rthstewart | Three Sentence Ficathon 2022

Entry tags:

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

Leverage, any & Hardison, "I'm glad you're okay," said by someone who has just been badly beaten up, to Hardison, who is perfectly fine

Hardison watched, unable to help, from where he was tied to the chair, as two dozen trained operatives attacked Eliot.

He couldn't believe they were naive enough to think that two dozen would be enough.

"Glad you're okay," Eliot grumbled when he finally, bloody and bruised, came to untie Hardison; Hardison just pretended to be all innocence as he planned several contingency methods for getting Eliot a head and chest CT without Eliot complaining.

how in character, lol. love this!

Thank you!!

Yessss thank you!

Thank you!!

Parker is a mirage of bruises and blood and brightness as she comes towards him, a hand under his chin as she tilts his head back and forth, checking for concussion he assumes.

"Oh good, you're fine," she says, brisk and even and his bonds are loose and he can't hug her the way he wants to because she's so close to broken but god -

"Parker." It's either a prayer or a benediction. Who knows which.

She pokes his nose.

the perfect companion to the other fill! Love it

SHE POKES HIS NOSE. Spot on Parker, spot on prompt. <3

a mirage of bruises and blood and brightness

That's Parker in a nutshell! I loved this!

"Okay?" Alec repeated. "Okay? Eliot, of the two of us, I am not the one who just had a very large, angry man play the xylophone using a hammer and my rib cage."

Eliot smiled and coughed, his teeth staining red. "Yeah, but of the two of us, I can take it."

"A damn fool, that's what you are, a damn—" Alec scrubbed his hands over his face and climbed into the driver's seat. "Sit your ass down, we're heading to the hospital. And don't you dare argue with me!"

This is such a GREAT Alec voice.

Thank you! <3

A Discovery of Witches, Ysabeau and Phillippe, I love you beyond time

Narnia, any book, missing moment spanking

A Discovery of Witches & Chronicles of Narnia, Witchy!Jill and Susan meet Diana Bishop.

any, frantically checking someone for injuries (they're hurt but it's at least one of minor and already tended)

"Wei Ying!" Lan Wangji rushed to his husband--despite running being prohibited in the Cloud Recesses--and almost body-checked one of the junior disciples who was currently standing beside Wei Wuxian as he frantically checked him for other injuries.

"Lan Zhan, I'm okay, it was just a scratch," Wei Wuxian promised, as if there weren't bandages wrapped around his arm, and then let himself be hugged by Lan Wangji when Lan Wangji pulled him close.

"Be more careful," Lan Wangji said and mentally added, I cannot lose you again.

💞

This is lovely :)

Sakura jerked back, putting out one hand as Naruto nearly crashed into her.

"Sakura-chan! Oh no!" Naruto's hands were gentle but frantic as he caught hold of her, and he either ignored or - more likely, Sakura admitted, with a sigh - didn't hear her assurances that she was fine in his panic.

"Naruto," Sasuke said dryly, clasping the nape of Naruto's neck and pulling him back, "Sakura is fine; I suspect," he said, glancing at her hands and then meeting her eyes with a smirk, "the worst injuries she has are to her knuckles, from that last okasho."

hee!

Someone does not need fussing over. XD

[I adore your injury prompts and them listed them together had me thinking of the various occasions of a timeloop... so here's a fill for each of them, with one for setup. Warning: this is a wee bit gory and there's character death, over and over...]

Time and Torment

Any other day Goodsir might have managed better, but cursed to relive Carnivale…

No matter what he does or who he pleads with or what course he alters in the day’s events, the destruction is the same, inescapable, and never any less haunting than when he last witnessed it, either from within the flame-licked cocoon of the tents or the detached safety of the quarterdeck.

This does not, however, dissuade Goodsir from trying to break his curse, because if he saves one man, changes one thing and gets it to stick, he might slip the noose of this cruel purgatory—for perhaps he died at Carnivale too, another charred body added to the expedition’s growing list of dead.

-

He’s tried convincing McDonald not to attend Carnivale (once even feigning illness to get him to stay away) but it never succeeds—there’s always something that draws him to the place, so McDonald always dies.

This time, Goodsir’s protestations work; McDonald survives the night without so much as a scratch on him.

The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.

-

Hickey’s knife drives through waxed canvas, and Alexander cries out; his palm, nicked by the blade, cautions him to move aside before it splits an opening, a writhing pile of bodies spilling through like entrails from a quartered abdomen.

Goodsir pulls the doctor aside, checking him anxiously for additional lacerations, but it is this small one alone, easily mended.

The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.

-

Goodsir doesn’t get where he needs to in time and finds McDonald sat upon an upturned crate, eyes wide with horror as Carnivale burns. He kneels before him wordlessly, searches to find his stomach bloody from a puncture wound he barely seems to notice.

The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.

-

Tonight is the last time Goodsir will try to spare McDonald his fate—he does not appear to be an integral cog in the workings of this pernicious device of time and torment.

When the poor man dies in his arms, his final breath painting the air, Goodsir finds his resolve: he will attempt to save the woman next.

The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.

This is amazing (and heartbreaking, ahhh!) and I love the repetition of the charcoal smoke... it works so well! Bravo!! (Please keep the Terror ficlets coming! <3)

:D :D :D Thank you so much!

Your kind comments are really keeping me going <3 <3

honestly I couldn't decide which to do, and then I figured, why choose? and this is a beautiful way to thread them together, and furthermore, ouch; I have no clue who these people are but that has got to be one torturous time loop

"Elisa." Goliath sat beside her, running a hand over her arm. "You're injured."

Elisa held up her arm for his inspection. "It's just a scratch, big guy. I've had worse."

Goliath groaned and pulled her close. "Don't remind me."

