rat_jam | Let the Promptathon Begin!

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promptathon

Let the Promptathon Begin!

To join the battle, all you need to do is pick a prompt from below (any prompt, even if it's your own) and write/vid/manip/icon/draw/whatever the most creative bit of whatever you can create! And remember - PLEASE feel free to vid or icon or manip or do something non-written. We love ALL kinds of creative output equally!

When you've written/painted/made it, paste it into the comments here. Once you've done that, you can post it wherever else you want.

You may enter as many times as you like, so long as each entry is completely separate (not a series of linked pieces). Also, please do not link to old work - this should be something new, produced for the challenge, based on one of the prompts.

THE RULES

1. It must fit in one comment, so the limit is 4,300 characters (there's no minimum limit). It can be part of a longer piece that you may post elsewhere, as long as it's something new and based on one of the prompts, but all we want here is the part that you are most proud of. If you make art, if it's larger than 350 px wide, please use a thumbnail linking directly to the piece (directly to the artwork, not a post or site). The thumbnail can be up to 350 px wide, and 300 px high, and should include as much of the art as possible. If it is a vidlet or something else requiring dowloading, like a fanmix, please post the link to where we can download. Feel free to post a teaser image, but please confine yourself to the artwork preview rules.

2. Important! Please use the subject line of your comment to identify the snippet, like so: Title, prompt, rating (i.e. Fandom, Pairing, prompt word, rating system of your choice). For example, I might write: "Staying Awake, One Tree Hill, Lucas/Nathan, rain, R", or "The Sun Has Gone Down, Crossover, Torchwood/Stargate Atlantis, Jack/John, under fire, for all ages".

3. You have one week – the post will close for new entries next Sunday, April 1, at midnight eastern standard time. PLEASE be certain to check the World Time Clock to verify the deadline time in your area.

4. Don't forget that these prompts are only written as character one/character two for convience, NOT because of any requirement to make it a relationship story! Gen and friend are very welcome here. They can be interpreted in ANY WAY, so just imagine the FUN possiblities. You can take one prompt and write it, draw it, icon it, fanmix it, AND vid it. (Although if you have the time to do all of that in the week that these prompts are open, I might just have to kill myself out of jealousy :o) And you can use the characters in a different way each time. Don't be afraid to think outside the box!

5. Please don't post anything but your creations or feedback/feedback replies (to individual stories) here. If you've got any questions or comments, please leave them on this post right here, NOT on this post that you are currently reading. We'd like to keep this purely for the creative output (and feedback on the creations - readers/voyeurs, please do show the writers/artists much love for their creative offerings).

The prompts are right here
Thanks SO much to

sageness for coding and lending hosting space on her site!

The prompts using only one character were listed first, followed by the prompts for more than one character. ALL crossovers are under both fandoms, so you don't need to worry about looking in multiple places for your crossovers - those listed under Smallville are the same listed under Supernatural, if you are looking for prompts for a Smallville/Supernatural crossover.

Finally! Warning: ALL ratings are acceptable here, from the things that you would show your aged grandmother, all the way up to to the things that would make a sailor blush. Use your own discretion, and please label your stories, art, and other creative output accordingly.

Thank you kindly!

rules stolen from

oxoniensis and her AMAZING porn battle

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Hee! Poor bespotted Mark. He must be ill indeed for him to have missed his chance to ask Roger if he wanted to play connect the dots.

Thanks! I'm so glad you liked it, I always watched due South and thought, "hey wouldn't it be hilarious if Diefenbaker was actually Diefenbaker?", but I never thought I'd write it. I'm glad it turned out ok.

Click on the thumbnail to go to the 1024 x 768 desktop wallpaper, then right-click and save. *g*

thanks, and I love your icon. Because Canadian+tech guy=totally awesome.

I'm so glad you liked it, but now I have to go to Tim Horton's and get a doughnut (no thanks for that).

Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. And this is probably an inappropriate place to say so, but you made my favourite dS vid (you can call me) so the fact that you like it means quite a bit to me.

Shivers and giggles. That's what you got from me. *hearts*

Naughty Dan.

Yay! And also mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

*waits patiently for more*

Off-balance. That's how she feels. To be honest, she's never felt particularly on-balance, not since the accident had put a rod in her spine and a wobble in her walk. That had put paid to her career as a prima ballerina. Well, more accurately it had put paid to her starring role as a daisy in the Second Year Infants' Easter Parade (though if anyone asked she always said she would have been the Anna Pavlova of her generation and then things would inevitably degenerate into a conversation about meringue and she'd have to find something sweet to eat and fast).

