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

any, any, anniversaries

Sakura put a hand on Naruto's shoulder, shaking her head. "I know where he'll be." she said softly, and left him behind, watching her with a small frown that wasn't quite puzzlement and owed more to concern.

Sakura bit her lip on a sympathetic sigh as she approached the Memorial Stone . . . and the lone figure there marking yet another of the days that had ripped something - someone - away from him.

As is to be expected, Kim is diligent with his celebrations: he sets time aside to be with Harry for his one week sober, two weeks, two days again, one week, one month, six months, two days, one week.
With a burning gratitude in his lungs, and tapping into a half-buried strand of competitiveness, Harry grabs the bright yellow complimentary calendar from Frittte and starts marking down the day they met, phasmid day, the day Kim transferred, their first pizza, first phone call, first shared crosswords, first time their images melted in a puddle’s reflection as the wind brushed its surface, seventy-eigth kiss (an old lucky number, he thinks, or a new one, at any rate), the tie gift, the tie accident, the day of the haunted cockroach, the great door-behind-a-door débacle.

Today is the third week without the dream, 87 days sober, 302 since Kim’s first ride on a pleasure wheel, also 302 since the the plush bear with a hole in his heart, 163 since the first acceptable omelette, so if you’ll excuse them, it’ll be a busy evening.

His list of things that are so so SO important and so lovely... I adore this. Enjoy that busy evening with everything in you, both of you T-T

Awwww <3 <3 what wonderful anniversaries to celebrate! This is so sweet.

No one on Alinor marks the anniversary of the empire's fall, not even for mourning or paying respects.

No one marks the end of the Interim either, and only partially because time grew so vague during those years (months? decades? the former imperial citizens of Alinor collectively settle on years) that agreeing on a single date as their end would be next to impossible.

Alinor's children maintain decorum by the skin of their teeth, and draw a conspiracy of silence over things best left forgotten.

Sam informed him that it was important to mark those occasions on which something momentous had occurred, so Castiel placed a special order with the bakery that Dean preferred, and he presented the cake – with its meticulously rendered marshmallow fondant decoration of his handprint – after dinner with a flourish and a heartfelt, "Happy Getting Rescued From Hell Day!"

Dean looked from the cake to him and back to the cake, head cocked and one eyebrow raised in that way that Castiel absolutely did not think was sexy, before he reached out and swiped one finger across the chocolate frosting.

"You're weird, Cas," Dean said. "I like that about you."

any, any, holidays

"Dixing doesn't have holidays?!" Zhao Yunlan exclaims, words slipping out aghast before his brain catches up with the (unhelpfully late) reminder that up until relatively recent history Dixing hadn't even had an agreed-upon calendar.

Shen Wei doesn't point out the obvious, only says, "There isn't much to celebrate, as a rule," – but he's wrong in that, at least.

Zhao Yunlan would know; he's looking right at the proof of it.

Aww! <3 Lovely!

<3 <3

omg omg omg I love this -- the variation in the sentence lengths, the way you pull out the different reasons there are no holidays, Shen Wei's resignation, the sweetness at the end.

………………and now all I can think of is chaos gremlin Zhao Yunlan putting Shen Wei through a game show entitled "Spot the Fake Haixing Holiday!!" Though I'm sure he already does know the correct ones at this point, but obscure holidays can always be found……

"If you don't get in the car in the next 30 seconds, I'm going back to my house," Derek threatens and silently wonders what he did to ever get a boyfriend this disorganized.

"You're not ruining our holiday just because you're impatient!" Stiles yells back at him and, two seconds later, comes rushing down the stairs with his bag.

Derek rolls his eyes, but doesn't pull back when Stiles leans in and smacks a kiss against his lips--a silent apology and a promise that the next few days at the beach are going to be amazing.

Ahahahaha yes, that is very them. XD Perfect.

thank you! <3

"But darling! It's Dress Up Your Pet Day! I thought you'd like that!"

". . .you know what, fine. Have fun." Arthur said, eyeing the suit jacket in Eames' hands, and then their cat, clearly fuming, his tail lashing. "Your funeral."

Okay actually that holiday was January 13th, but the thought made me giggle.

I am cackling XD

^.^ I'm sure this can only end well. *coughs*

Dongzhi/Winter Solstice

Two weeks after her excellent rendition of Hotel California saved him from that bully at school, Katy announced to Shaun, rather than asked, that he would be spending Saturday at her house, because “my mother’s making tangyuan and both my brother and me could use some one to help roll what will seem like ten thousand of those things, and then if you’re going to help us eat it all after so we don’t end up puking on glutinous rice, that’d be great.”

He hadn’t had tangyuan, or really anything that wasn’t mere sustenance, for a long time, not ever since…

The next day, as he sat at a small round table watching Katy and her brother bicker with trays of white and pastel tangyuan between them, he found himself thinking of Lingling, and suddenly wondered how cold it was now, up there in that mountain…

Chunjie/Spring Festival

If at first Katy’s parents had questions about their daughter’s relationship to this boy she randomly started to drag home for the holidays, both Mr and Mrs Chen thankfully never let it show, even if for a while they were obviously a little unsure of how to treat the brooding boy who on the surface seemed to be the opposite of their abrasive, prone-to-exuberance daughter.

However, his presence chez Chen became assuredly permanent that Spring Festival, when Mrs Chen observed, “Your jiaozi are folded so beautifully, Shaun, unlike Katy here; she’s all thumbs about it.”

Shangqi looked down at the jiaozi in his hand – and right now, he felt more like Shangqi than Shaun, still – before looking up at Mrs Chen and smiled, saying, “My mother started teaching me when I was very young…it’s been a long time, but I guess some things you never forget.”

(PS: I guess I should explain why he's Shangqi and not Shang Chi in case you're confused. Shangqi or Shang Qi is the proper romanization of the character's name based on the pinyin romanization system that is used in mainland China and also now more widespread elsewhere. Under the pinyin system, "chi" is a completely different character/sound. "Shang Chi" is based on an older romanization system (Wade-Giles) that can still be seen in some place names etc in Taiwan. The q in pinyin is pronounced very close to a ch sound which is probably why they kept the Shang Chi romanization in the movie title, to prevent people calling him Shang Ki or something. But since his sister's name is romanized using pinyin, it would make more sense for him to be Shangqi/Shang Qi (pinyin) rather than Shangchi/Shang Chi (Wade-Giles). Of course, they could have avoided this confusion by choosing a character for his name that actually does romanize into "chi" in pinyin, but I can also understand why they didn't, as "chi" sounds like the word to eat and the name sounds a bit silly once you get into those homophones... language ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

Edited 2022-01-17 02:39 (UTC)

I love this so much. I love what you've done so much, I've prompted two more. I want to hear more about holidays and names and well, anything. I'm infinitely grateful that you are sharing your own perspective on these films. I love the glimpse into the possible American Chinese experience, and what it must be like for Shangqui and the grandness of Katy's friendship with him. Moar please!

Aarghh there is more!! I love this as well, all the insight into the Chinese holidays and food, and of course the names. I also love how you offer such clear explanations in addition to writing such amazing fics. I used Duolingo to learn Chinese for like a year, and I'm definitely not any good at it beyond like a very basic understanding (most of which I forgot again) but I do recognize some things, and it makes this even more amazing to read! I think it really adds a lot of depth and I am living for it

The McClane Curse might encompass Christmas, Labor Day, and the 4th of July, but John assured Matt that he had nothing to worry about at the parade on Read Across America Day. That was, of course, before the giant Tribute to Lord of the Rings float exploded, sending bookmark-shaped projectiles and not a few elves and dwarves catapulting into the crowd of book-loving onlookers.