🙂

I know a lot of fic outpaces three sentences but this one got real long, whoops. Warning for (canon-typical) dysfunctional family/abusive father mentions.

"Nate?"

The door slams into the wall when Michael bursts through it, and he doesn't stop to close it. He barely pauses long enough to take in the two of them sitting there -- Nate with an ice pack pressed to his cheek, lighting up the second he hears his brother's voice, Madeline standing over the couch with a cigarette -- before he skids to a stop in front of the couch, down on his knees in front of his brother.

The car still idling outside is the wrong color to be Andre's parents. Madeline pretends she doesn't notice, focusing on her boys instead as Michael reaches out, moving the ice pack to check the bruise on Nate's face, looking at his shirt like he could see through it to anything underneath.

"Mom left me a message, she said you were hurt."

"I got hit by a ball in gym," Nate says, wincing a little when his face moves.

Madeline watches as it sinks in, watches Michael's eyes as he looks again for any sign of hidden bruises or more serious injuries, the way it turns to betrayal as he looks up at her.

"Dad didn't," he starts, and leaves it hanging there.

Madeline shakes her head and reaches down to tap her cigarette against the nearest ashtray. "He couldn't get off work early," she says, answering a different question that she knows he wasn't trying to ask, and Michael's lips press together, trying to hold back his anger before Nate sees.

She doesn't care. If letting Michael think Nate was hurt was the only way to see her fifteen-year-old son this week, well, it won't hurt him to think it for a few minutes.

"But you came," Nate mumbles, ice pack pressed back in place, and Michael's whole face softens when he looks back at his brother.

"Of course I did." Nate's getting too big to be carried around anymore, now that his first growth spurt has hit, but Michael turns around and gestures for Nate to climb onto his back anyway. "You get hit, you get ice cream. That's the rule, didn't you know?"

He doesn't so much as glance as Madeline as he starts for the door, and Nate's too busy cheering to tell her goodbye. She lights another cigarette and tells herself that doesn't matter, now that she knows Michael's okay, and almost manages to believe it.

.... whoops, I also forgot to log in first, too

This is really good. I love seeing more Burn Notice stuff and this got the characters exactly right!

It wasn’t often Kakuzu got injured, but Hidan had seen it happen while they were in the middle of a battle and it seemed Kakuzu either hadn’t noticed, or it wasn’t enough to bother him.
As soon as he could, however, Hidan was lifting Kakuzu’s cloak out of the way, looking him over all while Kakuzu protested, until he found it: a gash above Kakuzu’s hip and towards his back, still bleeding.
Hidan patched him up as best he could, fighting off threads that could have done the work for him, but sometimes Hidan liked to take care of Kakuzu, even if he wasn’t that good at it and the bandages fell off somewhere between then and the next town.

Ezra again: and he looks okay and says he's 'unincapacitated', but Nathan has learned not to take chances, and f'sure not to after hearing what went down in the saloon tonight and seeing him carried in, half-senseless and babbling about 'another uncalled-for altercation'. Pupils, pulse, quick check of all limbs and if there's any blood...

Nathan breathes out his relief and starts composing the rant that will be expected and Ez deserves to be awake enough to listen to, about damn-fool cheatin' gamblers and keepin' of the way of maddened mugs and marks and is the few dollars made worth all this, and next time Nathan won't be so willing and ready to patch his fool sense up again...

any, frantically checking someone for injuries (they didn't notice they're hurt)

Bucky is watching as Clint and Natasha board the quinjet, Clint’s talking a mile a minute and Natasha’s expression is clear – she’s putting up with it because while he’s talking, he’s alive despite the pallor of his skin and the blood trickling down the side of his face, but she’s worried. Clint gives a quick greeting to everyone already on board and starts to make his way to the pilot’s seat, slipping away from Natasha’s grip with the experience of years.

Bucky’s not so easily evaded and smoothly blocks his way, guiding him instead into a seat and bending in front of him to start checking him over, relieved that Natasha is already bringing the emergency first aid kit before heading for the pilot's seat herself. “Hey Bucky, what’re ya doing? I need to get us out of here,” Clint’s voice is quiet - it’s strange how much he accepts this kind of thing from Bucky when he doesn’t from other people, almost like he thinks Bucky is the one he needs to be worried about. Carefully Bucky tries to move his hair, looking for the damage to see how bad it is, ignoring Clint’s frown and confused, “Buck?” He finds the point and feels the flinch as Clint pulls away sharply, “What are you doing?”

Bucky holds his bloodied fingers in front of Clint’s face, seeing the shock in his eyes and seeing as he pales further – the shock or is it just the injury, Bucky can’t be sure but he cleans the wound as best he can. Natasha has got them in the air and Steve’s moved to his side to help look after Clint. Bucky’s decided it doesn’t look too bad, but there’s plenty of blood and it’s clear the adrenaline is wearing off and finally, finally Clint knows it’s real as he lets his hand reach out for Bucky, resting against his thigh as he allows Bucky to finish the cleaning and patching.

Once Bucky’s cleaning his own hands and moving to sit alongside Clint, Clint says, “I didn’t know.” Bucky nods, accepting and understanding, accepting as Clint settles a hand on his arm as if grounding himself or maybe he’s grounding them both.

I love this ♥

🙂

"Fuck! Sasuke!" Naruto cringed as he aborted his restless and unguided sweep of his hands over Sasuke's body and caught hold of his arm; he frowned and his boyfriend as he called for Sakura.

"Naruto, what the hell-" Sasuke broke off as Naruto folded his arm up - gently - to show him the broad gash torn down his own forearm, dripping blood off his elbow; he vaguely remembered deflecting a kunai during the battle, now he thought about it, but he hadn't felt this. . .

