Take Back the Week Ficlet Challenge

[holdouttrout]

Hello, flisters! Come in, take a seat, relax, breathe deeply, and pull out your chocolate, your cups of tea, your massagers and your writing implements, because we're having ourselves a little mini ficlet-a-thon.

That's right. Comment fic, Long fic, crackfic, angsty fic, original fic--it's all welcome here. Just pick a prompt--Oh. Right. Prompts. Hmmm...What are we going to do about those?

We're going to steal them.

*grins*

abyssinia4077 has a whole bunch of awesome prompts from LeapGate just lying around.

And I'm hopeful that surreallis will kindly ignore anyone who tramps through the great pornucopia patch to reclaim one of the awesome prompts left over there.

ETA: sopabox_solo38 points out this entry here, with lots of Elizabeth Weir & Co prompts.

They're lonely. They want to be written. Don't let the prompts down!

...ahem.

If those just aren't enough for you, you can create your own prompt, leave prompts for other people, or go out into the wilds of the web and find something that inspires you.

I think this week was rough enough to warrant a whole weekend of fun, yes?

Some tiny little details: Please indicate somehow the fandom, pairing, rating, and any standard warnings in the subject of your entries.

Have fun!

Comments

Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13

[cnidarian.livejournal.com]

From the Leapgate prompts.

---

She’s on a mission.

Armed with bare legs, loose hair, and a bottle of lime scented shampoo.

For years, coffee was her weapon of choice, and before that, veiled threats. Coffee worked moderately well. The threats less so, mainly because he was far too polite to get cross with for long.

But that was before she knew him like she does now. Her latest tactics have a 95% success rate.

She finds him in his office and wordlessly leans over his shoulder. Her hair falls next to his cheek and that’s usually enough to make him stop writing. He always resists to start with, but his downfall is the revolving chair.

“Jan…” he protests. “I’m nearly done, I promise. Ten minutes, max.”

“You said that fifteen minutes ago,” she replies and leans on the corner of the chair, making it move. He slowly rotates so he’s facing her. He makes a half-hearted grab for the desk, but she can see the battle is half won already.

Depending on his mood, she either hits him with a stern look or one that is half-lidded. The latter is almost guaranteed to work. He’s got better at deflecting the former.

Today is a good day for making eyes. She tries to hide her triumphant expression when his shoulders sag and he leans in, wrapping his arms around her and resting his forehead on her stomach.

“You’re tired,” she observes. “I think I should get you to bed.”

He tilts his head against her, regarding her with one eye. She beams innocently. He leans back, reaches down for lever under his seat.

She watches, bemused, as he rises with the chair. “What are y—?”

“Getting comfortable,” comes the reply, muffled between her breasts.

Mission: Get Daniel Jackson to Stop Working. Successful.

Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13

[havocthecat]

Okay, that's so very cute. And I'm glad I read the angsty one first.

Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13

[zats-clear.livejournal.com]

*adores*

"rises with the chair," eh?

*smirks*

Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

So very cute! Thanks for the excellent start to my day. :-)

Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13

[abyssinia4077.livejournal.com]

Bwa! Oh, Janet, so sneaky. And Daniel being differently-sneaky.

Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13

[binkii822.livejournal.com]

Janet! *sniff*

This was great fun!

Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13

[mrspollifax.livejournal.com]

Love it! So perfectly Janet, to be utterly analytical and sensual all at the same time. Yum.

Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13

[pepper-field.livejournal.com]

Heh - adorable. I love that Janet's new tactics are much more effective than the old ones. So cute, I want to pinch its cheeks. *g*

Philosophy, SG-1, Jonas Quinn, again, PG

[mrspollifax.livejournal.com]

Lonely LeapGate prompt!

--

It’s not the first time. He turns it over in his mind, staring down at his hands pressed hard against the tabletop, stark against the dark wood.

It’s not the first time he’s been on the run from his government. Not the first time he’s faced impossible odds. Not the first time he’s tried to engineer the downfall of a despotic regime of intergalactic bad guys.

It’s just the first time he’s done it on his own.

