Ok, I'm seriously surprised we don't have one of these threads yet and since I have the sudden urge to write and be social but no ideas and no one to talk to, I thought I should just make this thread myself and this thread is now, as officially dubbed by my fake Royalness, the Jazzy Fillyfooling Prompt Tag.

It's simple. One word prompt. Keep the story between one hundred and a thousand words. Make sure it's OctaScratch - romance or friendshipping, whatever way you wanna go. Steamy but not full out sexy, so keep it Teen. (That means no lesbian pancakes. *glares at Josh*) So take a prompt, write some shit, leave a prompt, repeat. (Also, I don't really recommend for you to follow the rules of jazz and write randomness because Lord knows what that would lead to. *glares at Josh yet again*)

Any pairings, so long as they're jazzy and fillyfoolers, are accepted. (Please note: Those who do not ship OctaScratch will have their heads cut off.)

First Prompt: Smile

Go nuts.

933300
Are you saying type up a short thing here in the comments?

933307 Basically.

933300
No lesbian pancakes? Writing a work lacking such an essential feature is out of my skill set.

933309
Hmm... different. Might I suggest doing each different prompt as a different thread? Put something like "The PR's Writing Prompt - ???". I will do it (write one, I mean. Not take your idea). May take a bit. Got some editing and working on my next chapter.

933337 Nah, I mean, like one person gives a prompt to start out, then one guy takes it, writes something off it, leaves his own one word prompt, then another person takes it and the cycle keeps going. Capisce?

933362
Like that though, prompts may get lost, done multiple times, multiple ones be up at once.

933300
Another prompt: Transconductance.

Good luck.

933388 WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
933373 ....oh, true.

933400
Use...

Wikipedia!

933412 AH NO I'M TRYING TO AVOID LEARNING BY MAKING THIS THREAD

933433
Sorry. Just seemed a bit chaotic and easily lost this way. But fine. I shall start now... no. I have to write Chapter 5... but I have to do this... Fine. I will do this then write Chapter 5.

Promt: Smile
Length: 100-1,000
Fine. Here goes.

933322
This

933687
I agree wholeheartedly.

933454
NO! I need some Paradiso!

933718
Too bad. I have done written 899 words.

933725
That's good, actually.

Trust me, this works. Besides, if two people write on the same prompt by mistake, that's twice as much fillyfooling!

TWICE AS MUCH! ...is the worst case scenario.