"What is- Oh." Sakura shook her head, rubbing Naruto's shoulder and then taking Sasuke's arm from him, moving around them. "I'll see to that, honey;" she huffed quietly, "take my eyes off you for five minutes and look what you get into. . ." she added under her breath, green chakra rising around her hands.

she's hardly even concerned, is she, just irritated

or anyway that will be true momentarily, as soon as she's done healing it

Considering the kinds of disaster injuries she's yanked them both back from the brink with . . . poor Sakura >.> she's likely had a lot of practise at that kind of emotional triage. And when it's just one of her boys being an idiot rather than brink-of-death. . .

"Oh." Trevor stared blankly down at his leg, where one of the demons must've caught him. "That's a lot of blood."

"Yes, it is a lot of blood." Alucard shoved him down and pressed a bandage to Trevor's leg, wrapping it around his calf. "Hold still."

Trevor frowned and reached down toward the bandage. "I don't remember getting hit there."

"Clearly you did." Alucard swatted his hand away. "Hold still so I can finish tying this on, and maybe we can get you into the castle before you lose the rest of your blood."

🙂

"Hey, Ez, y' okay?"

"But of course, Mister Wilmington... why would you assume there is something amiss?"

"Oh, I dunno. Mebbe the way you skooted 'cross that roof like a darn alley-cat on hot tin, where the vermints we're supposed to be - what's the word you called it?"

"Apprehending?"

"Nah..."

"Subjugating? Q-quelling? V-vanquishing? "

"Nope, none of -"

"Squash like the h-heinous insects they..."

"Yeah, that sounds 'bout right. Where they c'd see ya clear as day. An' mebbe the way y sorta jerked -"

"M-mister Wilmington, Ah might vellicate or flinch, or in an ill m-moment recoil, but Ah do not jerk, Ah have n-never -"

"Yeah, ya did, Ez. And..."

"And?"

"There's that big old bloody hole in your sleeve."

"What hole? I n-never noticed a-a..."

"Ez?"

"Oh ....................This h-h-hoooooole?"

"So ya don't look real okay to me... Ez, Ez, y'not gonna faint on me now? Ez!"

The beast they’d come to kill was dead, but it still took Teomitl a moment to catch his breath. It had had a long, whippy, prehensile tail he’d only found out about when it had grabbed him and flung him to the ground, and even though the soil was fairly soft this time of year it still hurt. And there were gashes on his sword arm from its claws that he’d need to take care of.

Enough about him, though. Acatl was still pushing himself up from his knees, breathing hard. He’d been the one to take it down, his knives laying open its throat and practically searing it with underworld magic, but now he didn’t look good. Teomitl didn’t like the too-careful way he was moving. “Acatl-tzin?” he called.

“I’m fine,” Acatl huffed.

That meant he wasn’t. Teomitl all but lunged to his side, tugging his—gods, bloodstained—cloak away from where he was holding it bunched over his ribs. Acatl tried to bat his hands away, but he was stronger. And if Acatl was hiding it, it had to be bad. “Let me see!”

Finally, reluctantly, Acatl let go of the fabric, and Teomitl was able to see where all the blood was coming from. It made him feel a little sick.

“You call this fine?!” he snapped, hating how his voice cracked. But he couldn’t help it; the monster’s claws had ripped deep furrows through Acatl’s soft skin, exposing muscle that definitely should not be seeing outside air. His fingers didn’t shake as he snatched up his knife and started slicing his own cloak for bandages, but he suspected that was because he couldn’t really feel them very well at the moment. He’d seen Acatl bleed. He’d seen Acatl hurt. Storm Lord strike him, he’d seen Acatl hurt much worse than this! But...but still. Men died easily, and Acatl was too stubborn for his own good.

At least the man was sitting down now and taking shallow breaths, which made it easier. “It’s just,” he started, and stopped.

Teomitl glared at him. “It’s just something that means I am taking you to a healing priest, immediately. And don’t tell me it’s extravagance! You’re,”—the most important person in the world to me—“our High Priest for the Dead, Acatl-tzin!”

Acatl grimaced. “Fine. As long as you get your arm looked at as well.”

He supposed he didn’t have a choice. But if it got Acatl to sit still and accept medical attention, he didn’t have a problem agreeing.

any, frantically checking someone for injuries (they're not even scratched)

"Adrien," he heard, before arms engulfed him across his shoulders, and his nose got buried in familiar, cologne-scented hair, but before he could hug the man back, the touch disappeared.

His father looked him up and down, his frown stiff, and it struck Adrien with a strange, pleased discovery that he was checking him for injury; after all, he had just walked out of akuma-wrought rubble and dust.

"Father," Adrien began, his own tense shoulders relaxing and a smile growing on his face --

-- except just as quickly, his father turned away, brusquely calling for Nathalie to get a doctor, and that was that, leaving Adrien with only the memory of his father's momentarily worried gaze.

Edited 2022-01-16 14:38 (UTC)

😿 Adrien

[I had to use this pairing, because this behaviour is pretty much canon for them!]

It's usually Bai Yutong who is desperate to reassure himself that Zhan Yao is uninjured, but this time, after an explosion that came far too close for comfort, it's Zhan Yao who is running his hands across every part of Bai Yutong he can get to.

As his hands slide under Yutong's once-white shirt, he's pushed away with a whispered admonishment: "You need to stop that, kitten, unless you're prepared to take this somewhere more private."

Zhan Yao doesn't pause, but turns to the others and barks "we're leaving" before taking Yutong's hand in his and dragging him out of sight.

😺

"Fuck, Naruto, why did you- What were you thinking?" Sasuke muttered as he pulled Naruto's jacket off; he'd resisted at first, but Sasuke only got more insistent and fretful, so he stood quietly for his boyfriend.

