The WIP meme
Feb. 1st, 2012 04:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
candygrammeIt's everywhere:
Post the first sentence (or three) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
Do I have WIPs? Oh, hell, yes.
1:
I grew up in San Antonio.
Momma was a teacher and Daddy was an accountant, and we were your average middle class family, or at least that’s how we looked to the rest of the world. I was the middle child, and I confess that I was kind of a tearaway. I don’t think I wanted for brains, but according to my Momma, I sure lack for common sense. I always laugh and tell her that common sense ain’t that common, and she chases me with a wooden spoon. I guess I was always destined to fly the nest as soon as I was able, but I know that Momma was real disappointed in me when I upped and signed myself on for 8 years in the US Marines.
A lot of kids that sign on don’t actually make it into active service as a recruit, so I think she was holding out hope that I’d stay in the reserves and take an ordinary job, maybe settle down, get married and have kids. When I was recruited, she got a little depressed. I’m not saying she was disappointed in me precisely, but she was a little down for some time.
2:
“For the last time, Jared, No!” Jensen, usually soft spoken and easy going, was getting really tired of the way Jared wouldn’t leave it alone. “I don’t want someone boring holes into my head. I like my brain the way it is, thank you.”
“But it’s so much better for controlling Ladybug. We’d be safer. We could go further out.” Jared was wearing his most soulful, hangdog expression, and while usually that worked on Jensen like a charm, on this one topic it was failing completely. For a moment, Jensen thought that he was going to drop the subject, but then he saw the new idea hit as Jared’s eyes began to sparkle again. “Besides, think of the music you could create.”
Admittedly, that was a low blow. Jensen lived for his music. Guitars hadn’t changed much in the years he’d been in stasis, and although there were genres of music that he couldn’t experience without the neuroports he was so strongly averse to getting, there was enough of the familiar music around that he barely even registered his lack.
3:
"So what did you do with Jensen?" was his first question, once he'd fought his way clear of the suffocating confines of the Padahug to study the man himself. Jared had a newly discovered penchant for black, and wore black jeans, shirt and beanie, with a black jacket over top. Somehow it made his teeth look even whiter than usual.
"He's working today. I had a choice. I could either watch him be all method over my ass, or I could come down to Portland today and annoy the neighbors. I figured that the method thing would depress, and the excursion to see you guys would uplift, so here I am." Jared, always larger than life, was gesturing wildly as he explained, and Chris frowned. He hated to attract attention to himself, and although he and Aldis weren't too well known yet, Jared was.
Fixing Jared with a scowl, he leaned forward, hating that he had to stand on tiptoe to even see the man properly. "Keep it down, son. Don't want the evening to degenerate into an autograph signing session, do we?"
4:
There’s a single cube missing from the box, the empty space mounded with sugar that has drifted into the space. Everyone knows that Jared has a bottomless appetite for sweet stuff. It isn’t quite so well known that Jensen also eats his fair share of sugar.
As his eyes light on the box of sweets, Jensen’s face splits in a smile that crinkles his eyes and turns him from solemn young man to eager boy. His eyes sparkle, and he licks his lips in anticipation. One hand reaches, guitar-callused fingers fumbling, paddling through the drifts of sugar to seize on a cube of Turkish Delight, and take it from the box.
Jeff, who's in the small bathroom, washing the fake blood from his face, hears Jensen enter and turns to greet him. He pauses as he watches Jensen’s face light up and smiles to himself. This will be fun.
5:
“No, please, Dad…”
The man in the bed suddenly sat up, his body taut and far from sleep as the dream woke him.
It seemed as though he’d never be free of this nightmare, would never again have a night without the dream to awaken him, drowning in the horror of watching the inevitable unfold, and knowing that this time, like all the others, he could only watch, unable to do anything useful to avert the tragedy.
6:
He checked his watch. There were only a few more miles before he could turn off the freeway and head towards his West Hollywood apartment. Just as he was thinking that he would make it to the fundraiser on time, the Hyundai’s engine began to overheat, and he pulled over onto the hard shoulder, cursing his bad luck.
Pulling up as close to the wall as he could, he waited for a break in the traffic so that he could leave the car without getting hurt. A huge truck went by, horn blaring, rocking the car and making Jensen shiver.
He really needed to get himself a new car, but his stipend didn’t amount to more than rent and food. It was becoming increasingly difficult to afford the gas for his little old vehicle, and as for maintenance, well, that was a mere pipe dream. Sighing, he took advantage of a lull in the traffic to hop out and go around to the front, so he could open the hood.
7:
Dean tossed Sam the keys and then waited impatiently by the passenger door for Sam to unlock the doors. He got in and waited until they were back on the highway before speaking. "You've got a lot to learn about working as a team, Sammy."
"Yeah? Go on then, Dean. Educate me. I am only an egg, as they say." Sam flicked his gaze over Dean as they accelerated, and smiled a little wryly.
Shifting in his seat so he was turned toward Sam, Dean took his time looking at his younger brother. He could feel the steady hum of arousal throughout his body as his eyes came to rest on Sam's crotch. "For one thing, don't assume you know anything about someone's sexual preference. Secondly, don't try turning someone on in a public place. Thirdly," he reached out a hand and placed it in Sam's lap, "don't start something unless you plan on finishing it."
Post the first sentence (or three) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
Do I have WIPs? Oh, hell, yes.
1:
I grew up in San Antonio.
Momma was a teacher and Daddy was an accountant, and we were your average middle class family, or at least that’s how we looked to the rest of the world. I was the middle child, and I confess that I was kind of a tearaway. I don’t think I wanted for brains, but according to my Momma, I sure lack for common sense. I always laugh and tell her that common sense ain’t that common, and she chases me with a wooden spoon. I guess I was always destined to fly the nest as soon as I was able, but I know that Momma was real disappointed in me when I upped and signed myself on for 8 years in the US Marines.
