rthstewart | Three Sentence Ficathon 2022

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Three Sentence Ficathon 2022

This post is NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS! PLEASE POST YOUR NEW PROMPTS HERE, IN POST 2! Do continue to fill prompts here but please put all new prompts in Post 2.

Welcome to the Three Sentence Ficathon!

Here's a Friending meme!

What is the 3 Sentence Ficathon?
This is an open exchange where you answer a prompt with a fic consisting of only three sentences. It's open to all fandoms and you can post and fill as many prompts as you like, as many times as you want.

What do I do first?
You can start 3SF by posting prompts! When posting a prompt please format it this way:

fandom, character(s), prompt word/sentence.

Only one prompt per comment please. So, for example,

Star Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi, I don't like sand."

Open ended and anthropomorphic fills are popular too, such as:

Any, Any, "I don't like sand."

or

Earth geography, sand, "I don't like humans very much, either."

What happens after that?
You answer other posters' prompts in three sentences (or more if you can't stop yourself) and fill as many prompts as you want, as many times as you wish. If you see that a prompt you loved has already been filled, go ahead and fill it again! Multiple fills of the same prompt are allowed and even encouraged! (We get really fun stories going this way).

Can I still post if I need more than 3 sentences? Or should I just abuse grammar in ways the English language never contemplated?
Yes. Yes.

But I'm not a member of Dreamwidth
No problem. You can comment anonymously or through open ID

I'm really overwhelmed by all the prompts and how much there is and how fast it goes. I can't read 1,000 prompts and fills. It's too much.
I hear this a lot and it keeps a lot of people from participating. The 3SF is big and it moves fast, especially at first. I get overwhelmed, too, and I'm hosting the thing. With 2020 and 2021 sucking so badly you don't want something that's supposed to be fun cause you anxiety. I have a couple of suggestions for managing the 3SF volume.

First, really, you don't have to read every prompt and fill on every page. You can start at the last page of this and just go forward, or back a page or two. It's fine.
You can come and go as time and energy allow, you don't have to participate the whole time, and it drops off quite at bit after about 2 weeks and especially once we open a new post because this one is approaching 4,500 comments.
Even after the 3SF and new prompting end, people fill prompts all year long.
You can fill an already filled prompt and you can can leave a prompt that's already been prompted before. People do it all the time.

Always make sure you're looking at top-level comments only, not threaded. That helps a lot. Your screen should look like this.

But shouldn't I read everything to see if someone already prompted the same prompt I want to leave if someone already filled it?
No. Prompt as many times as you want, as much as you want. It doesn't matter if someone prompted the exact same prompt. Go ahead and prompt again!

I left a prompt and no one filled it. Can I prompt it again?
Absolutely!

Can I spread the word?
Yes, please. I generally fail at creating banners and embed codes but if you create one and make it really idiot-proof, I might be able to post and share it. Feel free to cross-post this entry. If you create your own banners or icons, let me know and I'll share!
Please share the 3SF with your followers, friends, and any channels and comms you are active on. I'll post on fandom calendar, Tumblr, and Twitter, but I don't have many connections in other spaces such as Discord.

Here's my attempt at a text box that might go horribly awry.

How long will it go?
The 3SF closes to new prompts on February 13, 2022. The entry stays open permanently and people post fills all year long. (There were a bunch of new posts to the 2021 3SF this week!)

Are there any rules about cross-posting?
Nope, you can post wherever you want, whenever you want. A lot of folks collected their responses together and posted them on AO3 under the 3 sentence fiction tag. 3SFs are a terrific prompt for remixes and could be helpful for Yuletide bears, too.

What about spoilers, content and archive warnings, triggers, pairings, ratings, tags, and squick?

I thought a lot about this. It boils down to reader beware. In my experience, this typically gets too big, moves too fast, and the stories are too short for content warnings and ratings to even apply. It is too big for me to moderate in this way. You should assume spoilers are fair game and that the initial poster and the responder have opted to use no content warnings or tags. This means AO3 content warnings for dubcon, violence, canon character death, underage, etc. COULD be present (and much more). I've found personally that I can skim and scroll by stuff that, from the prompt, I can tell isn't my favorite flavor of delicious cake. Use your best judgment, protect yourself, and be prepared to skip over things that aren't your thing. In this format, the obligation is on you, the reader, to protect yourself from triggering content.
Some posters do include warnings and spoiler tags or include spoiler space, but they don't have to do so.

Why is 3SF split among several posts? That seems confusing.
It is confusing and we always lose momentum once we have to move to a second post. The reason is because at 5,000 comments to a single post, DW installs a human test CAPTCHA, which is a pain for users. So, once this entry gets to the upper 4,000 comments, I open a new post. If you've been waiting until things slow down to participate, when we open a second post is often a good place to join.

If I have questions, what do I do?
I'm rthstewart everywhere, here, Twitter, Tumblr, gmail and AO3.

A special thank you to

conuly .
Last year, Conuly started logging all unfilled prompts.
This year's (2021) unfilled prompts are here.
Last year's (2020) unfilled prompts are here.

Conuly asks that you not reply, as they want to be able to edit and add more prompts to the list.

Here, have some icons and banners and let me know if you've created your own!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Wheel of Time (Amazon), Moiraine Damodred/Siuan Sanche, blue and gold

Siuan dreams of the vivid blue, fingers finding enclosures, slipping it clear of pale shoulders, dipping in to kiss at the cream bared there.

Moiraine remembers the coolness of the gold beneath her lips, the last kiss given that of tribute to the woman that will ever hold her heart.

In time, this life or the next, neither blue nor gold will be the end of all their dreams, and yet… it is who they are, with destiny writ large over them.

Edited 2022-01-15 21:29 (UTC)

This is beautiful.

Thank you!

I love this so much. Thank you for the gorgeous fill.

Thank you so much!

I love this so much <3

Thank you!

i love them so much ;; this was lovely

Gorgeous!

Thank you!

Hawkeye, Kate Bishop +/ Yelena Belova, elevator music

Kate ticks off the boxes in her head: tall, no; tan, no; young, yeah; lovely, if you like your girls a little murdery. Two out of four isn't great, and she has no idea where Ipanema is. "Do you dance?" she asks Yelena, and doesn't realize how weird the question is till Yelena stares at her, frowning.

MWHAAA. Perfect. They had amazing chemistry, didn't they??? They were just obviously having a terrific time. "if you like your girls a little murdery."

Ha, this is so cute! I love Kate's impenetrable thought process (to Yelena, anyhow).

*Giggles* I still haven't gotten to this part of the show, but somehow, I can picture this perfectly in my head. Lovely, yes.

I love that the thought process is so very Kate.

"Kate Bishop," Yelena says in that pleased, ever-amused tone of hers. They're literally the only two people in this conversation for the next fifteen floors this elevator will stop on; who else would Yelena be addressing?

But as with anything indulged beyond necessity, Kate can't say she minds too much.

But as with anything indulged beyond necessity, Kate can't say she minds too much.

Hah, YES.

Nice last line there.

The elevator slowly ascends; Yelena curses in Russian for the eighth time—which, coincidentally, is the floor they pass.

"Sorry," Kate shakes her head, seemingly dislodging her thoughts and abruptly stopping her incessant humming, "what was that?"

"Nothing," Yelena smiles innocently, peering at the elevator’s numbers rising once more. "Only that you sing very horribly."

Any, any, “no plan survives contact with the enemy”

Prowl's back slammed against the wall as a barrage of laserblasts crisped the paint on his doorwings, narrowly missing his head and taking chunks out of the tumbledown remains of the building he'd sheltered in. His comm screeched; whatever interference had been jamming it finally lifted, possibly thanks to the barrage that had knocked out almost everything else in the air. "Tactical," he rapped out, processor already recalculating how to turn the remains of the army around and push into the battered Decepticon line.

//Oh thank Primus someone's there, we've lost our captain, we're stuck in-//

"Burst me the co-ordinates," Prowl interrupted, brisk and already on the move away from the gun emplacement blocking his previous route. "I'm on my way."

No plan survived contact with the enemy. And no tactician did either, unless they could think on the move.

Prowl is best at thinking on the move :D

He has to deal with the Autobots and their assorted quirks, if he wasn't before he certainly was after the Ark crash XD

Aw yes I love this! Was so delighted to see a Transformers fill here with one of my favorite characters, and this was a delight :D

Heee, thank you! Always good to bump into another Prowl fan. :D

"No plan survives contact with the enemy," Edmund pronounced sagely – but as sagacious pronouncements went, it fell flat with his audience.
"Of course not," snorted Morgan. "Instead of banishing me, you married me."

SYRENA YES

Ahahahaha!!! :D

Edmund had to scramble to recover some modicum of dignity -- his wit and acumen were on the line. "I never thought you were the enemy!"

"And you really think, consort mine, that 'Evil Banker' was better?"

OMG YES

LOL

"Of course we didn't plan everything," Annabelle said with a friendly smile. "Even the Mother can't control every variable, particularly when the other Dread Powers are in play; the effort would be far too costly and almost certainly doomed to failure."