"I'm fine." Naruto interrupted once Sasuke had begun to repeat himself; it was true and he'd known it when he jumped in to deflect the jutsu - a powerful enough fuuton had cancelled out most of it, and Kurama had already put to rights the little damage he'd suffered from the remaining impact.

"Sakura!" Sasuke called, and Naruto smiled as she hopped over the deep ditch a careless attack had carved nearby, approaching them. "Check Naruto over properly, he swears he's not hurt!" Sasuke barked, and Naruto sighed, rolling his eyes.

usually when he says that it's a lie, I see

He is very durable . . . but not invulnerable, and he might treat his own injuries rather more like the latter a bit too often.

Matt's been out of the cast for weeks and doesn't even use the cane anymore, making it easily from the car to the front door with no trouble, so John should absolutely positively not be hovering like a mother hen. And then there's a spot of black ice and Matt is down, and John thanks Christ he was at Matt's elbow as he drops the grocery bags, a cucumber and some asparagus flying five feet past them in the air to land somewhere in New Jersey and the contents of the now-broken full-pulp orange juice container seeping into the snow, and his hands are slapping at Matt's leg and his chest as he's reaching for his cell to call 911.

And when Matt palms his cheek and leans up to kiss him, John figures it's about time he admitted he's over the moon for this damn kid.

"Looks 's if you're right, Ez, 'nuthin wrong with you but a couple'a bruises, but y'gave me a right scare there. Sorry 'bout the yellin', and ruinin' y'pretty shirt tearin' it off like that, guess my huntin' knife weren't delicate 'nough to cut it dainty-like, but I needed to check y'all weren't hurt bad... quit the belly-achin', your pants are still in two, okay mebbe three pieces, okay mebbe shredded a bit but better them shredded than you.

"Hell no, I didn't panic too much, y'got other shirts but as the boy's all tell ya, we ain't got and we don' wanta need another Standish."

Very little of Linda's previous life experience had prepared her to work for a private detective, but thank goodness she had some basic first aid training and volunteered at the local hospital some, as she didn't break down into complete hysterics when the car they were running to exploded; instead, she only gasped while tearing off the burning remains of Gary's coat and flung it far away, then forced herself to face him, trying not to think too hard as she searched with mounting anxiety for the burn that would need to be treated.

"No time for that now," and he hurried her to the road, both of them dashing to flee the angry criminals hot on their trail.

It was only later, after they gave their statements to the police and were looked over by a doctor, that Linda realized her boss was not even warm to the touch, let alone singed.

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.

(…I suppose I should complete the set)

any, frantically checking someone for injuries (they're hurt, it's bad)

"It's fine, you're fine," Susan says, almost out of habit--it's what she used to say to Lucy when she would fall and scrape her knees. But this is far worse than a scrape knee--Susan doesn't have to be a doctor to know that the spear piercing the nymph's abdomen is bad and that Lucy is woefully far off with her cordial. "You'll be fine. Just--just breathe with me-"

The nymph, Sinope, gasps a breath but her eyes do not see Susan. It's not fair--the fighting was over, the battle won. The hag that speared Sinope like a needle through a bug fell to Susan's arrow with no ceremony, but now Susan can only brush the nymph's hair from her face. Sinope, lovely and kind Sinope, who'd braided Susan's hair yesterday after her bath to help keep it out of the way, who'd sang her and Lucy to sleep with a lullaby the first night in the camp when the noises kept them too keyed up to sleep. Susan had asked her if she'd be a lady in waiting for her and she'd blushed with pleasure.

It's not fair, Susan thinks as she stutters out a reminder to Sinope to take a breath--where the hell is Lucy?--and then, the nymph is gone. Delicate pink blossoms flutter to the ground and the spear falls into the grass with a dull thump.

Susan blinks, but there is no magic cordial to save her, no Old Magic to turn back this travesty and make it right. There is only a gruesome spear and pile of blossoms in her lap.

"You... you didn't breathe, Sinope," she mutters, but only the wind hears.

Oh that's horrible and beautiful together.

Then I have succeeded! Thanks for the comment.

Oh, SUSAN. <3 ;__;

I love what you show of Sinope and also of Susan, who is trying desperately to fix things, but finding everything she can do so desperately insufficient.

Gosh, the last line, it hurts, and it really shows just how in shock she was.

Poor Susan is only a preteen and there is just so little she can do. I respect that the books almost pointedly never wanted to linger on the trauma they MUST have gone through in the fight with the White Witch (and... lots of other stuff, really), but man, did it leave a goldmine of opportunity for the fic writers for angst.

Also, I almost didn't add that last line because I wasn't sure if it felt necessary, but I really wanted to finish that repetition of about the dialogue about breathing. Glad it works though!

😭

Wonderfufl and terrible and oh more poor girl, Susan. You are so young, too young, to have to do this. Terrific fill.

oh no! This is so sad and beautifully written

holy shit you just speared ME through the heart goddamn

you didn't breathe

holy SHIT well done

Oh nooo, that hurts; poor Sinope and poor Susan! (How very beautifully done!)

He's as haggard and tired as ever when he arrives this time, and she rushes over to hug him, but as she pulls away, her hands are stained the same red as his clothes.

"Oh, Zagreus," she says, eyes flicking across him as if trying to gauge where the injuries are, what treatment is suitable, "please, sit down, let me-"

"Please, Mother, don't worry about it; I'll be--" he staggers, the massive gash across his chest draining to the ground, but the smile on his face isn't even forced, "--I'll be back soon, I promise."

I have watched enough of the game to know he'll be fine and she knows that, but that can't make it any easier for her to watch

Breaks my heart every single time ♥

aslj this is wonderful!!

"Fucking hell," Sasuke breathed, and Naruto's stomach sank like he'd swallowed lead, "Sakura!" he shouted, and Naruto bolted after him - a moment later he saw what Sasuke had seen, and bit back a cry.