Matt hates holidays.

So perfectly funny!

Thanks so much! Glad you liked it. :)

Sorry, not betaed and English isn't my first language!

Elizabeth brings them cups of egg nogg, asking them, how they like the improvised christmas party so far.

"The mead could be stronger and less creamy" is what Ronon wants to say after taking a gulp, but doesn‘t, because Teyla wants to know more about the greenish twigs that are hanging mostly in doorways or on ceilings and people seem to be excited about; Ronon furrows his brows about Elisabeth's explanation: she pulls him then under one of the twigs and kisses him on the corner of his mouth – it doesn‘t have to be a romantic kiss, she says amused, at his confusion.

Teyla also hides her smirk behind her hand, musing if Kanaan knows about this interesting tradition – she hopes nobody showed it to him yet; Ronon leaves both women to laugh at him and decides to and check if there’s one of the twigs hanging somewhere in the sick bay.
__

Thanks, btw, I'm going to turn this fill into a proper fic, to get my writing mojo back!

any, any, snow day

I was already so cold from my inadvertent nap in the Dust Caverns and subsequent early-morning air balloon ride that I didn't even notice the snow until I stepped out onto the platform and it went softly crunch underfoot.

Huh. Winter already?

I must've been giving the crisp white vista a befuddled look longer than I realized: I blinked back to reality with Dark at my shoulder, shoving a mug of something spiced and steaming into my freezing hands and nudging me homewards, and if there were any lingering doubts about him not being the Dark Wizard anymore they would have been quelled if anyone saw how he fussed over the Hero's well-being.

"I am doomed to a life of misery and despair. Would you like a hot chocolate?"

Awwwwwww. X3

Yes exactly XDDDD

This one probably fits in an AU I'm writing, whoops. ^^; Series: Kakashi's.

"Alpha! Alpha, alpha, Kakashi-sensei, it's snowing!" Naruto crowed, bouncing on his knees, hands just shy of Kakashi's chest.

Kakashi groaned and rolled over, Sakura making a chirruping sound on his other side, and Naruto tensed, trying not to show his anxiousness too much - he didn't think Kakashi would be angry, would lash out, but so many. . .

". . .and I suppose that means," Kakashi paused, yawning wide, showing off his oversized fangs, "you want to go play?" he asked, mouth drawn into a sleepily fond smile, one hand sliding over Naruto's hip as his heart fluttered and he squirmed, grinning.

Belle enjoyed spending the day with her legs curled beneath her on the divan, watching Rumple closely as he explained the rules of a silly little board game to her and then led her on a series of games – some of which she's certain he lets her win – but finally she stretches and moves to rise, because the outside windows aren't going to clean themselves.

"Oh, look, it's a snow day!" Rumple suddenly announced, aborting her attempt to get from the sofa. "You'll have to do the windows another day, dearie."

Belle narrowed her eyes – it had been perfectly sunny five minutes ago – but who was she to argue?

any, any, somebody make me feel alive/and shatter me
Shatter Me - Lindsey Stirling, Lzzy Hale

Books had been her first love since she was small, but the older she got, the closer the palace walls pressed in around her, and Amalie retreated into tomes of myth and history more and more. She loved the stories of far-off places, of heroes and monsters and of pig-keepers becoming kings, of good triumphing over wickedness and of happiness coming to the pure of heart.

Meanwhile, rumors of war hissed through the halls and Amalie couldn't even walk in the castle town for her father's fears; she would never hurt her father or Valri for the world, but sometimes Amalie wished for a dragon or a dashing rogue to drop into her lonely tower and upend the silver snowglobe of her world.

"We are not immune to our emotions, Doctor," Spock said amiably, "but the progress of our civilization can be directly attributed to our mental control over our biological instincts."

"It's because you damn Vulcans have no emotions that I'm freezing my ass off in a cave on the mountainside," Bones replied. "Now, get over here under the blankets so we can share bodily warmth."

hee!

So cute!!

If he believed in fate – which he supposed he did not – Yu Tu would say that Jing Jing burst back into his life like a supernova at the time he needed her light the most, taking him so much by surprise that it shouldn’t have taken until that Spring Festival for him to realise how unlike himself he had been acting.

Yu Tu before all of this would never have wasted hours numbing his mind on a video game, Yu Tu before all of this would have no qualm ignoring the strangely insistent request for him to act as a game coach for a random internet acquaintance, Yu Tu before all of this could hardly care less that said random internet acquaintance might have to wait a couple more days to get her air purifier fixed.

But he had chased the stars for almost all of his life, and when his world clouded over, suddenly, she came, sparkling in the light like her name, and she was a wishing star that guided him out of the darkness into a spiralling new world where all his doubts and fears could not help but shatter, and leave him out of breath without any other will but to be pulled into her orbit.

Bobby thinks he’s been dead for years, but did he stop living or simply never begin? College wasn’t so bad, he had a blast, but he couldn’t tell you the name of his major or his fraternity, or any of the girls he’s kissed.

Love is meant to be challenging, not the challenge of conquest, but someone who will sit across from you and challenge the thoughts you never paused to think about, shatter the expectations you had of yourself.

company fic! oh, bobby, there's this sort of ... detached depression to his thinking, where he can vaguely remember having fun, once, but remembering isn't the same as feeling it. and i love that final sentence on love, and the sort of challenge it's meant to be.

oh, excellent, 'detached depression' is exactly what i was going for with this one, the way he's decidedly not 'staring at the walls and playing solitaire' during Poor Baby, but probably goes through a period right after the end where he does exactly that.
but i really do think he's going to turn out okay and find someone he's willing to be challenged by, i think bobby deserves that <3

“You spend too much time with the dead,” Xochiquetzal had told him. “You forget what makes you alive.”

For a time, he’d thought the goddess was wrong. He had his priesthood, his temple, and his gods. He was at peace. What more did he need? Anything else would be...messy. Unnecessary. A distraction.

He built his own tomb brick by brick, not even noticing the clay caught under his fingernails. But it was fine, he was fine, he didn’t need anything else. Love and lust were for other people, for men not sworn to the gods. They weren’t for him.

But Teomitl smiled, and his heartbeat thumped against the walls of his ribcage. But Teomitl took his hand, and he felt that touch in every inch of his suddenly-awakened skin. But Teomitl shucked his cloak and stretched like a jaguar in the sun, all dark skin and strong muscles, and he couldn’t tear his stinging eyes away.

Xochiquetzal was still wrong. Acatl still spent plenty of time with the dead, but he knew exactly what made him alive.

Lieutenant Kitsuragi could not possibly have expected the hungover wreck that is shambling down the Whirling’s stairs on Monday morning, but he knows all too well how to welcome the certainty that fills him at the sight, a feeling that is a known value, warm and trusted, the measure of his life: “stand by this man,” it says, “in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for he is your half brother, and you owe a debt to this ancient bond, signed in blood.”
It’s a recording that has been stuck in the lieutenant’s circuits for a long, long time, going in stale circles until today, when it adds: “he will understand you,” a prospect which is neither known nor trusted, not normal, and shakes him like a sudden lick of herring-flavoured egg and liquorice ice cream.
“He will get under your skin and unmake you from the inside out,” the feeling states at last, and Kim lets a shiver run down his back before he stands to attention, alert, collected, stiff and imperturbable, waiting for his new colleague to make his move.