"We prefer to focus on finding the right enemies."

Edited 2022-01-16 02:42 (UTC)

Steve covertly watched the dark-haired young man across the table as he explained their plan of attack. Edmund appeared to be calm and collected, taking in the map and Steve’s explanation with a coolness that was almost unnerving in someone so young. Steve had no idea where Peggy had found him - she had brought him and his sister in from the field one day, giving Steve a rapid and confusing explanation about finding them also pilfering intel from the Hydra outpost she had broken into. Peggy had kept Susan for herself, giving Edmund to Steve and telling him to make use of him.

“Just remember, if the plan goes sideways, get yourselves to our rendezvous point and do your best to not get killed,” Steve finished firmly, shooting an admonishing look around the table at the other Commandos. For the most part he got nods in return, but Edmund surprised him by giving him a knowing smirk.

“No plan survives contact with the enemy,” he said. “And if it did, what would be the fun in that?”

Edmund you are SO CHEEKY. I love this xover verse!

I'm so glad you like it! :)

Edmund would!

He absolutely would. ;)

"No plan survives contact with the enemy . . . you keep sending us to spy on the Sannin even when most of us never come back." Satou shuddered, thinking of the utter madness of Konoha.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Satou told his superior with studied patience - he wasn't going back no matter what, he didn't care if they declared him nukenin and he had to seek sanctuary in Cha no Kuni, "I quit. I'm not spying on the Hatake-Yashagoro family any more; no plan survives contact with the enemy - and I'm pretty sure I won't survive when they eventually figure me out which they will." he added with a shudder; he'd watched the White Fang and the Serpent Sannin long enough to wonder if they hadn't already identified him as a spy - he had no intention of going back and tempting fate, with no idea why they hadn't killed him yet.

"Well, this plan went straight to hell a lot faster than usual," Alex shouted over the sound of lasers cutting through the concrete above them.

Hudson laughed. "Aye, lad, but no plan survives contact with the enemy. You've got to learn to think on your feet!"

"Dad's plans do!" Alex argued, but Hudson was already launching himself over the wall.

Takeru winced as a stray fireball caused something to explode behind him, and he felt the heat on his back as Pegasmon flew away from the blast. "Spread out, try to limit the damage!" he yelled, catching sight of Fladramon and Digmon fighting a cluster of enslaved Digimon down below as his partner flew by.

Takeru gritted his teeth and ducked as a Tyrannomon roared and spat another fireball his way - he and the others had been prepared for a hard fight, but no plan survives contact with the enemy, as the saying went, and their enemy was a jerk who played dirty.

"See," Mikey mused aloud from behind cover, "giant spider robot I get. We know what to do with giant spider robots. I mean, not that we've had specific giant spider robot training, but like, we've dealt with robots and we've dealt with spiders, so no problem, right, we got a plan-"

"Shut up, Mikey," Raph grated.

But Mikey did not shut up, or didn't seem to be able to, eyes rather wild as he continued. "But a giant spider robot that turns into a dude with a gun? How do you even plan for that?"

"By shutting up, Mikey!" Raph snapped, and in the resulting, ringing silence their eyes met. "....where'd he go?" Raph hiss-whispered.

"Right here, morsels," said a cackling voice from above, and a web of glowing blue abruptly snapped down around them both.

Rollo's plan was to win her, take her, and wrest rule from her. He never intended to become bespelled by her slim hips or her sharp tongue or her honey-scented hair, thick and flowing between his clumsy fingers. He should have known that no good plan survives contact with the enemy.

Laertes truly doesn’t know how he could have started out so certain that the king was who he needed to destroy and then become – well it’s not like they’re allies, but they’ve reached some sort of détente. He just wants to do the right thing, and for that it’s true he needs all the information, which he could not easily get from a corpse, so he does his best to believe he’s been constant to his purpose.

Something feels wrong about transferring all his ire to Hamlet, when Claudius is still the one who allowed things to get this bad and then waited for a proxy to handle the problem, but as Laertes cannot let the prince go unpunished, he will just have to be that proxy.

I love this take on Laertes - his doubts and determination come through so well.

thank you! i love laertes, and one of the things i believe about him above anything else is that he's always trying to do the right thing, and struggling to figure out what that even is, and will always prefer an ugly painful truth to a kind lie, but boy oh boy the doubts that brings out in him.

The first time Gary appeared in full superhero regalia to a surprised meeting of shady dealers and mobsters, it was everything a crime fighter could hope for: the ne'er-do-wells were stunned speechless, their fear palpable in the close confines of their lair, and the Flame cast a long menacing shadow over them in righteous fury.

When one of them stumbled backwards and almost extinguished the small fire they had been hovering around, through which the Flame was still in the process of morphing through, it not only diminished his shadow but caused him to trip and land face first at their feet.

He didn't have much time to reflect while battling it out with the emboldened thugs, but decided afterward that a quicker entrance—while perhaps less impressive—would be far more effective in the future.

Author's note: I didn't originally post this one since "The Flame" is such an obscure comics reference, but hopefully it stands up as generic superhero even without further context.

Any, novena/supernova, will GRRM ever finish ASoIaF?!

The sun scrambled as it collapsed into a white dwarf: "Oh wait, did George ever finish those books?"

The universe paused just at the edge of the star's death. The black void opened wide, split like a grin.

"Fraid not," it laughed, before gobbling it up.

the most tragic possible fill, as it means we're all stuck with the Stupid Ending. XP

Hahahahaha. But also, this is so charming! I love the personification of the universe and the sun, and how casual everything is, and the blase cruelty of
"Fraid not," it laughed, before gobbling it up..

LOL. Also loved your descriptions of the black void

LOL

lol, sounds about right. Dammit, George!

Oh goddess, so DARK. Well done, my friend!

ACCURATE

any, any, tea makes everything better

Q blinked blearily up from his screen. The agent on another continent was still standing, and there was retrieval arriving soon. His mug was cold, but that didn't matter.

I love this!

He sat down next to his best friend, automatically shifting so that the tea didn't spill.
She looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with red and her skin blotchy, with a look in her eyes that screamed heartbreak but mixed with love and gratitude: "Tea?"
"Tea makes everything better, darling," he said, handing her the tea, "even idiots breaking up with you--I mean, you still have me and you have tea, so it can't be too bad."

Aww, I love this, very sweet - also precisely one of the kinds of situations in which my family would be quoting the mantra. X3

The things he had lived through (and very nearly died through) just kept on coming and coming. Vampires, werewolves, demons, darkness, not to mention all the high school angst of his young charges; some days it was almost too much, but Rupert Giles always knew that things would turn out right in the end. He was never more certain than when he took out his favourite mug and heard the sound of the kettle boiling - that never failed to make him smile.

Ah, lovely! And gosh, if anyone needs a heck of a lot of tea for that, it would be Giles. >.>

I haven't watched Buffy in forever, but still, you say 'tea', I think 'Giles' ;)

*laughs* Okay yeah that's fair. XD

love this, Giles definitely deserves a cup of tea!

Yes, I think so too :)

"Tea most certainly does not make everything better," Jon snapped, "which is trivially easy to demonstrate: consider a stack of papers or an electronic device; under what circumstances would they be improved by the application of tea?"

"Oh that is hard, let me think -- no, wait, a toddler could solve it!" Melanie sniped back; "The relevant circumstance is when the statements and tape recorders are evil, just like the ones we handle every day but you won't let me destroy."

In the break room doorway, Martin paused, sighed, and turned around to gather more supplies; some situations also required biscuits.

I laughed. Ah, Martin, that's wisdom.

Yes, yes it is. :)

Absolutely perfect for each of them, such a charming delight ♥

Thank you! :)

(I've written a Mei Changsu lives AU 3SF for every 3SF year I've participated in, and this is just continuing the tradition.)

Hauling Mei Changsu out of the northern front had been the easiest part, since after all, the man was near-dead and looked dead enough that it hardly even counted as a lie when Lin Chen declared his pulse still, and that the Jiangzuo Alliance should make arrangements to bring his body back to Liangzhou for burial as the man himself had willed; the imperial messengers of the Crown Prince could not move as fast as Langya nor Jiangzuo to be able to halt them in time.

Once in Liangzhou, that was when the arduous work of actually saving the stubborn mule’s life actually begun, rested mostly on Lin Chen’s shoulders, though even his own narcissism made allowances for Doctor Yan’s contributions.

This seemingly impossible task now mostly accomplished, Lin Chen called Fei Liu over to brew a pot of tea, and then the two of them sat back to let the warm fragrance of good mingqian longjing to lure Mei Changsu back to the land of the living.

This is so lovely and definitely a very Lin Chen move. I love the image at the end, both Lin Chen and Fei Liu just quietly waiting for Mei Changsu to join them.

