WIP meme & Photo meme
Post a sentence (or two or a paragraph) from as many of your WIPs as you want, with no explanation attached.
one. On-set friendships are like on-set romances - wonderful and intense and with a quick expiry date. They are supposed to last though filming and the press tour, and then die a swift and comfortable death. Everybody knows that, everyone apparently does not include Zachary Quinto who is in fact calling Chris right now.
Calling Chris and being all friendly and nice, like they are going to be on set later that day, when the press tour and all the premieres were months ago. Chris likes Zach, of course he does, but he doesn’t like like him and he can’t help but wonder if the coffee date he somehow agrees to go to is in fact a real date.
He panics briefly and calls Zoe, the irony of which does not escape him.
two. 'You fall in love so easily', Zach would say and Chris would laugh into his glass of too-expensive red wine and that would be that. Only, something would twist in Chris’ gut and the laughter would be forced, because he hopes that Zach of all people would be able to see this for what it is. He doesn’t fall in love easily at all, he falls in lust, in infatuation, in fucking vapid women with big smiles and love, love is so far from it all.
“Plato got it right man, platonic love is the way forward. I love you, I love tuna sandwiches and skinny dipping, I don’t love her.”
“Does she know that?”
“Of course.”
He’d come close with Beau, they were friends first - and how well had that worked out? They are civil now, barely, but it took them so long to get to that stage and sometimes when they are having lunch, Chris still wants to bend her over the table and that is precisely why compartmentalising works for him.
Only sometimes Zach would laugh at him, open mouthed and happy, and his eyes would nearly close, and Chris would think about kissing him.
three. “I am the Hulk. Only camera flashes are my trigger,” Chris says.
“Hello to you too. Do you have any idea what time it is? I have to be on set at Six tomorrow.”
“Sorry.” He hangs up.
Zach feels bad and calls him back. “Chris?”
“I need your help.”
four. Neal had flirted his way into the heart of more than one or two hardened criminals. He didn’t particularly mind - it was all part of the game and they were unfailingly beautiful women. (He wondered about that, sometimes. Perhaps there was a correlation between level of attractiveness and a propensity towards a life of crime.)
Still, none of that explained the above average levels of tension currently circulating in the room.
“So, the Pharaoh case-” Peter began.
Ah, the Pharaoh case - a seemingly simple case of some missing Egyptian artifacts had eluded them for some weeks now. The artifacts were rather… unusual and of a delicate nature, which complicated everything. They were meant to increase virility and fruitfulness. They were also the only thing taken, which pointed towards a believer.
“-we’ve made some progress. We have an address; unfortunately there is not enough evidence for an official warrant.”
Right. There was never enough evidence for an official warrant, and if there was, things were rarely if ever where they we supposed to be.
“There will be a party tomorrow, turns out our perpetrator has a weakness for two things - gambling and scantily dressed young men, which is where you come in.”
“How scantily?” Neal asked, just as Cruz handed him a file.
Ah.
They were all looking at him now, anxiously, and Neal had to forcefully squash down the laughter that was threatening to escape.
“So Caroline is more of a…Charles?” Neal asked; his eyes wide.
“Christian.” Peter recovered remarkably well. “Is this going to be a problem?”
Neal ducked his head and smiled. “That depends… How scantily?”
five. Quinn hates Rachel Berry; has hated her since they were four years old and Rachel had come to pre-school wearing the exact same sequin dress that Quinn’s mother had refused to buy her, murmuring something about sequins being the devil’s fabric. Be that as it may, and at four Quinn had few theological opinions, Rachel Berry had her dress and surely that was why she also got her lead in the school play.
And now, Rachel is having the audacity (Quinn isn’t stupid, she can say audacity if she wants to) to tell her that she doesn’t want her to suffer, to offer her a hand in truce, if not quite friendship, while simultaneously aiming to steal everything that belongs to Quinn. If it wasn’t that terrible, it would be almost funny. It’s not like Quinn never tasted the other side of popularity, it’s why she is so furiously determined to stay on top. Name aside, Quinn Fabray was not born to be the princess she now is. Her story is more rags to riches than that, and long before Finn Hudson was her boyfriend and Noah Puckerman the father of her baby, they were her best friends and partners in crime.
On her first day of preschool, Quinn wore her favourite dress, which was blue and white and checked and she loved it more than anything in the world. When a boy threw his chocolate milk on her dress during recess, Quinn scratched his arm so hard in response, that he started crying.
The two of them had to see the principal and their parents were called in. Quinn doesn’t remember much from that meeting, apart from the huge brown stain on her dress and the way the little boy had stuck his tongue out at her, while their parents failed to be civil towards one another.
That little boy was Puck. Of course, he was still called Noah at the time and he was shorter than her, with skinned knees and an adventurous streak that constantly got him into trouble.
six. Nate stood up from the bed and walked gingerly to the little fridge, took out the three-quarter-full bottle of vodka and smiled. “Care to even the playing field?”
“I have the weekend off,” Brad said instead.
“Thought you’d see the sights? Oxford is a beautiful place,” Nate said, whilst rummaging for clean glasses. He managed to find only a Harvard mug, and poured a generous quantity of vodka into it. He handed it to Brad, because he was a generous host and because it would be for the best if he didn’t consume any more himself.
“I rented a bike. Thought I’d add a speeding ticket or two to my ever growing collection.”
“Well, it is a more exciting hobby than stamps,” Nate offered, though the feeling of imbalance grew.
“A little less lucrative,” Brad admitted, but he also took a drink from his mug.