Sakura was sprawled over a swathe of broken rock, limbs akimbo, and she wasn't moving - Naruto dropped down at her side opposite Sasuke, and it took barely a heartbeat of searching to find the first wound . . . and then the second, the third; a litter of torn skin and broken bones, and Sakura was so still, bright eyes closed and body lax and-

Naruto's breath caught as green chakra slowly, slowly began to seep from Sakura's skin, flowing like water to gather around the worst injuries she bore; he lifted his gaze to meet Sasuke's cool, uncertain eyes, then they both looked down at the woman they loved . . . hoping she could, once more, produce a miracle and bring herself back to them.

😿

I suspect the boys never handle a battered Sakura well. . .

"It's fine," he says, trying to stop Ladybug from discovering where the sword entered and exited him in rapid succession. If he can convince her of this, then he can believe it, too, never mind what his traitorous body believes about physics and Miraculously sharp weaponry.

"Plagg, claws in," he says, dropping the transformation so that Hawkmoth has to stare a child in the eyes as his life leaks out of him, horror dawning on his face as he realizes what the true cost of pursuing his goals is.

Edited 2022-01-17 22:11 (UTC)

😭

Bucky staggers into the shelter, and as Clint takes in the look of him, it isn’t good. His skin is grey, pain etched deep into a frown as he whispers, “Help me!” collapsing to his knees in front of Clint. Clint barely has enough time to catch enough of him to stop his body hitting the ground with a smack that wouldn’t do his injuries any good whatsoever.

He helps him lie down, slipping a jacket under his head, trying to make him as comfortable as possible in the cramped space, hurrying as he does so, so he can start looking for where Bucky’s hurt.

“Get it off!” Bucky pleads urgently. It’s Clint’s turn to frown, unsure what Bucky means, but he starts by unzipping his jacket and working his way down Bucky’s torso, so he can look and feel for the injury. He’s not finding it quick enough, as he begins to check his legs, but the sweat on Bucky’s brow, the quiet plea for him to ‘get it off’ that seems to be taking all of Bucky’s willpower to express is all the proof he needs that this is real. Bucky is injured and in pain and it breaks his heart, just as it steels his commitment to fixing this, and that is when he sees it, sees as Bucky tenses further as if a wave of pain is flowing through him as he gently reaches up to stroke Bucky’s hair back in comfort he feels the sharp tingle of electricity surging through and then it’s gone again. It’s the arm, “Get it off” is what Bucky had said, he’d meant the arm.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” he says quietly as he runs his fingers across the shoulder joint, where the arm fixes into the plate on his shoulder. He can feel it now a constant running electrical charge pulsing painfully against his own skin. He remembers the night Bucky had trusted him enough to tell him about the release and how Ayo had suddenly activated it mid fight when he’d been with Sam. He’d promised then never to go near it.

He looks again at Bucky’s face, sees the taut signs of pain, the lip he’s biting, the glazed unfocused eyes and knows he has to do this. If he doesn’t Bucky is going to lose this fight. He leans in close, takes Bucky’s face in his hands and says, “I’m going to take the arm off now, Bucky. I hope that’s what you were asking and I pray this is going to help but please believe me, I’m doing it to help.”

Clint hopes he isn’t breaking Bucky’s trust, as he moves his hands back to the arm and activates the release. The arm just drops away with a solid thunk to the ground below it. He looks back at Bucky’s face again, hoping that he’ll see some relief to the pain there, but Bucky doesn’t look any better, he’s still biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain, releasing the arm hasn’t done anything to help. Bucky barely looks conscious now, his breathing laboured. Carefully, Clint climbs over Bucky’s body, squeezing in on his other side so that he can see directly into the mechanism that’s still fixed to his body and there he can see the mess that’s left – Clint has no idea what any one part of it is, but it’s clear the wires and chips are burnt out, what he assumes is either a power pack or a major processor of some sort is in the centre, still sparking. That’s what he needs to remove and he has absolutely nothing to do it with. The last thing he needs to do is put a knife in there and end up electrocuting himself as well or accidentally joining a currently severed circuit and upping the power coursing through Bucky’s body.

Then he remembers, he crawls back across Bucky, grabs at his quiver and hunts through the arrows that are left. There it is, the one he can use – wooden shaft and ceramic tip. As soon as he starts to move the unit in Bucky’s arm, the sparks get worse, Bucky’s gasping for breath – short and sharp, his pulse frighteningly fast. Tears in his eyes, Clint forces the ceramic tip deeper beneath the unit and twists, flipping it free, Bucky’s body tenses and then relaxes, slipping into unconsciousness, but his breathing is easier and when Clint feels for his pulse again, it’s slowing, steadying already. He turns his attention back to the shoulder, there are no more sparks which is a relief, but some of the wires are still red with heat from the charge, he uses the ceramic tip to sever them, no longer caring about any damage he might cause, he just wants to get anything that might still be causing Bucky pain away.

When he’s finished, he bandages the open unit, covers it to protect any further contamination – he doesn’t know what might happen, whether Bucky can catch an infection but in some way that Clint doesn’t fully understand this is connected into his body, to his brain. Clint isn’t going to risk anything if a bandage or a bit more care might make a difference.

When he’s done all he can, he climbs out of the cramped position he’d been in. He calls in for help, checks Bucky again, his breathing is calm, more like sleep now and his pulse is steady, the sweat from his brow has gone and his features are relaxed. Clint thinks the colour is beginning to return to his skin, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking at this stage.

He settles beside Bucky to wait, he’s done all he can and now he just needs to wait for them to be picked up. He’s repacked their gear, stored the arm ready to be lifted out as well and now he’s just watching over Bucky and waiting.

