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Meme
I'm trying to be coherent enough to write, but mostly I'm just staring at all my WIPs in despair. Being super multifannish means I end up wandering out of fandoms and then need to reabsorb all the canon to write it again. Hrmph.
Therefore, time for a meme:
1. Go to page 77 (or 7) of your current ms.
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines – sentences or paragraphs – and post them as they’re written.
None with 77, but several with 7 pages:
“We're a little short on time, can you help out?”
“I had three little sisters, you bet your ass I can,” said Zhen. She leaned her rifle against the wall and started braiding the opposite side of Jane's hair with terrifying speed.
“So, Brandt,” Jane said, amusement only slightly muffled by the curtain of braids in front of her face, “where did you learn how to braid hair?”
“Older sister,” he said, smiling down at his hands. The movement was rhythmic and soothing, even after so many years. “She hated leaving her hair down and our mother wouldn't let her cut it short, so she'd braid it back every morning. But then she broke her arm when I was 10....” He stopped, tied off the end of the braid, and started the next one.
"This is all you, my friend," Charles said, a smile playing around his lips. "I thought it might work - Cerebro seems to translate psychic input into visual perception. I normally experience telepathy as speech, for example, but in Cerebro my experiences were almost full-sensory, like standing in a crowd of strangers. I thought it might translate to this conversation as well, giving the illusion of a face-to-face talk by pulling from your memories of me." He tilted his face upwards, letting his eyes fall closed. "The sunlight was a nice surprise, though."
Arthur leaned his head back against the couch. He was so tired, too tired to try to put his shirt back on, even though it was chilly in the room. Once the painkillers kicked in, he would be out like a light. The initial dizzying surge of relief had faded and he was left with the bitter aftertaste of his despair at the [location he was held], and the uncomfortable realization that Eames – the man he'd once sworn to never trust – had somehow become of the few people in the world that he owed his life to.
“Oh, Kamekona was real, too,” Kono said. “He’s our chemist. He doesn’t always go under, but we had him pop in and out on this job. I also did Toast, and um, Ed on the USS Missouri. Oh, and Rachel, she was easy. Mostly, I was just me.” She grinned. “Brah, undercover is easy compared to forging.”
“We all pretty much had to be ourselves; with our original childhood nostalgia plan shot all to hell, we had to make it up as we went along. We sure as hell couldn’t tell you it was an extraction – you’re militarized like crazy, and had no reason to trust a bunch of strangers. Also, even you didn’t know what you knew, so just asking what Wo Fat looked like wasn’t an option.”
Pike looked stunned. “But that's impossible,” he said.
“Nero's from the future,” Jim said. It was weird to have to tell someone else, when he'd lived with the knowledge for so many years. “An alternate timeline, now, but still the future.”
“But how did he end up 130 years in the past?”
“More like 150 years,” Jim corrected. “He came through in 2233, when he attacked the Kelvin.”
“No,” he said defiantly. “Hangover.”
“Drinking again, are you?” Erik said scornfully.
Charles tried a smirk and felt it turn ugly on his face, but Erik didn't even turn to look. “It sort of... lightens my chores,” he said.
Therefore, time for a meme:
1. Go to page 77 (or 7) of your current ms.
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines – sentences or paragraphs – and post them as they’re written.
None with 77, but several with 7 pages:
“We're a little short on time, can you help out?”
“I had three little sisters, you bet your ass I can,” said Zhen. She leaned her rifle against the wall and started braiding the opposite side of Jane's hair with terrifying speed.
“So, Brandt,” Jane said, amusement only slightly muffled by the curtain of braids in front of her face, “where did you learn how to braid hair?”
“Older sister,” he said, smiling down at his hands. The movement was rhythmic and soothing, even after so many years. “She hated leaving her hair down and our mother wouldn't let her cut it short, so she'd braid it back every morning. But then she broke her arm when I was 10....” He stopped, tied off the end of the braid, and started the next one.
"This is all you, my friend," Charles said, a smile playing around his lips. "I thought it might work - Cerebro seems to translate psychic input into visual perception. I normally experience telepathy as speech, for example, but in Cerebro my experiences were almost full-sensory, like standing in a crowd of strangers. I thought it might translate to this conversation as well, giving the illusion of a face-to-face talk by pulling from your memories of me." He tilted his face upwards, letting his eyes fall closed. "The sunlight was a nice surprise, though."
Arthur leaned his head back against the couch. He was so tired, too tired to try to put his shirt back on, even though it was chilly in the room. Once the painkillers kicked in, he would be out like a light. The initial dizzying surge of relief had faded and he was left with the bitter aftertaste of his despair at the [location he was held], and the uncomfortable realization that Eames – the man he'd once sworn to never trust – had somehow become of the few people in the world that he owed his life to.
“Oh, Kamekona was real, too,” Kono said. “He’s our chemist. He doesn’t always go under, but we had him pop in and out on this job. I also did Toast, and um, Ed on the USS Missouri. Oh, and Rachel, she was easy. Mostly, I was just me.” She grinned. “Brah, undercover is easy compared to forging.”
“We all pretty much had to be ourselves; with our original childhood nostalgia plan shot all to hell, we had to make it up as we went along. We sure as hell couldn’t tell you it was an extraction – you’re militarized like crazy, and had no reason to trust a bunch of strangers. Also, even you didn’t know what you knew, so just asking what Wo Fat looked like wasn’t an option.”
Pike looked stunned. “But that's impossible,” he said.
“Nero's from the future,” Jim said. It was weird to have to tell someone else, when he'd lived with the knowledge for so many years. “An alternate timeline, now, but still the future.”
“But how did he end up 130 years in the past?”
“More like 150 years,” Jim corrected. “He came through in 2233, when he attacked the Kelvin.”
“No,” he said defiantly. “Hangover.”
“Drinking again, are you?” Erik said scornfully.
Charles tried a smirk and felt it turn ugly on his face, but Erik didn't even turn to look. “It sort of... lightens my chores,” he said.