(Kim's EDC is ridiculously high so it's only fair he gets his own first impression! And maybe his EDC is also a bit confused about what constitutes a feeling of brotherhood. Ice cream flavour courtesy of the normal cop thought)

any, any, “in the slide of a bolt there’s a tiny revolt”

Naughty - Matilda the Musical Official Cast Recording

Edited (forgot the link) 2022-01-15 19:24 (UTC)

The Professor had been angry today. Project Sephiroth had been timed and measured on the machines and the weights and the treadmills for hours, far longer than he ever had been before, and the Professor had snapped at him every time his muscles trembled more than was acceptable. Project Sephiroth had kept his head down and done the exercises again, and again, and again, as commanded.

Held close and tight in his heart where he kept all of his secrets was the tiny click of a bolt being pushed back, of a gasp and the patter of running feet, of two pairs of luminous green eyes meeting his at a distance and a little girl mouthing, thank you.

Professor Hojo could keep being angry. Project Sephiroth wasn't the one who left the specimens' door unlocked, held closed only by a single bolt.

flapping so hard at this I'm about to take off, Aeriiiiiiiiiiiis

(also bite Hojo's ankles)

YES

For the barest instant, as the lock slid home and the bars slammed into place, the prisoner looked out past the bars, past the guard (past the stricken look in the guards' eyes, gods save him from the eyes of those who thought he was more than this, who thought there should be more to this story), past the bricks and mortar and stars, and out into the blackest, deepest depth of space and into the complete and utter vacuum left of his life.

There should have been some rage in him, he heard the whispers later, among themselves when they thought he couldn't hear; some spark in his eyes, some recognition of the vast injustice--a revolt against the mindlessness, against the cruelty, against...whatever had happened that had brought the nation's best to nothing.

Yes, he thought, these considerations slow and remote against the wheel of black void behind his eyes, there really should have been, but others carried his rage and the need for justice now, and he never had seen the sense in doing a job twice.

"gods save him from the eyes of those who thought he was more than this" ow ow ow ow OW I love this. He's so. ;_;

don't know the canon but i can relate

any, any, a genderbend that has a significant effect on the plot

(this fits in with a longer fic I wrote about Rubin's whole journey, Sewing Together Guts And Soul but should also make sense on its own)

For the longest time Rubin possessed a life that didn’t matter and would have laid it down without question if that’s what the Town needed, but now, after being handed a slip of paper and taken below the earth, she – not Stakh, but Ksenia – can see for the first time that if *her* life has value, then perhaps no one’s blood has to be spilled.

“We’ll need a couple dozen IV drips so the Humbles can replenish their fuels, an alembic or two which Cub should be happy to donate, and a suitable nutrient broth to sustain the Living Blood as you draw it out of them. Oh, and while you’re at it, Devotress, I’d like to have my hormones sorted out for good.”

genuinely I only know this canon from hbomberguy's video about it but I'm delighted with the Better Ending you've devised.

thank you! i knew a fair amount about pathologic already but the hbomberguy video was definitely what gave me the push to watch multiple playthroughs of the game. rubin is so deeply important to me in all genders and versions of the story.

'if her life has value, then perhaps no one’s blood has to be spilled' -- yes, that's exactly it, that's the lesson rubin needed to learn, and it's enough to change the whole game. i'm so proud of her!

thank you! i'm proud of her too and want her to accept every good thing the world is trying to give her <3

You see, Mob narrated in her head as she peeked around the corner at her otouto, eyes narrowing at the Rose Prince watching him, I'm a girl trapped in a world of BL; it's easy for me to remain nothing but a mob . . . but my brother. . .

Mob was determined to keep him out of the ridiculous mess of romance hooks that made up their world, if she could. She smiled, maybe a little twitchily, as she emerged to join the boys, planting herself squarely between her brother and the definitely main character boy who had been making eyes at him.

don't know the canon but I like the idea of using the rules of romance fiction to your advantage.

It's an excellent trope! The canon is a hilarious and delightful example of genre-savviness taken to an extreme. XD

In another world Jiang Yanli is born as a woman, who spends her life standing by her brothers’ side, supporting them in all the ways she can, helping them stand whenever they fall and who pushes her own trouble to the side-lines for them.

In this world Jiang Yanli is born as the first son of Jiang Fengmian, an heir to the YunmengJiang sect. In this world he stands in front of his brothers, gently leading them, shielding them from all harm and protecting them as much as his low cultivation allows.

His cultivation is low because of his health; because the majority of his qi is used to keep his body alive and also to drive away the bouts of pain that would otherwise leave him squirming with pain. All the more he applies himself into other areas that a proper sect leader needs to know: politics, economics, leadership and cultivation (at least on theoretical level). But one day A-xian shows him the talismans that he is making, and soon Yanli realizes that they are the perfect tool for someone not fortunate enough to be able to cultivate properly.

Because Yanli is the sect heir, the majority of their parents’ attention is set on him; his father is proud that his heir is sharing his ideals and his mother is happy that his father approves of him. And without his mother's constant judgement and his father's silent disapproval, the pressure is lifted from Jiang Cheng’s shoulders and he is free to live his life without constantly walking on eggshells (he is still wants to be useful to the sect and Yanli will never get tired of the way he beams when Yanli ruffles his hair).

When the Sunshot campaign ends and the Jin sect start to show their fangs, Yanli doesn’t respond to their taunts and instead manages to keep a clear head. When A-xian gets in trouble, Yanli investigates, slowly but thoroughly and at the nearest Discussion conference he (with the help of Jin Zixuan), presents crystal-clear evidence that throws Jin Guangshan off his throne and leaves all the other sect leaders calling for his head. And in the end the Dafan Wen are accepted as a harmless part of Yunmeng Jiang.

When 3SF ends I will post this to my AO3:

Sundream

Shen Qingqiu's mind reeled with the implications of what his disciple had just shared with him. System?? What happened to the plot??

Would The Protagonist still grow up to form a harem of beautiful sisters if he--or she rather--was a sister herself? He supposed there was no reason why not, but how relevant could Shen Qingqiu's encyclopedic knowledge of Proud Immortal Demon Way really be if something of this magnitude could be changed?

The Luo Binghe of PIDW had been a stallion protagonist, a male power fantasy. Shen Qingqiu's White Lotus was not, and he'd apparently dismissed every contrary sign.

Smiling reassuringly at Luo Binghe--his Luo Binghe, his sweet girl--Shen Qingqiu vowed not to make the same mistake again.

Also thank you OP for the opportunity to write a little for an old plotbunny without having to commit to a full fic 💜

Awwwh yeah, who knew? Shen Qingqiu was straight after all.

Lmao he's something 😂 I guess that's one sexuality crisis he can avoid... Makes you wonder how Luo Binghe manages to make him aware of her as a potential love interest tho

so, is the utter disregard of the fourth wall a feature of canon or just a for-this-story thing?

It's a feature of canon! Shen Yuan died and ended up in the webnovel Proud Immortal Demon Way as Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe's teacher and the villain of the story! Shen Qingqiu thinks he knows how the story goes, which causes tragic misunderstandings later when he thinks he knows what Luo Binghe is thinking. So here the plot of SVSSS is derailed bc Shen Qingqiu isn't going to be as focused on what happened in PIDW!

Hahaha, believe it or not, it doesn't break the fourth wall! Shen Qingqiu's references to "The Protagonist" are completely canonical in-universe. :) If you're not familiar with the issekai genre, I recommend checking it out. It's a meta delight.

This is lovely! I love this for them. <3

I want them to be happy 😭

Just when Grace was starting to think that Trudy meant that lacking a Y chromosome served as protection from jarhead bullshit, Jane kriffing Sully arrives on planet to take over her far more qualified (and, unfortunately, deceased) sister's million dollar body and kills that assumption dead in the water.

