stakebait: (Ever_Upward)
[personal profile] stakebait
I am having a Week and need distraction, so here we go again. For those who weren't around last round (it's been a while), it is just like Iron Author, except I reserve the right to flake.

Give me three words and an optional non-sadistic form and I will write you a poem or song lyrics.

Give me a setting, main character, or single line of dialogue and I will write you a snippet of original fiction.

Give me a character or a pairing and a situation and I will write you fanfic for BTVS/ATS, Firefly, first 2 seasons of Torchwood, The Vorkosiganverse, Good Omens. (Other fandoms by negotiation but keep in mind i basically haven't watched TV in years.)

Got a prompt that doesn't fit the above? Throw it at the wall and see if it sticks.

Date: 2013-05-24 06:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Firefly- Simon decides to buy Kaylee more strawberries, after she asks him to wear the red glasses he had on in the pilot.

Date: 2013-05-24 09:40 am (UTC)
mneme: (Default)
From: [personal profile] mneme

Optional form: Aliterative verse, with a caesura in the middle of each line.

Date: 2013-05-25 12:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
A sequel to Greensleeves

Nothing stays green. The sleeves that spoke of sex and spring
and drew contempt at court, a ribald rhyme
for dower, are but browned now,
not gold but yellowed, like the old year's snow
which, crusted and muddied, stubborn still remains
and 'gainst the hard, the unforgiving ground
prostrates itself in vain. Another girl
Would find another castle, change her name
get a new gown at least. God knows
there's coin enough. But for her
there's only ever one. The stains will go
only at knife point. Samite, on the bias,
smoothly tears. Then shall we all learn
how long the red remains, before it fades.

Date: 2013-05-24 09:42 am (UTC)
mneme: (Default)
From: [personal profile] mneme
Also, if you haven't seen Phineas and Ferb, you should allow it to be inflited upon you. Much, much music, and very sweet and feel-good.

Date: 2013-05-25 01:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Maybe in a little while. Not quite ready for feel-good yet. But thanks.

Date: 2013-05-24 02:20 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

Date: 2013-05-25 01:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
When folks said you built castles in the clouds
this isn't what they meant!
Long tons of dark grey stone hauled up from York
by airship and at great expense
It looks impressive, granted,
but it makes no sense!
Each gothic crenellation holds an archer, bored,
on guard for birdshit, raindrops, and an empty sky
While resentful masses, teaming
in the shadow of your cellar, evade every eye.
To be sure it makes a spectacle of scientific prowess
that must make a dulled heart care
But you must realize, uncle, what they're saying in the Commons
is that you are not all there!
The walls are clammy and the air is thin
The mail is always late, and guests are few
and when they come, are short of conversation,
and always looking nervously at you.
Only the cats, stropping against my cold bare ankles,
imperiously demanding cream for tea,
remain unmoved by your collosal Folly
Sure wherever they are is inherently
where they should be. But even they --
on Monday I caught Molly
stalking an eaglet, twitching the tip of her tail.
I'm warning you, the day I lose a moggy,
is the day we put this eyesore up for sale.

Date: 2013-05-24 07:20 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
wrist, chain, touch -- sonnet or villanelle

Date: 2013-06-11 02:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Has it been only days?
Already I’m forgetting how you touch
How short a shelf life has ‘always’

These chains that held me open to your gaze
Now empty, weigh me down like twenty such
Has it been only days?

It had been months, you said. Desire slow decays
While I, oblivious, believed too much
How short a shelf life has ‘always’

I have this much pride left: that no one stays
Who wants to go. I love too hard to clutch
Has it been only days?

If I cannot have you, I can have grief, which plays
Your last words in my ears, a sorry crutch
How short a shelf life has ‘always’

I’m like a slipped-jess bird which, free, delays
To linger on the wrist, a rabbit in the open hutch
Has it been only days?
How short a shelf life has ‘always’
Edited Date: 2013-06-11 02:58 am (UTC)

Date: 2013-06-11 09:49 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thanks! That would be the reason for the bad week in the original post. Also why only the emo, or twistable to emo, prompts have gotten answers so far. :)

Date: 2013-05-24 08:05 pm (UTC)
batyatoon: (chibi!)
From: [personal profile] batyatoon
Vorkosiverse: Ivan has to deal with Aral Alexander and Helen Natalia, at any age. (Specific meaning of "deal with" is at your discretion.)

Alternately, Firefly: River and Zoe share a comfortable moment.

Date: 2013-05-24 08:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
> Got a prompt that doesn't fit the above? Throw it at the wall and see if it sticks.

12 lines (or more) of iambic pentameter exulting in your neighborhood

Date: 2013-05-25 04:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Give me a setting, main character, or single line of dialogue and I will write you a snippet of original fiction.

Here. Have two lines of dialogue. See if they spark anything. Feel free to merely look at me strangely and move on.*

"The activation controls for the mine field are, of course, in the breakfast nook. Next to the espresso machine."

"Of course, minotaurs never could resist a fresh croissant."

*It can be a bit random inside my head at times.

Date: 2013-05-25 05:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Give me a setting, main character, or single line of dialogue and I will write you a snippet of original fiction.

"Still comin' eh? Yuh hard man fe dead!"

Date: 2013-05-28 07:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

Something with a verse-chorus structure?

Date: 2013-06-11 01:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I was wrong about living in nutshells
The dreams aren’t what will not abide there
It is rage that that’s gone rancid and soft at the core
Like the space where my nightmares
Don’t bloom anymore
the stale air that escapes when the shell’s cast aside
Like the smell of a seashell with death trapped inside

Welcome to Elsinore
Welcome to Elsinore

I was wrong about madness and maidens
And the dreams of philosophy
And now all I can wish on the ramparts
Is that water ran back from the sea
From ocean to river, from rivulet to me
Darkness would stream from the weeds in her hair
Till it gleamed bright and warm in the sun
And she look at me like a stranger,
Like a child, like a nun
and I'd say

Welcome to Elsinore
Welcome to Elsinore

I was wrong about skulls, I was wrong about friends
I was wrong to believe that my honor depends
On the lovers of others, and how it all ends
Speaks of more than the luck of the draw.
I was wrong about poison in ear drops,
It takes more than one dose on a long afternoon
It is slow and insidious, well-meant and hideous
Leading us all to our bittersweet doom
Come on in, there’s plenty of room

Welcome to Elsinore
Welcome to Elsinore

We must all stop believing our ghosts when they greet us
To drag us back down to revenge.
Start here, start today
When you hear my voice, turn away
It is only the wind on the ramparts
It is only the creak of the stair
A trick of the torchlight
There never was anyone there

Welcome to Elsinore.
Welcome to Elsinore.

Date: 2013-06-11 04:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Brrr. That's great. You should submit it somewhere. Maybe Mythic Delirium?

Date: 2013-06-11 09:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thanks! I will have to check their guidelines, whether this counts as prior publication.
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