As he studies the cracks and grooves in the surface beneath his fingers, follows the paths and the patterns, he thinks it’s all sort of like a silly question he heard on Earth, about perception and reality; a cross of philosophy and physics wondering idly about whether a tree falling in the forest would make a sound if no one was around.

He misses idle philosophy.

“Jonas?”

Because it’s not philosophy anymore. If ever there were a time when a tree crashing to the ground and taking half the woods with it wouldn’t make a single damn sound, that time would be right now; but it doesn’t matter. Of all the things he learned on Earth, the only one that’s really relevant is this - that hopeless isn’t a condition that can be allowed to exist. That you fight the fight again and again, skirmish after skirmish, battle after battle, war after war until nothing remains to fight or nothing remains of you.

He pushes away from the table, turns back to the little group of men and women he’s gathered, refugees from another time, everyday people who think they can somehow resist awesome and near-infinite power, unlikely soldiers who are looking at him. Before he walks past them and out the door, he meets their gazes, each one alone.

It’s not the first time. Maybe for some of them it won’t be the last.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Re: Philosophy, SG-1, Jonas Quinn, again, PG

[ijemanja.livejournal.com]

((((Jonas))))

Oh Jonas, you so deserved better. Thank you for this!

Turn the Screw [RepliWeir/RepliCarter - struggle] (PG-13)

[abyssinia4077.livejournal.com]

A continuation from the universe I started in the Pornucopia and continued with Leapgate.

---

Some (not days) time periods (randomly spaced so there can be no predictions) Elizabeth pokes here and here and right THERE in the soft spot, finding the weaknesses that have to exist because once she was destroyed, scattered in a burst like sunlight on the water.

This time period (no days) she closes her eyes (not necessary) and builds, just like they did to her that first time they tried to make her believe. Tall frame, lean and muscled, greying hair, potential of danger coiling deep beneath calm exterior, puts him together piece by carefully constructed piece (not real, just in the mind, the nexus, the connection, the place that may as well be real if not physical).

Sam's eyes flash when she sees, for just a second, before turning back to ice. "I killed Daniel Jackson." The voice is cold, uncaring. Liz feels a hand turn to sword, stab unimpeded through flesh and warm beating heart and shudders but keeps going - curl of an ear, calluses on the hands here, here, and here.

"He's not dead." A whisper timed just right and a brief fleeting flash. Barely images of glasses and muscled shoulders and frustration at the Ancients - impassioned speech and frustrated voice.

The split second of freeze - there - did you catch it? Did she see it? That's the spot to twist the knife if Liz ever needs, if she ever finds the blade.

"No." The snarl is deep and angry. "He betrayed me. They all did." A shudder. The number five. Something blocked so tightly Liz can't see but, oh, she wants to peer and she knows the report because she was...she was...in charge? But they got her back.

The attack is blinding and Liz staggers inside because it's not a physical touch and the flesh doesn't notice but the machine screams and she turns and spins but it's all around and

it doesn't actually hurt and most of it isn't aimed at her but is inner grief and loss and despair and betrayal and wanting what isn't and the sudden realization is what makes Liz actually stagger. They got back the flesh, but they left her and let her be twisted and they didn't care and they didn't trust and He stripped her inside and she knows and the flesh one got to keep it all and It Isn't Fair.

"You'll never be real," Sam whispers, calm and cool where a split second before was fire and anger. "Not to them." A finger traces through the short grey hair above the ear Liz was building and then a yank and a tongue darting out to taste the place where stubbled jaw meets ear. "They'll pretend, if you're lucky. Say you're just as real, lure you in so they can use you and then -" a twist of the arm sharp and hard and a real neck would snap.

The next ship they find is ripped apart. Sam's face is impassive, hands one with the controls, but Liz sees the fury in the bombardment and scream of metal and there's almost nothing left to harvest - such a waste of raw material.

That night (no, no nights just like no days because they aren't constrained to the rules of flesh and they aren't on a planet and why must she always insist on that artificial framework?) she dreams free, sees the city and the glittery sunlight on the spires and wants it so bad and then there is blonde hair besides her and a hand on her back and a voice in her ear and an apology because doesn't she see, doesn't she know, doesn't she understand that the universe isn't going to give them what's theirs, won't give them what they never should have lost and it's up to them to take what they deserve?

