When you see this, 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.
Big Bang Theory, Sheldon/Leonard
In this story, Raj's parents tell the gay couple they know (it comes up in S1) that they know a lovely couple for them to stay with in America. Hilarity ensues. Also Leonard finds out he may be a little gayer than previously thought. Then it goes a little Penny/Sheldon/Leonard.
Leonard kicked off his shoes, shutting the door behind him. All he wanted, he thought to himself as he pulled off his shirt, was to lie down in his nice, quiet bed and get some sleep.
He had already sat down before he realized that Sheldon was already in it.
"What are you doing in here?" he shouted, jumping up again.
Sheldon held his finger to his lips. "You'll wake the baby," he whispered. "I can't sleep in my bed. Harun and Tanvir are in it."
"I know!" Leonard hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "That's why you're supposed to be on the couch!"
Sheldon rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. "If I sleep on the couch, how are we going to explain our marital problems?"
"We don't have marital problems. We don't have a marriage!"
"If there is evidence that we're not sleeping together, our guests are going to either- A- ask uncomfortable questions at breakfast relating to our apparent difficulties, or- B- figure out that this is all some bizarre ruse put on for their benefit, neither of which I want to explain."
As much as Leonard didn't want to admit it, he had a point.
"Etiquette has historically demanded that hosts be inconvenienced for their guests' sake," Sheldon said, in an attempt to pacify him. "When a guest at a White House dinner picked up his fingerbowl and drank from it, Dolly Madison drank from hers to cover his error. It's the same thing."
"It's a lot more pleasant to put your lips to-" Leonard stopped short. "I don't even want to finish that thought."
"Good. Goodnight," Sheldon said, cheerfully, turning towards the wall.
"When in Rome," Leonard muttered, pulling back the covers and climbing into bed.
"A more appropriate sentiment would be 'When in Greece'," Sheldon pointed out.
"Good night, Sheldon," he replied pointedly.
"You're late," she practically panted. "I almost started without you."
"Now that's an enticing image," the voice on the other end of the line said. A hard, practically rasping voice. Not Wilson.
"I was expecting Wilson," she told him, covering herself as if she was afraid of him seeing.
"I'll bet you were," House said, voice dropping dangerously. "Wilson's," his voice caught for just a moment, "busy right now."
"House, put Wilson on the phone."
He chuckled hoarsely. "I don't think he can talk with his mouth full."
Cuddy gaped. "I'm- I'm-"
"Livid, but strangely aroused?"
"No," she said, hoping her voice wouldn't give her away.
"You could hang up," House drawled, "but then you'd miss all the fun." To emphasize his point, he flipped over to speakerphone. Wilson moaned beautifully, and Cuddy knew she was undone.
This is from the abandoned sequel to To Have and To Hold and Special Delivery.
"You're not going."
"I'm serious. You could get hurt."
"Please. It's Captain Cold. Flash beats him every other week, all by himself."
"The Flash isn't fighting for two."
"He has the power to make it chilly. I'm so scared."
Blue Beetle lost his train of thought as he emerged from the bathroom. He was a little amazed that Booster had actually managed to jam himself into the power suit at all, and the poor thing looked like it was about to burst. As if to drive the point home, the chevron on his chest had been stretched out, looking for all the world as if it was pointing at his huge belly.
Booster lightly kicked his loving and devoted husband, who was showing his sympathy for Booster's plight by rolling on the floor and laughing loudly. "Forget it. I might as well stay home and eat Chocos."
Beetle tried to comfort him, but got as far as "You look-" before dissolving into giggles again.
"Me and Sue can watch Golden Girls and drink chamomile tea."
As he stomped to the closet, Booster could have sworn Beetle gasped out something that sounded like "Amanda Waller".
"I heard that," he growled, prying the suit off.
Phoenix Wright, Edgeworth/Iris
He wasn't going to come back, not ever, never on Phoenix's account. But when Iris of Hazakura Temple- Iris Hawthorne, he supposed he should say- called him, he didn't have much of a choice.
"She needs all the help she can get," he remembered Phoenix telling him once upon a time, his eyes sad- had he been planning to disappear even then? "You need to help her."
Stepping through the gate into the snowy temple grounds, he couldn't help thinking that the two of them had something in common; they'd both lost family- evil manipulative family though it may have been.
And now, they'd both lost Phoenix.
Maybe that explained why he found himself pressing her down into the soft material of her futon. They were seeking nothing more than the warm, steady comfort of another body, the mindlessness of sex- but Phoenix was there between them, leaden and cold and inescapable.
She had tears in her eyes when she whispered his name, and he was startled to realize that he did, too.
Integra crouched down in the basement, trying to sink through the floor. She knew any minute her uncle and his men would make it through the door. She’d give anything just to not die, just to make it out of this basement.
And then she turned, and she knew all hope was lost. The corpse rose up from the floor and snapped all its bonds at once. Then, cackling like a demon, it sprouted grotesque, shadowy heads that made to eat her whole.
Integral Hellsing sat straight up in bed, panting, sweat dripping down her face.
It’s the smallest gig you’ve ever been to, so small that “please don’t headbang into the lead singer” is a perfectly reasonable request. School’s been out for a week, and it really shows- there can’t be more than thirty people here. As if to compensate, it’s so damned loud and so damned dark that you feel like your head is going to implode.