933725 You're up. Don't forget to add a new tag.

933770
Cool your ass. I am writing the last paragraph.

933300>>933322>>933388>>933433>>933718>>933770

Prompt: Smile
Length: 1,364 words
Time Spent: 'bout an hour and a half

I couldn’t help it. I knew what I did was wrong. I just couldn’t stop myself. She had always looked down on me. She never noticed me unless it benefited her, whether it be me doing something for her she found beneath her ‘holiness’ or her making fun of me to make herself feel better. I always helped. Don’t know why... well, I did. She was the most beautiful mare I had ever seen and I would do anything for her, but she didn’t feel the same. I don’t think she liked mares... oh well. This isn’t about that. This is about something I shouldn’t have done... I think.
Well, I was on my way home from the club I was working at (I did some tech setups for the DJs since I was too young to work the decks but had better knowledge (and skill) than most ponies). One of the preppy colts was having a party the same night. I passed his house on the way to mine. Now, I didn’t want to go. Couldn’t stand the guy. But, as I passed, I saw two ponies cross the hedges to a small vacant lot just next door, farther up the road.
Now, I’m one to respect other ponies privacy. Don’t want ‘em all up in my shit, why would they want me all up in theirs? But, as I was walking passed I heard her voice. It was slightly slurred, but I recognized it. I stopped, trying to figure out what was being said.
“I-I don’t know,” she was saying. It was just a few seconds before a deeper voice responded.
“Come on, Octavia.” Him. That stupid, stuck-up, better-than-thou, richie-bitch piece of shit. I started to walk away, not wanting to have to hear that pathetic excuse for a life forms words, when he continued, giving me pause. “We have been together for four months now, I think I deserve this by now.” His voice was insistent, if not a bit forceful.
I had never liked him. He rubbed his wealth in everyone’s faces. Well, not his wealth, his daddy’s wealth. Same shit.
“I don’t think I’m ready,” Octavia replied. I slunk closer, trying to catch a view of her. When she came into my sight, she was radiant. The moon caused her mane to shimmer like a black pearl. Her coat seemed to glow from within. The only thing wrong was her eyes. They were gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but they were frightened. Looking closer, she seemed to be shaking, and wobbling a bit.
“Well, I am.” The rich bastards voice broke the spell of her beauty. I hate his voice. It’s kinda nasally and gravelly. I don’t know. I don’t like it, that’s all that matters. “And you will give it to me.”
“I’ll tell everyone.” She was slowly backing up. I decided to walk in the shadows. Try and get closer, just in case.
“They won’t believe you. And, if they do, I won’t get in any trouble. They are scared of my father.” I really hate this guy. “Besides, you won’t remember tonight.”
“I’ll scream.” She backed into a wall.
“Everyone will think they are screams of pleasure. Just give up. You ar-” CRACK!
I stopped, not believing what I saw. Octavia had bucked him in the jaw, and it sounded like it broke. He screamed. Oh, Luna, it was such a girly scream. It was funny. Well, until Octavia started to panic. She started to run out of the little alcove created by the hedges. As she approached the entrance, some guards came. I wasn’t that far from where Tavi had been standing when she kicked the sick bastard in the face. I stood there as a guard held a trembling Octavia, trying to figure out what happened, and the other rushed over to the colt.
Octavia couldn’t get a full sentence. It was “He... I did... but...”. Stuff like that. The guard nearest to me jotted something down on a piece of paper and teleported it away. They knew who the colt was. Everyone did. Octavia was in trouble. She just broke one of the most influential ponies in Canterlot’s jaws, and no one, but her and him, knew why. He would win in court. She would lose everything. Nobody could defend her.
The guards tried to ask her what happened, but she couldn’t answer. She was distraught and drunk (which would also come back to bite her in the ass, underage drinking and all). She was done. They would take her to jail. She would lose all standing she had worked to earn. She would never play for the orchestra like she dreamed. And it wasn’t even her fault. More guards showed up, with a doctor in tow. Then his dad arrived. He demanded she be taken to jail for her crimes.
I saw it. Her dreams crushed before her eyes. Everything she worked for, lost. She looked around. Ponies had gathered. They were watching. She saw her friends in the crowd. She also saw that they wouldn’t help her. Nopony would.
“I did it.” The guards that were leading her to the carriage gave pause. What the fuck am I doing? I stepped out of the shadows. I saw her look at me, disbelief in her eyes. Everyone looked at me with disbelief. It was chaotic. Everyone started shouting, yelling that I be arrested for what I did. They didn’t care about my side of the story. My looks said it all. My wild blue hair, my outrageous glasses, my red eyes. I was guilty.
As the guards led me to the ride to my new home, I saw it. Her friends were holding her (since it wasn’t her who hurt him, they could still be friends. Worthless fucks) and she was crying. But she was looking at me. I saved her dreams. I just kept her from losing everything, at the cost of everything, and she acknowledged it. Did I care? No. Well, that I lost everything, I didn’t care. That she was happy, yes.
But as the guards were pushing me to the carriage, they knocked off my glasses. They tossed me in the seat and slammed the door. I looked through the barred window at the gathered ponies. I saw the glares, the scowls. I didn’t care. I looked around for my glasses. They weren’t overly important. Got ‘em to hide my eyes. Nothin’ more. I found them after a minute. She was holding them. She had gotten away from her friends. She looked at me, my glasses in her hooves. My red eyes met her lavenders for the first time. Then, she smiled. Not a smug “Haha, fuck you” smile, a “Thank you, I will remember this” smile.
I got out later in the week. I told them what happened (substituted with me kicking him). I don’t think they believed me. I got a years probation and one hundred hours community service (not to mention what I got from my parents). As I walked out of the courthouse, she was standing there. No one was around. Just me and her. I slowly approached her. She passed me my glasses, giving me that smile. I smiled back. Then, I kissed her. I don’t know why. I didn’t even know if she liked mares, let alone me. It was wrong of me. She may have had that ‘knight in shining armor syndrome’ or whatever. But, like I said, I couldn’t help it.
As I lie here in bed thinking back on that day, I feel a small shifting on my back. I roll over as the shifting subsided. I look at Octavia’s face, wrapped in the calm of sleep. Was it wrong of me to kiss her? Was it wrong of me to take the fall for something I didn’t do, in hopes it would get her to notice me (is that why I did it? I don’t really know)? I don’t know. But things worked out in the end, so who cares.
I nuzzled her gently, whispering, “I love you, Tavi”. Still sleeping, she smiled.