Jane, it transpires, is just the kind of damn unqualified idiot who would fall for the Omaticaya's princess - and look at her, internalising the simplistic analogies she has to come up with to jam social structures into the heads of the idiots she has to work with (the fact that they're better than the rest of the outpost isn't saying much); her college anthropology professor hasn't seem her in decades and still would hunt her down for sport if she caught so much as a hint of it - and get her admiration in turn, like some kind of smooth talking fool that Grace isn't starting to feel smidgen of fondness for, not one bit.

If Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyitan saw her as a threat, rather than an idiot - oh, who was she kidding, Sully was enough of an idiot to be threat all on her own merit - they would be down one amateur scientist and the only semi-decent relationship with a clan of Na'vi they've managed to salvage from Quaritch's hamfisted excuse for tactics, but the roles for Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk (thank every interconnected tree on this planet) are hard-coded for gender.

see if Avatar had actually been like this I would have actually watched it

Thanks! In my own defense though, I had very little else to do on an eleven hour flight. (And the audio jack wasn't all that great either, so I was mainly watching the pretty scenery through a haze of exhaustion. Good times.)

any, any, “I’m pretty sure I’m worthless if I can’t be of service”

Surface Pressure - Jessica Darrow (from "Encanto")

"Hey, no problem. What's a Prime for, huh?"

"Woah, let me get that. Pretty sure it's in my weight class."

"Wait there; I'll go check it out. We aren't putting civilians in harm's way if we can help it."

After the one time that throwing himself directly at the danger hadn't saved anyone, had instead destroyed so many lives ~~including his own~~ including that of the most important person in his world, what right did Rodimus Prime of all mechs have not to throw himself between danger and his people instead?

WAAAAAAH

RODDY SIT DOWN

Roddy: SORRY DIDN'T CATCH THAT TOO BUSYYYYYyyyyy

~~Shut your mouth~~ This is painfully in character, thanks.

There isn't a scale big enough to measure the brightness of her smile when they fistbump at the end, another crisis averted. She tells him all the time that he's more helpful to her when he's around, but the only time she gives him the smile is when they're successful. He'll do whatever it takes to keep that smile coming, no matter what it takes from him in return.

thank you for the fill but oh no XD

Oh no is exactly right.

ouch

triple fill!

Penny uncurls her hands to see how the synthetic skin has been sheared away from her palms. It doesn’t hurt; nothing ever hurts. What would have hurt her is leaving helpless people to get hit by a vehicle when she knows she has the ability to stop it.
-
She moves without thinking through the dark and finds herself on center stage, knives out, the madman who poisoned half a dozen people nowhere to be found. It doesn’t matter that she knows she isn’t guilty because the camera feeds know something different and she was exactly where someone else wanted her to be, just like the last time. If the people of Mantle do not want her protection anymore then maybe they’re right and she should be decommissioned.
-
If living means a virus will make her hurt her friends, then her death should likewise mean that she gets to choose the next Winter Maiden so she can be useful for once, and she begs Ruby to kill her. They refuse to let her go, over and over, and when the end is unavoidable, it’s not because she was thinking about her death but because she cared about life. She was thinking that she’s not a machine and neither is Winter; they are each other’s friends.

i haven't been into this canon in years, why is it raining on my face

excellent, i'm pleased to be of service! >:)

"Please, please Mistress, just command me once more!" Mizuki begged, his eyes wide and glossy with tears, and Nanami flinched away from him, then gave him an awkward smile as she retreated behind Tomoe.

Mizuki tugged his jar into his lap and sniffled. How was he supposed to do his duty - to be anything - as a kami's familiar with no orders, no instructions, and- and that wild kitsune as his kami's chief familiar, already doing everything and not pleased to be sharing space with Mizuki?

don't know the canon but ouch

Thanks~ Poor Mizuki may be a bit of a snot, but I always feel bad for him.

Something sinks in Thomas’s chest when he finds the Captain freshly shaven, blade angled precisely while making his final strokes in the mirror—a steward’s tending must feel trivial when faced with the arctic frontier, Thomas supposes, but he won’t be rendered entirely useless.

“What do you call this?” Thomas tuts after he has smoothed ungloved hands over Crozier’s chin, only to learn that a few stray hairs have evaded the blade.

Crozier’s lowered voice wavers as he confesses, “An invitation,” tugging Thomas down onto his lap so he might inspect his shoddy work with more than just his hands.

i don't go here, but ooh.

<3 Thank you!

"So what the fuck do I do now?" Trevor asked, staring at his hands, the right one still marred with the angry scars from his battle with Death. "I'm a killer in a world where they don't need killers anymore."

Alucard took a seat beside him and put his hand over Trevor's, threading their fingers together. "Perhaps you should start with taking a very well-earned rest. You did save the world, after all. A few months of relaxation is long overdue."

yes definitely give that boy a nap

Right?? Let him REST.

It's what he deserves!!! ♥

Iko sighed, playing with one long blue braid of her hair, and confessed, “I feel so…useless.” It was the worst thing an android could feel, this itch to be up and doing something to help, to be of service to her family.

“Don’t worry about that,” Cinder told her. “We’re happy just to have you here with us while we strategize. Besides,” she added, “no one has as sophisticated of a fashion sense as you. We’re going to need you to help us sneak into the palace as party guests.”

Iko squealed with delight and spun around, already picturing the eccentric extravagant costumes the crew would need to have arranged. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”

awwwwwww!

do you have an ao3 account? i might post this there and I’d like to gift it to you if you want

Yep! Same username. :D

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, Juliet/Dawsey, their favourite book is Anne Bronte's The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

any, any, “try and catch a glimpse of them, bickering like mortal men”

Ravens in the Library - SJ Tucker

The forest was deep, fey and filled with marvels. Jie had not yet been outside its bounds, had seen the sky through clearings in the trees and peeking through leaves dappled in layers of sunlight, but spirits came and went as they will.

She crouched half under and half tangled inside a bush thick with young spring leaves, hardly daring to breathe, as a tiny translucent-blue dragonet coiled about their pile of berries and scolded a thieving magpie in a voice like distant, clattering windchimes.

awwwwwWWWWWWWWWWW omg

oh, i love the glimpse of the world and the forest you've provide here. this is terrific!

Thank you! I shamelessly stole Jie (adorable little half-elf, A+ bestie of my own chara) from our long-running D&D campaign, she's my wife's character and I just had to. XD

This is lovely! I loved all your magical description

Eeeee, thank you!

I love the sense of wonder in this one! Dragons and birds and spirits and trees! It's such a living world, and the magic is in everything. <3

Awwww, I love this, it’s so cute!

When Elowyn learns how Dain handled their youngest brother, she sniffs. "A petty trick."

He laughs. "Jealousy in an artist is an unbecoming thing."

She shoots him a look that promises violence; it is, he thinks, a lovely thing indeed.

don't know the canon but this is a lovely (in a strange way) image!

Thank you! <3

Oh, that's a nice look at their offhand, casual cruelty, and how they feel about it - and that last line, so good! Dain would think like that.

Thank you! :D I find Dain so interesting, and Elowyn...we see so little of her, but the art and Dain's line about her preferring to stab him were great.

Attention drawn away from where Apollo and Zeus were arguing faced off against Poseidon and her husband, Persephone eyed Athena dubiously, then glanced over to where her mother and Hestia were arguing over something in clearly bitter, if quiet tones.

. . .personally, she didn't think the goddesses were any less prone to bickering, or indeed causing disasters when their tempers were roused - her own included, she thought wryly.

She glanced back at her husband in time to catch him looking at her and smiled faintly; Hades dipped his head shallowly to her before a shout made him turn away, expression going cold and hard.

delightful <3

Thanks!

love this!

Thanks!