Photo meme (because I have been taking a lot of pics recently and want to take more and these are always really fun to do): Ask me to take pictures of any aspect of my life that you're interested in or curious about.
one. On-set friendships are like on-set romances - wonderful and intense and with a quick expiry date. They are supposed to last though filming and the press tour, and then die a swift and comfortable death. Everybody knows that, everyone apparently does not include Zachary Quinto who is in fact calling Chris right now.
Calling Chris and being all friendly and nice, like they are going to be on set later that day, when the press tour and all the premieres were months ago. Chris likes Zach, of course he does, but he doesn’t like like him and he can’t help but wonder if the coffee date he somehow agrees to go to is in fact a real date.
He panics briefly and calls Zoe, the irony of which does not escape him.
two. 'You fall in love so easily', Zach would say and Chris would laugh into his glass of too-expensive red wine and that would be that. Only, something would twist in Chris’ gut and the laughter would be forced, because he hopes that Zach of all people would be able to see this for what it is. He doesn’t fall in love easily at all, he falls in lust, in infatuation, in fucking vapid women with big smiles and love, love is so far from it all.
“Plato got it right man, platonic love is the way forward. I love you, I love tuna sandwiches and skinny dipping, I don’t love her.”
“Does she know that?”
“Of course.”
He’d come close with Beau, they were friends first - and how well had that worked out? They are civil now, barely, but it took them so long to get to that stage and sometimes when they are having lunch, Chris still wants to bend her over the table and that is precisely why compartmentalising works for him.
Only sometimes Zach would laugh at him, open mouthed and happy, and his eyes would nearly close, and Chris would think about kissing him.
three. “I am the Hulk. Only camera flashes are my trigger,” Chris says.
“Hello to you too. Do you have any idea what time it is? I have to be on set at Six tomorrow.”
“Sorry.” He hangs up.
Zach feels bad and calls him back. “Chris?”
“I need your help.”
four. Neal had flirted his way into the heart of more than one or two hardened criminals. He didn’t particularly mind - it was all part of the game and they were unfailingly beautiful women. (He wondered about that, sometimes. Perhaps there was a correlation between level of attractiveness and a propensity towards a life of crime.)
Still, none of that explained the above average levels of tension currently circulating in the room.
“So, the Pharaoh case-” Peter began.
Ah, the Pharaoh case - a seemingly simple case of some missing Egyptian artifacts had eluded them for some weeks now. The artifacts were rather… unusual and of a delicate nature, which complicated everything. They were meant to increase virility and fruitfulness. They were also the only thing taken, which pointed towards a believer.
“-we’ve made some progress. We have an address; unfortunately there is not enough evidence for an official warrant.”
Right. There was never enough evidence for an official warrant, and if there was, things were rarely if ever where they we supposed to be.
“There will be a party tomorrow, turns out our perpetrator has a weakness for two things - gambling and scantily dressed young men, which is where you come in.”
“How scantily?” Neal asked, just as Cruz handed him a file.
Ah.
They were all looking at him now, anxiously, and Neal had to forcefully squash down the laughter that was threatening to escape.
“So Caroline is more of a…Charles?” Neal asked; his eyes wide.
“Christian.” Peter recovered remarkably well. “Is this going to be a problem?”
Neal ducked his head and smiled. “That depends… How scantily?”
five. Quinn hates Rachel Berry; has hated her since they were four years old and Rachel had come to pre-school wearing the exact same sequin dress that Quinn’s mother had refused to buy her, murmuring something about sequins being the devil’s fabric. Be that as it may, and at four Quinn had few theological opinions, Rachel Berry had her dress and surely that was why she also got her lead in the school play.
And now, Rachel is having the audacity (Quinn isn’t stupid, she can say audacity if she wants to) to tell her that she doesn’t want her to suffer, to offer her a hand in truce, if not quite friendship, while simultaneously aiming to steal everything that belongs to Quinn. If it wasn’t that terrible, it would be almost funny. It’s not like Quinn never tasted the other side of popularity, it’s why she is so furiously determined to stay on top. Name aside, Quinn Fabray was not born to be the princess she now is. Her story is more rags to riches than that, and long before Finn Hudson was her boyfriend and Noah Puckerman the father of her baby, they were her best friends and partners in crime.
On her first day of preschool, Quinn wore her favourite dress, which was blue and white and checked and she loved it more than anything in the world. When a boy threw his chocolate milk on her dress during recess, Quinn scratched his arm so hard in response, that he started crying.
The two of them had to see the principal and their parents were called in. Quinn doesn’t remember much from that meeting, apart from the huge brown stain on her dress and the way the little boy had stuck his tongue out at her, while their parents failed to be civil towards one another.
That little boy was Puck. Of course, he was still called Noah at the time and he was shorter than her, with skinned knees and an adventurous streak that constantly got him into trouble.
six. Nate stood up from the bed and walked gingerly to the little fridge, took out the three-quarter-full bottle of vodka and smiled. “Care to even the playing field?”
“I have the weekend off,” Brad said instead.
“Thought you’d see the sights? Oxford is a beautiful place,” Nate said, whilst rummaging for clean glasses. He managed to find only a Harvard mug, and poured a generous quantity of vodka into it. He handed it to Brad, because he was a generous host and because it would be for the best if he didn’t consume any more himself.
“I rented a bike. Thought I’d add a speeding ticket or two to my ever growing collection.”
“Well, it is a more exciting hobby than stamps,” Nate offered, though the feeling of imbalance grew.
“A little less lucrative,” Brad admitted, but he also took a drink from his mug.
Photo meme (because I have been taking a lot of pics recently and want to take more and these are always really fun to do): Ask me to take pictures of any aspect of my life that you're interested in or curious about.