This is not what I originally had planned. It just... evolved (much like language does). Not my best (or most thought out or probably coherent) work. Oh vell. Also the only story that I wrote in one sitting and when I first got the prompt.

New prompt: anger.

933886
What prompt should have we expected from SYVVY of all people?

933886
Ooh, nice. I think I'll give this a try. I just need a bit of time.

933886 Awesome.

No, I won't be claiming this prompt.

933903
Hey, would you have preferred me to put 'death'? And don't ever expect anything of me. I may just surprise ya.

933915>>933912>>933745>>933433>>933300
We need some limitation so the same people aren't doing it all. Can only do one every three prompts? Or just first come first serve?

933961 First come.

933961>>933980 remember that you're expected to write you story in under four hours, and even if you type fast it'll probably take thirty minutes to type.

So claim a prompt only when it inspires you. Just try not to be greedy and claim all of them if you really inspired this week.

Golden Rule: Have Fun

934004
Golden Rule: It's not gay if it's in a three-way.

934004 "Rule number one, is that you gotta have fun~ But, baby, when you're done, you gotta be the first to run..."

933886>>933980>>934004>>933903>>933745

Yes, I know it's short, but I need to work on my actual stories
Prompt: Anger
Words: 260

“Dammit!”

“‘Tavi, I-”

“No! Shut up!”

“I just wanted to-”

“What?!” Octavia was yelling at the top of her lungs as she clutched the shards of wood and pieces of string that used to be her cello. “Say you’re sorry? Because sorry just fixes everything, doesn’t it?!”

“It was an accident!” Vinyl pleaded. “How was I supposed to know that the speaker would fall?!”

Octavia could feel the tears in her eyes as she attempted to pick up the pieces of the instrument that had been in her family for generations. “Well you shouldn’t have been so... so stupid!” She clutched the largest surviving piece to her chest; she didn’t even try to hold back the tears. Only moments passed before she felt a soft hoof on her back, but she quickly swatted it away.

“Just go away Vinyl.” She wasn’t yelling this time; her voice was broken and cold. “I just don’t want to see you anymore.”

The hoof was gone, but she could still feel the DJ’s eyes upon her. She wanted the feeling to go away; she wanted to be alone.

“Octavia...” she heard quietly; the voice only made her hug the broken wood of the cello more tightly as she sobbed. She wanted to look back; she wanted to see the mare that was trying so hard to be her friend; she wanted to see the pony that she called her marefriend.

In a moment of bravery, she glanced away from her broken instrument to look over her shoulder.

Nothing.

Vinyl was gone.

She was alone.

Maybe I'll put more effort into another one.

Next prompt (This one's really difficult): Music

934013
...I think I love you.

934033 Your sarcasm is so heavy it hurts.

934044
I'm never sarcastic.

934033
Dibs on this one! Everypony hear me? I'm claiming this prompt.

934044 934013>>933903>>933770

934053
>is not a writer
>gets replies

934033
Brah, I've got my own story to be working on, editing, and I still wrote that long ass one (it didn't feel like an hour and a half). But good job.

934053
No.

934101
Go fuck yourself, Kody.

934101
Yeah, but I'm lazy and take a week and a half to write a 2,500 words chapter, so I'm naturally not going to put too much time into a speed-prompt. And thanks. It was fun to write something random.

