The WIP Meme
Nov. 6th, 2013 08:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanGanked from the ever wonderful ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rabidchild, but seen in various forms all over my f-list the last few days.
The rules: Post a line from each of your active WIPs. No fandom, no context, nothing. Then ask me about them.
1 - “It’s a big step – and once you do this, you can’t go back. There are no do-overs.”
Peter nodded. “Are you okay with it? This is as much your decision as it is mine. Like you said – there’s no going back.”
:::::::::::::::::::
2 - Peter let out a bark of laughter. Life was good. “We’ve got a meeting with the brass this morning, can’t tell them we were late because you desperately needed a blow job.”
:::::::::::::::::::
3 - Mozzie's sitting Indian-style, on the bed with a very admiring smile on his lips. “I think you should go with Mardi Gras colors” and he hands Neal a trio of feather boas.
:::::::::::::::::::
4 - Peter had turned on his night table lamp and Neal was surprised to find himself as wet as if he had been sprayed with a hose. The sheets beneath him, his sleep pants, and even the pillow case were soaked. He felt weird, not exactly feverish – but under-the-weather. Elizabeth reached up and felt his forehead, but shrugged in puzzlement.
“You’re a cool as a cucumber.”
:::::::::::::::::::
5 - The child blinked, burst out crying, and threw himself on him.
“PeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeter” His name came out in a breathless rush of hysteria.
:::::::::::::::::::
6 - When he woke up, Neal was expecting an ordinary day - untangling yet another mortgage fraud case. Instead, he found himself of the wrong side of a gun, again.
:::::::::::::::::::
7 - Neal shut the door behind Peter. He closed it with careful deliberation, the latch engaging with a quiet click. He would have preferred to slam it, to set the whole house rattling. He didn’t want to be civilized.
It was a long time since he’d been this angry at anyone, let alone anyone he loved.
:::::::::::::::::::
8 - Of course Peter had moved on, she certainly had. She wasn’t promiscuous, but in the decade since their separation and divorce, there had been several well publicized relationships - an award-winning actor, a certain celebrity chef who had named his then-latest restaurant after her. The only other steady relationship she had, and the least publicized one, was a very ill-advised liaison with a French fashion designer during a six-month break in her tour schedule.
:::::::::::::::::::
9 - Peter didn’t have time to react. Someone dropped a hood over his head and he felt the sharp pinch of a pressure syringe on his neck. In two heartbeats, everything went black.
:::::::::::::::::::
10 - Peter bit the inside of his cheek in an effort not to snap at the smiling, clueless woman working at the front desk. Morningside Center was one of the best private facilities in the entire city, and he knew, objectively, that Neal was in good hands here. He made sure of it.
A bit more than a single line from each, but I want this to make SOME sense.
rabidchild, but seen in various forms all over my f-list the last few days. The rules: Post a line from each of your active WIPs. No fandom, no context, nothing. Then ask me about them.
1 - “It’s a big step – and once you do this, you can’t go back. There are no do-overs.”
Peter nodded. “Are you okay with it? This is as much your decision as it is mine. Like you said – there’s no going back.”
2 - Peter let out a bark of laughter. Life was good. “We’ve got a meeting with the brass this morning, can’t tell them we were late because you desperately needed a blow job.”
3 - Mozzie's sitting Indian-style, on the bed with a very admiring smile on his lips. “I think you should go with Mardi Gras colors” and he hands Neal a trio of feather boas.
4 - Peter had turned on his night table lamp and Neal was surprised to find himself as wet as if he had been sprayed with a hose. The sheets beneath him, his sleep pants, and even the pillow case were soaked. He felt weird, not exactly feverish – but under-the-weather. Elizabeth reached up and felt his forehead, but shrugged in puzzlement.
“You’re a cool as a cucumber.”
5 - The child blinked, burst out crying, and threw himself on him.
“PeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeter” His name came out in a breathless rush of hysteria.
6 - When he woke up, Neal was expecting an ordinary day - untangling yet another mortgage fraud case. Instead, he found himself of the wrong side of a gun, again.
7 - Neal shut the door behind Peter. He closed it with careful deliberation, the latch engaging with a quiet click. He would have preferred to slam it, to set the whole house rattling. He didn’t want to be civilized.
It was a long time since he’d been this angry at anyone, let alone anyone he loved.
8 - Of course Peter had moved on, she certainly had. She wasn’t promiscuous, but in the decade since their separation and divorce, there had been several well publicized relationships - an award-winning actor, a certain celebrity chef who had named his then-latest restaurant after her. The only other steady relationship she had, and the least publicized one, was a very ill-advised liaison with a French fashion designer during a six-month break in her tour schedule.
9 - Peter didn’t have time to react. Someone dropped a hood over his head and he felt the sharp pinch of a pressure syringe on his neck. In two heartbeats, everything went black.
10 - Peter bit the inside of his cheek in an effort not to snap at the smiling, clueless woman working at the front desk. Morningside Center was one of the best private facilities in the entire city, and he knew, objectively, that Neal was in good hands here. He made sure of it.
A bit more than a single line from each, but I want this to make SOME sense.
