The rules are as follows: go to page 7 of a WIP, skip to the 7th line, share 7 sentences, and tag 7 more writers to continue the challenge.
(Or if you don’t have 7 pages of something, then go to any page, and proceed from there.)
I got tagged twice ( @youlighttheskyfanfiction and, somewhat belatedly, @provocatrixxx) so I guess you get a double helping. I’m not actively working on anything right now so I’m using a definition of ‘WIP’ that basically means ‘anything in my unfinished folder.’
1: Excerpt from an A-Team (TV) fanfic I cleverly titled “Cambodia,” in which they’re sent on a mission to a part of the world they have no business returning to, and had no business being there the first time. Yes, I used to write A-Team fanfic. Too bad I never finished any of it.
Murdock nodded.
“Exactamundo, Franklin. Somebody
might recognize us. We’re sorta
technically war criminals around this peninsula.”“And,” Hannibal
put in, “if the Vietnamese or the reds get hold of us, we’re a far tastier
prize than poor old Huy. But this
assignment has us walking right into their teeth.”“Well, you gotta tell Stockwell!” Frankie said in alarm.
“Nothing doing,” Murdock denied. “One, we don’t trust that bastard as far as
Face can throw ‘im. Two, this’s gotta
get done, and Stockwell was right. If we
can’t pull it off, nobody can.”“Three,” Hannibal added, “I’m not giving him anything
more on us than he has already.
Stockwell thinks he knows us. He
thinks he owns us. But that’s a big black chunk of our record
that’s out of his reach, and as long as it is, he doesn’t even know what he
doesn’t know.”
2: Excerpt from a Coldfire trilogy fanfic. In which two grownass men–or one grownass man and one 800 year old immortal asshole–are bitchy at each other due to having nothing better to do. Ever think about how cramped those old sailing ships must have been?
Tarrant’s mouth twisted.
“There’s nothing to do on this damned ship,” he replied irritably. “Trust me.
If I had any alternatives, I’d take them, but one can only stare at
planks for so long before even your company begins to seem entertaining.”Damien blinked in surprise.
“Are you trying to pick a fight?”The adept gazed haughtily out to sea. “That would be childish.” Damien gave him a quizzical look, but didn’t
challenge him on the point. The two
stood silently for a few moments before Tarrant asked, almost as if he gave a
damn, “Can’t you sleep?”Damien snorted in derision. “After what you did to me? Small chance of that.”
3: Bonus, because I just waded through so many WIPs. excerpt from an Avengers fanfic (from before any of the movies came out, ah so long ago) in which Tony attempts seduction by feeling up Steve’s motorcycle. Or maybe he’s just seducing the motorcycle. Honestly Steve’s not 100% sure when it comes to Tony.
“Vintage,” Tony agreed amiably. “Like fine wines and its owner, it ages
extraordinarily well.” He laughed when
the back of Steve’s neck went red. Then,
giving into temptation, he reached out to slide his palms over the contours of
the tank and the long leather seat. It
felt a little like Steve himself, hard and sleek, part living warmth and part smooth,
rounded metal.He noticed Steve watching him, the man breaking focus
for the first time since Tony had come into the garage. More properly, he caught Steve following his
hands; so he splayed his fingers and trailed them slowly back over the tank,
and came up with a plan.
Tagging…honestly, I can’t remember who I’ve seen do the meme. If you haven’t done it yet, I’m tagging you.
from Tumblr http://ift.tt/1J8eIip