But at this moment in time, Caroline feels more off-balance than ever. Twenty-two tequila shots and bottles of beer (quantity: some) would do that to a woman. Even a doctor woman. It wasn't that, though. Or, at least, not just that.

It had been an inauspicious start to her new job, turning up unwashed, unkempt and ever so slightly unhinged. And then there had been the whole not-sleeping with the hospital Lothario to contend with on Day Two. That anyone gave her the time of day at all she considered a miracle. But that was just the thing. It wasn't only the time of day they were giving her. By her - still drunken - count, three men were at least a little in love with her (and possibly one woman, although she had her doubts about the sanity of that one) and that fact was hastening past the realms of 'aww' and 'nice' and 'mmm' into 'slightly disturbing'. Because. Three men? In love with her? Whatever for?

Okay, so Guy may just want to get into her knickers (she is still wearing them, isn't she?) and Martin may just assume he's in love because he'd only had to tell her his name once and she'd rescued him from the attentions of Crazy Mildred in bed 7 that time, and Mac may have been having some kind of bet with himself (or Guy) – who kisses a sicky mouth? Really? – but still, it's unprecedented. Caroline knows she makes rather a shoddy girl – small tits, manly gait, hair with which she is constantly at war, inability to appreciate the finer points of scrunchies and Heat magazine. Not like pretty, perfect Angela. If they'd all snogged Angela that would've made sense, but they didn't. They chose her. Which. No.

So here she lies, drunk in the dark, the world tipping askew and it works for her. She wonders if things will straighten out in the morning. She wonders if she wants them to.

Fraser had continued his father's habit of keeping a journal; for posterity and for the ability of the written word to present connections and clues that he had heretofore missed. Every day, consular and police duties permitting, he would compile his recollections into little leather bound books; his life, bound within the swirls and loops of his evenly spaced handwriting.
"Hey Fraser, you seen my case notes?"
Ray, however, is never even, never neat. Fraser hands him the pages that he had been desperately searching for. Ray takes them from him with a careless "thanks buddy", and their fingers brush for a brief moment. Fraser watches Ray smile and triumphantly smooth the creases from the tired paper and he thinks that this, this will remain unwritten.

Ask anyone, they'd tell you that Ray's wild, a little unpredictable. But, moment of truth, he's got a routine. Every morning, the alarm goes off, he lurches up, stumbles to his mr. coffee, pokes a button, stares at it a moment then stumbles (notice the trend) to the shower. When he's alive (i.e. after coffee sweetened with m&m's) he takes a couple minutes to style his hair artfully. Presto. A human being. And if you'd asked him, he would have said, no question, Fraser's also a man with a routine, a plan. So when Ray lurches up, not the sound of the alarm, but to the sound of someone knocking, he can't say who's more surprised, himself inside or Fraser outside. Now Ray's a man coffeeless, and Fraser looks like he himself doesn't know how he got there, when it's pretty obvious he walked. Ray blinks a couple of times. Fraser starts to look uncomfortable. He holds a bag out to Ray, he can smell the coffee from where he's standing.
"I guess you'd better come in,"
And morning routine kicked off the rails, but plus one Mountie, Ray shuts the door, world on the outside, Ray and Fraser on the inside.

"I've been there, you know." Sam doesn't think she's drunk, really. But she must be, to be saying stuff like this to Vala. "Tied-up, locked-down, shut in my own head and screaming for release." She burps. Definitely drunk. But not falling under the table drunk. Maybe she can only think about this without some vague pain when she is drunk.

This is stupid.

"You have?"

Vala doesn't even sound interested. Sam scowls into the nearly-empty glass and considers wandering over to the wet bar the Air Force provided them with for this little black tie shindig. She's probably a disgrace to the uniform she's wearing, but right now, she doesn't care. She's saved the planet far too many damned times. And all the thanks she gets is a smile and a fucking medal, and a wet bar.

"Forget it." She downs the last of the drink and climbs off her stool. Habit makes her straighten the regulation-length blue skirt, and she notices a run in one of her stockings. Dammit.

"Already packing it in, Colonel?"

"Yeah." Leaving Vala to chat up every male in her vicinity, as well as those all the way across the dance floor, Sam makes her way from the room. She stops twice to give her regards to General Hammond and Major Davis.

