but not before he catches the shine.
3)
'You said ties and snails,' she says, sounding distracted. A door opens and closes. Something rustles. 'Are we talking Inaugural snails or Foreign Dignitary snails?'
'There's a difference?'
4)
It would be the same as a knife, you think. As rope. As a lighted match. There are scars he can't see, right where the pad of his thumb meets your skin from when you held up an arm to shield your face from the rain - fire and glass. You want to scream - want to beat his chest and scream at him - all the things you've seen and felt and how it isn't fair that he's looking at you like you've broken his heart.
'John.'
'But we-' he chokes. His hand tightens around your arm, oblivious.
This isn't how you wanted it to be.
5)
Then his hand is being lifted and placed against her arm. His fingers brush against the Atlantis patch on her sleeve, and she doesn't stop him when he ventures higher, bringing both palms up to touch her face. He traces the lines around her mouth, her chin; he gently brushes his thumbs over her eyelids and lets his fingers tangle in her hair, dragging her down slightly.
''Lizabeth,' he chokes slightly. 'Thought-'
'I know,' she murmurs.
One hand cups her cheek, and she covers it with her own. 'Okay?' he asks, and feels her nod.
'We're all okay.' complete & posted
6)
The computer beeps.
A17, the file is flagged. It begins: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...
Rodney snorts. 'Funny,' he drawls, and replies: Was the R2 unit stolen?
45 minutes later: No. Take it to Anchorhead.
Rodney taps his comm. 'Sheppard.'
'Go?'
He nods. 'Go.'
7)
'I can't believe I'm saying this, but, leave her alone.'
'What?'
'Elizabeth. Stop pushing her.'
'McKay-'
'Look, two weeks ago I was totally behind you. By all means - go at it like rabbits. But this - she's right. And you know she's right and all you're doing now is hurting her, which I know isn't what you want. So stop pushing. And if you really want her - I mean, really, really want her, then just... sit on your ass and wait.'
8)
You sing him lullabies in six languages. Always awkward and out of key, but he claps his hands to Stella Stellina and opens his mouth as if to sing along with Mamam Les Petits Bateaux. He grabs your hair when you speak Russian and wrinkles his nose at Leise zieht durch mein Gemüt, as if he knows you're making up half the words and butchering the rest. You only remember the melody to the old Athosian folk song Teyla taught you your first year in Atlantis, but it doesn't matter - he only sleeps to quarter tones.
There's a storm - hot rain that melts the snow and sends the village into deathly silence. William cries and dreams of men with silver skin and white eyes and wakes up screaming and holds you so tight the skin around his knuckles cracks and heals and cracks and heals but he won't let go. You tell him in every language and tone you know that everything will be alright, that he's safe and you won't let anything happen to him, but it isn't until you begin to hum - y'allah ynam, y'allah ynam, al-dbhlah tair hamam - that he quiets.
While he sleeps, you think of Lebanon. Of Rashidieh and Amir and the little girl with dusty hair who wouldn't let go of your hand when car came to take you back to Beirut. You think of yourself, then - twenty-five years old and naive enough to wonder why anyone would bring a child into that kind of life.
Lightening flashes and William cries and you hug him tighter, and raise your voice to drown out the thunder.
9)
'Dr. Vedrana resigned.'
'Who?'
'Vedrana. Our only female engineer.'
'Oh. She say why?'
'Yeah.'
'Elizabeth?'
'Am I making a mistake?'
'I don't know.'
10)
'That's inappropriate, McKay,' John mutters harshly, sparing Elizabeth a hesitant glance and swallowing tightly.
Rodney merely huffs. 'Please. I've given you both enough dating advice over the past three years to teach a college course.'
Elizabeth looks a little pale. 'Dating?'
John rears his head back like he's been smacked. 'Three years?'
Rodney pauses, looks from one to the other. His gaze settles on Elizabeth, and he frowns. 'Hey! Why aren't you -' he blinks, then groans loudly. 'Oh, no.'
11)
'John, it's Elizabeth. I just wanted to say happy birthday, and make sure you got the plane tickets. They're in your vest pocket. You have a window seat, don't worry. I'll meet you at the airport at 7:50, and don't be late or I'll break your fingers. I gotta go. See you soon, Weir out.'
12)
John stares at the dish, frowning.
'Elizabeth... what is that?'
She looks down at him briefly from her perch on the step-stool. 'It's a tofurkey,' she says, reaching up on her toes for something on the top shelf of the cabinet.
John waits until she's safely on the floor before raising his eyebrows.
'Tofu. Fake turkey.'
He looks from her to the suspicious pan and back again.
'What is it doing in our kitchen?'
Elizabeth swipes the back of her hand across her forehead. 'I'm baking it.'
'You're baking it,' he repeats.
He recognizes the shut up look instantly. Cocking his head to the side, he hesitantly pokes at it with a finger.
'It has... things inside it.'
'It's stuffing.'
John stares at it dubiously. 'I'm pretty sure it's not.
