momebie: (IT Crowd Giddy Goat)
[personal profile] momebie
It's the first day of November! That means NaNoWriMo around these parts. And because impromptu ideas are the best ideas I've decided, just now, to do a picture prompt a day to help promote word counts and engage some of you who might not necessarily be doing Nano, but who like to write or percolate ideas anyway. So here's what we'll do. Each morning(ish) I'll post a picture from my stash of inspiring pictures, and you will write something (short prose/poem/song/recipe/etc) based on it. I mean, you don't HAVE to, but you can. And if you do I'd love it if you shared it here in a comment so that nosy old me and other people can see it and tell you that it's awesome and convince you to write more. I'll do the same. See? Win/win! Also, I'll leave these unlocked so you can point your friends to them if you like. It'll be fun! Y/MFY? Your first prompt is below.




Let the typing begin!

Date: 2011-11-01 02:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chebonne.livejournal.com
Okay, so not a prompt-y type comment, but that picture is fucking fabulous and I WISH I could write a story about it, because, seriously.

Date: 2011-11-01 05:12 pm (UTC)
ext_289215: (MCR Gerard/Frank Not Okay kiss)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
Write a drabble! I do find that boy kissing tends to get things started in the morning. >.>

Date: 2011-11-01 06:34 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chebonne.livejournal.com
My head barely has ideas for NaFADOYBIMSCOM nevermind drabbles. All I get from that picture is "mmmmm, pretty boykissing" and that's about it.

I can't tell if it's the cold or the :| that's getting to me. Possibly a combination.

Okay, I lied.

Date: 2011-11-01 06:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chebonne.livejournal.com
It takes a lot out of you to spend your days pretending. Marlon doesn't understand how actors do it, though he supposes they only have to do it for a few hours, and then they get to go home, get their heads back into reality and out of the part. He never gets to do that. Every day he spends watching his back and pretending, pretending, pretending.

It's exhausting.

It's especially exhausting when Jim is around, because Jim upsets everything Marlon thought he knew about himself. Jim has a swagger that should be illegal, and jeans that look a size too small. Jim has eyes that can make Marlon blush with a single look, and a mouth that smirks too much for his own good. He's also pretty damn adamant about what -- or who -- he wants. Marlon's just surprised it took him a whole month to give in to Jim's flirting, but when he did... boy, sparks were flying.

He's lucky, he thinks, that he has a sister like Jenna. She doesn't mind -- at least not now. She used to, back in the beginning, he thinks, because the first time she found out she went stark white and Marlon had to practically go down on his bare knees to beg her not to tell anyone -- their parents, the school, the authorities.

Jenna then and Jenna now are different creatures since she found him and Jim kissing like there was no tomorrow to worry about. Before she was just his little sister, bubbly and kind of a pain. Now, she acts like an adult, and even though she won't ever tell anyone, he knows she worries. She wants to tell their parents, because, as she has told him a billion times, it's wrong, what he's doing. It's against all laws of nature, not to mention the laws of man, or the laws of the Bible. Jenna is really sincerely worried about Marlon going to Hell -- she's not as worried about Jim, but that's because Jim doesn't see anything wrong in what they do. He says he loves Marlon and Marlon gets warm from head to toe just thinking about it. Jim doesn't even care about Hell -- he says he doesn't believe in God, and that, maybe more than anything else, makes Jim the bravest person Marlon knows.

He can't not believe, and he's afraid, but when he's with Jim he gets a little less so. He knows he's sick somewhere, that something in him is corrupted, but Jim is beautiful, and funny, and scarily smart, and he loves him, and Marlon's whole being revolts when he thinks it might be wrong to love him. Because Marlon does. He loves Jim more than anything in the world, maybe even more than Jenna and his family. Certainly more than he loves God or any church he ever went to.

But the times are what they are, and people are the way they are. They have to hide, and pretend and pretend and pretend. Jim is his best friend, there's nothing untoward going on there, certainly nothing illegal. People are searching for commies and fags in every corner, and Marlon doesn't know how long he's going to be able to deal with this.

But this is now, and he has Jim, and for now, this is all the freedom he has.

------------

*pokes at drabble with a stick* Ugh. UGH.

