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Oct. 26th, 2007 03:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vr_trakowskiI got tagged by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cincoflex , so here goes:
CSI AU:
He’d passed fifty without a qualm; it had hardly been a blip on his radar, as no one was left to send him a card and his colleagues all knew better than to throw him a party.
Blake's 7:
--and he jolted awake, breathing hard and hating it. Always the same acid dream, always the same surreal ending. Always the same tiny sick wondering if that was what he truly was.
CSI AU with Cinco:
The Arch of Pholus had stood for centuries; indeed, although the name of the massive stone structure had been passed down from generation to generation, the structure itself was so ancient that little else was known about it.
Prey prequel:
We do nothing without purpose. He could hear his mentor's voice in his inner ear as he regarded the task set before him. In this case, our purpose is discovery.
CSI:M/CSI crossover:
Ryan didn’t know exactly what to expect when he walked into the Las Vegas crime lab, but the confused stare of the receptionist as she spoke into her phone didn’t quite seem to project the level of professionalism implied by the lab’s ranking as the nation’s second.
Doctor Who:
Physical passion had only been an occasional pastime for him, he had other things to do, but a Time Lord in his last regeneration sometimes indulged in frivolities in the slightly uncomfortable knowledge that his time was running low at last.
CSI:
It was raining in the mountains. The water hurled itself down the slopes and into an arroyo in the desert floor, tearing along in a boiling wash that would be the color of caramel in the daylight, but at night was just a dark thunder with trailings of white foam catching the flashlight beams.
Space: Above and Beyond:
It hurt. That was all he knew for a while. Pain in his side, in his head, in his lungs, and worst of all in his arm. The kind of pain that makes you scream when you have the strength and pass out when your voice is gone.
CSI:
Oh, he was cute. Maire sat in the third row each class, close enough to see but not too obvious. First row was for amateurs.Second was for those who didn’t have the guts, but third row...that was where you sat if you were serious. And she was serious, all right.
Doctor Who:
She was old, even by the eons-lived standards, and she was cranky, even among a race noted for its dourness. Wrinkles netted her face and hands, though her cascade of elaborately knotted hair was still starspace black, and the bold whispered that she was near the end of her twelfth or thirteenth life--no one knew for sure.
Good heavens, I didn't realize I had quite so many. Nor did I realize that I start an awful lot of stories with one-sentence paragraphs.
Most of these probably will never get finished--lack of plot, lack of show, or just that it no longer fits. Still...I can never be sure.
cincoflex , so here goes: CSI AU:
He’d passed fifty without a qualm; it had hardly been a blip on his radar, as no one was left to send him a card and his colleagues all knew better than to throw him a party.
Blake's 7:
--and he jolted awake, breathing hard and hating it. Always the same acid dream, always the same surreal ending. Always the same tiny sick wondering if that was what he truly was.
CSI AU with Cinco:
The Arch of Pholus had stood for centuries; indeed, although the name of the massive stone structure had been passed down from generation to generation, the structure itself was so ancient that little else was known about it.
Prey prequel:
We do nothing without purpose. He could hear his mentor's voice in his inner ear as he regarded the task set before him. In this case, our purpose is discovery.
CSI:M/CSI crossover:
Ryan didn’t know exactly what to expect when he walked into the Las Vegas crime lab, but the confused stare of the receptionist as she spoke into her phone didn’t quite seem to project the level of professionalism implied by the lab’s ranking as the nation’s second.
Doctor Who:
Physical passion had only been an occasional pastime for him, he had other things to do, but a Time Lord in his last regeneration sometimes indulged in frivolities in the slightly uncomfortable knowledge that his time was running low at last.
CSI:
It was raining in the mountains. The water hurled itself down the slopes and into an arroyo in the desert floor, tearing along in a boiling wash that would be the color of caramel in the daylight, but at night was just a dark thunder with trailings of white foam catching the flashlight beams.
Space: Above and Beyond:
It hurt. That was all he knew for a while. Pain in his side, in his head, in his lungs, and worst of all in his arm. The kind of pain that makes you scream when you have the strength and pass out when your voice is gone.
CSI:
Oh, he was cute. Maire sat in the third row each class, close enough to see but not too obvious. First row was for amateurs.Second was for those who didn’t have the guts, but third row...that was where you sat if you were serious. And she was serious, all right.
Doctor Who:
She was old, even by the eons-lived standards, and she was cranky, even among a race noted for its dourness. Wrinkles netted her face and hands, though her cascade of elaborately knotted hair was still starspace black, and the bold whispered that she was near the end of her twelfth or thirteenth life--no one knew for sure.
Good heavens, I didn't realize I had quite so many. Nor did I realize that I start an awful lot of stories with one-sentence paragraphs.
Most of these probably will never get finished--lack of plot, lack of show, or just that it no longer fits. Still...I can never be sure.