![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Meme responses!
Hee! this is remarkably fun.
So far, we have:
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
torakowalski: Five reasons Radek Zelenka still hasn't killed Rodney McKay :
Sight:
Radek has seen Rodney in the labs, and in the jumper bay, and in the gateroom, and in the infirmary, and in Elizabeth's office, and on the mainland, and offworld. He's never seen Rodney at rest, or anything close to it; he doesn't know anyone who has.
Radek is a man who enjoys his comforts and his safety. If Rodney dies, Radek gets his job, and he cannot think of anything he wants less.
Smell:
"You know, I could kill you."
"Yes, but I have the good coffee."
"...You are right."
"Of course I'm right, and pass me that crystal, will you?"
Taste:
He wants to, oh he wants to, but Elizabeth holds him down with her thin strong fingers and explains. Rodney is the key to John; John is the key to Atlantis; Atlantis is the key to their plans. He thinks of the Pegasus Galaxy, spread out before them like a banquet, theirs for the taking; he thinks of Rodney, dying in a thousand horrifying ways, knowing who is responsible and unable to save himself.
Wait, dear, she says, her lips sweet against his, just a little longer, and he subsides, lost in the taste of her.
Touch:
The gene therapy didn't take, for Radek. The metal and glass of Atlantis is cold and dead under his fingers, never lighting, never moving, never giving to him the wonder and excitement he sees on McKay's face. For him, the only life in Atlantis is his own.
Rodney's skin is warm, though, and his hands skim with just the right amount of pressure down Radek's sides, his back, his legs. Radek groans, and this, he thinks, this is life enough.
Hearing:
Radek Zelenka is not a proud man; he has few illusions, and recognizes them as such. He knows the measure of his own talents, and knows that while he is great, Rodney McKay is every inch the genius he thinks he is.
The job of the second is not a happy job, or an easy one, but when Rodney has an idea, the words pour thick and fast, rushing past each other, and Radek is lifted by Rodney's own imagination. When the words fall silent—when there is nothing but his mind and Rodney's, meeting in half-spoken plans and wordless accords—they soar.
Forshoemaster: Five things Benton Fraser was surprised to find out about Ray Kowalski:
1. He's wearing a bulletproof vest.
2. He's genuinely attracted to women.
"Really?" Benton says, and then catches himself. "I'm sorry, Ray," he offers, "but..." But what? But I'd always assumed you weren't really interested, that it wasn't really serious, that it was all a front. Not, admittedly, a particularly effective front, but Benton had thought that that was part of it, as well: a way for Ray to express his feelings (towards Benton) while still maintaining plausible deniability.
"I hadn't realized you genuinely liked them," he says, finally.
Ray grins. "Don't worry, Fraser," he promises, insinuating himself between Benton's folded arms and his stiff torso, "I genuinely like you a whole lot better."
3. Benton Fraser knows, of course, that this is not Ray's first undercover assignment.
As he listens to Ray's stories of past cases, however—the drug dealer, the junkie, the English teacher, the secretary, the hot-dog salesman—he realizes that Ray is good at this, far better than Benton had suspected. He has a host of personas, each ready for use at the drop of a hat; their stories are distilled and condensed, to be adopted and discarded as necessary.
Ray is a very good liar, and surprise is a harsh, sour taste in Fraser's mouth.
4. Fraser's surprised to find out that Ray's watching him watch television, but he's more surprised when Ray settles down on the couch with him, tucking his head next to Fraser's chin and pulling the blanket around both of them.
"Who's the blonde chick?" he asks, his voice muffled and half-asleep, and Fraser explains it all to him: the Twelve Colonies, the Cylons, the war, the escape, the struggle to transcend what your past has made of you and survive on your own terms.
When Ray speaks, it's another surprise; Fraser had expected him to fall asleep again, and would not have minded if he had.
"Robots, huh?" Ray says, curling his hand around Fraser's wrist. "Cool."
5. Ray loves getting fucked, but that's not what surprises Fraser.
Ray doesn't—can't—look at him, not and tell the story, but he holds onto Fraser's hand, and Fraser squeezes back. He mutters it all against Fraser's shoulder: Stella, and her bizarre jealous streak; the ideas she sometimes got, and the things she brought home; the way it had felt, to have her opening him up with her hands and warm, slick rubber; the way she'd looked at him, afterward.
Ray's scared—fucking terrified—of what Fraser's face is going to look like, after this, but he looks up anyway, because it's Fraser, and he has to. Fraser's eyes are wide and surprised and intent, all dark, liquid pupil, and his hands on Ray are better than Stella's ever were.
Forpearl_o: Five subjects Fraser learned about from reading all the books about it in his grandparents' library:
1. Blowjobs. Everything else was different from the stack of battered romance novels, but the mechanics of this were relatively unchanged. Ray, at least, seemed satisfied with Benton's performance.