If there's one thing Garrus is good at, it's following directions. Another day, he might ask Shepard a million questions about it, just for the joy of hearing her talk: what an earl is, what Earth is (and here he pauses, thinking the traitorous word 'was,' and of Palaven, and shakes his head, settling back onto 'is') like in the corners where these strange plants grow, why the hell she wants a sour yellow fruit squeezed into it. For now, he follows her instructions, puts the hot mug in her scraped hands, kisses the bruise forming on her cheekbone, and curls around her as the ship hums steadily on its way through the dying stars.

ao3

Edited (boy i shouldn't write before coffee huh) 2022-01-16 08:57 (UTC)

oh, this is lovely. Garrus will always take care of Shepard.

He's always got her back ♥

He read the message on his phone, before taking a zip from his tea. His hand was shaking, but he managed to put the cup in his place.

"Tea makes everything better," Arthur said to himself.

We are done, Arthur. The message stated.

Oh, owch. Poor Arthur!

The Doctor looked up from her drink as two pair of shoes stepped into her vision, a wordless question forming on her companions face as she looked down at her sitting in her blood covered shoes and dust covered face. She opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again, and The Doctor watched as Yaz, untouched by the horrors of the universe, sat next to her.
"Tea makes everything better," she said, and then as an afterthought, "and biscuits."

Yes! Perfect!

"Tea makes everything better," Peggy announces, setting two teacups down with a light thump, "at least a little."

Steve dredges up a small smile for her and says, "I'm American, I think that honor goes to beer."

She shrugs and raises her own cup to her lips, and says, "You're not in America, though, are you? Just try it."

Aww, I like this moment between Steve and Peggy! Peggy comforting him with tea and Steve appreciating the effort made me smile. Great job! :D

thank you! I'm glad you like it

Elisa buried her face in her hands and sank into her couch. "My mother's in the hospital, Derek and Goliath are missing, and to top it all off, I have you messing around in my kitchen!"

"There, there, Detective Maza." Xanatos strode into the living room and set a large mug of hot tea on the coffee table in front of her. "Have some tea."

"Do you really think that's going to make any of this better?" Elisa snapped.

"It won't magically make Goliath and Derek appear, and it won't heal your mother," Xanatos said, "but I've personally found that a good cup of tea means one thing is going right, and that's something, at least."

The alternative title was "Owen Makes Him The Tea"

Edited (added ed. note) 2022-01-17 00:25 (UTC)

Oh, I love~ For multiple reasons. X3 Also Xanatos is 100% correct Elisa, drink your tea.

(Aces alternate title.)

Thank you so much! <3

"You're the one who always says tea makes everything better," Tobirama, who often thinks taking action is better than drinking tea, complains, "so why aren't you drinking it?"

"Cold tea makes everything worse," Hashirama says mournfully.

Tobirama heaves a deep sigh and mutters, "You're lucky I'm mastering every element," as he forms a katon.

*giggles* Oh Hashi. X'D

Although I mean. He has a point. Tea that's gone cold is a Sadness.

I took a sip of my tea that had gone cold and went "ew, this is sad"

and that was how I got this idea XD

Even better.

My tea is currently in that temperature stage where it will be fine . . . so long as I finish it fast enough. >.>

...
CHUG CHUG CHUG

before it goes cold! we don't want Sads! XP

[Warning for blood mentions!]

How fares the surgeon?

McDonald turned, temple rested upon bare crossed forearms—washed and scrubbed now, though the ruddy brown of Blanky’s blood lingered in the gutters of his fingernails—as he peered at the tea Goodsir had delivered; steam curled from the patterned teacup into sick bay’s frigid air like the tendrils of some ghostly sea creature, and McDonald’s brows drew together.

“For me?” he asked, straightening before cupping both palms around the warm porcelain.

“After traumatic procedures,” Goodsir said gently, “I find few people think to ask how the surgeon is faring.” He perched upon the table’s corner, ready to talk of nothing in particular and for the tea to make everything well again, as it often did.

Aw, this is so sweet and kind--definitely something Goodsir would do! <3

!!! Thank you so much :D

Minho collapsed onto the grass, sweat matting his hair and pasting his grimy T-shirt to his heaving chest, the dirt streaking his bare arms a testament to the tumbles he'd taken in the maze. Frypan's own chest thumped staccato as he watched the other boy, eyes flicking from sharp cheekbones to broad shoulders to heaving chest to slim, lithe hips. He shivered then, despite the heat, hoping that no one else noticed where his gaze inevitably fell, and hurried to get the tea ready.

I never thought of that pairing, but I like that little scene!

Thank you!

You're probably not even interested anymore, but here it is: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64128400

Posted on AO3, because it turned out a bit longer than 3 sentences.

Congratulations on finishing it!

I mean, I post this prompt every year because I love it, so you're extra fine on that score. XD

Thank you!

Any, any, "conlangs are worth learning"

John started between Sherlock--still standing in the middle of the deserted road--and the building the strange man they had just been talking to had disappeared into.
"Did you just-?"
"Conlangs are worth learning, John," Sherlock declared as if that explained the complete conversation he'd just had in Klingon when John had been pretty sure Sherlock had deleted all knowledge of Star Trek.

This made me smile!

This is great, really funny!

Ah!! This is so funny I love it :D

Love this!!

Her friend stared at Tess' notebook. "If you're going for nonsense, you've sure reached it."
Tess glanced up from the myriad papers on her desk to Sojourner's puzzled face. Sindarin did, she admitted, look like quite a jumble.

"There ain't no way that you just saved our lives speaking bloody Klingon," Ryan exclaimed as he ran to catch up with The Doctor.

The Doctor herself was looking quite chuffed as she casually strolled towards the TARDIS, hands shoved in her pocket. "Conlangs are worth learning," she said with a smile.

Edited 2022-01-17 01:47 (UTC)

now that that month-long writing event in February is done, I can come back to 3SFs :D
~

Hashirama found Kawarama ensconced on the couch with his laptop open and two binders, five notebooks, and possibly uncountable pens and highlighters strewn about him; he peered over Kawarama's shoulder as he scribbled away at... uh, a new code, maybe, Hashirama eyed two other notebooks - full of verb conjugations and lists of adfixes, it looked like - and the lightbulb clicked: "Is that another conlang?"

"Conlangs are worth learning," Kawarama sniffed, faux-haughty, crossing out something at the top of his page with extreme prejudice.

“Okay, sure, you've said that - but there’s a big difference between learning a conlang and making one, otouto!”

Any, any, I have no interest in learning the rest of the Greek alphabet.

No more Omicrons.

If Depth Charge and Optimus agreed on nothing else, they agreed on this: Rampage, or Protoform X as Depth Charge had known him, must be destroyed here, on Earth, before they could even think of going back to their own homeworld and time. As much as Optimus hated the extrajudicial nature of it, he knew he'd never forgive himself if through inaction he let another event like Omicron happen again.

I see what you did there, with your stealth double meaning, and it is excellent.

Ohh Optimus, /clasps hands/, PLEASE end this 😩😩😩

he's a munky, not a doctor, Jim ;P

"Owen, will you please accelerate our research into an option for distributing vaccines via water supply?" Xanatos closed all the browser windows he'd had open—to call the recent news "frustrating" was a quaint understatement. "This farce is affecting my plans for achieving immortality and I have no interest in learning the rest of the Greek alphabet."

"Of course, Mr. Xanatos," Owen said. "But I feel compelled to point out that you do know the entire Greek alphabet."

"Figure of speech, Owen."

Lol! <3

I feel like Puck would take great joy in being given the opportunity to react to such a line even if he wasn't actually allowed to show any of that joy as Owen.

Henry, eager as he was to occupy his every minute, naturally progressed his conversation with Mr Goodsir to matters of continued learning: what began as a brief dialogue concerning the ship’s name—fitting, now the sun had set on the arctic circle, that Erebus be the namesake of antiquity’s god of darkness—was now the anticipated nightly endeavour of Goodsir teaching him the Greek alphabet.

Hunched together over opened book, paper, and ink as black as the underworld (that froze stiff within the pen’s nib if left to linger), Goodsir whispered instruction, ever patient with guiding Henry’s pen in the candlelight.

All the while, Henry could not help but think how soft Goodsir’s fingertips felt whenever they brushed his knuckles, how simple it would be to turn his palm and take that warm, delicate hand in his own; and all the while, Goodsir’s proximity, his scent, that damnable smile of his, left Henry near incapable of concentration at all.