And she's supposed to lock it deep down but she didn't and now Sam knows and the caress at her back is soft and soothing and moving now to expand and the voice is kind and maybe it's okay to share and trust and maybe she's wrong and the nanites inside sing and align and she can feel the code change just a digit here and a digit there and it builds and burns and there are lips on her neck and she wants this too just as much, wants what she earned and what they'll take away and she can help and she knows and...

Just for now she sheathes the knife.

Re: Turn the Screw [RepliWeir/RepliCarter - struggle] (PG-13)

[mrspollifax.livejournal.com]

Oh, wow. I hadn't read the first two, and reading all three together - these are just fantastic. I love the evolution Liz is going through, holding on to herself but annexing the new things that give her power and learning how to use it and ... gah. *rereads*

[peri81.livejournal.com]

Can I just tell you how brilliant you are for this idea?

Well you are!

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you're enjoying it! I wish I had more time to write myself today!

[annerbhp.livejournal.com]

I tried, I really did.

(I'm thinking three pages long and not yet done won't really qualify as comment fic. Lol)

I am hopeless.

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

Ahem. *dusts off "rule" book*

Comment fic, Long fic, crackfic, angsty fic, original fic

LeapGate prompt: Sam Carter, hack. G.

[pepper-field.livejournal.com]

Reading about oneself in the newspaper was extremely uncomfortable. So far, they'd been fairly lucky with the coverage—"lucky" being a relative term. It was intrusive, hyperbolic, and borderline hysterical, but it was also largely positive, thanks to the most recent averted apocalypse, and some friendly allies who'd actually agreed to appear on television for real, this time.

Sam was avoiding it all. At first, she'd tried to read a few of the more serious articles, but the pressure of knowing that the entire world was also reading, dissecting and judging every decision she'd ever made—harshly, generously, it didn't really matter—was enough to give her nightmares.

Now and then, someone circulated a particularly interesting article, and Sam had learned to scan them first for a glimpse of certain keywords. If she was mentioned by name, she put it down immediately. She sometimes read what was said about her teammates, fascinated with the disconnect between the words and the reality. But even though she was ignoring her own press, the world was still reading it, getting to know every detail of her life. She had practically no secrets, now. There'd been a cartoon about that incident on 595.

Still, sometimes curiosity overcame her, and after three solid weeks hiding out in the Mountain under the guise of a backlog of work, she was feeling safe enough to pick up a copy of People that was lying in the SCG rec room, and flip the pages.

On page 23, she stopped dead. And screamed, just a little, under her breath. "Oh, no, no, no. No."

Mouth hanging open, she sat frozen with horror, only her wide eyes moving as they ran over the page. Short, very short, long, in-between, in bunches, in a ponytail, tucked into hats, and that one from her senior prom—there, in front of her, in glossy color, were photos of every hairstyle she'd ever worn.

Some evil, evil person had decided to put together 'Sam Carter: A Retrospective In Hair'. There were captions underneath the pictures, and her eyes were dragged along, helplessly, snagging on words and phrases. "Too busy to blow-dry"... "mad scientist look"... "borderline mullet"... Blown up larger than the rest, centre-page, was a photo taken shortly after her return from the power plant on 118. Underneath, it simply read, "The Hack."

Sam groaned, and finally gained enough control to close her eyes. She gently dropped her head on to the smooth pages.

There was nothing for it. She'd just have to run off and join the Tok'ra.

Re: LeapGate prompt: Sam Carter, hack. G.

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

Hah hah hah hah hah!

Oh, poor Sam.

*snorffles*

[knightedrogue.livejournal.com]

Title: Cutting Corners
Star Wars
Han/Leia
PG (for mundo mild language)
A/N: Written VERY quickly so that Trout's ficathon wasn't completely H/L-less.


http://knightedrogue.livejournal.com/24144.html

[binkii822.livejournal.com]

This was an amazing way to end a sucky sick filled week! Thank you for creating it!

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

You are extremely welcome! I'm glad you've had fun so far.