934123
And I have taken a month and three days for my 2,500 word chapter. (Still only have the header)

934107
You're not the boss of me.

934044 934013>>933903>>933770>>934033

Prompt: Music
Words: 271
Okay, this belongs to The Snow on Her Cheek universe. Sorry for it being short, but it's almost 11 pm here and I'm just falling asleep.
Next prompt: Denial.
~~~

Two hundred notes make a melody.

Melody is complex and discrete; it is the beacon of light in the ever-darkened abyss of life. Melody is what makes life worth living.

Two notes make a fifth.

Octavia placed her hoof on the strings, carefully playing two notes simultaneously - a challenging task for a cellist. The C came out clean and intense, but the G was muddled and vague. She frowned, playing the interval again. The grey mare smiled. Now, it was perfect.

Three notes make a chord.

Dropping the bow, the mare finally gave in to the newfound passion of jazz, strumming the strings with her right hoof, playing the chord of all chords, the chord of joy and happiness - C major.

Four notes make a seventh chord. A jazz chord.

The smooth, genle sound of grand piano enveloped the room, soothing the cellist's ears. With a smile, she took a glance at the white unicorn mare playing a simple jazz chord progression.

A sequence of single notes makes a solo.

Octavia joined in with a broken pentatonic scale, her hoof running along the neck swiftly, accentuating the upbeat notes. It was an improvisation. It was a life.

Two hundred notes make a melody. A symphony. Unity.

Two hundred notes bring ponies together. Under the gloomy skies of Manehattan, two hundred notes are enough to invigorate anypony for the rest of the day. In one flat, two hundred notes helped two mares fall in love.

Is there anything more to ask?

"Hey, Vinyl?" Octavia said, breaking the tune.

"Huh?" The pianist blinked, revealing her red eyes.

"You are my melody."

934129
That was friendly advice.

934142
Not bad. I got this next one.

934153
Thanks.

934142
And three chords make a generic rock song.

Nice; I like it. I'll start reading The Snow On Her Cheek soon enough.

934153
Sure, go ahead!

934170
Thank you. I hope you'll enjoy it. ^_^

934170
Or sometimes 4.

934228
Whoa, there. Let's not get too complicated now.

934228
(pssst! would you happen to be referring to these particular chords?)

933300>>933322>>933388>>933433>>933718>>933770

Prompt: Denial
Length: 471 words
Time spent: 'bout 25 minutes

Vinyl sat on the park bench. A soft breeze blew through her mane. There was no way this could be happening. Birds were singing. It couldn’t be possible. The sun was setting, casting an orangish-purple tint to the clouds. Vinyl didn’t notice any of this.
She was sitting in the cafeteria at lunch earlier that day when she was approached. That in itself was an oddity; nopony ever talked to her, unless it was a teacher or to make fun of her. But who it was caught her at a loss for words: Octavia Philharmonica. Octavia was one of the most talented students in the school. Everyone said she would become lead cellist of the Canterlot Orchestra shortly after she graduated. Vinyl was nopony.
Vinyl still couldn’t believe it. She had sat down and talked to her. Not at her, to her. When the bell rang, signaling lunch was over (Vinyl hadn’t even had a chance to eat), she asked Vinyl if she wanted to catch a show with her. She said she had an extra ticket because her friend had something come up. Vinyl nodded, not really knowing what to do, and Octavia told her to meet her at the bench on the north side of the park at eight that night.
So, there Vinyl sat. She expected it to be a set-up; for Octavia to not show and laugh about it the next day. Things never went right for her. Octavia was probably laughing right now at how Vinyl thought she was actually gonna be her friend.
Vinyl looked at her watch, having lost track of time: eight thirty. I knew it. She wasn’t coming. Why did I think she actually cared? Standing up from the bench, Vinyl started to walk away, head low and her eyes filling with tears. She only got a few steps when she heard someone shout her name.
“Vinyl! Vinyl, I’m so sorry I’m late.” She turned around to the voice. “Father wouldn’t let me leave until I finished my homework, then it took me forever to find my dress.” Vinyl took the grey mare in: she had her pink bowtie on and was wearing an elegant black dress. She stood there and stared for a minute, unable to believe she was actually there.
“You look nice,” Vinyl said, still in disbelief.
“Thank you. So do you.” Vinyl was wearing a simple light blue dress with her hair combed back. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Thanks for inviting me.” Vinyl walked up beside Octavia as they headed back into town.
“Well, you looked like you could use a friend.” They continued on in a companionable silence, prepared to enjoy the night, Vinyl finally having a friend to spend it with.

New prompt: Disbelief

934268
I love that song. If that was, in fact, a reference to it, I hate myself for missing it.
934273
That was very cute.