Well, at least I wrote it. I'm going to blame you for it and leave it there.

Re: Okay, I lied.

Date: 2011-11-01 11:33 pm (UTC)
ext_289215: (Being Human George/Mitchell cuddles)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
I take all the blame for any and all swagger. Especially when it's hot swagger. ♥

Date: 2011-11-01 03:09 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] surferartchick.livejournal.com
I have no reason for this to be in my Nano but I am going to write about it separately! Holy Hannah!

Date: 2011-11-01 05:11 pm (UTC)
ext_289215: (architect amelia)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
Yay! I have no compunctions about working on more than one project for Nano, and also it's hard for me to work on 'real' things at work because I can't focus the same way, so I wanted these to give people little word boosts here and there.

I can't wait to see what you get up to with it.

Date: 2011-11-01 03:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] xsnarkasaurus.livejournal.com
...pretty pictuuuuuuure

Date: 2011-11-01 05:08 pm (UTC)
ext_289215: (PATD Brendon Sexy Face)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
I feel like I should have started with a picture of something more innocuous. :p

Date: 2011-11-01 03:22 pm (UTC)
yachiru: (Default)
From: [personal profile] yachiru
I'm supposed to be doing nano damn youuuuu.

Tommy jumped in the driver's seat, throwing the hot gun somewhere on the passenger seat. Remy sat in the back, staring up at the fabric bulging from the car ceiling. He was smack smack smacking his gum as Tommy stepped on the gas, pulling out onto the street.

“You gotta do that Remy?”

“What?!” Remy smack smack smacked again, grinning. The gum sticking out of the gap in his front teeth. He was pretty and spoiled and Tommy hated him. He could smell the gunpowder on his hands and the mint on Remy's breath. His heart was jumping so hard.

Goddamn brat.

He could hear sirens shrieking hysterically in the distance.

Fuck.

He drove until the trees outnumbered the houses, pulling off the road. He turned off the car lights.

Remy popped a bubble, still chewing loudly on the same piece of gum.

Tommy groaned. “Stop that damn smacking!”

“Make me!”

Tommy jumped in the back seat, pinning Remy's arms down with his own. Remy lifted his head, kissing Tommy square on the mouth. He slipped his tongue inside, his gum traveled with it.

“You're a disgusting bastard, you know that?” Tommy said. He bent back for another kiss, the taste of mint in his mouth.

Date: 2011-11-01 05:07 pm (UTC)
ext_289215: (Yellow gun)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
That's one way to do it! I do always like the combination of guns and kissing. ♥

Date: 2011-11-01 03:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mydwynter.livejournal.com
Saving my vocab for later, all I can say now is

HNNNNGH

Date: 2011-11-01 05:06 pm (UTC)
ext_289215: (Torchwood Ianto my bed)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
THAT'S WHAT MOST OF THE COMMENTS LOOK LIKE. Note to self: Less sexy picture, tomorrow. At least it got SOME juices flowing, even if they weren't writerly. :p

Date: 2011-11-01 05:08 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mydwynter.livejournal.com
It was fine for me; my story is m/m. But others' mileage may vary. XD

Date: 2011-11-01 05:14 pm (UTC)
ext_289215: (Architect William)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
There isn't any OVERT m/m in the project I'm trying to use Nano to get a large chunk knocked out of, but the picture could definitely relate for me. (If, you know, the car was a hansom cab.)

Um...I need to go take a cold shower. I'll be right back.
Edited Date: 2011-11-01 05:14 pm (UTC)

Date: 2011-11-01 05:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pocky_slash.livejournal.com
Imma try to do this, even though I'm supposed to be working on my big bang and, like, the fifty other WsiP I have.

Cause... this is the first year in like, eight years that I'm not doing NaNo.

(They will all probably be XMFC because I am nothing if not predictable. This one is an AU, obviously.)

***

Somewhere between Boulder and Vegas, Charles gets spectacularly carsick.

"I warned you," Moira tells him, looking over her shoulder at him, head between his knees. "I told you that if you rode in the back, you'd get carsick. I know you, Xavier."

