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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.


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


( 647 comments — Leave a comment )
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Mar. 29th, 2007 04:51 pm (UTC)
[art] Stargate Atlantis: Teyla & John, Stickfighting. PG.
Click on the thumbnail to go to the 1024 x 768 desktop wallpaper, then right-click and save. *g*

Mar. 29th, 2007 06:30 pm (UTC)
Re: [art] Stargate Atlantis: Teyla & John, Stickfighting. PG.
oh, I love the "holy shit!" look on his face. :D
Mar. 29th, 2007 05:27 pm (UTC)
Askew, Green Wing, Caroline, wonky, G
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.
Mar. 29th, 2007 07:39 pm (UTC)
Re: Askew, Green Wing, Caroline, wonky, G
Yay, I love it! You are such a winner. She so feels that way.
Re: Askew, Green Wing, Caroline, wonky, G - leiascully - Mar. 30th, 2007 04:21 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Askew, Green Wing, Caroline, wonky, G - quiesce - Mar. 29th, 2007 07:45 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Askew, Green Wing, Caroline, wonky, G - lozenger8 - Apr. 1st, 2007 04:46 am (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 29th, 2007 05:53 pm (UTC)
Journal, due South, Fraser, unwritten, G
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.
Mar. 29th, 2007 08:57 pm (UTC)
Re: Journal, due South, Fraser, unwritten, G
Oh, I love this! The way Fraser needs to categorise everything neatly, to file his life away, and yet he holds on to the moments with Ray.

Also, icon love! My flatmate has an obsession with The Princess Bride and keeps making me watch it. Again and again and again and again...
Re: Journal, due South, Fraser, unwritten, G - vsee - Mar. 30th, 2007 02:15 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Journal, due South, Fraser, unwritten, G - sapote3 - Apr. 7th, 2007 08:09 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Journal, due South, Fraser, unwritten, G - phnelt - Apr. 9th, 2007 03:52 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Journal, due South, Fraser, unwritten, G - phnelt - Apr. 9th, 2007 03:48 am (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 29th, 2007 06:07 pm (UTC)
6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G
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.
Mar. 29th, 2007 06:30 pm (UTC)
Re: 6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G

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*)
Re: 6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G - keerawa - Mar. 30th, 2007 05:41 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: 6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G - vsee - Mar. 30th, 2007 02:23 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: 6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G - phnelt - Apr. 2nd, 2007 09:37 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: 6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G - sapote3 - Apr. 7th, 2007 08:12 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: 6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G - phnelt - Apr. 9th, 2007 03:51 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: 6:30 am, due South, Kowalski, routine, G - phnelt - Apr. 9th, 2007 03:47 am (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 29th, 2007 06:20 pm (UTC)
Bar Scene, SG-1 Sam/Vala, Possession, PG13
"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."
Mar. 29th, 2007 07:38 pm (UTC)
Re: Bar Scene, SG-1 Sam/Vala, Possession, PG13
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!
Re: Bar Scene, SG-1 Sam/Vala, Possession, PG13 - lyssie - Mar. 29th, 2007 11:53 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Bar Scene, SG-1 Sam/Vala, Possession, PG13 - lyssie - Mar. 29th, 2007 11:54 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Bar Scene, SG-1 Sam/Vala, Possession, PG13 - lyssie - Mar. 31st, 2007 04:11 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Bar Scene, SG-1 Sam/Vala, Possession, PG13 - lyssie - Mar. 31st, 2007 09:29 pm (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 29th, 2007 06:58 pm (UTC)
Applaud, My Friends, the Comedy is Finished; Studio 60, Matt-Danny, hours, PG
"Those weren't his last words, were they?"

"Beethoven's. 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.
Apr. 1st, 2007 03:51 am (UTC)
Re: Applaud, My Friends, the Comedy is Finished; Studio 60, Matt-Danny, hours, PG
Oh, that was amazing and wonderful and just the sort of thing that I can see happening in the aftermath of Matt's death. And I really love the way you wrote Harriet.
Mar. 29th, 2007 07:33 pm (UTC)
Nova;novel, Firefly, Kaylee/River, heavens, PG
"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.
Mar. 29th, 2007 07:35 pm (UTC)
Galut, Firefly, Mal/Sheppard Book, Psalm 137, G

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.
Apr. 2nd, 2007 12:58 am (UTC)
Re: Galut, Firefly, Mal/Sheppard Book, Psalm 137, G
Oh. There are so many interesting things about Book in this that I keep rereading it just to be satisfied by how much is said in so few words.
Mar. 29th, 2007 07:36 pm (UTC)
Logic, Gilmore Girls, Paris/Rory, class
"I think we should have sex."
"What? No!"
"Come on Rory, it's perfectly logical."
"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."
"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."
Mar. 30th, 2007 04:46 am (UTC)
Re: Logic, Gilmore Girls, Paris/Rory, class
This is wonderful! I loved the character voices, even though I don't know the show.