2. Internal combustion. The terminology Ray uses is different, of course, but Benton can mostly follow his explanations, and basks in Ray's satisfaction.
3. Poker. The book had suggested more traditional stakes, but Fraser finds that air works perfectly well, with the right opponent.
4. Poetry. The subsection on poets (and considerable study of Ray Kowalski) leads him to conclude that Ray Kowalski is, in fact, a poet. On the inside, naturally.
5. Love. The books give him the shape of it, but it's only later, when he reads the marks of Ray's hands and mouth on his own body, that he understands.
Foraurora_84: Five things that go through Bill Adama's head everytime they're under attack:
5. Lee. Bill spent too much time staring past his son's picture; he doesn't want to have to stare past his casket.
4. Kara. She's dangerous and crazy (and beautiful), and he hopes (he prays) that this attack isn't the one that takes her from them. The nuggets would be devastated, but the rest of them (him, Lee, Laura) wouldn't know what to do without her. (Keep fighting, her voice mutters, and he nods, because she's crazy, but she's usually right.)
3. Laura. This is new, and it worries him, the way he wants to turn to her for advice, but he's always trusted his own judgement, when it comes to seeking counsel.
The desire to see her, just to see her, to look at her pale, tired face and know that she's still breathing...that worries him, but he doesn't have time.
2. Galactica. She's his everything. When her heart stops beating—when the people that are her blood and her energy and her soul cease to be—he knows that he'll die, too.
1. Oh, frak.
Forseigeofangels: Five Things SGA characters said upon seeing Snakes on a Plane:
1. "I do not understand." Nobody had really expected Teyla to, though, and at least she was nice about letting them watch in peace.
2. "Oh, come on." John's not generally picky about realism in his movies, but flying goofs just piss him off. He spends at least twenty minutes complaining about inaccuracies in the light, the design, the wind damage, and the wiring backups; he stops when he realizes that everyone is staring.
3. "Oh, that was stupid, but I needed that." They know, they all know: Elizabeth needs to laugh, like they need water and air and leadership. That's why they invite her to movie night, these days, and why she comes.
4. "Huh?" Rodney is asleep, cheek pressed into John's shoulder, and everyone else is gone. He'd fallen asleep before a single snake appeared on screen, but that doesn't stop him from arguing plot points all through lunch the next day.
5. "Cool." Snakes, knives, triumph against evil. Ronon's good.
So far, we have:
For
torakowalski: Five reasons Radek Zelenka still hasn't killed Rodney McKay :Sight:
Radek has seen Rodney in the labs, and in the jumper bay, and in the gateroom, and in the infirmary, and in Elizabeth's office, and on the mainland, and offworld. He's never seen Rodney at rest, or anything close to it; he doesn't know anyone who has.
Radek is a man who enjoys his comforts and his safety. If Rodney dies, Radek gets his job, and he cannot think of anything he wants less.
Smell:
"You know, I could kill you."
"Yes, but I have the good coffee."
"...You are right."
"Of course I'm right, and pass me that crystal, will you?"
Taste:
He wants to, oh he wants to, but Elizabeth holds him down with her thin strong fingers and explains. Rodney is the key to John; John is the key to Atlantis; Atlantis is the key to their plans. He thinks of the Pegasus Galaxy, spread out before them like a banquet, theirs for the taking; he thinks of Rodney, dying in a thousand horrifying ways, knowing who is responsible and unable to save himself.
Wait, dear, she says, her lips sweet against his, just a little longer, and he subsides, lost in the taste of her.
Touch:
The gene therapy didn't take, for Radek. The metal and glass of Atlantis is cold and dead under his fingers, never lighting, never moving, never giving to him the wonder and excitement he sees on McKay's face. For him, the only life in Atlantis is his own.
Rodney's skin is warm, though, and his hands skim with just the right amount of pressure down Radek's sides, his back, his legs. Radek groans, and this, he thinks, this is life enough.
Hearing:
Radek Zelenka is not a proud man; he has few illusions, and recognizes them as such. He knows the measure of his own talents, and knows that while he is great, Rodney McKay is every inch the genius he thinks he is.
The job of the second is not a happy job, or an easy one, but when Rodney has an idea, the words pour thick and fast, rushing past each other, and Radek is lifted by Rodney's own imagination. When the words fall silent—when there is nothing but his mind and Rodney's, meeting in half-spoken plans and wordless accords—they soar.
For
shoemaster: Five things Benton Fraser was surprised to find out about Ray Kowalski:1. He's wearing a bulletproof vest.
2. He's genuinely attracted to women.
"Really?" Benton says, and then catches himself. "I'm sorry, Ray," he offers, "but..." But what? But I'd always assumed you weren't really interested, that it wasn't really serious, that it was all a front. Not, admittedly, a particularly effective front, but Benton had thought that that was part of it, as well: a way for Ray to express his feelings (towards Benton) while still maintaining plausible deniability.