No Air, SG-1, Sam/Jack, Aaaaaaangst

[annerbhp.livejournal.com]

Here's a link to my contribution, since you know very well I am incapable of comment length fic. Snerk.

http://annerbhp.livejournal.com/79588.html

Circle Jerk, SG-1/SGA, Cam/Daniel/John, Prompt?, Crackfic, ADULT

[shutthef-up.livejournal.com]

This is much more of a tease than I usually write.

<><><><><><>

I can’t believe you dragged me into this!” Daniel protested, turning to leave.

“Time to put up or shut up, Jackson,” Cam snagged his arm and pulled him back.

“What? I haven’t… ‘put up’ anything!”

“You agreed to a challenge, my choice. This is it,” Cam waved his arm at Col. Sheppard and the television where bodies were writhing around in sartorial bliss.

“This is a pilot thing isn’t it?”

Cam and John exchanged a look. John kept an eye on the porn. It’d been awhile and Cam had brought some of his old favorites.

“This is your idea of a challenge?” Daniel asked, but his eyes had tracked to the television, too.

Both John and Cam unzipped their trousers and pulled out their half-hard cocks.

“And here I thought dick measuring was a metaphor.”

“Do you see any rulers around here?” Cam asked, pulling at his dick and watching the screen.

“No… Jesus, you’re having a circle jerk?” Daniel noticed that John was getting into the spirit of things. But then, he wasn’t wasting time arguing with him.

“Ever been to one?” John asked without missing a stroke.

“Uh, not since I was about 13.”

“Well, you better whip it out or you’ll fall behind,” John replied.

Re: Circle Jerk, SG-1/SGA, Cam/Daniel/John, Prompt?, Crackfic, ADULT

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

Oh, dear. Daniel is quite out of his league.

Turning Point, SG-1, Sam/Jack, (R) (No prompt)

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

It was broad daylight, and Sam was not in any way, shape, or form even remotely intoxicated, under the influence of an alien substance, or not herself. In fact, she was so far from any extenuating circumstance that she might as well have been on Earth, in the SGC itself.

It didn't matter to her at the moment, though.

"Kneel on the bed," Jack said.

Sam shivered as his hand fell from her breast along her torso to her hip and finally fell away. She was already facing the bed, so she took a step forward and then climbed up on the bed.

He followed behind her, and Sam moved instinctively to the head of the bed. Jack settled in so his chest didn't quite touch her back. He settled his hands on her shoulders and rubbed down her arms, taking hold of her wrists and maneuvering her hands until they grasped the top edge of the headboard.

The wood was warm, smooth. Sam traced the grain with her fingers, and Jack mirrored the movement on Sam's skin.

Sam arched her back, let her head drop backwards onto Jack's shoulder.

Jack continued exploring her body with his hands, with his mouth. Sam's skin came alive where he touched her, burning her until he moved on.

His hands reached lower and lower, touching the inside curve of her hip. He hesitated.

It took an effort, but Sam grasped his hand and moved it lover still, through her curls. "Go on," she said, her voice hoarse and little more than a whisper. She felt no doubt about this--she'd already made her choice, finally, and she'd always known Jack had made his long ago.

All thought ceased as Jack began to move his hand over her sensitive flesh. One hand fell away to grip behind her, and Jack moved closer, her back against his chest, his other hand reaching around her to grasp her, hold her to him.

They rocked together, Sam lost in the pressure of his fingers against her, stroking her until her thighs trembled. He pressed harder, and she came, her hands clenching--one at him and one at the bed.

When she'd stilled again, he let out a breath, letting it wash over the nape of her neck.

"God, Sam," he said.

In answer, she let go, turned carefully on knees pressing into pillows, kissed him. They moved back, clumsily, and turned again. Sam pushed Jack down onto his back, lowered herself over him, kissed his skin, let her hands roam over his body.

Jack took her hands, drew her down and kissed her, urgent now. Sam raised herself up, lowered herself onto him. She watched him as she moved above him, the look in his eyes steadying her even as she was unsure exactly what it meant.

He gripped her hips and thrust into her, gasping, his eyes rolling back, his control slipping. His eyes shut and he tightened his grasp on her, their rhythm faltering in favor of urgency.

