WIP meme is going around again.

[ptahrrific]

Post an excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.

This is everything that's reached the stage of "more than a few sentences long" and that hasn't been posted before (e.g. commentfics that are being saved for possible expansion). Mostly fake news, with an appearance by Read or Die at the end.



State of Grace is still technically a WIP, so here's a bit of that:

"Stephen, I really am sorry," interrupted Jon, cutting Stephen off before he could attempt to demonstrate his pumpkin-carving technique on one of their styrofoam takeout containers, "but I have to ask...."

"The outfit? Yeah, I know. I'll get back in something presentable by airtime, don't worry."

The slacks and turtleneck looked perfectly presentable to Jon. A little casual for Stephen, maybe, but Jon was inclined to take that a good sign: it meant he wasn't feeling scared enough to need to hide behind ties and cufflinks. "I was looking at your hair, actually."

Stephen paled. "What's happened to my hair?"

And this is from the pile of later-in-the-Expectingverse snippets, around 2013:

The double housewarming party was in full swing, with guests strewn across the full shared back yard. Most of the kids, including one of Stephen's nieces, were engaged in a game that loosely resembled baseball, which Jon had somehow been dragged into. Phoebe was pushing Angie (or possibly Nikki; Stephen could never tell Tad and Bobby's twins apart) on the tire swing. Charlene, fresh off the plane from a month in Guipúzcoa, ended up conversing in animated Spanish with a womb transplant couple from Venezuela.

And they all knew.

The thought kept hitting Stephen mid-stride. He would be talking with someone or watching the kids or taking a bite out of his burger, and all of a sudden the knowledge would crash down on him that he could walk right up to Jon and kiss him and not a single person would bat an eye.

(Well, some of the kids would make faces and complain that kissing was gross, but that didn't count.)

From a long trailing AU about Stephen as he grows up:

"Little League soccer starts up in a couple of weeks, and I want to make sure I have all my moves down before I start trying to pass them on."

"You're gonna coach?" blurted Stevie.

"That's the idea." Resting the ball on his knee, Mr. L rubbed the back of his neck with his free and now no-doubt-dirty hand. "Starting this year. Been a while since I taught anybody, though, so I'm not sure how good I am. Hey, listen, if you know anybody who knows nothing about soccer, who might be willing to help me practice...."

Stevie jumped. "Me! I know nothing about soccer!"

"Do you!" Mr. L smiled brightly at him. "That's perfect! If you need a break from your baseball practice, I could use the help."

From what appears to be another mpreg fic:

"I hope you're happy now," snapped Stephen. "Our faces are all over the tabloids. 'Stephen Colbert carrying Jon Stewart's love child!'"

"It's actually not in any tabloids, Stephen."

"It's only a matter of time before the mainstream media is parked on my--what?"

"Here, I'll show you." Jon began hauling samples out from under his desk. "The National Enquirer, Star, Weekly World News...not a word about us. They're too busy trying to pick sides in the epic war that is John versus Kate."

From the one where Stephen is an alien:

"It doesn't translate," said Stephen crossly, leaning back against the railing. The balcony overlooked one of the improbably beautiful techno-vistas contained within Stephen's desk. (The desk was, according to Stephen, a top-secret outpost using the most advanced technology in all the United Planets for clandestine observation of the human species. None of this had been enough to stop Starbucks from installing two stores.) "It's the socially dominant gender in !'^''*' society. Let's get back to dinner. Will there be lobster?"

"Do you like lobster?"

"No. Looks too much like my old astrophysics professor. I like steak."

"If you're the socially dominant gender, why can't you buy your own steak?"

Stephen broke into a dazzling grin. "You're so funny sometimes, Jon."

From the one where Jon is trans and I haven't figured out the ending:

"Do you know what they're making us waste our time on now, Jon? Do you?"

"Hello to you too, Stephen," sighed Jon, snatching the headset she had bought for this purpose from the top of the filing cabinet. Stephen's rantings might have dibs on her ears, but at least her hands would be free to get something done.

"An hour-long workshop!" cried Stephen. "On gender! I've already gone through sexual harassment sensitivity training, Jon! My time is much too valuable to waste on doing it a fourth time!"

Jon's hands began to twist in her lap. "This is a different thing. It's about gender identity. Specifically, how to understand and respect people who are trans."

"No such thing," Stephen snapped. "You're either a man or a woman, and that's it. You can't just decide to switch sides! There would be chaos! If I can turn into a woman today, what's to stop me from deciding to turn into a goat tomorrow?"

And here's R.O.D, the vampire AU:

Something huge and black and flapping materialized in front of her.

Nenene let out a scream as she was shoved into the alcove that led to a restaurant door. The wooden frame of the glass-paneled door dug into her back; a dinner menu hung in the window to her left; and a tall someone loomed over her, framed by a huge black coat and streaming midnight-blue hair.

"Don't scream!" hissed her attacker, clamping a preternaturally powerful hand over Nenene's mouth. "Please don't scream. I don't want to hurt you. Well, I do. But I won't. Much."