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Ganked from [personal profile] moetushie, and this time it has evolved to include a decent no. of lines instead of just one; I approve.

List the first five (or so) lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have altogether. WIPs count). See if there are any patterns.


(Latest first.)

1. War Is Love, Love Is War (Manhunt, Teen, for [community profile] hc_bingo.)

Vincent doesn’t feel anything. But then again Vincent doesn’t exist, and Joseph Arthur Reynolds is better off this way – dead, cold, unfeeling. He ought to be dead; that’s how he lives, with that fact in his mind.

He especially feels nothing about his father, or his death. What use is the luxury of grieving over a man dying for beliefs and values that were never worth it?



2. Treasure Hunt (DW, Gen, for [community profile] who_allsorts)

Miya had been waiting for too long now. Both moons were visible in the sky and the house was dark but for their pale light. Scared, she hid in the topmost tower room and waited for Anda and Feya to return.

There had been strange noises and shaking in the street, and earlier when she had dared to creep down to the food storage area to find something to eat, she had heard marching, an unrelenting too-rhythmic beat echoing down the road.

She was sure she’d heard shooting.



3. Gothic Romance (DW, Gen, for [community profile] who_guestfest)

They met at midnight on a blasted Heath. Hampstead, to be precise. The night was appropriately dark and stormy, a fact that gave Count Cristoforo a moment of wry amusement as he progressed towards his rendezvous, but it was also highly inconvenient. He’d had to pay a torch bearer to light his way and now he would probably have to have the unfortunate lad killed in case he talked. It was all most tiresome and unnecessary, but this Gilchrist Irving fellow had insisted on the time and place and his message had been too intriguing to ignore – particularly in that it had not been addressed to the Count Pietro Cristoforo, but to Scaroth and, as far as he was aware, no one on Earth knew his true name.


4. Unconsidered Trifles (DW, Eight/Charley, for [community profile] hetswap)

Charley was in the TARDIS library, looking for anything odd, which she felt was an overly vague category, given that it would have covered pretty much everything in the TARDIS, including the Doctor. She was probably the only ordinary thing in the whole ship (and goodness knew how big it was). However, the library did at least seem pretty much as usual so far. She liked the library; its book-lined mahogany warmth felt deceptively familiar, even if it was a good deal more welcoming than her father’s library had ever been.


5. Ghost Lights (B7, Dayna/Tarrant, for [community profile] hetswap)

Getting into the abandoned Correction Centre had not proved to be much of a problem, but Tarrant was already beginning to suspect that getting out again was going to be far more difficult.

He and Dayna had crawled in through a loose panel – well, it had been loose enough after Dayna had finished with it – but almost immediately afterwards, they’d somehow lost sight of it. The walls around them were all an identical pale, glowing blue and their forced entrance seemed to have been swallowed up. All of the walls now looked not only exactly the same, but equally undamaged. Improbably so, for a place that was a good few centuries old.



6. Invisible Incident (Enemy at the Door, Gen)

“And so,” said Dr Martel, gesturing grandly outwards, despite being wrapped up against the bitter winter wind, “you see the mess your men have made, Colonel?”

Richter did, although he now regretted having insisted on being shown. Even aside from the unwelcome stench, it was growing icier by the second out here in the fields close to Dr Martel’s house. “It will be cleared up and filled in immediately.”

“I mean, if you’d wanted an open sewer, I’m sure it could have been arranged.”



7. Night Falls (Dracula 1968, G, for New Year's Resolutions)

The castle was a great, echoing place for all the faded and decaying clutter of the ages scattered around its halls and galleries. Jonathan found it simultaneously fascinating and repellent. He had been deeply unnerved by the events of his journey here and the castle itself had hardly been comforting to a wary traveller far from home. However, it had at least been reassuring to find that his host was a civilised man. A little odd in some ways, particularly his nocturnal habits and propensity to talk overlong about his ancestors with an edge of the fanatic, but he was otherwise always polite – charming, even, on occasion.


8. Meet Me at Midnight (DW, Gen, for [community profile] who_allsorts)

Meet me at midnight, in the third of the Temples of Death. Come alone. A Friend.


“How nice,” said the Doctor, folding up the hand-written note. “I wonder if it’s a midnight feast. What do you think, Harry?”



9. When the Lights Go Out (S&S, Gen, for [community profile] fandom_stocking, WIP)

They said the house was haunted. It had been empty for nearly ten years, and its last inhabitant had been an elderly lady who had lived there for fifty years – shut up alone with the ghosts, they said. Its present owner was away and there was only a caretaker now who came in as few times in a year as possible. The wallpaper was peeling away in long strips of arsenical green and the whole building smelt of damp. If electric power had been installed, it had long since been cut off, so they were all gathered here by candlelight.


10. Break In (B7, gen, prompt meme ficlet)

Avon felt something like fingers tickling him around the neck. “Vila,” he said without turning around, “whatever you’re doing, stop it.”

“Hey,” said Vila. “I’m not doing anything. Why d’you always assume whatever it is is me?”