"Easy, Ezra easy, stay still and hold on, it's gonna be okay..."

Though it sure don' look anything like okay right now. You're tryin' to hold him still, pressin' down with one hand on the hole in his blood-soaked side (please, please not anywhere fatal, you can't lose him, you can't lose any of them) while you try to gently - gently but that sound he makes - prod at what has to be a broken leg, broken in two places you think.

His face is whiter than that fancy frilled collar of his, and smeared with his own blood from your hand, but you can't be botherin' with that right now, there's so much more blood on your hands now as you press down with both, afraid he'll bleed out before Nate and the boys (where the hell are they, where the hell are they?) get here, and you can't pray, you haven't been able to pray for years, but if you though it'd help Ezra, you'd pray to every god in heaven and history... because please god, any god, you can't lose any of them.

Newsies, Jack Kelly/Sarah Jacobs, thirty years together

A Discovery of Witches, Emily lives

Newsies, Jack Kelly/Sarah Jacobs, chosen names

Chronicles of Narnia, witchy!Jill, finding Susan

Newsies, David Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, stare down the odds

Chronicles of Narnia, witchy!Jill, helping Tirian

Jill had noticed the inconsistencies almost immediately (it did not take magic to find the holes in Tirian's story, though neither she nor Eustace drew attention to these) and had hoped to confer with Eustace once camp was made that night; Tirian, perhaps more afraid of his new companions than he had let on, did not give them a single moment alone but rather stuck to their sides as though he'd been glued there.

In the end, she had to resort to stealthier ways: a raised eyebrow and a nod to Eustace across the fire, and listening with her magic-tuned ears to the words he spoke beneath his breath, and then sending a whisper of her own on the wind directly to him.

This is no true king of Narnia, Eustace sighed at last, and Jill replied, Then we will save Narnia from him.

Oooo, this gave me all kinds of shivers! I love the idea of Jill being stealthy with her powers, and this also has such a quiet despair about it, with both her and Eustace realizing that Tirian is not a true king. Sad and scary at the same time! Amazing. Thank you! <333

This is amazing! I love that both Eustace and Jill notice that something is wrong and I love how you describe Jill' magic. Plus, that final line!

I'm obsessed with this and you keep making it better!!

Chronicles of Narnia, Lucy/Caspian, reunion in The Silver Chair

Chronicles of Narnia, Lucy/Caspian, finding each other in the True Narnia (TLB)

The amazing thing about this Real Narnia was that one could swim for ever -- for hours or days, Caspian thought -- and never get tired or lost or hungry. He had swum east one day, farther than he had ever sailed (for of course this New Narnia was larger than the old, as well as clearer and brighter), and now in front of him was a ship; it was a great, beautiful, sailing ship, sleek and trim, sailing the Narnin lion. Caspian hailed it from the water and clamored aboard. The sailors were strangers to him, but the captain -- the captain had golden hair that curled in a way he remembered, though she was taller now, and dressed in her own Narnian clothes instead of his own. "Lucy!" he gasped.

"Caspian!" Queen Lucy replied. "I wondered when I would find you. Will you sail with me?"

Caspian would.

Oooooohhhh, my HEART. This is LOVELY. I particularly love how you capture the dream-like quality of the New Narnia - everything is beautiful, and even though Caspian hasn't seen Lucy in so long, seeing her again doesn't hurt, he's just glad to see her and be with her. I love them! Thank you so much for this! <333

It was so much to take in, this True Narnia, but not in a painful way, Lucy thought—it was rather like when she had sailed through the Silver Sea in the Old Narnia, when she had felt so full of light and life that she might burst, and she and Caspian had told each other that they felt they could hardly stand anymore and yet didn’t want it to stop—and she wandered over the hills and across the rivers of this new country as if in a dream, never tiring and feeling stronger than she ever had, full of the desire to explore just a little further, and a little further more.

She roved until she came to the glimmering sea, where she found a man standing on the shoreline, his trousers rolled up as he stood in the lapping waves, and she shouted in recognition: It was Caspian, and he turned at once at her voice, astonishment on his face, and he ran to sweep her in an embrace, exclaiming, “Can you believe it all, Lucy; isn’t it too wonderful to take in?”

It was, but she couldn’t get enough, and as she buried her head into the crook of his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat beneath her ear, she whispered to him, “I feel that I can’t stand much more, yet I don’t want it to stop,” and she felt him clutch her tighter in response as he murmured his agreement against her neck.

And once again, this is just beautiful. I think the thing that strikes me most about this - well, maybe two things. The first is just that sense of having endless strength and energy, being able to keep going out of both joy and because one is never tired - what a feeling that would be! And then two, just the sense of gentle intimacy and deep friendship you've evoked here, between Lucy and Caspian. They so clearly love and trust each other, and understand one another so well, and it comes across so clearly! Thank you so much for this. <333

Thank you! I've always loved the easy friendship Lucy and Caspian have in the books, despite all of the differences between them that could act as barriers, and it's something I love reading and writing about with them because it's such a sweet, gentle form of intimacy that I don't often come across with other ships. Thanks again! <3

Caspian had heard the stories as a child, whispered as he was tucked into bed, illustrated in epic words as he looked up at the clear night sky. That was how he first heard of Lucy: the queen, the fighter, the healer. The youngest, and the one who had heeded Aslan's call. She had seemed so Great to him then, a powerful woman in whose hands one could lay one's life, someone whose vision could encompass the entire universe.

That had been how he thought of Lucy back then, of course. Reality, when it happens, is much different. But even within the child-queen he meets, he sees little glimpses of all those things -- when they discuss strategy, when she mentions some anecdote from her old reign, or even when she stares off into the horizon on the Dawn Treader, caught in some memory too profound to share with him.