Ohh, this is adorable! <3

Thank you so much! <3

Oh my gosh, I love it

Thank you!! :)

Fallen rocks broke the tumult of humans who leapt
From the tower as it crumbled, crying out
At first in one voice and then in many
As their shared tongue shattered under
The weight of pride, arrogance, desire
Or, perhaps, hope,
Hope they could clamber up to the level of angels, but,
Instead, found themselves harried by winds as Satan was,
Before he landed in the fiery gulf, and who,
Now sat, as an ape, on the nearby cliff,
Flung pebbles amongst God's wrath
And, huffing with laughter, spoke:—
"THESE are the Almighty's darling children
For whom we gave up our heavenly peace
Rather than consider above us, and right we were
To do so, to strive to prove,
Although we were sorely smitted for striving,
They were not worth our honour and love; while I,
With bared teeth, give them a mote of admiration
For taking their base, heavy bodies
To try and shake, nay, tremble the heavenly throne,
My mirth comes most from hearing their speech falter
And lose the co-conspiratorial nature our's still has, O Belial,
That allows even in such different forms, I this meddlesome,
Limb'ed beast and you that slow and slimy creature
Whomst carries his bed wherever he goes,
Us to converse and share perverse joy
In the inevitable loss of love for the humans
That must come following this:
Their latest attempt at defying the will of God."
BELIAL slid forward slightly
On his single foot and, slipping
Into his shell so his head just peered out,
So as not to get too much dust on him to clean off later,
Observed the humans, those who had survived
The collapse of Babel, try and communicate, first
Through the failure of their fragmented speech and then,
Turning to scrawling with sticks in the mud
Like the babes they were,
Also finding their writing systems had been flung,
Like fractals, far
From the original shared letters, staggering
Into what we would recognise as
The graphemes of Catherine the Great, Xerxes of the Achaemenid Empire,
Solomon of Israel, and Leonidas of Sparta, and sighed:—
"DO not doubt that I also take joy
In the hardships inflicted on these unworthy usurpers
Of our hierarchy, as I naturally have no desire
To see them in a happier state than we,
Taking such lowly forms to observe, and
It is rightly their lot to be, like we were,
Scattered and dispersed, but
I do have a fear this will make it harder
For us to twist their desires back on them,
Like letting a dog catch its own tail so it bites it,
Because we will all have to learn these new languages
And writing systems, and,
Although I will do so should it please you, O Satan,
I do not have the constitution for such a task
And have no desire to learn of the Greek, or other, alphabets."
OUR Adversary stopped huffing at the humans and,
Turning his attention to his companion,
Last to enter Pandaemonium, last to volunteer for action,
First to tempt others into fulfilling his lewd
Wishes and besmirching their souls without his lifting a finger,
For he was the epitome of sloth and vice,
Only stirred to make a move at the fear of
Pain or the desire to ruin others,
Picked him up and hurled his
Indolent snail-form off the cliff
So it cracked against the crumpled tower below:—
"DEAREST companion, lover of vice,
Loafing little prick,
I will devise a plan, just to please you,
For am I not so gracious as to help my compatriots, so
All humans will someday learn the entire Greek alphabet,
Whether they have interest to or not."

((I have made the judicial call that :—, which Milton uses to illustrate the start of speech, does not mark the end of a sentence))

Bravo! Bravo! *claps enthusiastically*

Thank you! I don't know why this is what the prompt made me think of, but I'm glad you enjoyed it

This is completely brilliant and funny :)

Thank you! I'm glad you found it funny too, I was definitely going for a little humour

XDDD

A03 link - https://archiveofourown.org/works/36565624

The teacher droned on, epsifuckincron or some such shit, and Daryl propped his head on his hand and ignored her as he stared out the window. First day of huntin' season and the old man promised to take him after school for his first lesson on the crossbow, and never mind that Merle said his chicken arms weren't strong enough for the draw. He was gonna kick ass with that bow, and Merle can Eta his ass if he thinks any different.

Narnia, rthverse,

“Ed,” Susan asked, twitching the curtain aside with a practiced hand, “have you any projects on the boil, as it were?”

“Why would you think that?” he asked, stifling the urge to yawn into his teacup (too many late nights in the bars of DC will do that to a man, he reflected, even one with his sort of stamina).

“The murder in our front yard was a dead giveaway,” his sister said, and it’s only that exhaustion he had to blame for the undignified way he scrambled from his chair; in hindsight, perhaps the caws should have given it away long before Susan’s satisfied huff of laughter.

*cackling*

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OMG I LOVE IT

Hee! :)

Fantastic. :D

THE MURDER IN THE FRONT YARD

HAHAHA amazing

Brilliant. Love it. Oh Edmund, you are in for it now.

Love it!!

Love this!

It was a well-deserved retirement, Colonel Walker-Smythe thought to himself, and he had gotten out just at the right time -- the business just wasn't what it used to be. Paper in hand, coffee by his elbow, the day ahead of him -- it was exactly what he had wanted, and yet, exactly what he did not want: Colonel Walker-Smythe was bored. It was boredom, certainly, that led him to investigate the frantic cawing from outside the house (he did not consider himself, in the usual order of things, much of a bird watcher), and boredom that led him to put on shoes and coat and venture outside, where it seemed as if the corvids were almost talking to him. At least, he felt certain that the largest one, with its bright beady eye, was looking directly at him, and that it had croaked, "At last! Sallowpad!"

😹

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. The two Sallowpads meet!!

Ooh! I'd love to hear more about this meeting between these two spymasters!

So would I! I wonder if the Birds want help -- or if they just want to see who this other Sallowpad is.

OMG! This is hilarious

The notes and cards had all been written, most of Richard's things had been packed away or donated, and the medical equipment returned or binned; his journals though, Mary knew she'd never part with them, even if, by the end, her husband’s strong, careless script had been reduced to a weak, barely legible scrawl.
She took the last journal he'd kept out to the back lawns, to the chair her husband had sat in until his mind and body eroded, and tried to keep her tears from marring the precious pages. A crow with a stick in its beak flitted across the lawns and alighted on the elevated platform that still had a glass jar with meat scraps at the bottom; within a few moments, the crow jabbed the stick into the jar, neatly skewered the meat, and flew off again with its prize.

**
Peter was just going to go out to see how Mary was getting on when the kitchen door flew open, she stormed in, and brandished Richard’s journal, “Did you know that crows could learn to use tools?”

Seeing Richard’s drawing of a black bird holding a stick in its beak on the journal's page, Peter shrugged a little and nodded, “Yes, of course, Richard and I discussed it years ago, before he…”

With a bitter sob, Mary threw the journal across the kitchen, “And just how many other miracles and secrets did my husband share with you, and not me?”

Oh, Mary!! Her grief is so real and raw here, and the whole snippet so heartfelt. How like you to take a rather silly visual and make such glorious hay out of it.

(Though Peter's "well duh, of course they can use tools" is also amusing.)

Aww Mary :(
And I still really love Richard building that platform to test his hypothesis in his garden

😿

Oh Mary :(

RWBY, Salem, 'fantasy takes the form of what they fear'

"Tyrian lacks subtlety," Salem said, nodding at Cinder's outburst, "but I do not use Tyrian when I wish to be subtle. His role is to remind every Huntsman that they took on their foolish paths because they believe in a fantasy, with heroes, villains, and the assumption that their side will win in the end."

"Tyrian," she said, indicating the battle unfolding beneath them, "is there to remind them that their fantasies of victory are nothing more than the dreams of frightened children."

wow, yes, that's exactly why she uses tyrian, and you got her detached somewhat superior voice perfectly here. thank you so much!

Yay, glad it worked!

Oh, that is excellent! You captured Salem's voice very well here.

Thank you. I'm glad the voicing comes through.

any, any, someone is determined to remain a background character

Matt had very quickly after arriving at McKinnley his freshman year, looked around and realized that it was perfectly set up to be a high school drama, and he wanted no part in that. And maybe he had made some poor decisions--joining the football team had been a risk and joining Glee had been a serious lack of judgment on his part, but there was very little he could deny Mike and he really did like football and dancing--but he tried to make up for it by not talking to anyone.
But by the end of his sophomore year, he realized that if he stayed he was going to be pushed into the foreground by force because Glee seemed to be the center of the drama, so without explaining his reasoning to anyone but his parents and Mike, he moved away and left McKinnley behind, sad to sacrifice his new pseudo-family but unwilling to become a main character in a high school drama.

Very reasonable determination there!

"Kiss me, fair maiden, and a prince I shall be," the frog croaked insistently, "we shall wed, and you will have a coronet and jewels and silks to wear!"

The young cook glared, all she wanted to do was collect lotus buds for the soup, and here was all this fancy talk of being a princess, so she grabbed the talkative amphibian who couldn't take no for an answer.

"I make an excellent frog legs and spaghetti and frog meatballs, and you're a perfect size-" she said calmly, then watched the creature go still before squirming out of her hands in panic into the safety of the pond, and honestly, she sighed to herself, why must a simple no need the threat of violence to be taken seriously?

. . .~~fair maiden~~ cook has an excellent point with her question. >.> And what an excellent method she took to dodge!

XD love this

I love this

Brilliant!

They journeyed from genre to genre in search of a happy ending, and each time Will refused to be anything but an extra. In a world of swords and sorcery, where ancient sages intoned a prophecy of the hero from another world who wields a blade of black and white, he mumbled mm, sounds like a hassle and tried running an inn with Lion instead; on the stage of sports and high school drama, he rubbed his head at the girls' gossiping over the tall, mysterious transfer student, and said he wasn't much of a joiner, but Lion had one hell of a badminton arm. It was only in the realm of everyday romance, where Will kept tripping over eligible girls and boys and event flags, that Lion took Will's hand and, blushing, said I know, I know, but if you won't choose, I'm choosing you.

