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to and fro
This is the coolest writing meme I've seen in ages. Borrowed from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
daegaer:
Give me one of my own stories, and a timestamp sometime in the future after the end of the story, or sometime in the past before the story started, and I'll write you at least a hundred words of what happened then, whether it's five minutes before the story started or ten years in the future.
The good thing about it is that I'm not forced to come up with entirely new scenarios, just slip myself into an already-created universe and extrapolate in one direction. Sounds fun!
Everything's atmercurial_wit, though if you are really mad keen on a drabble I wrote in your LJ years ago...then by all means ask me for that :D
ETA: I'm going to work for a few hours, but all requests will be filled when I get home. That's a promise!
daegaer:Give me one of my own stories, and a timestamp sometime in the future after the end of the story, or sometime in the past before the story started, and I'll write you at least a hundred words of what happened then, whether it's five minutes before the story started or ten years in the future.
The good thing about it is that I'm not forced to come up with entirely new scenarios, just slip myself into an already-created universe and extrapolate in one direction. Sounds fun!
Everything's at
mercurial_wit, though if you are really mad keen on a drabble I wrote in your LJ years ago...then by all means ask me for that :DETA: I'm going to work for a few hours, but all requests will be filled when I get home. That's a promise!
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I have work in 20 minutes. It may appear after that.
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(But...BEFORE...*sulks*)
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Fear not! It will be done.
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That is more than I can say! I mean, UHHH, but you will still love me because I am watching the West Wing pilot right now.
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*flees for work*
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Oh my god yes, Red Gates yay. I love this story desperately. :D
It's entirely too late for me to be making sense. I second Ji, how about that? How could I have forgotten this one. Augh.
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“Mama,” I said, uncertain. But my mother just looked at the child for a count of five, and then her fingers began to move again – flick, flick, the dark strands leaping and falling into place.
“It is nothing, my own Rose. It is fine.”
The child stood there – not making a sound beyond the moist noise of her fingers in her mouth – and blinked at my mother, following the movement of her hands. Not once did she glance at me, and by the time the braid was complete she had given a small cough and waddled away again. I was five. I did not think too deeply about the incident; the taboo had been broken, and my mother had sustained the break, and that was all.
The second time – three years later, or maybe four or five; my timeline is not as sturdy as it once was – it was a man who stumbled into the room, just I was refilling the red salt-pouch and my mother was dividing her loose hair into sections. I do not think he recognised us as those who walk, because he nodded at us with no fear or hatred or respect or any sign of the otherness that I was becoming accustomed to.
“I heard...” he said, and looked for a moment at the woman’s corpse.
“You will get out of this place,” my mother said. Her hands dropped from her hair, which fell over itself and untangled as she stood up. This time when the man looked us he must have seen the pouch, because his face paled. And there. The fear.
“I apologise,” he said, “I did not realise,” but my mother showed no signs of letting this pass as she had with the girl.
“Out,” she said again, her quiet voice all the more frightening for the expression on her face. It would have matched a yell. My mother’s slap drove the man backwards by two steps, but I think it was this eerie contrast in her face that pushed him the rest of the way out of the room.
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*does not touch, carefully*
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Alternately, when Jack wakes up, after "End of Days".
:D?
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"Auhghgh," Simon says faintly, closing his eyes again and wondering that the lurch of his heart didn't wake Kaylee. "River..."
The muttering recedes a little, and coheres - benedìcat vos omnipotens Deus - fluid on her tongue.
"What was that, mèimei?" he says, still half-asleep. He opens his eyes again to find River's fingertips dancing and hovering over his forehead.
"Familial blessing," she says, solemn. "Customary."
This seeps through Simon's fatigue, and by the time his eyes have widened - "River, we didn't..." - she's moved on and away, in the direction of the cockpit, nothing remaining but the smug soundlessness of her feet against the metal.
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Made my day.
To the extreme.
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Well. I'm glad. And knowing me I'll end up writing the other one too, because my Jack-voice is pretty much constantly accessible.
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You mention this, perhaps unwisely.
He smiles.
“To look at it another way,” he says, “it will always be you who has to keep going.”
You think about praying for his soul and you think about Casey’s arms stretched out towards her mother and you think about Lee, who is waiting on the other side of the hatch and who will look at you for exactly three seconds – making sure you still exist – before leaving. It’s pointless. It’s very Lee. You exist and you are Starbuck, indestructible, and you will always exist – which is, you suppose, Leoben’s point.
“What do you hear, Starbuck?” he whispers, and what you hear is his breath, and behind that: the cycle of time ticking by.
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~
"I'm bored," Kara tells the ceiling, and you've shoved your chair backwards by a foot before you remember that you're mad at her. Or she's mad at you. After a moment's consideration, you decide that it really doesn't matter either way, and stand up.
"Going somewhere, Apollo?" Racetrack eyes your pile of credits.
"I'm beat." Quick smile. "Enjoy the game."
Kara will think of some excuse and everyone will pretend to believe her. Kara will push you backwards until you hit a solid surface and she'll pretend that what you're doing together is void, worthless, nothing. Kara will slip her fingers between cloth and skin and you'll pretend that it's enough.
These are the rules, and they say that you will expend some energy in making her gasp and writhe but expend even more in biting back the words that would make it mean something; in all the years leading up to this moment and the moments identical to it that have already passed, you never once imagined that it would be like this.
She kisses you as though she wants to erase you.
You try not to care.
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Is there anything else I can write for you, for any of my other stories?
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“This is all fascinating.” D’Anna flipped her hair over one shoulder and wished the damn kid would disappear, because she needed to plant this camera at floor level and he was just so attentive.
“Um, if you don’t mind, ma’am, we should probably keep this are clear –”
“Whoops!” D'Anna said rather desperately, making sure that her shirt gaped even more than usual as she tripped forwards. The boy flushed and looked away, and she took the opportunity to fix the tiny camera to the line where floor met wall. “There must be – ah – a patch of grease here.”
“I’ll let someone know,” Billy said, still polite, holding out a hand to help her up.
~
“Heeey, another one’s online.” Sharon fiddled with the remote, programming in the new channel, and looked around. “Where is everyone? Where’s Six?”
“Communing with God,” Leoben said distantly. “Was that Starbuck?”
“No. You can’t say that every time a blonde walks past a camera. Where’s Simon, then?”
“Attempting to convince Six that communing with God doesn’t have to involve nudity. Was that Starbuck?”
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Time stamp: D'Anna's off being crazy and they're watching the Kara/Lee/Anders/Dualla love [geometric shape].
My favorite wee fic by you of all time all time all time has stuck with me forever and a day (http://fahye.livejournal.com/289766.html?thread=1945574):
Time stamp: Future fic from this point in the series.
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Yesterday she killed him. Today he is moving his head in slow circles, trying out the muscles.
“Are you sure that’s what you want, Starbuck?” he asks, sounding lazy and curious as he always does.
“Well, let me think,” and she laughs a bitter laugh that she recognises from her old self, and is glad of, because if she does think about this then she starts running into things like the fact that this enforced stasis is uncomplicated and so full of anger that – for the fist time in her life – there is no room for guilt. “Wow, gee, I don’t know, would I rather be free or stuck up in here with you?”
“I don’t know either,” Leoben says, disarmingly. She hates him.
(Casey’s mother reaches out and the weight of the girl is lifted from her like eyelids opening; this is waking up. Kara is waking up. And in this moment she looks around the flight deck almost hoping that Leoben will be there, smiling at her, so that she can walk to him and let him brush back her hair and talk her back down into the dream.)
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