When he sees her again, many many lifetimes later in the True Narnia, she is all of it -- the Lucy of the stories, the Lucy he knew, Lucy as all she could be.

Oh, Nasim, this is so, so lovely. Thank you! I love the sense of progression that you convey with Caspian - that at first Lucy is only from stories, but then he meets the real her and gets glimpses of the Queen, and finally sees all of her by the end. This is so wonderfully done! <3333

Chronicles of Narnia, Lucy/Caspian, Caspian finds himself in England

It was a strange world that his queen lived in, full of grey—from the cloudy sky to the odd buildings to the cobbled streets—with the rare dash of color, and he wondered how a soul so vibrant could come from such a drab land, fascinating though it was in its foreignness.

He heard a cry and turned to see Lucy running toward him, her book bag banging against her hip, and she seized his hands in hers, exclaiming and laughing in delight, before she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him fiercely. Caspian spun her in a circle and buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in, and when he at last looked up, the world was changed—bright, vivid, more—and Caspian understood: Lucy was Lucy, and no world could change her; rather, she changed it.

Oh, this is absolutely lovely! Thank you so much! I had a very busy day yesterday preparing for all the snow we are getting today, and I didn't look at DW at all. What a wonderful fic to wake up to. :) I love how Caspian seen England as gray (and let's be honest, it is, much of the time, with all the rain), but then realizes that it is Lucy who brings color to it, wherever she is. Such a beautiful way to articulate all that Lucy is! <333

Aw, thank you! <3

The Old Guard, Andy/Nile, charged silence

Nile is never sure, these days, about anything. Some things she changed. Some things she didn't. Andy is quiet, even more than before, like a ghost who's just thinking about how to leave.

Am I my sister's keeper?

Andy meets her gaze across the room and sighs, quiet, low.

oooooohhhhh. this is !! incredible.

This is just STUNNING. I love it so much. By the end you don't know if Andy is staying because she feels like she has to protect Nile, whether Nile is doing everything she can to protect Andy, or both. (Both? Both is good. ;)) Thank you so much, hon!

The Old Guard, Andy/Nile, you are more than your history

There is a litany of scars that Andy does not have. Nile walks her fingers across unblemished skin, even as the stories Joe and Nicky have filled her with tell her this is where a sword gutted her messily and the axe wasn't sharp enough, her arm hung on with meat and sinew and two arrows through the head, and she got back up, beheading their king.

Beside her, Andy shifts, head turning to burrow under Nile's chin; perhaps there will be scars soon, once Andy convinces them to let her into the field again.

Oh, this is so beautiful and thought-provoking! Thank you! <3

Thank you :)

any, any, peacock blue and peacock green

Silver smiles and (preening not unlike a peacock), smoothes down his vest. Its particular shade of deep blue reminds him of Sapphire's eyes--of course it does. And while the shimmering bright green of his cravat doesn't particularly make him think of Steel, Silver can still imagine the expression on his face when he sees it (hopefully, a complicated, perfect combination of exasperation and fondness), and he can hardly wait.

I don't go here, but this is so pretty! <3

Aw, thank you!

Slowing his stride immediately as he passed into the conservatory, Ares began to step carefully, and passed around a fan of shimmering green feathers to reach the lounge near the centre.

"You wished to speak with me, Mother?" he reported politely - for only a fool was rude to Hera - and bowed as she smiled fondly at him.

Straightening, Ares laughed as one of the peacocks fanned his vibrant blue feathers and shrieked, blocking Ares' view of his mother until she called the bird back, laughing herself and beckoning him into her lap, stroking his long neck.

One of the more impressive regional fashions that Cliopher occasionally saw in the Palace of Stars were the peacock-feather robes worn by the theocrats of Selrhav, a minor southern archipelago in Colhélhé: not only were the great tailfeathers layered into cloaks of shimmering green, blue, and gold, but the smaller, scale-like feathers at the top of the train were worked into tunics that mimicked the appearance of mail, and the brilliant blue body feathers embroidered onto soft slippers and braided into the priests' and priestesses' hair.

Upon discreet inquiry, Cliopher learned from the assistant secretary to one lesser priestess's personal secretary that the people of Selrhav held peacocks to be messengers of the gods (most particularly of the Sun and of a local goddess of the underworld), and so clothed the gods' intermediaries in the feathers of the sacred birds, which were raised in temple gardens specifically for that purpose.

"And then we eat the carcasses, of course, for the gods abhor waste and to feed the body is as important as to tend the soul," the assistant secretary said. She touched her fingertips to her lips, then pressed them to the bright, unmistakable tuft of peacock blue threaded into a single one of her many braids, and Cliopher, his efela tucked hidden beneath his Astandalan secretariat robes like a shameful secret, his name and his home mispronounced and disregarded, ached with envy like the ocean ached for the Moon.

Bandstand, Donny/Julia, PTSD

Bandstand, Julia/Donny, going to the movies

Bandstand, Julia & Davy, drowning in memories

Edited 2022-01-16 00:32 (UTC)

Beauty and the Beast (any version), Beast!Beauty, turning tables

The best thing--really, the only thing--that could be said about a curse-gone-wrong at one of her sisters' last elaborate parties was that it really did accustom one to accept anything; why, Beauty had even been able to see the ruination of her father's fleet as a reason to seek out the calm of the countryside, and the thick bristly hair covered her hair to toe as a method of disposing of her most persistent suitors.
Which was why this latest disaster--Father, apparently having gone and found himself lost in a notorious prince's dungeons--did not make her so much as blink an eye; Beauty had found that a roar and an upturned table on her part did much to make any frivolous royal perfectly helpful and eager to please.
And if he should be willing to bargain a stay in his castle for a chance to break her spell at least--well then, so much the better.