However, on a modly note- rating? Adult?
(Deleted comment)
Mar. 29th, 2007 08:43 pm (UTC)
BSG, Dee, arms
Her father taught her to shoot when she was ten. It was a bonding thing, or so he joked. Anastasia learned to clean the rifle, dismantling it and putting it back together with clumsy ten-year-old hands. Her father had been proud, though. She was learning, he'd said. Learning to be the woman she could be.

When she was fourteen, her mother introduced her to things like makeup and dressing correctly for every occasion.

Ana took to those lessons as well as she had to the earlier ones.

Being able to fire a pistol was just one more thing she put on her application when she enlisted at seventeen. She was bright-eyed, and certain that life was full of adventure and hope.

It was the hope that she slowly started losing, as time went on.

When the world ended, there was still Billy. He was older than her, but Anastasia felt as though she had more years on him. Dee wondered, sometimes, what would have happened between them if the world hadn't ended. She knows it wouldn't have been much.

But Billy was also fear. The fear of letting someone in too close, the fear of knowing he could die, the fear of waking alone in ten years because he'd gotten tired of her.

He thought she hung the moon, and that gave her too much control over him.

Two days after he died, she stood in the firing range, pistol in hand. It was familiar, even though she hadn't used one since the cylons boarded the Galactica months before.

Lee Adama, someone who could become more than a casual flirt, someone who might want to give her the universe, is lying in a bed, recovering from a bullet.

And Billy Keikeya is dead.

Dee checks the pistol is loaded, puts on her ear protection and raises the gun, aiming with a precision that earns her six shots through the center of the target.

When it comes back, she nods at it and moves to put the gun down.

A hand on her arm stops her. "Hey, Dee."

It's Racetrack. Anastasia doesn't bother smiling--it's not that she doesn't like the other woman. She just doesn't know her, and she's really in no mood to talk. "What?"

"You look like you could use a drink."

Dee shrugs, "We all could use a big one."

"Yeah." Racetrack seems to consider a moment, then releases her. "I'll let you go." She lifted her own pistol. "Unless you wanna stay and outshoot me."

The challenge hangs in the air for a moment, then Dee flashes a grin, "You're goin' down."

"Now that's what I like to hear," replies the other woman. She raises an eyebrow, "What's the stakes?"

"That drink you mentioned. I win, I get us a bottle of ambrosia. You win..."

"I get us a jar of Chief's 'shine." Racetrack pauses, then laughs, "You're stackin' the deck, Dee."

"Not at all, Lieutenant, not at all."

They retake their places at the range, lift their weapons, and fire.

Dee wins.

The ambrosia's been in her locker a long time, she's just been waiting for an excuse to drink it.
Apr. 1st, 2007 04:42 am (UTC)
Re: BSG, Dee, arms
Oh, nice! I like the way you've tracked Dee's life, and how she felt about the relationship with Billy.
Re: BSG, Dee, arms - lyssie - Apr. 1st, 2007 06:31 am (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 29th, 2007 09:05 pm (UTC)
Double Back, Sports Night, Sam, return, G
Sam promised himself that he'd never return. Despite all his efforts to remain aloof and apart, Sports Night ended up being a comfortable fit, one that he could see himself settle down with. That was when he knew it was time to leave; it was better to keep moving. Safer.

Dana called. He wondered how she tracked him down. He rarely gave out his personal number precisely to avoid calls that would drag him back to the people and places he'd worked hard to put behind him. He started to ask but she barrelled through his question.

A stroke. A second one, more severe and damaging than the first. The Sports Night crew wanted someone they knew and trusted and the owner of the new network lacked the industry connections to have any other suggestions of his own, and would he please come back, it's what Isaac wants.

In his head, he said no ten times. Twenty. He ran through a litany of reasons why he couldn't, both generic all-purpose excuses and brutally honest explanations. Into the phone, he said yes.

He watched the display count up to forty-nine, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the elevator.
Mar. 29th, 2007 09:22 pm (UTC)
Re: Double Back, Sports Night, Sam, return, G
Another one of my prompts and so beautifully realised, if painful.