After twenty years looking down on the city, Quasimodo understands its habits and its histories like it is some great breathing thing, larger than the individuals who compose it, all unware of how beautiful they are. He is something smaller than a human being and he’s been taught that he’ll never be welcomed into the crowd, but if he could walk among them he’d be grateful for the squabbling and the stench and every imperfection that makes the city real. For one day, just one, he’ll have let himself believe he could be a mortal man.

oh, Quasi. :(

thank you!

any, any, merfolk

"I'm pretty sure this isn't from my side of the family," Bo says.
Brian's eyes are wide. "...you know, Nari's scales might be my fault."
Neumia keeps splashing happily through the waves.

The stories said the merfolk were beautiful: a glimpse of a glimmering tail flicking out of the waves or a distant silhouette on the beach could shatter a man's heart with longing, and afterwards he would yearn for the shining scales and the taste of the sea, and neither food nor the touch of a mortal man could satisfy him.

The stories said the merfolk were terrible: sometimes they granted a sailor's wish and showed him wonders beneath the waves, but often they called storms, sunk ships, feasting upon drowned men and making jewelry of their bones; they had no souls, and to them a mortal's life was as brief and meaningless as the foam upon the sea.

But on the day he left his love's coral palace, he learned by himself that they
could weep.

Edited (minor edit!) 2022-01-15 20:53 (UTC)

This amazing! Beatifully written. I love the merfolk how you describe them, the different sides to them: both wonderful and dangerous, and I loved that the final sentence really makes the story.

Thank you! <333

Oo, this is so evocative and breathlessly engaging. 🖤

Thank you! <3 (And thank you for the prompt!)

Beautiful and heartbreaking!

(Also: I love your icon!)

Thank you! <3 (I like yours too! What a beautiful bird! :DD)

Yay bird icons! <3

i love the break in the last line, the very mundane and horrible end of it. neither beautiful nor terrifying, just - this human sadness...

i love the phrase “glimpse of a glimmering tale”, that alliteration is nice /gen

Thank you! <3

Dick always likes to say that, as superheroes (or vigilantes, whatever), they've seen everything that Gotham can possibly throw at them, but he's forced to amend that theory the day he and Jason leap into the harbour after a suspect and find themselves surrounded by merfolk; there's a redheaded one who seems especially keen to become friends with him, much to Jason's amusement, but he can't help himself from staring at the razor sharp talons where their fingers should be and shuddering a little.

They only have a few more minutes of air left, even with their rebreathers, but it's enough for some brief sign language conversations assuring them the merfolk mean no harm to the people on land; in fact, as they hand over the suspect the boys had been chasing, they offer to keep an eye out for any more like him.

Dragging themselves and the suspect out of the water, Jason is the one who speaks out loud first: "I'm totally not writing up the report on this one, Golden Boy; it's all yours."

Fun! The things they come across. . . XD

Stiles scrambled onto the shore, coughing up saltwater, trying to suck as much oxygen into his poor deprived lungs as he could. He still wasn't totally positive how he was even alive right now, given that about five minutes ago, something had been actively trying to drown him.

Werewolves, werejaguars, evil fox demons...he really shouldn't be this freaking surprised that mermaids were real, too, or that they were assholes.

*laughs* Oh, poor Stiles . . . but no, that shouldn't be surprising. XP

I mean they've been through everything else at this point; what's one more supernatural creature

A mermaid, Patty thinks as she watches Allison’s blond hair sink underwater and rise up again, along with a luminescent tail in a color that reminds Patty of dragon scales.

But what kind of mermaid has sharp teeth like glass shards when she smiles and sinks them into her husband’s neck?

I’m going to kill Kevin, Allison had said; this is not the way she expected her to follow through.

Even under the scorching heat of a tropical sun, the rocky shore of the lagoon is a busy place. Typically, Artemis has little to no interest in aquatic lifeforms, even those magically inclined, but his circumstances have changed since first he acquired the Book, manifestly so, and his parents have decided upon a family outing as a means of bonding after their recent years of seperation. And if making the acquaintance - or at least, determining a preliminary hypothesis to the capabilities of the individual pretending to be a mat of seaweed - moves him further from the unseemly displays his parents seem so fond of since their reunion (surely, he would recall such behaviour? surely? he is an observant individual, he would have had to had noticed this kind of behaviour) so much the better for his sanity and all too fragile sense of decency.

Kisame raises his fin over the foam, sea water splashing to the sides and against the shore where the human kneels.

"Do you want to touch?" He asks her, watching how coral colored eyes widen as to make sure she has his permission, before reaching for his limb.

Thin and curious fingers run down the length of his fin -and then back up- and she hisses out a curse when she cuts herself on his hide, bloody fingers shoved in her mouth; Kisame laughs.

any, any, bloody fluff

There was a moment where hope guttered, where Leon's voice directing the battle fell silent and Cloud's sword drifted downward, where Yuffie started crying in sheer frustration and even Aerith, who had never been given to pessimism, began to falter. There's just too many Heartless, where's a Keyblade wielder when you need one- ...but they had forgotten, after so long being Radiant Garden's first-last-only line of defense, that they weren't the only ones fighting anymore.

"Show no mercy, kupo!" a high piping voice cried.

The Heartless were suddenly swarmed with flying pastel puffballs, each armed with weapons more outlandish than any Keyblade could hope for. Even when a moogle or several were injured and thrown back, they barely held still long enough for Aerith to heal them before charging back into the fray to inflict yet more cute, fluffy destruction on the enemy.

WOOOOOOO GO MOOGLES GOOOOOO \o/

MIGHTY WARRIOR MOOGLES KUPO

An army of Moogles would just fuck. shit. up.

Thank you for writing this! ♥

He finds Page almost by accident - walking in no particular direction except "away from the Bucks and Bobby and Kyle sniping at each other", his head full of I don't know if I should have brought them in and you should have known better - tucked into a little alcove with three ice packs, a roll of paper towels, and a guilty expression.

Jesus, Page is the fucking champion, champs don't hide out in the bowels of an arena licking their wounds... and speaking of wounds, that stupid gash on his forehead is *still* bleeding, how hard had Bryan hit him?

"Hey, um, you want a hand?" Adam asks, and Page is blinking those pretty blue eyes up at him, grinning. "Gimme the towels, kid, how you haven't bled out by now is beyond me..."

Kisame never truly paid his wounds any mind, especially when Samehada was still in his possession.

Devour his enemies' chakra to avoid exertion, shred away compromised flesh to cut off the flow of poison, wear the Shark Skin itself for a power boost -it didn't matter because he and the sword were almost the same and that meant it's scales would become his and he would walk out of battlefields practically unscathed.

Samehada was gone now, however, so this time the healing comes from medics, his own crude patchwork, or as it's the current case, Konan's own clammy hands washing the blood off his hair and pressing a clean tower against the torn skin of his scalp; he must still be somewhat concussed because he follows and leans against cool, smaller palms.

any, any, tempest in a teacup

Arthur surveys the lavishly filled table, laden with sandwiches, shortcakes, and many mismatched teapots.

"Have some tea," Ariadne offers from the head of the table, holding out a teacup with rain falling from a cumulus cloud and a schooner knocked around by waves of pu-erh tea.

"Through the Looking Glass seems more your style," he comments, but takes a seat next to her, and watches her grin when he gently clinks a less stormy cup of Dragon Well tea against hers.

This is delightful.

Hashirama sidled into the office, paperwork clutched in his arms, and peered into Tobirama's teacup before even so much as greeting his brother. The tea swirled about violently, splashing over itself in a tempestuous whirlpool - and every once in a while, a handful of drops would splash up and over the rim, only to be pulled back in with a sharp handsign.