Oh, I love to think of this 'notorious' prince maybe having gotten a bit more than he bargained for, inviting Beast!Belle into his castle to stay! What an adorable turnabout on the story. It makes sense that Belle would still be her sweet, cheerful self, even if beastly.

Beast! Beauty would definitely come up with advantages to her condition, rather than shut herself up in a dank castle whining XD

“Why won’t you just do as you’re told!?” snarls the lord of the manor. He curls his claws under the edge of the table, almost four hundred pounds of solid oak, but he does not manage to upend it before a hand halts its progress.

“Now sir," says his guest, sweetly baring her teeth, “I think you know that’s no way to behave, and I also think you owe your servants an apology for spoiling the feast they took such pains to prepare.”

belle baring her teeth, good for her! i think this is the same spine she shows in the film, and that critics tend to forget, she can stand up to the beast and turn the tables against him. and her concern for the servants, her conviction that they deserve an apology, is perfect.

yes, that spirit and defiance from the film is exactly what i was going for, only now she gets to have teeth, too! thank you so much!

It's not that there are no men in the village that her castle protects, that would be silly and unproductive. But there ones who are here are men who don't take after that sneering oaf who believed it his God-given destiny to kill the Beast and free the village from her evil clutches. They saw, each of them, what happens to a man that believes his sex was given dominion over the other, as the hunter fell from the parapets, and they felt it in their own bones when his broke upon meeting the unyielding stone in her courtyard.

Fairy tale modern AU, Cinderella, overworked project manager

"I'm sorry," Ella's manager says. "The party's only for the engineers."

So it's not a mistake she's not on the calendar invite. Five months working her ass off the project, working late, wrangling twenty uncommunicative engineers into giving project updates, delivering on their milestones, being the one to tell the execs about the delays, gritting her teeth through the looks saying you're not technical enough and what do you even do anyway, and this is the thanks she gets.

Well, that's fine. She's going out tonight anyway; she'll buy herself dinner, and she'll have a better time than any of them.

Oh, this is excellent!

Oh this was infuriating but in a good way. Poor Ella. I hope she updates her resume when she gets home.

Aww, thank you! I'm sure she will! This is a Cinderella AU, so everything will work out and justice will prevail ~~though it's too much effort for me to figure out exactly how~~

I love this!

YEAH YOU GO LADY! TREAT YOURSELF >:O

:D Thank you for reading!

haaaaaaa! oh poor ella. the vagaries of office life!

Oh, perfect!

Thank you! (and oh, your icon. :D)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 10 of 50

Three Sentence Ficathon 2022

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Leverage, Eliot & Hardison, A Damn Fool

Re: Leverage, Eliot & Hardison, A Damn Fool

Re: Leverage, Eliot & Hardison, A Damn Fool

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Modao Zushi/The Untamed: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian

Re: Modao Zushi/The Untamed: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian

Re: Modao Zushi/The Untamed: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian

Battle Wounds (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Re: Battle Wounds (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Re: Battle Wounds (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Time and Torment (The Terror, Goodsir & McDonald) Groundhog Day AU

Re: Time and Torment (The Terror, Goodsir & McDonald) Groundhog Day AU

Re: Time and Torment (The Terror, Goodsir & McDonald) Groundhog Day AU

Re: Time and Torment (The Terror, Goodsir & McDonald) Groundhog Day AU

Re: Time and Torment (The Terror, Goodsir & McDonald) Groundhog Day AU

Gargoyles, Goliath/Elisa, Just a Scratch

Re: Gargoyles, Goliath/Elisa, Just a Scratch

Burn Notice, Michael & Nate & Madeline

Re: Burn Notice, Michael & Nate & Madeline

Re: Burn Notice, Michael & Nate & Madeline

Naruto, KakuHida

The Magnificent 7 (TV) - Ezra and Nathan

no subject

Avengers MCU, mostly Clint and Bucky

Re: Avengers MCU, mostly Clint and Bucky

Re: Avengers MCU, mostly Clint and Bucky

Out of Sight (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Re: Out of Sight (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Re: Out of Sight (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Castlevania (Netflix series), Trevor/Alucard, To Be Fair, He Was Preoccupied

Re: Castlevania (Netflix series), Trevor/Alucard, To Be Fair, He Was Preoccupied

The Magnificent 7 (TV) - Ezra and Buck (Sorry, not nearly frantic enough but it's just... them :)

Obsidian & Blood, Acatl & Teomitl

no subject

Miraculous Ladybug, Adrien + his daddio

Re: Miraculous Ladybug, Adrien + his daddio

SCI, Bai Yutong/Zhan Yao

Re: SCI, Bai Yutong/Zhan Yao

Resistant (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Re: Resistant (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Re: Resistant (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Live Free or Die Hard, John/Matt

The Magnificent 7 (TV) - Ezra and Vin

Cool Under Pressure (Linda Dale and Gary Preston aka The Flame, Fox Features comics)

no subject

Narnia, Susan+OC

Re: Narnia, Susan+OC

Re: Narnia, Susan+OC

Re: Narnia, Susan+OC

Re: Narnia, Susan+OC

Re: Narnia, Susan+OC

Re: Narnia, Susan+OC

Re: Narnia, Susan+OC

no subject

Re: Narnia, Susan+OC

Homeward Bound (Supergiant Hades)

Re: Homeward Bound (Supergiant Hades)

Re: Homeward Bound (Supergiant Hades)

Re: Homeward Bound (Supergiant Hades)

Helpless (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Re: Helpless (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Re: Helpless (Naruto; Sasuke/Naruto/Sakura)

Miraculous Ladybug, A Final F You

Re: Miraculous Ladybug, A Final F You

Marvel MCU (post Falcon and the Winter Soldier), Bucky & Clint

The Magnificent 7 (TV) - Ezra and Chris