Re: Double Back, Sports Night, Sam, return, G - quiesce - Mar. 29th, 2007 09:29 pm (UTC) - Expand
(Deleted comment)
Re: Double Back, Sports Night, Sam, return, G - quiesce - Mar. 30th, 2007 06:59 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Double Back, Sports Night, Sam, return, G - vsee - Mar. 30th, 2007 02:27 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Double Back, Sports Night, Sam, return, G - quiesce - Mar. 30th, 2007 07:01 pm (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 29th, 2007 09:12 pm (UTC)
Oooh, very sparkly! *admires*
Mar. 29th, 2007 09:46 pm (UTC)
Frozen, due South, Victoria, 'Fire', G.
Ben was dead. Ben was dead. No matter how often she repeated it, it still didn’t feel real. But she had seen him fall to the station platform, blood draining from his body. She had felt the bullet rip through him, the force pushing him into her arms. She had seen the love and desperation in his eyes fade as she opened her arms and let go. Fade through shock into silence, the strange snowy wasteland inside him that she has glimpsed before now.

She has tried, so many times, to take that snowfield, to own it. But although her outward appearance has become a finely crafted mask of ice, her heart still burns, still threatens to melt the façade.

When Victoria was ten years old she set fire to the house. It wasn’t on purpose. She had found her mother’s matches dropped beneath the kitchen table, their smell intriguingly chemical and alien. A sharp movement of her hand produced heat and light like a tiny miracle. She let it burn as close to her fingers as she could before she put it out. Lit another. Taking the wastepaper basket outside and lighting it produced another miracle, the metamorphosis of bits of trash into a dancing display. When the sparks, blown in the high wind, caught the porch, the flames fanned to scorching, her first thought was how dangerously beautiful it was. By the time the fire crew arrived the whole house was ablaze. She remembers standing in the flickering orange light, filled with wonder that her whole world could be so very fragile.

She had thought that what she wanted was to own Ben, to take back what was rightfully hers. But perhaps what she really craved was to watch the slow deterioration of their relationship that would have come with time and isolation. Ben could never have lived with the guilt and the shame. She could never have lived up to his expectations.

Perhaps what she really wanted was to melt the ice, burn it away, consumed and destroyed by fire. The proof she was seeking all those years ago, that nothing can make you happy forever, and forever is a long, long time.
Mar. 30th, 2007 02:30 pm (UTC)
Re: Frozen, due South, Victoria, 'Fire', G.
Chilling and fascinating look at Victoria. I hadn't really ever considered the shooting from her perspective before, and your description of the moment he pushes forward in her arms as he's struck, then Victoria pushing him away just stunned me. I just never even thought of that before. Wow.
Mar. 29th, 2007 10:39 pm (UTC)
Downtime, M*A*S*H, Hawkeye/BJ, still, G
The hardest thing to get used to was the unpredictability. It didn't matter if he was up to his elbows in blood, scarfing down what passed for a meal, or stealing a few hours sleep; choppers could come at any time. Bombs too.

Even during the quieter moments, there was never time to just stop. There were often complications with patients they'd thought were ready to ship out and frantic attempts to stabilize before it was too late. Off-duty didn't actually mean off duty. Shifts never ended, not really.

It was overwhelming and exhausting and BJ didn't know how the others did it. Maybe once you were here long enough, you just got used to it, but BJ couldn't imagine ever getting used to this.

And then, after a particularly gruelling shift where he'd lost several patients in a row and was ready to collapse under the weight of it all, Hawkeye caught his eye and flashed him a small, private smile. For a brief moment the world stood still, the war called a truce, and there were no choppers or bombs overhead. Nothing but Hawkeye smiling at him and the realization that he could do this, could keep going.
Mar. 30th, 2007 02:34 pm (UTC)
Re: Downtime, M*A*S*H, Hawkeye/BJ, still, G
This is great. I love this quiet moment so much. M*A*S*H was sort of my first fandom since before I can clearly remember, but I haven't seen fanfic much.
Re: Downtime, M*A*S*H, Hawkeye/BJ, still, G - quiesce - Mar. 30th, 2007 07:14 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Downtime, M*A*S*H, Hawkeye/BJ, still, G - vsee - Mar. 30th, 2007 08:17 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Downtime, M*A*S*H, Hawkeye/BJ, still, G - quiesce - Apr. 3rd, 2007 12:13 am (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 29th, 2007 11:44 pm (UTC)
Countdown, Sports Night, Sam R., return, G
Sam pulled the calendar off his wall and flipped forward to November, counting the days until Thanksgiving, until Dan would be back, if only for a visit. The answer was far too many. Dan had only been gone a few hours, but his absence was already felt.

He re-hung the calendar and picked up his driver's ed manual for a last minute cram session. He had to pass the test this afternoon and get his licence. It would be torture here without Dan, but he'd get through it if he could just grab the car and escape whenever he needed.
Mar. 30th, 2007 11:21 am (UTC)
Re: Countdown, Sports Night, Sam R., return, G

Oh, Sam.

*cries more*
Re: Countdown, Sports Night, Sam R., return, G - vsee - Mar. 30th, 2007 02:37 pm (UTC) - Expand
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