A lot of kids that sign on don’t actually make it into active service as a recruit, so I think she was holding out hope that I’d stay in the reserves and take an ordinary job, maybe settle down, get married and have kids. When I was recruited, she got a little depressed. I’m not saying she was disappointed in me precisely, but she was a little down for some time.
2:
“For the last time, Jared, No!” Jensen, usually soft spoken and easy going, was getting really tired of the way Jared wouldn’t leave it alone. “I don’t want someone boring holes into my head. I like my brain the way it is, thank you.”
“But it’s so much better for controlling Ladybug. We’d be safer. We could go further out.” Jared was wearing his most soulful, hangdog expression, and while usually that worked on Jensen like a charm, on this one topic it was failing completely. For a moment, Jensen thought that he was going to drop the subject, but then he saw the new idea hit as Jared’s eyes began to sparkle again. “Besides, think of the music you could create.”
Admittedly, that was a low blow. Jensen lived for his music. Guitars hadn’t changed much in the years he’d been in stasis, and although there were genres of music that he couldn’t experience without the neuroports he was so strongly averse to getting, there was enough of the familiar music around that he barely even registered his lack.
3:
"So what did you do with Jensen?" was his first question, once he'd fought his way clear of the suffocating confines of the Padahug to study the man himself. Jared had a newly discovered penchant for black, and wore black jeans, shirt and beanie, with a black jacket over top. Somehow it made his teeth look even whiter than usual.
"He's working today. I had a choice. I could either watch him be all method over my ass, or I could come down to Portland today and annoy the neighbors. I figured that the method thing would depress, and the excursion to see you guys would uplift, so here I am." Jared, always larger than life, was gesturing wildly as he explained, and Chris frowned. He hated to attract attention to himself, and although he and Aldis weren't too well known yet, Jared was.
Fixing Jared with a scowl, he leaned forward, hating that he had to stand on tiptoe to even see the man properly. "Keep it down, son. Don't want the evening to degenerate into an autograph signing session, do we?"
4:
There’s a single cube missing from the box, the empty space mounded with sugar that has drifted into the space. Everyone knows that Jared has a bottomless appetite for sweet stuff. It isn’t quite so well known that Jensen also eats his fair share of sugar.
As his eyes light on the box of sweets, Jensen’s face splits in a smile that crinkles his eyes and turns him from solemn young man to eager boy. His eyes sparkle, and he licks his lips in anticipation. One hand reaches, guitar-callused fingers fumbling, paddling through the drifts of sugar to seize on a cube of Turkish Delight, and take it from the box.
Jeff, who's in the small bathroom, washing the fake blood from his face, hears Jensen enter and turns to greet him. He pauses as he watches Jensen’s face light up and smiles to himself. This will be fun.
5:
“No, please, Dad…”
The man in the bed suddenly sat up, his body taut and far from sleep as the dream woke him.
It seemed as though he’d never be free of this nightmare, would never again have a night without the dream to awaken him, drowning in the horror of watching the inevitable unfold, and knowing that this time, like all the others, he could only watch, unable to do anything useful to avert the tragedy.
6:
He checked his watch. There were only a few more miles before he could turn off the freeway and head towards his West Hollywood apartment. Just as he was thinking that he would make it to the fundraiser on time, the Hyundai’s engine began to overheat, and he pulled over onto the hard shoulder, cursing his bad luck.
Pulling up as close to the wall as he could, he waited for a break in the traffic so that he could leave the car without getting hurt. A huge truck went by, horn blaring, rocking the car and making Jensen shiver.
He really needed to get himself a new car, but his stipend didn’t amount to more than rent and food. It was becoming increasingly difficult to afford the gas for his little old vehicle, and as for maintenance, well, that was a mere pipe dream. Sighing, he took advantage of a lull in the traffic to hop out and go around to the front, so he could open the hood.
7:
Dean tossed Sam the keys and then waited impatiently by the passenger door for Sam to unlock the doors. He got in and waited until they were back on the highway before speaking. "You've got a lot to learn about working as a team, Sammy."
"Yeah? Go on then, Dean. Educate me. I am only an egg, as they say." Sam flicked his gaze over Dean as they accelerated, and smiled a little wryly.
Shifting in his seat so he was turned toward Sam, Dean took his time looking at his younger brother. He could feel the steady hum of arousal throughout his body as his eyes came to rest on Sam's crotch. "For one thing, don't assume you know anything about someone's sexual preference. Secondly, don't try turning someone on in a public place. Thirdly," he reached out a hand and placed it in Sam's lap, "don't start something unless you plan on finishing it."
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no subject
Date: 2012-02-02 03:31 am (UTC)They all look interesting. I can't wait to read them. (Any of the original stuff on here, or all fandom?)
no subject
Date: 2012-02-02 04:11 am (UTC)The third one is a Jared/Christian story, and I honestly don't know what I was thinking, but there's about half of it done.
5 & 6 are both OF. You have #5, but 6 is in progress and being adapted. Neither have ever been posted as fanfic.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-02 04:23 am (UTC)Jared/Chris, huh? I'm uh, not sure I can do that, but the premise looks interesting anyway.
I'm going to start reading over #5 as soon as I finish this story I'm working on (so hopefully this weekend). I can't wait to see what you do with #6 too. :D
no subject
Date: 2012-02-02 04:36 am (UTC)I edited to add the current wip. It's for the "The one with the..." challenge.