Later, Sam traced the scars on his body--ones she'd seen hundreds of times before, each one holding new significance. Jack watched her, a small smirk playing at his lips.

He brushed back a strand of her hair, and she smiled at him, lay herself down by his side.

"So...what now?" Jack asked her.

Sam closed her eyes, let the warmth soak into her skin. She was suddenly tired. "Don't know yet," she mumbled. "Figure it out later."

A low chuckle. "Sounds good."

Re: Turning Point, SG-1, Sam/Jack, (R) (No prompt)

[gabolange.livejournal.com]

I love this. So very them, and brought a huge smile to my face. :)

Savior, SGA, Elizabeth & Caldwell, "End this." PG-13

[soapbox-solo38.livejournal.com]

My entry (exceeding the comment limit by 96 characters) can be found here.

Also, there are a ton of prompts for Elizabeth & co. here.

Re: Savior, SGA, Elizabeth & Caldwell, "End this." PG-13

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'll add the Elizabeth link in the post.

Breaking Point, SG-1, Sam/Jack (PG13), no prompt

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

Force Marriage Cliche Fic ahead! (http://holdouttrout.livejournal.com/94575.html)

[conn8d.livejournal.com]

Hahaha! Very clever! I love the idea!

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

*grins*

Plenty of room in this sandbox...

[cnidarian.livejournal.com]

Since you haven't made a round-up post yet (and I might be being rude assuming you have the time to do one!) can I post another even though it's Wednesday?

[holdouttrout.livejournal.com]

Oh, definitely! Post away...and then I'll do a round-up post. :-)

Misplace Your Mistakes (Somewhere You Won’t Miss Them), SG-1, Janet Fraiser, crystal, PG, gen

[cnidarian.livejournal.com]

A Janet prompt that I didn’t write in time for the 'Awesome' drabble-a-thon. Prompt: crystal.

----

It wasn’t her fault.

If she hears that said one more time, she’s going to lose it.

She was the one who’d insisted on keeping the ‘gate open to talk to Major Harper about SG-5 and their possible contagion. Well, that was standard operating procedure, but it had been her decision to extend the communication to get a full idea of the situation. To establish exactly what the marines were and were not telling her.

The gate had been open for less than the full thirty-eight minutes. Apparently that was all it took for a storm to descend on an alien world and drop the temperature by over 80oF. Ill-equipped in their combat gear, SG-1 had returned to the ‘gate, probably struggling against a vicious headwind. Janet can see them in her minds eye, can’t stop seeing them even when she closes her eyes and tries to sleep.

They dial the SGC and get a busy tone. Teal’c dials a second time, because Daniel is too busy clamping his hands under his arms and stamping his feet. Four more attempts and it’s gotten so cold that the dialling device is starting to malfunction. To begin with Janet couldn’t fathom why they hadn’t tried somewhere else – the Alpha Site or even Cimmeria, though that would have meant leaving Teal’c behind. Teal’c would’ve insisted on it. The rest would have objected. Maybe that’s what happened – they were arguing around chattering teeth and in the meantime the ‘gate spluttered and died.

Sam keels over first – she may be as strong and capable as the men but the fact is she weighs less and has less mass to keep her temperature high enough. They are all borderline hypothermic now. Jack tries to get her to sit up but he’s losing the battle too. He sits with her, behind her, propping her up. Janet doesn’t have to imagine this bit – that’s how she found them, with ice crystals on their eyelashes. Stiff and cold and sleeping, and though ‘you’re not dead until you’re warm and dead’, she knew they were.

It’s been three days. The base is united by the numbness, the feeling of shock that comes when a whole team is lost. Major Boyd, SG-10 and that black hole… SG-5, in its previous incarnation, and their withdrawal-related depression…

It’s far from the first loss, but she suspects the numbness will last a little longer this time.

Re: Misplace Your Mistakes (Somewhere You Won’t Miss Them), SG-1, Janet Fraiser, crystal, PG, gen

[soapbox-solo38.livejournal.com]

Ouch.

[mayogate.livejournal.com]

I loved it too *bandwagon's getting a bit pokey, might need a trailer*
x