"Moira, please stop talking," Charles moans, and Moira just shakes her head and meets Erik's eyes in the rearview mirror, raising her eyebrows.

Erik's not positive--he's not the telepath after all--but he's pretty sure that Charles' choice to sit in the backseat despite a propensity for motion sickness might have something to do with him. He sees the way Charles looks at him and he's certainly noticed the way Charles slides easily into his personal space, as if he doesn't even realize how close he's standing. Erik can't complain--he's been doing quite a bit of looking on his own and he can't say he minds it when Charles leans over his shoulder to peer at the map or touches his hand to get his attention when he wants Erik's opinion. The timing hasn't been quite right, though. They've only known each other a semester and it's been a busy one. Erik was hoping this road trip might finally push them over the edge. Charles was clearly thinking so as well.

Charles moans pitifully and Moira sighs.

"Can you pull over?" Erik asks, which just makes her sigh again, but she does as requested, slowing the ancient station wagon to a stop at the side of the road. There are no other cars in sight and no real signs of civilization, either, as Erik pushes open the door, letting even more of the oppressive heat leech into the interior.

Charles stays where he is, head against the window, eyes screwed shut, while Erik works to rearrange their various luggage until there's enough room for Charles to spread out across the back seat. It's not light work, especially not with the sun beating down on his back, and before long, Erik decides his sweaty t-shirt has seen enough and peels it off, leaving it among their suitcases in the trunk.

Charles looks up at that, eyes wide. Erik never claimed to be a saint.

He solidifies that fact when he slides back into the car and pats his thigh. Charles first goes white and then pink, but he gingerly rests his head on Erik's leg without comment. Moira rolls her eyes so hard Erik can nearly feel it, but she doesn't say anything, merely turning up the radio and steering the car back into the road.

Somewhere in the rhythm of the road and the blur of telephone poles, Erik falls asleep. When he opens his eyes again, the sun is noticeably lower and he's shifted in his seat. He's twisted around Charles, whose head is now resting against his chest. Every breath makes the muscles in Erik's stomach jump and he finally stops trying to resist Charles' blue, blue eyes and soft, inviting mouth.

He intends the kiss to be brief, fleeting, something he can shrug off as comfort, but as their lips touch, Charles' eyes flutter shut and he makes a soft, needy noise that lights every one of Erik's nerves on fire. It kick starts the kiss into something more, something with sharp teeth and a mental wave of want that makes Erik shudder as one of Charles' arms wrap around his neck and--

The car stops short and they both pitch forward hard, hitting the seats in front of them. When Erik manages to untangle himself enough to look up, Moira is glaring at both of them over the back of the front seat.

"I didn't volunteer to drive so you two could have sex in the back seat," she says. "Keep it in your pants until we get to the hotel, where you'll be getting a separate room tonight, believe me."

She gives them just enough time to get back into their seats, Charles once again resting his head on Erik's thigh and closing his eyes, before she slams back on the gas, the sound of screeching tires echoing in their wake as they speed on towards Las Vegas.

Date: 2011-11-01 06:36 pm (UTC)
theemdash: (M Laugh)
From: [personal profile] theemdash
*cackles*

Date: 2011-11-01 11:38 pm (UTC)
ext_289215: (X-Men Charles/Erik smile)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
YOU TELL 'EM, GIRL. Your Moira is my favorite Moira.

Date: 2011-11-01 11:28 pm (UTC)
ext_289215: (Architect William)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
William was so sure with his blade and his words that sometimes he forgot what it was like to be not certain. He was remembering now, as the hansom pulled up to the edge of his family's land. It crawled to a stop just past the gate and the driver climbed down from his perch. William held out a handful of bank notes. The man took them, tipped his hat, and then calmly walked away, back toward the center of the city. In the morning the cab would be returned to him unharmed, but for now there would be one last job for it.

"This is new," his companion said. He crossed his legs and used it as an excuse to lean in closer to Willam.

William could feel breath, hot on his cheek. "I find that hard to believe, Mr. Clarence."

"Eli, please," the other said. He'd changed in a hurry and met William at the stage door of the Opera House, so there was still makeup caught near the edges of his eyes, rimming them red. His lips were quirked up at the corners and he gazed at William in in a way that made him feel wanton. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

"Eli, then," William said. He leaned away slightly so that he could turn his head and look at Eli without bumping noses. "I find it hard to believe that there are very many experiences that might be new for you."

