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serafina20So, WIP meme:
WIP Meme!
1. Go to page 7 of your most recent WiP
2. Count seven lines down
3. Copy and paste the next seven lines of text
As usual, I've got more WIPs than I can actually write at a time.
(Cap. was born a girl, verse)
But. He couldn’t imagine her in a dress. Or wearing lipstick or heels. He couldn’t imagine her as being anything than what he was: a short, skinny little scarecrow wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit, being smarter than everyone around her, and picking fights with guys four times her size.
Bucky looked at her. She was staring up at him, eyes big and hopeful. Like she trusted him to do the right thing. Like the right thing was easy and clear.
Maybe it was to her. Doing the right thing seemed to come naturally.
She was going to get creamed by the world. Wide-eyed idealists always did, man or woman.
(my never-ending SPN fic)
"What's wrong, Rach?" He trailed his fingers through her hair.
"Like the demon is going to let me get an abortion," she whispered. "He won't even let me remember the conception. If I try, he'll do something to me."
He sighed. Tightened his arms around her. He was so fucking sick of living this constant fear. It choked them, made them afraid to do anything. It wasn't fair.
"Forget about that," he said. He pulled back and tilted her head to meet his eyes. "Just… if it were just you and me. And you got pregnant. What would you want to do?"
(Jonathan Crane/Bruce Wayne)
There was something more going on here. Something more than one coworker bidding goodnight to the other, only to be attacked.
"What did he do after?"
Fletcher swiped his hand in front of his face. "Uh, I don't really remember. Stood over me for a little bit, watching as I screamed. God, his face was so…" He swallowed. "Then he left. I was left there, lying on the floor, screaming until I passed out. Woke up here." He rubbed his face. "I thought someone else was working this case," he said.
(whose pairings seem to be leaning towards Quorra/Ed Dillanger/asexual!Sam Flynn when last I touched it)
The world squeezed around him, pushing. He felt like he was being turned inside out and the pressure grew too intense. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't…
The pressure released with a suddenness he wasn't expecting. He gasped for air, lungs greedily pulling oxygen into his bruised lungs. His head spun, and he stumbled backwards.
"What the fuck?" he gasped.
The world around him was black, shot through with blue neon lights. Blue lights that flickered and dimmed as he watched. Ed pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced around.
My Life on Mars fic:
He fell, a look of shock on his face like he couldn't believe it either. His head slammed into the corner of the coffee table with a loud crack. The corner dug into soft skin next to his eye, and then Tyler was down and out.
"Shit," Gene swore. "Sam? Sammy!" He dropped to his knees and rolled Tyler onto his back. "Bloody fucking hell," he swore again on seeing the blood pour from the wound.
Head wounds bleed more, but that knowledge did nothing to make the reality any less frightening. Sam's skin was like snow next to the bright red blood and darkening purple bruise forming at his temple.
WIP Meme!
1. Go to page 7 of your most recent WiP
2. Count seven lines down
3. Copy and paste the next seven lines of text
As usual, I've got more WIPs than I can actually write at a time.
(Cap. was born a girl, verse)
But. He couldn’t imagine her in a dress. Or wearing lipstick or heels. He couldn’t imagine her as being anything than what he was: a short, skinny little scarecrow wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit, being smarter than everyone around her, and picking fights with guys four times her size.
Bucky looked at her. She was staring up at him, eyes big and hopeful. Like she trusted him to do the right thing. Like the right thing was easy and clear.
Maybe it was to her. Doing the right thing seemed to come naturally.
She was going to get creamed by the world. Wide-eyed idealists always did, man or woman.
(my never-ending SPN fic)
"What's wrong, Rach?" He trailed his fingers through her hair.
"Like the demon is going to let me get an abortion," she whispered. "He won't even let me remember the conception. If I try, he'll do something to me."
He sighed. Tightened his arms around her. He was so fucking sick of living this constant fear. It choked them, made them afraid to do anything. It wasn't fair.
"Forget about that," he said. He pulled back and tilted her head to meet his eyes. "Just… if it were just you and me. And you got pregnant. What would you want to do?"
(Jonathan Crane/Bruce Wayne)
There was something more going on here. Something more than one coworker bidding goodnight to the other, only to be attacked.
"What did he do after?"
Fletcher swiped his hand in front of his face. "Uh, I don't really remember. Stood over me for a little bit, watching as I screamed. God, his face was so…" He swallowed. "Then he left. I was left there, lying on the floor, screaming until I passed out. Woke up here." He rubbed his face. "I thought someone else was working this case," he said.
(whose pairings seem to be leaning towards Quorra/Ed Dillanger/asexual!Sam Flynn when last I touched it)
The world squeezed around him, pushing. He felt like he was being turned inside out and the pressure grew too intense. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't…
The pressure released with a suddenness he wasn't expecting. He gasped for air, lungs greedily pulling oxygen into his bruised lungs. His head spun, and he stumbled backwards.
"What the fuck?" he gasped.
The world around him was black, shot through with blue neon lights. Blue lights that flickered and dimmed as he watched. Ed pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced around.
My Life on Mars fic:
He fell, a look of shock on his face like he couldn't believe it either. His head slammed into the corner of the coffee table with a loud crack. The corner dug into soft skin next to his eye, and then Tyler was down and out.
"Shit," Gene swore. "Sam? Sammy!" He dropped to his knees and rolled Tyler onto his back. "Bloody fucking hell," he swore again on seeing the blood pour from the wound.
Head wounds bleed more, but that knowledge did nothing to make the reality any less frightening. Sam's skin was like snow next to the bright red blood and darkening purple bruise forming at his temple.