BUT IF YOU WON'T CHOOSE, I'M CHOOSING YOU.
oh this is good, and exactly what will would do, he's retired, and he's with the person he cares about, so what truck does he have with prophecies? lovely fill <3

thank you! i ... love ... will, he's so retired, and he's tired of sob stories, he just wants a story where the person he cares about can be the main character of their own life, which means he has to shut up and take it when lion gives him event flag valentine's day chocolate.

Turns out, being known as the person who asks obvious questions is the best way of avoiding getting put on an away team. Unless Mariner's involved, but if Mariner's involved, there's a good chance they won't have to go through…whatever it is that made Shaxs nearly catatonic when he asked. There were a lot of good reasons to stay an Ensign in Engineering, Rutherford concluded.

Edited 2022-01-15 21:07 (UTC)

XD Excellent!!

Thank you.

Oh, Rutherford is the best. Except for possibly Tendi.

Tendi is super awesome, and deserves that Science Officer training gig, but that's probably also going to promote her to main character before long.

Nie Huaisang has perfected the art of fading into the background; even when he's calling attention to himself, it's in a way designed to distract from what he's actually trying to do. He knows what it will take, how long he'll have to live like this, and he doesn't mind, not if he can achieve his goals at the end of it.

He's a cultivator; he can live as long as he needs to - unnoticed, unremarkable, unseen - in order to get his revenge for his brother's murder... and he will.

Oooh, Nie Huaisang you scary man in the background 👀

Nice work!!! :D

This is chilling and perfect ♥

Cordelia lingered by the cocktail cart to watch the post-meal socializing--or rather, politicking--get underway; she suspected a truly skilled Barrayan-trained kinesthesiologist wouldn't need to hear any of the conversations to know what was going on.

In one corner of the room, Mark had a young Vor lordling virtually pinned against the window, as he counted off on his fingers the no-doubt highly-researched benefits of his new investment opportunities; and Byerly Vorrutyer lingered subtly downwind of the newly-married Lady Petronella VorCaisson, whom Cordelia had reason to suspect was either suspiciously intimate with a broad range of shadowy financial figures, or was stultifyingly naive about basic math.

And then, by the fire, she could see the Ivan clutching a half-empty glass; his face had that fixed, semi-desperate look that only meant one thing: Miles was putting the pressure on, and poor Ivan was going to get yanked into whatever-the-hell-it-was that Miles was up to now.

“Look,” this other Pietro began, “I really want to stay in the background of this ‘show,’ since I don’t belong in this little TV world or its main family, and I definitely don’t belong here as some old witch’s fake husband, I mean…” —- he cleared his throat —- “I still need to go to the town post office to pick up the saffron challah my mom mailed me weeks ago!”

Monica gave a soft sigh, then replied “Sorry about tackling you so hard back there then, I also want to get out of the Hex as soon as possible…So where are you from then?”

He steeled his face at her, hard as silver, before replying “Right now I go to school in Westchester County.”

Edited 2022-01-17 19:43 (UTC)

Beth kept her eyes down and her mouth shut (unless she was singing), taking care of the baby and doing her chores and minding her own beeswax. Then the prison fell and she was tired and lonely and wasn't going to spend another day eating mud snake; then there were fighting lessons and long talks and moonshine and standing back to back with Daryl while the zombies closed in and feeling alive like she never felt before. Guess she wasn't supposed to be a background character after all.

Umineko, any, heart of gold

Any, any, "If it's IN you to climb you must"

You blink at the insistence, if only because travellers through the village tended to come for the market and only spared a few words - or a brief interpretive dance if they spent time in Deluca first - before moving on.

They don't take your deflecting headshake at face value, it seems. "But you are the Hero of Solemn!" they protest, peering at you as though you'd just belched in their face - pulling back just a bit, nose scrunched in offence. "You must-"

It's probably rude to turn and walk away, but you've already lost your memories to a previous life's heroic quest. The person you are now would much prefer to spend their morning bringing new trinkets to Laura in the museum, not scrambling up a cliff on someone else's sidequest.

Ooh, I don't know the canon but this is delightful. not scrambling up a cliff on someone else's sidequest is a lovely phrase. Well done!

Littlewood is an absolutely charming little indie game on the Switch and I thoroughly recommend it if you like Stardew Valley or similar games; it's set post-climactic battle that the protagonist can't remember but everyone else can. :D Thank you!

They say it has no will to break, no mind to feel pain, but they're wrong. Every death, every injury, it all hurts, whispers that it could leave, could be free of this burden.

They mistake stoicism for senselessness, and determination for a lack of choice, but it doesn't matter, because deep in the empty void, it knows that the Pale King was right about one thing; no cost is too great.

Excellent.

Rollo watched the Frankish defenders rally beneath a waving banner and the words of a slim, unprepossessing girl. He'd thought that his fate was to breech the gates, raid the city, take what he wished, earn the respect of his people. It was when his eyes met Gisla's that the spark flared to stuttering life: that his fate may instead be twined with this slip of a girl.

It is tempting to just give up on the roulette and become a heartless doll once more – not easy, because nothing in Yasuda’s life is easy, but when the alternative to a life of unbearable pain is a few days of carnage where the best possible outcome is someone figuring them out before there are too many bodies and forcing them to confess everything that brought them to this point, then carrying on as they always have can sometimes seem preferable.

That’s not the only outcome, actually, because there is a world, there has to be, where they were loved enough as an infant to be raised as an heir, and it is for the sake of that future they might have had if the world were kinder, that they keep climbing the cruel unscalable cliff of probability.

And for their sake, Lion lives with all their might, knowing that they are the one Yasuda believed in right at the end, more than anything else.

oof, i felt the little sting of an either accidental or deliberate utena reference with 'heartless doll' (anthy on the rooftop saying because she's the rose bride, the doll with no heart, she thought she wouldn't have to feel this pain) and oof, nothing in yasuda's life is easy. 'cruel unscalable cliff of probability' is such a vivid perfect phrase, it took me a moment to realize why, because it was a cliff that yasuda tumbled down and split their fate from lion's. and lion living for yasuda's sake, just as yasuda struggles for lion's, that's just the perfect conclusion, the perfect peak to end on.

oh yes, that utena reference was extremely deliberate and there was no doubt in my mind that you'd catch it. 'cruel unscalable cliff of probability' was also deliberate, but you phrased its significance even more perfectly, i'm always flattered by your comments.

Any, any, cardboard masks of all the people I’ve been

Ozma is a magic lantern, the shape of his soul flung carelessly across the nerves of whoever will come next. He does his best to fake the life he has just stolen, or he fakes being himself when there’s no way to know who that is after all this time.

But the one thing he does not do, cannot do, is turn back to see the light source that sends him on his way, for fear he will discover that Salem was right and it is no god at all.

Oooh, very lovely and haunting, that he can never look back, only forward.

Oooh, great prompt! I love that song.

Me too! One of my favourites.

He leaves the cardboard cat costume in a heap on the restroom floor, wondering why he made it, why it took so much longer for him to figure out how to transform again than it did to figure out who he would be when he did and why he needed to hide his face, if Ladybug helped him, if Plagg left him.

He leaves the ring on a rooftop and sneaks through an access door he doesn't quite close and thinks about making a black cardboard colombina mask just to burn it, wondering why Ladybug sinks to her knees when she sees the ring, why she takes it and leaves without turning and without making a sound, who will replace him, who will feed Plagg if he won't.

He puts the ring back on in his bedroom, wondering if Ladybug chose him or if Plagg did, if this mask will prove as flimsy and ill-fitting as the others, whether this mask should be anything more than black face paint and a cat-ear headband over his own face as Adrien, whether Adrien himself is anything more than a life-size cardboard standee concealing nothing because there's nothing underneath or behind it after all.

Oh I love this! The last sentence especially packs a gut punch.

sweet, that means I did it right

RWBY, Salem/Oz, the glass of fashion and the mould of form

Umineko, any, 'he saw the way the world could be, in spite of the way that it was'

For a long time he only knew the dark side of magic, stakes and blood, something to be denied and pushed away. It's hard to define exactly when that changed. But Beatrice leaps from the window into his arms, and the world is different now, every mundane surface shimmering with golden butterflies.

this moment, oh wow!! i love how slippery definitions and timing are in this game, and there's something really compelling about 'stakes and blood, something to be denied and pushed away'. i'm so happy to see another umineko fan on the tsf!

'every mundane surface shimmering with golden butterflies' -- oh, that's excellent. it's such an beautiful expression of magic as a way of seeing the world, that battler can now be a part of.

RWBY, Winter, ice shards

She is a solider, first and foremost, and that means she does not have time to handle anything that might make her vulnerable on the battlefield. But seeing Penny, and the terrible power that she bestowed on Winter without losing her smile, she can't channel all of that into justifiable rage. If the ice she's spent years building around her heart breaks now, the shards will kill her long before the Grimm do.

Edited 2022-01-15 21:15 (UTC)

winter!! ahhhh, i love her, this is perfect. that last line is a killer.

