fanfic WIP guessing game

[alexseanchai]

(via china_shop)

Comment with a word. If it's in my WIP, I'll reply with the sentence it appears in.

because I'm helpful like that, I will also tell you which WIP

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ETA: apparently I'm taking "I don't have this or anything close to this in any of my WsIP" as "time to write until I do!"

Comments

Guess

[(Anonymous)]

Jaw

Re: Guess

[alexseanchai]

Except clearly Marinette hasn't heard that part, because she clamps her jaw and snarls.

—"Or Sew It Seams"

[pepperdoken]

Needle?

[alexseanchai]

this line is technically "Gang of Secrets" spoilers!

(skip) All [of these are] Pantone numbers matching colors of sewing thread that opening the black-polka-dotted lid proves she keeps in this case, next to fabric scissors and both hand and machine needles and a measuring tape and a thoroughly stabbed tomato pincushion, above the empty space reserved for her sewing machine.

—probably for fan_flashworks challenge "Crash"; definitely not yet titled

[china_shop]

Despite

[alexseanchai]

There's time for at least one more piece, though, and he's pretty proud of this one, and despite the shouting about shipping delays Adrien heard from the atelier earlier, Father's in a good mood.

—probably for fan_flashworks challenge "Crash"; definitely not yet titled

[china_shop]

Nice! *pompoms*

[emperor]

Flip

[alexseanchai]

The yo-yo rings; Marinette fumbles it out from between her hip, Adrien's, and the sofa cushion (he is so very doomed) and flips it open.

—where the firelight fades 15

[graycardinal]

kaleidoscope

[alexseanchai]

This drawing joins six more dice drawn mid-throw; déjà vu is weirdly kaleidoscopic, he thinks, picking up the green pencil to draw a fourth large flat bead with a four-leaf clover.

—probably for fan_flashworks challenge "Crash"; definitely not yet titled

[(Anonymous)]

blush?

[alexseanchai]

They conceal the blush on both faces, too.

—where the firelight fades 17

[zwol]

Lonesome

[alexseanchai]

n/a, but I do have:

But his blood is the only thing in Paris that's warm, his cheeks are all in Paris that's dry, and there hasn't been a single sound of life in he doesn't know how long except for his own lonely, longing song.

—where the firelight fades 15