"I hadn't realized you genuinely liked them," he says, finally.
Ray grins. "Don't worry, Fraser," he promises, insinuating himself between Benton's folded arms and his stiff torso, "I genuinely like you a whole lot better."
3. Benton Fraser knows, of course, that this is not Ray's first undercover assignment.
As he listens to Ray's stories of past cases, however—the drug dealer, the junkie, the English teacher, the secretary, the hot-dog salesman—he realizes that Ray is good at this, far better than Benton had suspected. He has a host of personas, each ready for use at the drop of a hat; their stories are distilled and condensed, to be adopted and discarded as necessary.
Ray is a very good liar, and surprise is a harsh, sour taste in Fraser's mouth.
4. Fraser's surprised to find out that Ray's watching him watch television, but he's more surprised when Ray settles down on the couch with him, tucking his head next to Fraser's chin and pulling the blanket around both of them.
"Who's the blonde chick?" he asks, his voice muffled and half-asleep, and Fraser explains it all to him: the Twelve Colonies, the Cylons, the war, the escape, the struggle to transcend what your past has made of you and survive on your own terms.
When Ray speaks, it's another surprise; Fraser had expected him to fall asleep again, and would not have minded if he had.
"Robots, huh?" Ray says, curling his hand around Fraser's wrist. "Cool."
5. Ray loves getting fucked, but that's not what surprises Fraser.
Ray doesn't—can't—look at him, not and tell the story, but he holds onto Fraser's hand, and Fraser squeezes back. He mutters it all against Fraser's shoulder: Stella, and her bizarre jealous streak; the ideas she sometimes got, and the things she brought home; the way it had felt, to have her opening him up with her hands and warm, slick rubber; the way she'd looked at him, afterward.
Ray's scared—fucking terrified—of what Fraser's face is going to look like, after this, but he looks up anyway, because it's Fraser, and he has to. Fraser's eyes are wide and surprised and intent, all dark, liquid pupil, and his hands on Ray are better than Stella's ever were.
For
pearl_o: Five subjects Fraser learned about from reading all the books about it in his grandparents' library:1. Blowjobs. Everything else was different from the stack of battered romance novels, but the mechanics of this were relatively unchanged. Ray, at least, seemed satisfied with Benton's performance.
2. Internal combustion. The terminology Ray uses is different, of course, but Benton can mostly follow his explanations, and basks in Ray's satisfaction.
3. Poker. The book had suggested more traditional stakes, but Fraser finds that air works perfectly well, with the right opponent.
4. Poetry. The subsection on poets (and considerable study of Ray Kowalski) leads him to conclude that Ray Kowalski is, in fact, a poet. On the inside, naturally.
5. Love. The books give him the shape of it, but it's only later, when he reads the marks of Ray's hands and mouth on his own body, that he understands.
For
aurora_84: Five things that go through Bill Adama's head everytime they're under attack:5. Lee. Bill spent too much time staring past his son's picture; he doesn't want to have to stare past his casket.
4. Kara. She's dangerous and crazy (and beautiful), and he hopes (he prays) that this attack isn't the one that takes her from them. The nuggets would be devastated, but the rest of them (him, Lee, Laura) wouldn't know what to do without her. (Keep fighting, her voice mutters, and he nods, because she's crazy, but she's usually right.)
3. Laura. This is new, and it worries him, the way he wants to turn to her for advice, but he's always trusted his own judgement, when it comes to seeking counsel.
The desire to see her, just to see her, to look at her pale, tired face and know that she's still breathing...that worries him, but he doesn't have time.
2. Galactica. She's his everything. When her heart stops beating—when the people that are her blood and her energy and her soul cease to be—he knows that he'll die, too.
1. Oh, frak.
For
seigeofangels: Five Things SGA characters said upon seeing Snakes on a Plane:1. "I do not understand." Nobody had really expected Teyla to, though, and at least she was nice about letting them watch in peace.
2. "Oh, come on." John's not generally picky about realism in his movies, but flying goofs just piss him off. He spends at least twenty minutes complaining about inaccuracies in the light, the design, the wind damage, and the wiring backups; he stops when he realizes that everyone is staring.
3. "Oh, that was stupid, but I needed that." They know, they all know: Elizabeth needs to laugh, like they need water and air and leadership. That's why they invite her to movie night, these days, and why she comes.
4. "Huh?" Rodney is asleep, cheek pressed into John's shoulder, and everyone else is gone. He'd fallen asleep before a single snake appeared on screen, but that doesn't stop him from arguing plot points all through lunch the next day.
5. "Cool." Snakes, knives, triumph against evil. Ronon's good.