Narnia, mirrorverse feat. Andrew Garfield!Caspian

It was like looking through a window and meeting a long-lost brother, or rather a distant cousin, as he didn’t look exactly similar to Caspian, come to think of it. This Other Caspian had a stronger nose, light brown hair instead of dark, and his thick mane was fluffed and peaked up like whipped cream instead of loose and straight around his shoulders. Still not ugly though, thank heaven.

this is incredible!!!! thank you!!!!!!

thank you for reading and enjoying <3

Ah!!!!! i love that Caspian feels affection for him!!

thank you for enjoying! and ofc, they are technically the same person/brothers/cousins/whatever, so of course there's that sense of platonic friendship and connection <3

STILL NOT UGLY THOUGH!!
I recently learnt in this Andrew Garfield renaissance that he was considered for Caspian, and would have loved to see that. This is great!!!

Thank you!!!!

Star Trek, any, "Early 21st Century TV shows are not cool"

Michael walked into the ship's lounge to find Tilly grumbling as Zora zipped through her library of stored media on a view screen.

"Find anything interesting?" Michael asked as she undid the collar clasp of her uniform and took a seat near Tilly before digging into a bowl of popcorn.

"I have two words for you: Reality. Television," Tilly replied with huff. "Early 21st Century TV shows are not cool."

Edited 2022-01-16 04:22 (UTC)

*Snickers* this is an amusing scenario to picture. I feel like Tilly would hatewatch at least some reality shows.

Tilly would probably be fascinated by early seasons of the Real World; the OG, San Francisco, and maybe London would be her favorites. She would hatewatch all of The Bachelor.

This rings true, for what little I know of those shows.

Much love for this scenario :D

Hamlet, Laertes, 'there is no justice, there is just us'

"Look," Laertes said to Ophelia, "there really is no point in complaining. Get a grip, sister, and if you think Hamlet is a complete **** then go and tell him so."

"Says the man who's been pining over Horatio over since he arrived home!"

eee, siblings! i love their dynamic, and the fact that laertes has been pining over horatio. i'm so glad i can always count on you to be a fellow shakespeare fan in the tsf

Thank you. I look forward to filling some of your other prompts.

Hamlet, Claudius/any, with witchcraft of his wits

Her eyes are sparkling bright, blue as the sea, her lips curled with mocking merriment as she curves her hand to Prince Claudius’s cheek and pours golden promises into his ear. All the dreams of his midnight hours and midnight weeds collected — crown, ambition, queen — could be called his at last, and no breath of blame shall fall on him. All it needs is a little magic.

beatrice!! i love her, she knows exactly what she's offering, and there's just the slightest hint of a trap underneath those promises. i love the interjection of "crown, ambition, queen" and something about the formatting of highlighting it between two dashes really works for the fic. and then that final sentence really is what it comes down to. thank you <3

thank you! believe it not (i think you’ll believe it), i spent a lot of time trying to place that hyphenated phrase, trying to find the poetry of it and sounding it out on my head, and i think that’s where it belonged.

any, any, Valentine's Day

When it came to Kyoko, there were certain truths that you could always take at face value: wasting of food or grief seeds were a recipe to get your ass kicked in, life was too short to worry about things like homework or obeying the law, and if she gave you gave you food, that meant she approved of you.

This monstrosity sitting like an eye sore on the table in front of Sayaka, on the other hand, didn't seem to fit in the categories above. "I think," Sayaka murmured, "this is a threat."

"Oh, don't say that," Madoka demurred, but even she was looking dubiously at the thing before them. "She wouldn't want to hurt you!"

Homura frowned, adjusting her glasses as she flipped the sloppy scribbled card over in her hands. "I agree with Madoka--this is too much effort for a trap from her. It probably is just chocolate cake... or, rather, it was supposed to be one."

"Well," Mami offered, hiding her smile behind her tea cup and tapping a finger against the fork next to Sayaka's plate. "There's only one way to find out."

Sayaka frowned, cautiously cutting a tiny piece off--the cake belched a tiny plume of smoke--and reluctantly stuck it in her mouth. Quietly, the group watched as she winced and then slowly bit down--something in her mouth crunched. After a moment, she swallowed and looked at them with watering eyes. "It was a threat."

This is fantastic.

Oh, I like this. XD

And at least it sounds like Sayaka's already established the appropriate response?

xD poor Sayaka

"You- You want how many roses?"

Tadashi sighed; this was a perennial problem. He repeated and confirmed Ainosuke-sama's order with the florist and checked it off the list as he hung up, moving to the next item and beginning to dial.

Edited (HTML correction) 2022-01-16 15:46 (UTC)

. . .aaand following after that one ^ perhaps, because I couldn't resist - and the first one this year where I broke the 3 sentence rule, so have 6.

~

"You've been hard at work."

Tadashi jolted awake at the voice close behind him, nearly knocking his phone off the far side of his desk. "Ainosuke-sama! I have- Ah, the preparations are set and the orders placed, and-"

"I know; you'll have everything in order, as you always do. This," Ainosuke-sama came close to his back and he froze even before Ainosuke-sama reached around him, setting a dark polished wood box on the desk before him, "is for you."

He flicked the heart-shaped metal latch open and opened the box, and Tadashi's throat tightened as Ainosuke-sama showed off the broad black collar inside, an elegant gold A set with what looked like ruby chips at the front.

"Lift your head." Ainosuke-sama ordered, lifting the collar out of the box.

YESSSSSSS perfect gift <3

I love both of these, I'm so glad you couldn't resist! XD

How could he give Tadashi anything else? X3

Thanks, glad you enjoyed! ♡

Hahaha, yeah. I can see this, and I love it so much.

Aw God, and part 2 gets even better 🥰 thank you for this!

Thank you! I love them, dysfunctional over-the-top messes that they are~

Adam is so very extra. XD Thanks!

"What is behind your back?" Yelena tries to sneakily lean to the side and peer around her shoulder, but Kate’s quick—a little quicker than a Black Widow, which deserves a pat on the back and maybe a trophy at another time—and successfully sways in the other direction.

"Nothing!" Kate squeaks and awkwardly and very poorly chuckles like everything is normal and her heart isn’t pounding so hard it will tear itself out of her chest and leap into the fold of Yelena’s crossed arms. "Nothing at all! Everything is completely normal."

While Yelena regards her with an incredulous furrow of her brow, Kate considers her chances of being able to slip by the only fast assassin she knows. Jerkily and unromantically, she thrusts a bouquet of red roses into Yelena’s chest. "These are for—"

Yelena’s lips press against hers; Kate forgets the flowers crushed between them.

Oh, very nice!

Thank you! ♥

Bahaha, it's so cute; I love it. XD

Thank you! ♥

Valentine’s Day? It was all just a big waste of money. Kakuzu was not getting Hidan a damn thing—the take out he ordered was only because neither of them had been to the store all week and the chocolate covered fruit was bought only because he saw it and wanted it, nothing to do with Valentine’s Day whatsoever.

Bahaha excellent, I love the denial. XD

Judith didn't understand why a blood-red heart was supposed to mean you loved somebody, but she shrugged and went to work. The zombie'd been lying out on the crossroads for a while, stewing in its own juices in the hot sun, so it came out without any trouble. She put it in a nice sturdy box with a ribbon and everything, so she thinks it's pretty rude that the new boy screamed the way he did when he opened it.

Ewwww! Judith is actually right, though. Red hearts lose their meanung during a zombie apocalypse, I guess! But also awwwww, for her to wrap it up!

LOL I just thought it was a weird take on the prompt, my dark humour showing through!

any, any, working late

[My first 3SF of the year, and, as usual, I've failed to keep it to three sentences. At least it's only four, so it's not THAT bad...]

Tang Yi wakes up alone in the bed; he can hear Meng Shao Fei muttering to himself at the small desk in the room, quietly enough that he's clearly trying to avoid waking Tang Yi, but loudly enough that something is bothering him.

He's missed too many of these moments to even consider going back to sleep, so Tang Yi climbs out of the bed, grateful for the warmth of the room on his bare skin, walks over to Shao Fei to plant a soft kiss on his shoulder.

Before Shao Fei can respond, Tang Yi scoops him into his arms, ignoring the spluttered complaints about having work to finish and things to sign off, and carries him back to the bed, where he places Shao Fei down carefully and stretches his own body above his husband's. "No more work for you," he says with one more kiss, "at least not of the paperwork kind."

Zuko twitched, breath hitching, as Sokka's hands slid over his shoulders; he hadn't needed the confirmation that his boyfriend was barely tracking, but he added it to the list.

"Come on, dragon," Sokka coaxed, glancing out at the very dark sky just visible through the window in Zuko's study, "it's late; you know," he added, changing tacks when Zuko made a cat-mulish sort of noise, "you'll do better work in the morning anyway. . ."

Zuko also, Sokka had noticed more and more over the past months but not yet mentioned to him, tended to droop and get a little less sharp after the sun went down; silly jerkbender did better under the sun . . . and then he spent all day with the court before working late into the night - how could it be any surprise he was distracted and less than his best?