Contrary to what most people believed, it was a good sign, a sign that Tobirama was not so deeply pulled inward with stress and anxiety that even his suiton was tight, controlled to the point of lifelessness; Hashirama set his own paperwork down gently and pressed a quick kiss to Tobirama's temple, before taking up the teapot to refill.

Aww, I love it~ X3 Good brothertree and I always love Tobi with almost waterbender-y suiton and playing with it.

saaame - he's supposed to be one of the best suiton masters to ever live (if not The best?) and I think that means he can be a waterbender in a world without bending X3

also I recently reread your minific series where Hashirama knows, like, all of his brother's little mannerisms and nonverbal vocalizations and such, and that might have inspired this -

Ophelia has taken a liking to night tempests, which she has resolved to treat with respect, so she refers to them as they are, by the names they give themselves and not in any human tongue. Her traveling companions get worried if she goes off after midnight to feel the lightning arcing white-hot from one knuckle to the next, even though it’s none of their business, and even her brother, who ought to understand better than anyone. This is why she usually travels alone, along with a growing distaste for chatter and casual touch.

eee i love d&d ophelia so much, and this is so much of what i love about her, the respect she has for tempests, on their own terms and by their own names, the way she relishes the lightning arcing white-hot from one knuckle to the next. (and her brother of all people should understand.) there's something beautiful in the independence of her new life, and also a little sad, as she draws away from others and casual touch. even so, i want the best for her.

thank you so much! i love ophelia too, and she's a little sad and potentially lonely but i really think she's making the best of her life. she's so good, and it's a lot of fun to write her perspective as a storm lord bard.

any, any, borrowing a sweater

This is all Duck knows of her changing back into a girl--one moment, she is floating on the calm waters of the pond, watching a trio of young girls, still thick with baby fat, as they twirl like the ballerinas they see sometimes at the academy. Somewhere on the dock behind her, she knows that Fakir is writing something although he is particularly protective of his work today, but still she is glad he is there, even as her heart aches, watching the girls.

And then the next moment, she sinks nearly two feet down into the muddy water with a squawk of shock, only having time to hear a half garbled "it worked!" coming from Fakir before icy water gushes into her ears. She jumps up, meaning to take flight from the cold, but there is something wrong with her wings--where are her feathers?--and then she is half tackled by something surprisingly warm. Reaching up with--fingers?!--with human hands, she finds herself half trapped, but courteously covered by a thick sweater.

"Whatever you do," Fakir manages through gritted teeth, giving the hem another tug down to try and cover more of her legs, "do not take that off until we get you something to actually wear."

Duck promptly forgets the cold water and returns the tackle with a hug of her own. The two of them must make quite the sight to the three little ballerinas on the other side of the pond, but right now, all Duck can do is burrow against Fakir and laugh and cry in joy.

Edited 2022-01-16 00:07 (UTC)

omg, they're adorable. i love the joy suffused all through this, the circular nature of starting and ending with the young girls, and fakir's embarrassment at seeing her without clothes (again)

Hamlet looks unfairly good in blue, such a contrast to his customary black. Osric can see from across a room how the sweater brings out his eyes, or maybe he’s just remembering it.

The thing is, that used to be his sweater and now he knows he’ll never get it back, except by sliding his hands into the pockets from behind as he looks over Hamlet’s shoulder from behind to point out marginalia.

sweethearts! there's something so cozy and familiar about hamlet stealing osric's sweater, and osric knowing he'll never get it back, but he looks good in it, and it feels good to sidle close to him. also 'marginalia' is the best word.

yes! they can be a mess sometimes, but they're also very sweet and cute, and i love them. and yes, 'marginalia' is a great word!

“Do you own any clothes that isn’t black or grey or navy?” Jing Jing asked, eyeing the contents of Yu Tu’s closet the second time she made the impromptu decision to stay over at his house – this time, without her own luggage, thus the current raiding of his closet.

“White?” he asked, the corner of his lips twitching.

Jing Jing sighed dramatically, before reaching for a pullover (black, of course) and waved away Yu Tu’s concerns that it was not freshly laundered; “It smells like you,” she said with a satisfied smile.

Derek knows Stiles does this on purpose: wearing his shirts, stealing his socks, borrowing his sweaters--all so he'll smell like Derek, something he knows drives Derek up the wall.

So Derek really shouldn't be surprised when he arrives home after a run through the Preserve to find Stiles sitting on the couch and wearing his red thumb-hole sweater.

"What?" Stiles asks with a smirk that means he knows exactly what he's doing. A smirk that turns into a smug smile as soon as Derek pounces on him, gets him flat on the couch, and leans in to give him a kiss.

Aww, yes, excellent~ X3 Of course Stiles knows exactly what he's doing. . .

The red hoodie is Kim's, and therefore, though it has never done anything but show off Kim's muscles, it serves excellently to hide Adrien's; subtract his contact lenses and add his black-framed glasses, let him smile more widely and stand less straight, and absolutely no one would think they were seeing Adrien Agreste™ at this party, if they didn't already know he'd be there.

Marinette turns white when she sees him, then red, before settling on pink, and a week later she shoves a large squishy giftwrapped package into his hands: four hoodies: one red with black polka dots (on closer inspection these are embroidered roses) and another soft blue with seven thin stripes around the chest and back (black, yellow, brown-gold, lime green, navy blue, soft blue-violet, black), both snugly fitting; the third, black with a gold bell zipper pull, and the fourth, her signature soft pink with her signature plum blossom embroidery, both fit more loosely and warmly.

"Plagg insisted on the inner pockets," she says, and will neither explain how she figured him out nor let him claim (should Ladybug notice) that he as Chat Noir commissioned two of the hoodies and he as Adrien the other two, nor even allow him to reimburse her for cost of materials: "I've been in trouble with Ladybug since before I met you," she tells him, and while he's still connecting the dots there and therefore before he's thinking clearly enough through the awed joy to wonder if he ought to refuse, she continues, "If you want to give me something in thanks, I like kisses and cuddles…?"

"Hey, Kaoru, are you cold?"

"No, of course n—" Kaoru hasn't even gotten through his protest before Kojiro drops the sweater around his shoulders, all baggy and warm and stretched-out from Kojiro's ridiculous muscles. "And just what are you going to wear if I've got your sweater, you overgrown gorilla?"

Kojiro grins and flexes. "I'm fine, four-eyes. I've got enough bulk to keep me warm."

Kaoru swats him with his fan.

*giggles* Cute~ How very Them.

Thank you! <3

“You’re swimming in that thing Lo and I don’t remember you asking if you could borrow my sweater,” Miles mused aloud as he walked into the kitchen they now shared sans sweater, sans any shirt really, but the cheeky smile told him he didn’t really care.

The vibrant peach colour of it matched Lola better anyway with her pink hair, but it really wasn’t surprising Miles owned a sweater like this; she smiled over the chai tea she had just made that morning, admiring the muscles on his back as he stretched out to grab his own mug.

“I think it belongs to me now,” and frankly she was right; it looked cuter on her anyway.

Edited (added paragraphs) 2022-01-20 00:45 (UTC)

It was frayed at the waist, too wide in the chest, too long in the arms, and it smelled of Brut circa 1988. Which basically made it his favourite sweater ever. When John wasn't home – out on another call, and he wouldn't keep obsessively listening to the police band, he would not – it was the next best thing to having John's arms around him.