11. Now You See It (DW, Gen, prompt meme ficlet)

“Look on the bright side,” said Benny, backstage with the Doctor after the show had finished. “It could have been worse.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “I believe, Professor Summerfield, that we came last. How could it have been worse?”



12. Battered and Bruised (AAL!, Gen, for Yuletide)

Georgie had known all along that it was bound to lead to trouble, having Mr Adamant go off to investigate dastardly doings at the Women’s Institute Village Gala at Little Winkleigh. If Mr Adamant had a weakness, it was in failing to see exactly how villainous a lady could be, so what was he supposed to do up against a whole marquee or six of them? It had therefore obviously been Georgie’s duty to completely ignore Adam’s stern instructions to go home and under no circumstances whatsoever to follow him and Simms to Little Winkleigh. So, she had been hanging around helping with the tombola all morning, in between keeping a sharp eye and ear out for any dodgy goings-on and people likely to be a threat to Mr Adamant.


13. Vintage (New Tricks, Gen, for Yuletide Madness)

Gerry just about managed to pull himself down from the ceiling, where he’d leapt (metaphorically) on being greeted by the unlikely sight of Sandra Pullman sitting in his kitchen, drinking his whisky. Eventually, he managed to get his voice back as well. “Cor, blimey, is this what you do these days – go round sneaking into people’s houses, trying to give them heart attacks?”


14. The Spirit of St Mary Mead (Miss Marple, Gen, for Yuletide)

It was a particularly ordinary grove, or so the commander of the nearby Roman camp thought, and was at a loss to explain the locals’ belief in it as a sacred place; the site where a genius loci might be found. Aerten, they said she was named, and his men in turn called her Atropos or Nemesis.

You had to be careful of your curses there, he’d been told; an improbable tale of the goddess manifesting in the form of a frail crone. You wouldn’t believe she could be a deity, not to begin with, seeming nothing more than an elderly Briton woman, but the things she knew were otherwise impossible to explain.



15. Let Your Feelings Out (B7, gen, prompt meme ficlet)

“And then,” said Vila with an authentic hitch in his voice, “on my tenth birth anniversary, that was when my Mum vanished. We never did work out what happened to her. It left me very – well, I don’t like to talk about it.” He buried his head in his hands and gave what sounded like a small sob. “I’m sorry – just thinking about it, it’s bringing it all back. Gave me nightmares for years.”


16. movements of the mind (Twelfth Night, Gen, Yuletide)

It’s been a day of much trying and little reward, but yet Feste sings on outside the tavern and struggles to exercise his wit on those that come and go.

Once Feste the Fool answered to a different name; it matters no longer what it was (Jack or Will or Ned or such as would bring half the street running at one call). He’s no further use for it. Besides, he has instead stuffed his mind too full with words formed with the letters that once Jack (or Will or Ned) sat and studied; there's no room left for it. He has mastered them all now: letters and notes, words and lines, both backwards and forwards, and so Feste sings for his supper, and cadges coin out of strangers in return for a smile, or a moment’s laughter.



17. In Memoriam (DW, Gen, prompt meme ficlet)

Martha had just finally got around to doing some serious tidying on her return from her latest mission, when, mid-way through attempting to sort the laundry, the TARDIS materialised in the centre of the living room, scattering articles of clothing everywhere.

“Dr Jones,” said an unfamiliar man, stepping out of it. He was wearing sunglasses, which he removed and then blinked round at her living room. “Have I interrupted a jumble sale?”



18. Tall Tales (Bring You Short Replies) (AAL! Gen, prompt meme ficlet)

“No,” said Adam. “Absolutely not! Miss Jones, how many times must I ask you to remain at home, out of harm’s way?”

Georgie put her hands on her hips. “Hey, if I’d stayed home last week when you went off on holiday, the world might have ended!”



19. The Poison Tree (Dracula 1968, for Yuletide)

The letter, when it arrived at the property agents’ office in London, was passed in a circuitous route from desk to desk before reaching its destination. No one wanted to be the man to pass it along to Mr Allworthy, knowing how little it would do to improve his permanent bad temper. Honestly, wondered the last of the clerks, as he steeled himself to deliver the message, how difficult was it to sell a house? What the devil was going on up there in the north?


20. In the Gallery (Georgette Heyer, Gen, prompt meme ficlet).

The rest of the small group of visitors had moved on down the gallery with the housekeeper who was conducting the tour around Avon Court, ancestral home of the Alastair family. Fourteen year old Theodore Frant, however, paused to look away from the pictures at some of the panelling opposite, comparing it unfavourably with similar work at Stanyon.

“If you are looking for a secret door,” said a languid voice from behind him, “I’m afraid you will be disappointed. Had there been one, it would have been discovered long since, I assure you.”



Hmm, not quite as bad as usual, I think? Although I can really see the ones I wrote with not enough spoons, because my sentences come out in not quite the right order, and I can rarely muster them all back into their proper line up as I should.

My favourite is The Poison Tree. It will take a while before I come up with a better opening than the mysterious vanishing of an Edward estate agent OC partly in epistolary format, though, I feel, so I'm biased.)
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