The hotel that the Air Force had contracted for the gathering has nice rooms. Sam makes her way down the hall to the elevator--the room she was assigned was ten floors up and even she's not that much of a health freak that she'll take the stairs--not caring if anyone else notices as she begins unbuttoning her jacket. The prim little colonel routine is getting damned old, at this point. And if she didn't know she had to do it to play politics, she wouldn't do it at all.

Riding the elevator is a little like sobering up, and Sam steps out feeling less lost in her own head.

"You're difficult to keep up with." Vala is actually panting a little, from where she's leaning against the wall.

Sam stares at her for a moment, then decides she doesn't care why the other woman followed her.

"Look, Sam--" Vala catches her at her door. "--you obviously needs some relaxing."

Shoving her keycard into the lock, Sam bumps the door open, still ignoring Vala. Her goal is the chair, and her jacket lands on it, followed by her blouse. "I do?"

"Yes. Should I put this on the other side--oh, they serve breakfast. Can we get a Continental breakfast in the morning?" Earth minutiae endlessly distracts Vala, sometimes. "I do rather feel the Air Force could spring for that, given all I've done for them." Vala wanders towards Sam, reading the menu on doorknob hanger.

"Sure." Tiredly, Sam unzips and steps out of her skirt. Standing there in her slip and underwear, she thinks she should feel odd, with Vala there.

"Good. I'll need it." Vala disappears again.

Rummaging in the suitcase, Sam pulls out blue pyjamas. It's easy to slip out of the rest of her clothes, and she's stepping into the bottoms when Vala returns.

"Now that's a nice sight," Vala says, tone approving. She comes close enough to wrap her arms around Sam from behind, hands just under her ribs, flat against her skin. "Still angry with me?"

"I wasn't angry with you." For a moment, Sam leans back against her, closing her eyes and wondering if she's still drunk or simply tired.

"Could have fooled me."

"You can be fooled?" It's an attempt at a joke, but Sam pulls away to finish dressing.

"Of course I can. Though, I'll admit, it doesn't happen often."

"Of course it doesn't." With a snort, Sam climbs into bed, cuddling up to the pillow. A sigh escapes her.

Vala asks, voice odd, "Shall I go, then?"

Admitting that she needs comfort is something Sam doesn't do often. She holds up the edge of the blanket, sleepily looking at Vala. If she doesn't ask, she won't sound weak, and Carters are never weak.

"Oh, good." Vala strips without bothering to hang or drape her clothes over a chair, then moves, naked and beautiful, to climb in next to Sam.

Sam turns, and her hands skim over Vala before she kisses her gently. Vala makes an approving noise, wriggling closer.

Unfortunately, the contact relaxes Sam enough so that the alcohol in her system has free reign. "Night."

oh, I love the "holy shit!" look on his face. :D

Yay!

To all of them actually, so three times Yay!

You've got this comment fic down to a fine art. *is in awe*

(also *hearts icon*)

"Those weren't his last words, were they?"

"Beethoven's. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Danny shrugs in response, still staring at the grave, his face blank. For the first time in a long time, there's no trace of a smile. His eyes look empty.

"What're you thinking?" Harriet asks, and immediately feels stupid.

"I saw him two hours Before." Danny says it like there's a capital letter there. Like now there's three parts to his life, instead of two: Before Matt, Before Jordan, After Matt. "I should've stopped him."

"You didn't know."

"I should have."

Harriet doesn't know what to say. It doesn't matter. Nothing will stop him from blaming himself, for cursing those two hours he couldn't distract him. She knows that much.

Maybe she should feel jealous, that she has to comfort Danny when she was in love with the guy. But it's Danny and Matt. There's no way she could be as upset as Danny is; it hurts for her, but she knows she'll go on. Everyone knows she'll eventually get past it.

No one knows if Danny ever will.

"Let's go," she urges softly, not sure what to do, but knowing that sitting here for another hour won't make things any better for him.

"Not yet." He turns to face her for the first time. "Go home, Harry." She pretends there's something more to that request than wanting to be alone. She pretends that maybe he still cares about anyone still alive.

"Okay," she says, because she can't figure out how to tell him no. She walks herself back to her car because no one else stayed this long (Jordan would have, but the baby needed her) and collapses into the driver's seat. She has to cry before she can drive, or she'll fall apart on the road.

The words on his tombstone echo in the back of her mind. Plaudite, amici, comedia finita est.

She claps hard until she needs her hands to hide her face in, until her palms are raw, but it doesn't help her send his ghost away.