"Oh," Eli said, "there's a first time for absolutely everything." He placed his hand on William's knee. William let it stay.

"You do understand why I can't take you up to the house."

"I do," Eli leaned forward and nipped lightly at William's ear. "I don't care."

William didn't know where to start. Here was a man who was laying himself as open to William as the frivolous girls sometimes did when they had too much wine. Here was a man who wanted William. Or seemed to. It didn't really matter. He supposed the best way to start was just to do it.

He leaned forward and kissed Eli on the lips, lightly. It wasn't chaste for long. Eli pushed against William, almost viciously, and shoved him against the side of the hansom, catching him by surprise. The cab rocked slightly.

William reached up and grabbed onto the short strands of hair brushing the nape of Eli's neck and pulled his head back. Eli growled lightly in the back of his throat and pushed his hand up the inside of William's thigh. William chuckled and caught the stride of it all. He let go of Eli's hair and rocked forward at the same time Eli did.

Their teeth clicked together and William felt Eli bite down on his bottom lip. The slick taste of blood trickled onto his tongue when he stopped to lap at it. Eli had undone the ties on William's trousers and was working his hand into the opening. William grabbed Eli's shoulders and pushed him back into the other side, giving himself the upper hand and causing the cab to rock even more.

Eli laughed. "If you're not careful we're going to knock this whole thing to pieces."

"Let them fall where they may," William said, and pressed down onto Eli harder.
Edited Date: 2011-11-02 12:59 am (UTC)

Date: 2011-11-02 02:06 am (UTC)
theemdash: (Daniel Sex Please)
From: [personal profile] theemdash


We are going to be able to open a fanfic archive for this book before we're even done writing it.

Date: 2011-11-02 02:13 am (UTC)
ext_289215: (Architect James)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
You got to 750 words! \o/ Now I need to catch up before I can pass out.

What's a story without a few reams of back story, really?

Date: 2011-11-02 10:35 am (UTC)
theemdash: (TMNT Raph)
From: [personal profile] theemdash
I have a feeling I'll be hovering around 750 words each day for this first week. THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH TO DO! Unless I start writing drabbles off your prompts—which I can do at work... hmm...

Certainly not something we wrote!
From: [identity profile] gisforgreen.livejournal.com
They were on roadtrip with Jeff's douchebag college friends, who Brian now grudgingly liked, to God knows where in Georgia when Jeff made the mistake of making fun of Brian's questionable taste in music.

"Shut up! Liking crappy rap music is a valid life choice JEFF. Not everyone can be a hipster!"

"I AM NOT A HIPSTER. TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!"

"No," Brian said stubbornly. And maybe this was residual bitchiness leftover from their fight about the God damned dishes but he was not going to back down. Not in front of Jeff's friends. Or. In back of them to be more exact.

Brian should have expected the tickling to be honest. Should have expected Jeff and his stupid long arms to get up in his face and tickle him until he was about to vomit all over the back of the car. It was over before it began and Jeff's tickling turned into something too sensual for the back of a car on a roadtrip.

(This is from a longer AU I am working on about feelings or whatever.)
From: [identity profile] gisforgreen.livejournal.com
Sadly no. Brian McCann uses hilarious rap songs as his walk up music. This is real life.

I keep telling you that sports are as hilarious as I make them seem on twitter!

Date: 2011-11-02 08:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] renne.livejournal.com
UGH THAT PICTURE.

Date: 2011-11-02 01:44 pm (UTC)
ext_289215: (Mighty Boosh Gayist)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
Hahah. I'm really glad people seemed to appreciate the first effort. :p

Date: 2011-11-06 02:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lady-ganesh.livejournal.com
It doesn't matter. The time of day, the car, Allison driving. He's here. He's back. He's mine.

The rest of it can go to hell.

Date: 2011-11-06 02:38 am (UTC)
ext_289215: (Yellow gun)
From: [identity profile] momebie.livejournal.com
This is my favorite response to this post. ♥

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