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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*
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abyssinia4077 has a whole bunch of awesome prompts from LeapGate just lying around.
And I'm hopeful thatsurreallis 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!
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!
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Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 10:44 am (UTC)From:---
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
Date: 2008-05-09 01:02 pm (UTC)From:Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 01:12 pm (UTC)From:"rises with the chair," eh?
*smirks*
Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 01:37 pm (UTC)From:Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 02:38 pm (UTC)From:Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 03:03 pm (UTC)From:Philosophy, SG-1, Jonas Quinn, again, PG
Date: 2008-05-09 03:44 pm (UTC)From:--
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
Date: 2008-05-09 04:23 pm (UTC)From:Oh Jonas, you so deserved better. Thank you for this!
Re: Philosophy, SG-1, Jonas Quinn, again, PG
Date: 2008-05-09 04:49 pm (UTC)From:Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 05:32 pm (UTC)From:Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 05:33 pm (UTC)From:Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 05:37 pm (UTC)From:Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 05:41 pm (UTC)From:Re: Philosophy, SG-1, Jonas Quinn, again, PG
Date: 2008-05-09 05:56 pm (UTC)From:Thank you for sharing!
Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 06:40 pm (UTC)From:This was great fun!
Turn the Screw [RepliWeir/RepliCarter - struggle] (PG-13)
Date: 2008-05-09 06:58 pm (UTC)From: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: Philosophy, SG-1, Jonas Quinn, again, PG
Date: 2008-05-09 07:00 pm (UTC)From:I love the analogy with the tree falling in the woods so very much.
no subject
Date: 2008-05-09 07:52 pm (UTC)From:Well you are!
no subject
Date: 2008-05-09 07:59 pm (UTC)From:(I'm thinking three pages long and not yet done won't really qualify as comment fic. Lol)
I am hopeless.
Re: Philosophy, SG-1, Jonas Quinn, again, PG
Date: 2008-05-09 08:01 pm (UTC)From:Re: Turn the Screw [RepliWeir/RepliCarter - struggle] (PG-13)
Date: 2008-05-09 08:06 pm (UTC)From:Re: Tactical Manoeuvres, SG-1, Daniel/Janet, mission, PG-13
Date: 2008-05-09 08:09 pm (UTC)From:Re: Philosophy, SG-1, Jonas Quinn, again, PG
Date: 2008-05-09 08:11 pm (UTC)From:Re: Philosophy, SG-1, Jonas Quinn, again, PG
Date: 2008-05-09 08:14 pm (UTC)From:Re: Philosophy, SG-1, Jonas Quinn, again, PG
Date: 2008-05-09 08:16 pm (UTC)From: