that WIP meme...
Since I don't really know how it works, the original meme post I saw having been lost in the mists of time, I'm going to post the first paragraph or so of the WIPs I have. :D
1. “You owe me! KARA!”
The pain in his head was excruciating, made worse by his own voice ringing in his ears. She couldn’t do this. He had to get the information out, share it with the others. It couldn’t be lost. Dammit! Sam opened his mouth to shout again, every muscle taut with the effort.
~BSG, Persistence of Memory
2. The sound of the wipers on the windshield was mesmerizing, back and forth, back and forth, swish-thwack, swish-thwack. The downpour made it more like driving through a waterfall than rain, but Maggie didn’t notice, and if she had noticed, she wouldn’t have cared.
~BSG, Through the Years, chapter 5
3. … a melody, subtle, soft, insubstantial…
Derek shifted, grimaced, but didn’t wake.
… shadows merged then danced apart, as soft, as insubstantial as the melody …
A strangled sound escaped his throat and his muscles went rigid, but still he didn’t, couldn’t wake.
… through it all, the stench of fear and death …
~Sarah Connor Chronicles, untitled
4. The inky infinity of space was only relieved by the occasional flash of the distant sun reflecting on the pale skins of Orion's fighters, currently running a cross pattern around the convoy of ships under their care, and that same reflected light on the hulls of the convoy itself. The run to Jupiter's moons, making both pick-ups and deliveries, had been uneventful and they were on their way back to Mars, specifically the Clarkesville Spaceport, which was home to the majority of the ships in the convoy.
~original fic, untitled
5. There was a knock at his door and Ellison looked up from the crime scene photographs spread out over the coffee table, his attention lingering for just a moment on Agent Greta Simpson’s sightless eyes. More often than not, Greta had rapped at the door to his office before entering, but of course, that would never happen again. She was dead, had been for nearly a week and although he hadn’t been back to his office since that day, he was surprised by just how much he missed all the crap she had handed him on an almost daily basis. She would have reminded him that he wasn’t supposed to have these very photos at all, that he was suspended from the case and from the agency, pending the outcome of a psychological evaluation.
~Sarah Connor Chronicles, untitled
6. She woke slowly, not sure she really wanted to wake at all. It was the smell that finally made her open her eyes. Or rather, the smells. They were so crisp and clear and so tantalizing. Her nose twitched as a wisp of scent drifted to her on the light summer breeze. Summer? But she had been so cold, just a short time ago…
~original fic, Reunion
7. Lily pounded on the heavy wooden gate. "Open, please!" she shouted. "I need to speak to the Doyenne!"
She had been away from Korso for a few days. Just a few days. Oh, God, how has this happened? She had arrived home only this morning to find the house in a shambles, blood everywhere, but no sign of either Katrine or Thomas. I knew I shouldn't have gone. If she hadn't left, she might have been there when whatever had happened… happened. She might have been able to prevent it.
~original fic, The Adversary
1. “You owe me! KARA!”
The pain in his head was excruciating, made worse by his own voice ringing in his ears. She couldn’t do this. He had to get the information out, share it with the others. It couldn’t be lost. Dammit! Sam opened his mouth to shout again, every muscle taut with the effort.
~BSG, Persistence of Memory
2. The sound of the wipers on the windshield was mesmerizing, back and forth, back and forth, swish-thwack, swish-thwack. The downpour made it more like driving through a waterfall than rain, but Maggie didn’t notice, and if she had noticed, she wouldn’t have cared.
~BSG, Through the Years, chapter 5
3. … a melody, subtle, soft, insubstantial…
Derek shifted, grimaced, but didn’t wake.
… shadows merged then danced apart, as soft, as insubstantial as the melody …
A strangled sound escaped his throat and his muscles went rigid, but still he didn’t, couldn’t wake.
… through it all, the stench of fear and death …
~Sarah Connor Chronicles, untitled
4. The inky infinity of space was only relieved by the occasional flash of the distant sun reflecting on the pale skins of Orion's fighters, currently running a cross pattern around the convoy of ships under their care, and that same reflected light on the hulls of the convoy itself. The run to Jupiter's moons, making both pick-ups and deliveries, had been uneventful and they were on their way back to Mars, specifically the Clarkesville Spaceport, which was home to the majority of the ships in the convoy.
~original fic, untitled
5. There was a knock at his door and Ellison looked up from the crime scene photographs spread out over the coffee table, his attention lingering for just a moment on Agent Greta Simpson’s sightless eyes. More often than not, Greta had rapped at the door to his office before entering, but of course, that would never happen again. She was dead, had been for nearly a week and although he hadn’t been back to his office since that day, he was surprised by just how much he missed all the crap she had handed him on an almost daily basis. She would have reminded him that he wasn’t supposed to have these very photos at all, that he was suspended from the case and from the agency, pending the outcome of a psychological evaluation.
~Sarah Connor Chronicles, untitled
6. She woke slowly, not sure she really wanted to wake at all. It was the smell that finally made her open her eyes. Or rather, the smells. They were so crisp and clear and so tantalizing. Her nose twitched as a wisp of scent drifted to her on the light summer breeze. Summer? But she had been so cold, just a short time ago…
~original fic, Reunion
7. Lily pounded on the heavy wooden gate. "Open, please!" she shouted. "I need to speak to the Doyenne!"
She had been away from Korso for a few days. Just a few days. Oh, God, how has this happened? She had arrived home only this morning to find the house in a shambles, blood everywhere, but no sign of either Katrine or Thomas. I knew I shouldn't have gone. If she hadn't left, she might have been there when whatever had happened… happened. She might have been able to prevent it.
~original fic, The Adversary