Half the boys in the room are wearing eyeliner, and a full third of them are wearing pants tighter than you’d ever dare to buy. Tugging down the sleeve of your too-expensive top, you start to feel terrifically out of place; but, it’s your friend’s favorite local band and you definitely owe him. Instead of running, you just stand there, trying to act nonchalant, thinking of all the embarrassing things you can make him do for you later.
There’s a follow spot that keeps passing over the crowd, seemingly just to shine into your eyes and piss you off, but as it passes over the wall to your right, you see him. Greg, campus legend, your former TA, who your old roommate dated for a very trying three week period. Apparently, it isn’t his scene either; he’s wearing a lacrosse t-shirt and a suit coat, which seems to be his official uniform.
You watch him in stop motion as the spotlight intermittently illuminates him, drinking his beer and looking rather bored. Knowing him, you know there’s got to be a story there- the lead singer’s got a brain tumor or the drummer owes him money. As the light passes back over him, you realize he’s looking straight at you, and he smirks at your automatic blush. Involuntarily, you snap your eyes back toward the stage, feeling like an idiot.
He lets you stew for a whole song before making his way over, past an overturned chair and somebody’s drunk friend.
This is from the first fic I ever started for the fandom, which, for many reasons, I will never publish. But, it contains one of the best lines I've ever written.
When Gregory House wakes up, it’s because every last inch of the covers has been stolen.
He always thought sleeping furiously was just something that linguists on acid did, but Cameron seems to be accomplishing it, her brow deeply furrowed in what looks suspiciously like rage. He lets her sleep; the alarm hasn’t gone off yet, and he still has most of a paper to write.
This is from a fic for ignazwisdom which I swear to god I will finish this week. Stupid real life.
"This is all very cliché, isn't it?" Chase remarks as they pile into a cab.
"What is?" Cameron asks.
He flicks his hair out of his eyes before speaking, and Foreman wonders just when he developed a fascination with watching his lips. "You know, sending my girlfriend out for big black-"
"Don't say it," she warns
"You do want Foreman's big black- ow!"
"You came along," Foreman points out. "What's that say about you?" Chase only shrugs and grins at that one.
From the sequel to Lifestyle.
"You're not Lisa Cuddy," he tells her simply, looking at the ceiling.
"Don't be ridiculous. Who else would I be?"
"Cuddy doesn't swear in Chinese. She doesn't call me Greg. And she most definitely is not that good in bed."
She watched from the corner of her eye as he slipped up next to her at the bar, knocking back the last dregs of her martini.
"Put that on my bill," he says predictably when she motions for another. "Jim Wilson. Lieutenant Wilson," he tells her, and she curses herself for being that easy to read. But Lisa Cuddy, V-girl extraordinare, just smiles and takes the drink.
Cowboy Bebop/Firefly, ensemble
“You know, I was going to go get some blankets, because if you’ll remember, this happened last time,” Simon said, but no one was listening. Jayne pushed around him, leering down into the tube.
“Zoe, you got any old things might be suitable for our,” Mal stopped looking for a word, “guests?”
By the time Zoe returned, faded dress and worn out coveralls in hand, the unfrozen pair had almost finished wretching and shaking on the floor. Simon took the dress from Zoe, offering it carefully to the woman. “Side effect,” he explained. The woman snatched the dress from him, donning it hurriedly.
“Ni hao,” Kaylee said with a little wave to the man, who was trying to work out the coveralls. He stared at her. Finally he sighed, swearing under his breath.
“Do you speak Chinese?” Spike asked Faye.
“I think it’s romantic,” Kaylee said dreamily.
Simon rounded on her. “Romantic? It’s lunacy! Who in their right mind would want to stay half-dead in a box for ten- a hundred years- just for the possibility of maybe, one day, assuming everything went exactly perfectly and the money never ran out, spending just a few years with someone who might have cared about them once?” He paused. “I just made a complete ass of myself, didn’t I?”
“Good job there, Doc,” Jayne said, watching Kaylee’s fleeing back. “All your fancy Alliance schooling really made you into a right smart man.” He got up from the table.
“How bad was it?” Simon asked Zoe.
“It was pretty damn bad.”
“I was gonna say I’d freeze myself till I cracked for a bit of tasty like that Faye, but since you already cornered the market on stupid, guess I’ll go tend to Kaylee,” Jayne remarked, getting up from the table.
Fantastic Four, Doom, Reed, and Johnny
An imposing figure in a billowing green cape appeared from behind a tree, laughing maniacally.
"Hello, Victor," Reed said amiably.
"You will call me Doctor Doom, peon!"
"Oh, so you've finished your dissertation? Wonderful!"
"Was I not supposed to be doing that?"
"See, this is why we need secret identities. 'Namor Price' can run from the cops anytime he likes."
Reed stared at him, gobsmacked. "Namor Price is a superhero?"
"Reed, he has pointy ears and wears black trunks everywhere he goes. Doesn't that remind you of anyone you know?"
"I didn't want to bring them up. I thought he was a Trekkie."
He was going to have to pay the gardener extra this week. That thought wildly bubbled to the top of his mind as he ruined the holly. Dammit, it was his house, it was his topiary, he could throw up wherever he liked.