The strange occurrence that day was that for once, Yu Tu was home from work before Jing Jing, who came in at nearly eleven o’clock, slamming the door, then just managed a “Sorry, my hand slipped” in a voice that oozed of lingering exasperation. She changed into slippers before flopping down next to where Yu Tu had been reading on the couch, allowing him to kiss away the knit of annoyance on her brows.

In answer to his questioning look afterwards, she said with a soft sigh, “I’ve just had the most trying evening with a producer who shall remain mostly nameless but who unfortunately shares your surname – a fact I will forever be resentful about – anyway, I think Ling Jie and I managed to turn down his offer of a collaboration in the end, but it was still exhausting!”

Edited 2022-01-16 11:03 (UTC)

"Jemis, it's half eleven; time and past for all good souls to be abed," Benneret said as he nudged his stepson's door open and saw the boy bent over his desk, beeswax candle burning like a defiant shout against the thick, sleepy darkness of the summer night.

"Oh!" Jemis said, startling to his feet and whirling to face the door; "Sorry, sir -- I lost track of time and didn't realize I was wasting the light."

"You've no need to worry over the cost of candles," Benneret assured the boy, wondering for the thousandth time how to break the pane of awkwardness that had lain between them since Jackory Greenwing had returned to life and died again within a single month. He ventured into the room to rest his hand on Jemis's shoulder and added, "I only meant that the mind is part of the body and requires similar care. Your books will be waiting in the morning, and you'll face your studies better with a good night's sleep and some of your mother's excellent breakfast in your stomach."

"Yes, sir," Jemis said, expression and posture screaming his own, equal sense of awkwardness, but he pressed back against Benneret's hand for a moment, chasing that contact, before he turned to put away his books and pen and pinch out the light.

Reeve had picked up more than one trick in his time at Shinra, and one of the most useful was the knowledge that if he turned off the light in his office and stayed very quiet for ten minutes at around seven o'clock each evening, the guard who came around to lock up would never bother checking that he had gone home.

That gave him the opportunity to work on his robotics. After a day of fraught communications, trying to make up for the most egregious of the other executives' sins, nothing beat a little tinkering with the cats: especially not with the knowledge that one day he might use this technology to put a stop to at least some of the terrible things perpetrated in the name of his employer.

He'd promised Holly that he'd give Lucy and Jack his undivided attention while he had them on his two week summer visitation, but he had shit on a stick on the Washington Heights homicide and if he didn't talk to his CI by the end of the week he might as well just throw in any chance of solving the damn case. So he left them sullenly stewing in the car while he dashed into the precinct and quickly snagged a few files from his desk, and was halfway back out the door before he heard the moans coming from the copy room; he backtracked, cocked his head, and smiled slowly when he recognized the voices. So that's what Joe and Connie meant by "working late."

The creak of the floorboards made Thoma look up from the counter he was wiping down. Ayaka stood there in the doorway, her arms crossed over her middle and wearing a pretty lilac yukata. “Thoma, what are you still doing up? It’s almost midnight.”

“It’s alright,” he said, giving her a tired smile, “I couldn’t go to sleep knowing I had unfinished work.”

Ayaka suppressed a yawn and smiled at him, she knew full well why he was still awake and it had nothing to do with unfinished housework and everything to do with her brother still not being home yet. She would let him have that though, and inclined her head to him. “Well, don’t stay up too late, you were going to escort me into the city tomorrow and we were going to have tea, remember?”

“Of course I remember, and don’t worry, I won’t be up much longer.”

“Make sure you’re not. Goodnight, Thoma.” She quietly left, leaving Thoma to finish cleaning the counters that he had already cleaned earlier that evening. He then tidied the pantry and made note of things that were running low and finally sat down at the table. Perhaps he should just go to bed, but… he just couldn’t. Not until Ayato returned home and he made sure he didn’t need anything.

It wasn’t for another hour, when Thoma has nearly fallen asleep at the table, head resting on his folded arms, that he’s gently shaken awake.

“Huh?” Lifting his head he blinks, looking around as his vision comes back into focus. Why was he in the kitchen..? And then he sees him. “Oh. Oh! My Lord, you’re finally home.”

“Thoma, why are you not in bed?” Ayato asks as he looks down at him, exhaustion all over his face.

“I was… finishing up some work.”

“At one in the morning?”

“I… yes.” Thoma decided he was sticking to that story no matter what.

“I see... Well, as your master I’m ordering you to bed now.”

“How did the meeting go?”

“It went as expected. Be careful, in the city tomorrow, Thoma. As you know the vision hunt decree is getting underway…”

“I won’t let anything happen to Ayaka.”

“Good. And make sure you don’t let anything happen to yourself either.”

Thoma nodded and was surprised when Ayato extended a hand to help him up. Without much hesitation, Thoma took it, enjoying the warmth of his master's hand clasped firmly around his own. That alone, Thoma thought, had been worth staying up for.

It was a routine funeral service, but that was no excuse to be sloppy. Cuauhtli—age 56, heart attack—deserved better than that. So Acatl and Ichtaca were still standing vigil over him past midnight, though Acatl for his part had been up since dawn and his hands were starting to shake. He ignored it. He was fine.

And then came the next line of the funeral hymn, and he had to stop to hold back an entirely inappropriate yawn. High Priest of the Dead with Mictlan’s power coursing through his veins or not, he was inconveniently mortal.

Worse, Ichtaca had noticed. “I’m calling Palli to take over for us,” he said with a tone that suggested Acatl had no choice in the matter.

By now, Acatl knew better than to argue.

Eve was wiping down the last of the tables at the end of the long Saturday shift in her cafe on Great Western Road when the woman, all long hair and feminine wiles, wheeled in with her dogs, or perhaps children, strangely hairy children if so, and paused, staring at the remainder of the days' sweets — there weren't very many now as Eve had taken most of the ones that were out-of-date but still good to eat to be packaged up for the homeless shelter — before dropping her shoulders and making as if to leave, the children running about on all fours around her wheelchair, so Eve called out before the other woman reached the door, "Our selection is limited because it's the end of the day, but I have some stuff out the back still, if you want something that isn't available," although Eve feared she hadn't heard her until one of the maybe-dogs barked something sounding suspiciously like language, at which point the woman turned towards her, who continued, "I can give you whatever want for free, as you've come in just as I was about to close the doors so I'm not actually required to charge you anything, and the till is off anyway, so why make not make both our lives a little better," and I want you to stay, Eve didn't add, as she had felt a brightness spark in her chest reminiscient of when she first saw her own reflection in that glorious pond soon after her birth — she wanted to look at this woman forever, wanted to touch her face and smile and converse with her, felt drawn towards instinctually more than she had initially been with dear Adam, wanted to smooth the pain lines around her eyes and share their life stories together.

The other woman turned back into the cafe, wheeling around while expertedly avoiding her childrens' paws even as they flocked around her, and looked over at Eve, who did smile but then began rearranging the table's cultery, trying to hide her frantic energy because it felt like she'd just seen, in this stranger's face, a long-lost sister or lover whom she wanted to embrace, "I saw the other day, as I walked past with my son," she indicated outside, and not at any of her dogs in the cafe, "strawberry tartlets on the menu — they are my absolute favourite, but I didn't want to buy any then as he, my son, would have eaten them all — you know how boys are with their insatiable appetites — so I have managed to sneak away for a moment's respite to get some for myself, and perhaps these runts, if they behave, but only if they aren't the chocolate covered ones," she said, indicating what Eve had apparently mistaken for small dogs but where clearly toddlers, each now sitting with rapt attention towards their mother.

One of the children wagged their tail as Eve nodded, smiled, and with great effort managed to walk into the back room, although every step away from the woman felt like that first day when she'd been called away from her own reflection by that voice, ultimately to be lead towards Adam, and had not wanted to leave, yet obeyed anyway, and here there was not even a voice to pull her away, only her desire to please guests as a good host, which lead her to carefully package up four of the best strawberry tarts with extra whipped oat cream, and walk back out to hand the box to the woman, who took one for herself and laid the opened box on the floor, where her dogs, dressed in jumpsuits, dove at the remaining tarts, then she took one of Eve's hands in her own, "I cannot recall ever meeting you before, my love, but you feel so familiar, like my reflection fully seen for the first time and not in some puddle of water; I wish we had met long ago before certain events tied me down," at which point she kicked one of the dogs, who yelped but continued stuffing strawberry tart into its face with its hands, "We could have been goddesses together, but, please, let us become friends; alas, I must go now, my son will wonder where I have been - know I will be back, but until then I hope you will write to me!" She took her hand delicately from Eve's, letting her fingers trail over her palm, and wheeled out of the cafe, the dogs trotting after her on two legs as they licked the remains of the tarts off their hands, and Eve wanted to reach out to her but instead looked at what had been left in her hand — a small, off-white calling card with a name and number on it:

Minerva "Sin" Djöfulsinsdóttir — 666 65000 —

I always write such long sentences for 3 Sentence Ficathon things, and have embraced the liberal use of the em-dash! Also available on AO3 here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/38605464

Edited 2022-04-25 16:25 (UTC)

any, any, returning a gift

Ophelia has certain remembrances of Hamlet’s that she longs to keep for herself, but just as the prince is not only one man, the things he gives away are no mere objects. She thrusts the letters away from her without looking because she cannot bear to see his face when he realizes what is being done to them both.