13)
Every morning and every night, she stands on the porch and waits.
14)
They start their trip with a bar fight.
It's a small dive outside Reno; an overweight biker with smokers' teeth and a checkered bandana forgets the cardinal rule of not goosing another man's girl, and John forgets that he's a little bit drunk and not a six-foot-three heavy-weight champion.
Elizabeth barely has time to duck out of the way of the first swing.
15)
In the bathroom she sees flashes, brief sparks behind her eyes, of blue and white and brown; the smell of shampoo and soap and steam is almost overwhelming. Lullaby of birdland that's what I always hear when you sigh, never in my woodland could there be words to reveal, in a phrase how I feel. She barely resists clamping her hands over her ears, her own out-of-key tones floating back, in and out, in and out like a wave. The carpet is soft under her feet as she steps back into the hall; takes a deep breath; carries on.
*
Also attempted to backflist today, as part of my Hebz procrastinating. If I missed something, please link me!
1)
'What are you doing?' she murmurs, but he shushes her, carefully wrapping an arm around her waist and taking her hand in is, bringing them up near their shoulders. He shuffles closer, not quite chest to chest, but close enough to rest his temple against hers. Elizabeth sighs shakily and turns her face slightly into his, feeling his lips curve up against her skin.
And then he begins to hum, first just a low rumble that she feels more than hears, and, without moving their feet, sways them just slightly, back and forth, back and forth. When she finally makes out the words, she smiles.
2)
'Hey. What are you thinking about?'
The pause is a little too long. 'Nothing.'
John kisses her bare shoulder. 'Liar,' he murmurs.
He waits. The quiet stretches. He sighs. 'Lizabeth.'
'I don't want to talk about it.'
For the first time, he notices the shaky edge to her voice. Frowning, he leans over and brushes her hair from her cheek. Elizabeth closes her eyes, but not before he catches the shine.
3)
'You said ties and snails,' she says, sounding distracted. A door opens and closes. Something rustles. 'Are we talking Inaugural snails or Foreign Dignitary snails?'
'There's a difference?'
4)
It would be the same as a knife, you think. As rope. As a lighted match. There are scars he can't see, right where the pad of his thumb meets your skin from when you held up an arm to shield your face from the rain - fire and glass. You want to scream - want to beat his chest and scream at him - all the things you've seen and felt and how it isn't fair that he's looking at you like you've broken his heart.
'John.'
'But we-' he chokes. His hand tightens around your arm, oblivious.
This isn't how you wanted it to be.
Then his hand is being lifted and placed against her arm. His fingers brush against the Atlantis patch on her sleeve, and she doesn't stop him when he ventures higher, bringing both palms up to touch her face. He traces the lines around her mouth, her chin; he gently brushes his thumbs over her eyelids and lets his fingers tangle in her hair, dragging her down slightly.
''Lizabeth,' he chokes slightly. 'Thought-'
'I know,' she murmurs.
One hand cups her cheek, and she covers it with her own. 'Okay?' he asks, and feels her nod.
'We're all okay.'
6)
The computer beeps.
A17, the file is flagged. It begins: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...
Rodney snorts. 'Funny,' he drawls, and replies: Was the R2 unit stolen?
45 minutes later: No. Take it to Anchorhead.
Rodney taps his comm. 'Sheppard.'
'Go?'
He nods. 'Go.'
7)
'I can't believe I'm saying this, but, leave her alone.'
'What?'
'Elizabeth. Stop pushing her.'
'McKay-'
'Look, two weeks ago I was totally behind you. By all means - go at it like rabbits. But this - she's right. And you know she's right and all you're doing now is hurting her, which I know isn't what you want. So stop pushing. And if you really want her - I mean, really, really want her, then just... sit on your ass and wait.'
8)
You sing him lullabies in six languages. Always awkward and out of key, but he claps his hands to Stella Stellina and opens his mouth as if to sing along with Mamam Les Petits Bateaux. He grabs your hair when you speak Russian and wrinkles his nose at Leise zieht durch mein Gemüt, as if he knows you're making up half the words and butchering the rest. You only remember the melody to the old Athosian folk song Teyla taught you your first year in Atlantis, but it doesn't matter - he only sleeps to quarter tones.
There's a storm - hot rain that melts the snow and sends the village into deathly silence. William cries and dreams of men with silver skin and white eyes and wakes up screaming and holds you so tight the skin around his knuckles cracks and heals and cracks and heals but he won't let go. You tell him in every language and tone you know that everything will be alright, that he's safe and you won't let anything happen to him, but it isn't until you begin to hum - y'allah ynam, y'allah ynam, al-dbhlah tair hamam - that he quiets.
While he sleeps, you think of Lebanon. Of Rashidieh and Amir and the little girl with dusty hair who wouldn't let go of your hand when car came to take you back to Beirut. You think of yourself, then - twenty-five years old and naive enough to wonder why anyone would bring a child into that kind of life.
Lightening flashes and William cries and you hug him tighter, and raise your voice to drown out the thunder.