“Pink?”
“Yes. Pink. It’ll look good with your hair. Or,” Sakura shrugged, “you can just catch cold and get sick. You don’t want that, do you? We’re going out Friday night.”
Hidan rolled his eyes. “What is this, the eighteenth century? I’m not gonna catch a fucking cold and die because I got cold.”
“Suit yourself,” Sakura said as she started to close the closet door. It was his own fault for coming over the night before in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans when the weather report called for a late winter storm with heavy rain and unusually cold temperatures.
“Wait, wait!” Hidan reached his hand in and grabbed the pink sweater. “I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna wear the damn thing.” He held it up and sighed. No way was that tiny sweater ever going to fit his large frame.
“I’m sorry, Hidan,” Sakura told him, and she really did sound sorry. “It’s really all I have right now.”
He put the sweater back. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go or we’ll be late for class.”

Two days later Hidan texted Sakura from beneath a pile of blankets he had burrowed himself in.
‘Can’t go out with you tonight. I think I’m dying.’ He even sent a picture in which he looked absolutely miserable as proof just in case she thought he was trying to bail on their plans.
Her reply came immediately.
‘What is this? The 18th century?’
‘I’m not fucking kidding. Don’t make fun of me. I’m really sick.’
After a few minutes she texted again, sending him a picture of herself with a cup of tea and looking cozy in a bathrobe, with her long pink hair falling over one shoulder.
‘If you need anything, let me know. Feel better. And when you do we can go shopping and I’ll help you pick out a warm coat.'

Star Wars, any, "it's not supposed to be that colour"

Wedge Antilles rubbed his chin in a futile attempt to hide his growing smirk and commented, "I'm sure Karrde would sell you some undiluted paint if you paid the growing rate," but Booster Terrik had started steaming the moment Karrde's name left Wedge's lips.

"Rat bastard – reparations – lies," he sputtered before gaining momentum, "refraction index, my ass! That bastard sold me PINK PAINT!"

THE RETURN OF THE ERRANT VENTURE AND PINK PAINT

The terror of the galaxy set a tall glass of something green and frothy in front of his captive; Luke stared at it dubiously and made no move to reach for it.

"Drink," Vader ordered. "You will need your strength for what lies ahead, my son."

"Is it drugged?" Luke asked.

A moment's silence, broken only by pneumatic wheezing."You watched me pour it," Vader pointed out.

"I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be that color."

Another wheeze, one that Luke could easily interpret as a sigh of exasperation. Was this a moment of normalcy? Would this be a familiar exasperation if he'd grown up with this man, as a small child reluctant to eat his vegetables?

As Luke struggled not to laugh at the thought, Vader turned back to the prefab unit, adjusted a few settings and filled another glass with a much more familiar blue frothy substance. This he set in front of his son without a word, and turned away from Luke's amazed look - before amazement could turn to amusement, fortunately for them both.

Darth Vader, the permissive father. Who knew. Luke wrapped both hands around the new glass - awkwardly, he was still cuffed - and drank it down.

Oh my god, this is hilarious and cute! "Darth Vader, the permissive father. Who knew" LOL

This was great! I loved reading Luke's thoughts about Vader in an almost-domestic moment.

I'm in love with this omg. Luke still cuffed, Vader turned away - what wonderful body language you've conjured!

Oh, Vader folded like wet cardboard, amazing. I am picturing the original beverage as something between a healthy smoothie and green beer, I probably wouldn't drink it either!

"Oh?" Finn leans over the bowl of icing, which is a violent and frankly terrifying shade of purplish-green. "Then, uh, what color is it supposed to be?"

Poe sighs and points to the back of the packet, which shows a brilliant sky blue.

"Oh." Finn winces. "Well, I'm sure it'll taste great? But uh. Maybe don't quit piloting just yet."

"Gee, thanks."

XD Adorable!

Thank you!

any, any, magic mirror

The Specular Tower, they call it, the Crystal Rose, an incredible structure covered with mirrors and said to reflect the desires or true nature back to the person perceiving it; so why, thinks Daniil, does he see a building folded out of its own blueprints? His working theories are that his studious nature allows him to see past the illusion to the reality of the Polyhedron, or that as an incomplete creation himself he is doomed to see beginnings with no end in sight.

As it turns out, the real magic of these mirrors is the way the stairs within swallow themselves down and down until he is once more on the exterior of that Klein bottle of a town, playing in the sand with children who won’t hear him.

ooh this is a cool concept, i love this take on the specular tower, and the town as a klein bottle. (i also love how daniil's theories reflect his teetering opinion of himself.)

yesss! the polyhedron was what really dragged me into pathologic, and i love thinking about the different ways it might appear depending on the observer. and i'm delighted that you picked up on how fragile and teetering daniil's self-image is. love giving this man a hard time, he's my favorite character :D

he has a very high opinion of himself, but always teetering (like things built too high do, unless they’re built by the stamatins). that’s my boy. :D

"And just what is this?" Belmont asks, walking around the mirror that is at least a full hand taller than he is.

Lisa smiles beatifically. "It's a gift. A peace offering, if you will." She pats Vlad on the shoulder. "Isn't it, dear?"

Vlad growls, although it's more form than anything at this point—they've had the Belmonts over for tea too many times by now for Lisa to believe he's actually upset about this. "A magic mirror. Its companion is in my castle. My wife felt it would be an...appropriate truce."

"And it will make for much less traveling whenever Adrian and Trevor want to play," Lisa adds.

Belmont taps the edge of the mirror and chuckles, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see the day the house of Belmont would be accepting a gift from Dracula."

Vlad sighs. "That makes two of us."

---

Lisa is sitting in her husband's study with her embroidery, working her way along the pattern that lines the handkerchief, when the mirror in the corner suddenly swirls to life. She jerks up, shocked, and opens her mouth to call out for Vlad—there's no reason for the mirror to be working, not this late—

A boy only a few years older than her son tumbles through, along with a younger girl, both with dark hair and bright blue eyes and Lisa's heart leaps into her throat.

She drops her embroidery and darts over to catch both of the children before they collapse. "Trevor! Katerina! What's happened? Are you hurt?"

Trevor looks up at her, obviously scared and trying hard not to show it, and wraps a protective arm around his little sister. "The Church came for us. They set the house on fire."

No. Lisa hugs them tightly, her heart hammering in her throat, and shouts for her husband.

Aaaaa! *chinhands*

Delightful, delightful first scene and I love the for-form growl and the amusement, and then aaa the poor children and Lisa's immediate very real and very reasonable alarm, I love it all and also in conclusion *aaaa*~

I know we've talked about bits of this AU before, so when I saw this prompt, I had to. I HAD TO. I'm so glad you enjoyed it! <3

We have and I love it~ I hadn't even thought of it when leaving the prompt, but I'm so glad you did. <3

She sees it as a burden sometimes, as a reminder of her mother and how every time she even thought about mirrors for years she would think of that woman. “Magic mirror on the wall, if I’m not the fairest of them all then neither is my daughter.”

But Evie is stronger and surrounded with a better foundation now, that barrier finally gone; all of them were able to smile really smile without the lies of a magic mirror surrounding them.

When Justin is feeling stressed out – too little money, not enough time, restaurant shifts too long, gallery showings too few – he remembers what he and Brian looked like in the mirror before their aborted wedding, their twined images stretching to infinity, and it brings him solace, reminds him that he is never alone.

"Very poetic," Brian drawls. "Now blow me."

Ah yes, his visits home never fail to remind him of how unfailingly romantic Brian is, too.

LOTR/Silmarillion/etc, if orcs are descended from elves, does that mean they get to go to the Halls of Mandos when they die?

Edited 2022-01-15 19:45 (UTC)

Orcs do go to Mandos, but no one except the Doomsman is happy to see them there:

the elves of Beleriand loathe them as ancient enemies, excepting for those who fear them as ancient enemies;

the rare Aman elves in the Halls have less personal experience with orcs and are usually correspondingly less overtly hostile, but still tend to assume orcs are stupid, ugly brutes with no redeeming features and so condescend accordingly;

and orcs themselves are seldom happy to see each other, due to a long history of leadership deliberately fostering a culture of backstabbing, selfishness, sadism, occasional cannibalism, and an extreme take on Might Makes Right, since the strongest person was always Morgoth or his eventual heir Sauron.

