Stolen from
therumjournals,
zjofierose,
the_deep_magic, and others on my flist:
Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.
Choose one (1), and I will post a random line or two.
And like
therumjournals (can I just BE her when I grow up?), I'll give a little blurb, relative word count, and the odds of me finishing it. A couple of them are dead,
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Comments 22
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This is a Matt Bomer/Chris Pine fic (hence Bone) and 100% will get done relatively soon. There's about 700 words at the moment, and will be the usual 3-4k fic.
Chris scrambles to the other side of the door to check on whomever he’s plowed over and finds his frequent audition rival rubbing his shoulder.
“Hey, sorry, man,” Chris offers as he cringes. “Didn’t see you there. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, no, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been standing where no one can see me.”
Chris watches the muscles in his sculpted forearm flex as he pockets his own cell phone. It doesn’t even occur to Chris that he’s staring until he sees a hand extended toward him, prompting him to blink and look up.
“I’m Matt. We’ve see each other around for a while so maybe it’s due time to introduce myself.”
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also, LOL, that looks a lot like my organization system. hee!
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Anyway, I had been wrestling with this fic for about half a year, outlined it, but only managed to write about 1800 words. I felt like were too many emotionally heavy issues and I didn't have the time to really sit down and do this fic justice. And in the meantime, the_deep_magic wrote an amazing, hot, and fun fic that fulfilled my Pinto with baby cravings.
Chris watches as his son watches him back. Even at this young age, his wide eyes are searching Chris’ face, studying and making sense of his features ( ... )
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He’s mumbling something into my tear-dampened shirt ( ... )
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Did you know that ALL of them contain pear juice?
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LOL, so this is crackfic. It's a Pinto friends fic where they get deaged and John Cho is designated (by Karl) to be their babysitter.
“Whose children did you kidnap?” Kerri's tone gets more desperate. “No, really, John,” she gestures with the spatula. “If FBI agents or, or, or Child Protective Services, I don’t even know who has jurisdiction, if any official looking person storms through that door ( ... )
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Kerri shakes her head. “Why am I holding this?” she mutters to herself and tosses the spatula in the sink.
This made me laugh really hard. HAND, WHY ARE YOU EVEN HOLDING THAT SPATULA. WE ARE NOT BAKING.
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It's been outlined, only about 800 words at the moment, and probably less than 25% chance of it getting finished.
“I’m not drunk. I need you to know that,” he’d said, pink lips grazing Zach’s cheek. He felt Chris’ hand fumbling at his belt ( ... )
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