9)
'Dr. Vedrana resigned.'
'Who?'
'Vedrana. Our only female engineer.'
'Oh. She say why?'
'Yeah.'
'Elizabeth?'
'Am I making a mistake?'
'I don't know.'
10)
'That's inappropriate, McKay,' John mutters harshly, sparing Elizabeth a hesitant glance and swallowing tightly.
Rodney merely huffs. 'Please. I've given you both enough dating advice over the past three years to teach a college course.'
Elizabeth looks a little pale. 'Dating?'
John rears his head back like he's been smacked. 'Three years?'
Rodney pauses, looks from one to the other. His gaze settles on Elizabeth, and he frowns. 'Hey! Why aren't you -' he blinks, then groans loudly. 'Oh, no.'
11)
'John, it's Elizabeth. I just wanted to say happy birthday, and make sure you got the plane tickets. They're in your vest pocket. You have a window seat, don't worry. I'll meet you at the airport at 7:50, and don't be late or I'll break your fingers. I gotta go. See you soon, Weir out.'
12)
John stares at the dish, frowning.
'Elizabeth... what is that?'
She looks down at him briefly from her perch on the step-stool. 'It's a tofurkey,' she says, reaching up on her toes for something on the top shelf of the cabinet.
John waits until she's safely on the floor before raising his eyebrows.
'Tofu. Fake turkey.'
He looks from her to the suspicious pan and back again.
'What is it doing in our kitchen?'
Elizabeth swipes the back of her hand across her forehead. 'I'm baking it.'
'You're baking it,' he repeats.
He recognizes the shut up look instantly. Cocking his head to the side, he hesitantly pokes at it with a finger.
'It has... things inside it.'
'It's stuffing.'
John stares at it dubiously. 'I'm pretty sure it's not.
13)
Every morning and every night, she stands on the porch and waits.
14)
They start their trip with a bar fight.
It's a small dive outside Reno; an overweight biker with smokers' teeth and a checkered bandana forgets the cardinal rule of not goosing another man's girl, and John forgets that he's a little bit drunk and not a six-foot-three heavy-weight champion.
Elizabeth barely has time to duck out of the way of the first swing.
15)
In the bathroom she sees flashes, brief sparks behind her eyes, of blue and white and brown; the smell of shampoo and soap and steam is almost overwhelming. Lullaby of birdland that's what I always hear when you sigh, never in my woodland could there be words to reveal, in a phrase how I feel. She barely resists clamping her hands over her ears, her own out-of-key tones floating back, in and out, in and out like a wave. The carpet is soft under her feet as she steps back into the hall; takes a deep breath; carries on.
*
Also attempted to backflist today, as part of my Hebz procrastinating. If I missed something, please link me!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-11-30 08:58 pm (UTC)Now. #1? I totally want to know more about that, and #8 makes my heart hurt. And # 5. Heck, ALL of them. What are you waiting for - go write, you!!!! *hearts*
no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 01:06 pm (UTC)You too! Write! *shoos*
no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-30 09:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 03:45 pm (UTC)And we really do.. I can come over later if you'd like..
no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 09:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-30 11:15 pm (UTC)One is adorable. AND I WANT TO KNOW THE WORDS. And I want all to read all of them. 14 in particular, because I have a weakness for John and bar fights.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 01:00 pm (UTC)Hee, thank you! And me too! John+bar fights+honor defending=OT3, y/y? I LOVE IT. There need to be more John+bar fics, methinks.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 12:44 am (UTC)'That's inappropriate, McKay,' John mutters harshly, sparing Elizabeth a hesitant glance and swallowing tightly.
Rodney merely huffs. 'Please. I've given you both enough dating advice over the past three years to teach a college course.'
Elizabeth looks a little pale. 'Dating?'
John rears his head back like he's been smacked. 'Three years?'
Rodney pauses, looks from one to the other. His gaze settles on Elizabeth, and he frowns. 'Hey! Why aren't you -' he blinks, then groans loudly. 'Oh, no.'
IS THAT ONE MINE IS IT IS IT IS IT I WANT TO KNOOOOWWWW I WANTS IT.
Look at you, all organized. Most of my "unfinished" fics are just ideas living in my head that I eventually forget about because my memory sucks.
Hmm, #2 would fit into one I've been meaning to write for like, two years. You'll probably do it better anyway.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 01:03 pm (UTC)THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD WRITE THEM DOWN. SO THEY BECOME FICS. THAT I CAN FLAIL OVER.
And I think you should write your version!! MAITENANT. PARCE-QUE I SAID SO.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 01:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 01:30 pm (UTC)Ah, but you know me. Lazzzzy. Also only one month left for my writing and I still have requests from people from TWO YEARS AGO. Fail.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 01:40 pm (UTC)Ileft in your most recent requests post?? PRETTY PLEASE?no subject
Date: 2009-12-02 12:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 12:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 01:04 pm (UTC)And thank you! #8 actually has the most written out of any of these, so hopefully I'll get on that after the Santas...