“I never gave you aught,” he says with an attempt at derision, and she knows it for the promise it is – if there is nothing to be returned in the first place she can keep the memories for as long as she likes.

'if there is nothing to be returned in the first place she can keep the memories for as long as she likes'!!! yeah! yeah, that's exactly it, it's a thought i've been turning around for a while, why he denies giving gifts to ophelia, and it's so he doesn't have to take it back, it's so she can keep them. it's so fraught and terrible with someone watching and i'm so sorry for these kids.

it could have been so much different if no one was watching them, if anyone stopped thinking of both of them as a problem to be solved for like two seconds. so they do what they can, make a universe of two, and let each other keep the memories. ~~and then he still kills her father :(~~

Oh my gosh, this was a punch in the heart. I love how much intimate it is, too, between Hamlet and Ophelia, and the reader getting to see Ophelia's interiority.

thank you! i love ophelia and exploring her internal world, even when it's bittersweet

Oh, ouch! Poor Ophelia. This is such a delicate, painful little look into her head.

thank you!

Oh what a delicious gut-punch. This is beautiful ♥

thank you! i love these sad kids, and i think a lot about how they could have had a nice life together if they'd been allowed.

Ooh, I love this!!

"I- I can't accept this." Madara said, though it hurt to force the words out, almost as much as it hurt to offer the sword - it was gorgeous, the sheath etched with patterns of flame and feathers, the hilt wrapped in deep blue and fiery red - back to Tobirama.

". . .oh." Tobirama said, expression closing off and bright - gorgeous - eyes going flat, and he was so beautiful, so strong, and- and this gift was not, to him, what it sang to Madara's heart, and he could not keep it.

He began to apologise, and Madara should probably tell him what such a gift meant, to an Uchiha, but couldn't . . . quite get out the words.

any, any, their greatest fear

". . .darling? Are you all right?"

Agnes didn't open her eyes, focusing on taking deep breaths - focusing on the warmth of the broad hand curling gently around her shoulder, and the strong body nudged up close at her back.

"I'm fine; go back to sleep, sweetheart." she said, her voice wavering just a little as she fought to compartmentalise - shutting away the images that had torn through her sleeping mind; a whirling backlash of a fiery storm, an explosion scattering fragments of tech and armour, shattered shards of pink-tinged ice . . . a dusky purple shadow plummeting from a clear sky.

Blood is slipping through his hands, the tissues not knitting together like they should be under his encouragement. His partner is fading away too quickly to save. "Rex..." There is one last, dreadful sigh.

Ambrus wakes up.

“Where little doubts are great, great love is there.” When the imaginary queen says this, Hamlet’s eyes slide over to meet Ophelia, but she won’t turn his way to see how this play may be a trap but it is also an apology for his destructive doubt. But why should she forgive his love when the only thing he fears as much as his uncle’s treachery is that the same monster crouches in his chest waiting to strike at everything he cares about?

the only thing he fears as much as his uncle’s treachery is that the same monster crouches in his chest waiting to strike at everything he cares about
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

this is fantastic ♥

it is so incredibly flattering when my writing can make someone scream like this, thank you!

ooh am i right in thinking this is a particular moment in the almeida theater production of hamlet with andrew scott? it's such a significant look, and this is such a great take on what that look is saying, an unspoken apology he could never expect forgiveness for.

yes, i'm glad you caught it! it's such a small moment, but it says so much about hamlet and their relationship and the trust he's broken and can't get back.

Chat Noir doesn't pause at Marinette's balcony, doesn't dare give more than a sideways glance to the Adrien there whose cage is almost too small to hold him—why would Marinette fear trapping Adrien? she isn't on the balcony herself, anyway, undoubtedly safe in her apartment somewhere she won't have to look her fear in the eye, where he won't have to worry about her—doesn't let himself slow his rush to Ladybug's side.

Ladybug is already fighting her nightmare, if 'fighting' is a broad enough verb to encompass backing away from another Chat Noir, babbling promises to tell him everything in between pleas to let her help him, imploring him to stay with her and pledging she'll make this right: another Chat Noir with a black-polka-dot red scarf wrapped around his neck, whose armor and complexion flicker from black and warm gold to white and cold blue with every flash of lightning, whose expression shifts from lonely despair back to furious loathing with every crash of thunder.

The boy whose fear of storms made him vulnerable to becoming Sandboy again is home with his mother and a comfort movie and a mug of hot chocolate; Ladybug isn't hearing the real Chat Noir for the nightmare in front of her; the only way he'll keep the violet butterfly off her fast enough is if he gets between—

—her yo-yo whizzes past his ear, catching the akuma before it lands on his collar bell, catching the nightmare Chat long enough for the real one to tug the scarf free, and Ladybug shoves a white-and-cold-blue protective charm in his hand and bursts the Lucky Charm into a scattering loveliness of healing pink sparkles and collapses into Chat Noir's arms, sobbing, "Have I hurt you, you have to tell me if I hurt you, I won't know if you don't tell me, I can't fix it if I don't know!"

Sometimes she sits at the window of whatever house or barn or storefront they've managed to hole up in for the night, hidden from undead eyes by 2 by 4's or dirty curtains, and thinks about college, her friends, pub fries and a Scofflaw at Rocky Mountain Pizza, kicking ass at trivia, their greatest fear a defective condom and a decision to be made. She misses those days, that girl. But then Glenn grunts in his sleep and his fingers find hers even as he snores, and she doesn't want to be anywhere else.

Poor Old Duckling

Poor old duckling, surrounded by fully grown swans, beaks sharp, wings majestic.

Downton perpetuates many tales, if not of one sister's ill fortune and the other's favour, then of Edith's weakness and Mary's strength, in character and will.

It doesn't obscure Mary's doubt: that she's weak and her sister strong.

any, any, phoning home

It was a crazy thing to do, calling her at a time like this, in 2012, when she wouldn't even know who he was (and was probably better off never finding out).

Garcia Flynn couldn't help himself - he had to hear her voice, just one more time before the end came - even if it was just her saying hello over and over again, before summarily dismissing a possible heavy breather and hanging up.

"Goodbye, Lucy," he whispered, after already ending the call, then letting the darkness take him forever.

Oh gosh, that's so sad! I don't know who I feel more sorry for, him or her.

"Ianto!" Jack nearly shouted in his ear, and Ianto smiled. "Are you all right? What happened? You just disappeared!"

"I'm all right," Ianto assured him, leaning against the wall and watching the galaxy whirl by, "just a little far from home . . . for now. I'll be home soon."

"Ian. . ." Jack sounded so relieved, warm and worried and affectionate, that Ianto thought he might just about forgive the utter distraction that he knew would immediately take Jack's attention when the Doctor brought him back.

FANTASTIC. Ianto deserves to go with the Doctor at least once. XD XD

Thanks! HE DOES. Ianto would be a fantastic Companion really. XD

Touya doesn't know what the push for calling was - or why it came, for that.

All he knows is that he'd done it: that he'd dialed the number, that he'd listened to Fuyumi's "Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? What is it?" and that he couldn't stand it any longer.

It was a folly, he'd go on to think; that is all there is to it, he'd end on - but is it?

Oof, that sounds rough for him :/

Sawyer knows he should resist the temptation to go back home while he’s on the mainland, back in 1976; it’s not as if there’s anything he could do to save his family - as Faraday was always saying, whatever happened, happened.

Even as he dials the number, which he still remembers after so many years, part of him feels like he shouldn’t, yet at the same time he knows one phone call won’t change anything, that he just has to hear her voice again for one more time.

Mary Ford picks up the phone, says “Hello?” a few times before hanging up, muttering something about idiots who didn’t say anything when they got the wrong number, and Sawyer holds on to the callbox receiver a long time after she hangs up before whispering “Goodbye, mom.”

Oh, ouch. *sob*

It gets to the point where he hates hearing their voices, both so full of false cheer, like maybe 15 years in maximum security and a swastika burned into your ass by a neo-nazi isn't so bad. He hates that it's getting harder and harder to reply to his mother with anything more than one-syllable responses and stagnant clichés. And he's not sure whether to loathe or love the fact that he spends these calls counting down the minutes until the money on his card will run out and he can get back to Chris again.

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Three Sentence Ficathon 2022

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WoT (TV), allusions to sexual situations

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Transformers G1

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Rthverse-Narnia, the Evil Banker Morgan

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Cost-Benefit Analysis (The Magnus Archives)

Chronicles of Narnia/MCU

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Survival Resignation (Naruto; OC, background Sakumo/Orochimaru)

Gargoyles, Alex & Hudson, Thinking on Your Feet

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Vows To the Blackest Devil (Hamlet, Laertes)

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Less Than Shining (Gary Preston aka The Flame, Fox Features comics)

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Tea Makes Everything Better (Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Giles)

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Nirvana in Fire

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Mass Effect, Garrus/Shepard, Earl Grey, Hot

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