Both good things, methinks. :-)

Yay! right back. I'm so glad you liked them, since this is, in fact, my first comment fic(s?). I totally heart my icon too (and also your icon, Fraser just looks so vulnerable), the Princess Bride is my absolute favourite movie. Thanks for reading.

"Her eyes came to me saying, I trust you"
Poetry, the liquid words that flow and dance on the tongue. The way my hands flow and dance on her skin, no engine grease today. And a woman, writer from earth that was who knows me or knows enough to not make any difference. Beneath me (us) Serenity hums content in her dreams, asleep now that the one who wakes her is alone with me; occupied. There is a parabola in the arch of her back; a dance in the movement of her arms and between us around us within us the universe; all the stars in all the heavens. And the third woman in bed with us, in my head whispering. So I speak the words out loud,
"breasts to breasts we arc a leaping."
And she who is not me but is so close leans back, just a little "yeah," she breathes, understanding (I, for once, understood).
"Home," I say, and I touch, and she smiles; radiant, radiating.

*All quotes are Dionne Brand, a poet I'm sure River would have loved.

Sheppard Book adapts. He adjusts to the rhythm of Serenity, the idiosyncrasies of the crew she carries. He still prays before every meal. And if the captain looks at him incredulously, well, he can hold his head high, for if the Israelites could learn how to sing the songs of Zion in exile, surely he can keep faith in the face of one decent man's determined intolerance.

"I think we should have sex."
"What? No!"
"Come on Rory, it's perfectly logical."
"Paris..."
"It's the end of High School, and all the literature I've read suggests that this is the optimal time for experimentation. Now, I'm sure you've always wondered what a lesbian encounter would be like. This is the perfect time to find out. Most of your classes are pretty much finished, so you can't claim that you're too busy. Don't look at me like that, this is a perfectly reasonable plan."
"Ok, I'm going to turn around now and count to ten, and when I turn back, we are going to pretend that this conversation never really happened and it was all some sort of mirage."
"..."
"Ten."
"You're being childish you know, and selfish. This could be very important for my personal development."
"Well, now I really want to have sex with you."
"Really?"
"No."

I really liked this, especially "if she doesn't ask, she won't sound weak, and Carter's are never weak." It's a whole bundle of the Carter neurosis in one line. And we definitely need more female!fic in the stargate world. Yay!

Yay, I love it! You are such a winner. She so feels that way.

More porn? Or more prompt responses? Cuz both are in the works (although I think I'm gonna hold off on the porn one for another day or two in the hopes that no one will notice that all my porn is the same).

*hearts wonky Caroline* Of course they all snogged her instead of Angela. Sicky mouth, small tits, and all.

If it weren't for the fact that it'd mean no more Guy(/Mac) fic, I'd say you should always write Caroline. You've got her voice down pat too.

Hee! ^_^ Thanks for reading.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 5 of 26

Let the Promptathon Begin!

Re: Of Childhood Illnesses and Bad Grammar, Rent, Mark and Roger, connect the dots, PG

Re: On Guard, due South, Diefenbaker, undercover, G

[art] Stargate Atlantis: Teyla & John, Stickfighting. PG.

Re: On Guard, due South, Diefenbaker, undercover, G

Re: On Guard, due South, Diefenbaker, undercover, G

Re: On Guard, due South, Diefenbaker, undercover, G

Re: Seen It All, Sports Night, Isaac, never, G

Re: Good Things Come, Sports Night, Dan/Casey, cab, R

Askew, Green Wing, Caroline, wonky, G

Journal, due South, Fraser, unwritten, G

6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G

Bar Scene, SG-1 Sam/Vala, Possession, PG13

Re: [art] Stargate Atlantis: Teyla & John, Stickfighting. PG.

Re: 6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G

Applaud, My Friends, the Comedy is Finished; Studio 60, Matt-Danny, hours, PG

Re: Seen It All, Sports Night, Isaac, never, G

Re: 6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G

Nova;novel, Firefly, Kaylee/River, heavens, PG

Galut, Firefly, Mal/Sheppard Book, Psalm 137, G

Logic, Gilmore Girls, Paris/Rory, class

Re: Bar Scene, SG-1 Sam/Vala, Possession, PG13

Re: Askew, Green Wing, Caroline, wonky, G

Re: Good Things Come, Sports Night, Dan/Casey, cab, R

Re: Askew, Green Wing, Caroline, wonky, G

Re: "Stopwatch" - Torchwood, Jack, loss - G (repost because I fail at html)