For most orcs, the Halls of Mandos are the first taste they’ve ever had of peace and they have no idea what to make of it.

No matter; Namo has eternity to teach them.

This is great!!

Ooh, this is wonderful!!

Now I am more emotional about orcs, thanks! *clutches them all to my chest*

LOTR/Silmarillion/The Hobbit, how is it that the goblins in The Hobbit could identify two swords that had not been seen for more than four thousand years? What kind of oral history do orcs have, anyway?

Some memories are written deep into the unconscious, unspoken but known nonetheless. Some wounds cut deep enough that the legend of the scars never entirely faces. Some sights - a flash of silver, a glint of steel - stir up those dark, forgotten corners of the mind and say "here, here is the fang that bites, here is that which would cut the heart from you; here is your doom".

Oh, that's excellent, thank you!

Wow, this is amazing!

I like it.

Oooh I love this, kind of spooky and I really like how you wrote it!

...aaand now I see the typo, of course. *fades

Thanks for the comments, folks!

Oh I really like this!

oh *nice*, this feels so Tolkien i love it

Very nice!

That's beautiful. 😍

Ooh, this is wonderful!

A+ answer to a great question!

Star Wars/TCW/TBB/Book of Boba Fett, Boba runs into some little brothers

They never take their helmets off, but Boba can feel the way they stare at him, almost as if waiting for him to malfunction any second.

He's not sure whether they envy or pity the fact that he's the only one who isn't genetically modified, that he's the only son — but ultimately, it doesn't matter.

The clone guards treat Boba as much like an inmate as they do anyone else in here, and that's fine, really; Boba is a single child as far as he's concerned, and anyway, he'll be out of here and making his way through the galaxy soon enough.

Ah, poor Boba. Of course he would try to pretend it didn't matter. Loved this!

Breaking news: imprisoned twelve-year-old doesn't like the fact his brothers are keeping him from escaping.

Thank you! I'm glad.

Boba and his fucked up childhood and family *chef's kiss*

Crossover, Finisterre/Star Wars: nighthorses and Jedi?

(Finisterre is an SF universe created by CJ Cherryh in which human colonists become reliant on carnivorous telepathic horses to protect themselves from the dangerous ecosystem of their new planet.)

Edited 2022-01-15 19:53 (UTC)

The fragmented comlink at his feet is a problem; the angry woman still sighting down a crude kinetic rifle is another, her fear and fury so present in the Force he can feel the very shape of it: [radio] and [careless] and [dark stranger].

The beast is something else: the hint of fangs under lips do not hold Luke's attention as much as the overwhelming Force-pressure pushing onto him, into him, pricked ears and [curious, wary wanting] threatening to drown senses already battling for space on this strange, shouting planet.

Without thinking, he pushes back, desperately tries to gentle the creature's reaching like he might an overeager youngling with no grasp of their own strength; the beast snorts and throws its head up, [offended], and the woman jerks more alarmingly still, a note strung in unintentional harmony, barks ["Flicker!"]; and in that moment Luke, fledging Jedi Master, grasps just what has grown here on this stranded colony, forgotten by the agendas of Republic and Empire alike; and can only say, faintly, "Ah."

Edited 2022-01-15 23:48 (UTC)

Hah! Perfect! Thanks so much, I love the confusion and how Flicker is pissed off at Luke trying to quiet him down.

Glad you enjoyed! \o/ And thank you for the prompt, I am now with much glee contemplating what it would mean to find a planet populated to-a-spook by Force-using fauna. Everyone is very alarmed by this human who CAN send. No one is less alarmed to find the horses are adept at winkling out riders who have a sliver of Force-sensitivity themselves. One of the horses learns to Force-push. Society crumbles.

o_O intriguing

Thanks! ;)

Any, any, carnation, lily, lily, rose

Luke wavered between four bouquets in the shop, unsure of what to bring his girlfriend—- bright orange carnations, elegant white Easter lilies, pink stargazer lilies, or the classic red roses.

“Oh, come on,” Ryan said, rolling her eyes at his indecision. “Mary will love whatever you give her.” Her smile turned cheeky. “Unless it’s poison ivy.”

Luke glared at her and picked up the stargazer lilies.

*giggles* Yeeeeeah, giving anybody poison ivy deliberately is a recipe for a breakup, IMO.

Among the festivities, the embracing, the rolling green grass and blooming white lilies and weeds—years after all the destruction, that the weeds have grown strong not just in the plots but between the streets’ concrete sends some kind of delight through the college—Lee Gilyoung threads his way through the crowds, carefully holding his arms to his chest so no one touches the hoppang in his hands. The evening sun slowly lowers in the cooling sky, dying the grass purple, but the celebrating continues as others bring out their lit lanterns, creating a sea of embers, of yellow and red paper flower-shaped lanterns to match the university’s cultivated gardens—gardens in which the campus has bred a multitude of flora species, native and foreign to Seoul, to make up for the ones lost in the Star Stream; gardens from which the environmental department has passed out fresh cut flowers to the people in the picnic, a flower for every soul lost and every soul who survived.
Not to be swayed by any of the other tempting activities, Lee Gilyoung presses forward with single-minded focus to find his companion, Shin Yoosung, who had muttered something about dancing, dismally disappointed Gilyoung wasn’t interested, and slipped off earlier when Gilyoung was enraptured by the rich food’s aroma. ‘Save a hoppang for me,’ she had shouted as he swatted off her ear-pinching hand: now he searches for her, following the phantom tugging she left in his ear, past other stalls, past the games, past those handing out pamphlets, lanterns, and flowers.
Out from under the canopy, the sky has been dyed a blue twilight, and the stars, so few in the sky now, peek out and down—maybe the constellations will join their former incarnations, share their light with the lanterns: in this soft blooming darkness, Lee Gilyoung comes closer to the clearing where a band plays on a raised, wooden platform and a swath of people dance to the music. He’s half a mind to use diverse communication and listen for the bugs—when there she is, as if she’s caught every last ray of the sun, since atop her head lays a crown of white lilies and pink roses, with her brown hair draping tangled behind her like a veil, her dark eyes that he knows to be red like rubies shine at the sight of her food and friend.
+++
(i loved this prompt! it got a little away from me)

Star Wars, any, The Great Coruscant Baking Show

Han settled down in a large. comfortable chair to watch his new favorite show as R2-D2 trundled up with a tray of snacks.

"Today half of our contestants will be making Jogan fruitcake, the rest will make Sic-Six-layer cake." The host/judge, a 6th generation bakery owner, was explaining. She reminded Han of a younger Mon Mothma, with an overly-elaborate hairdo.

R2 made warbling oooo! sound. Han nodded, chewing on some dried Bofa fruit.

Edited 2022-01-16 04:52 (UTC)

love this!

thank you.

“This is ridiculous; the Corellian’s Mustafarian Lava Rolls were clearly superior to the Twi’leks,” Palpatine fumed as he shut off the viewscreen.

He had started watching The Great Coruscant Baking Show as a way to make conversation with that fool Skywalker, gradually becoming invested in the strangely meditative baking show. He had allowed this frivolous pleasure to distract him from his real work; Palpatine felt Sith lightning crackle against his fingertips- they would pay for this!

The true path to the Dark Side - a soggy bottom. Lol forever at Palpatine getting his revenge on poor judging!

XD Love the mention of Anakin being into it, he so would.

Umineko, Beatrice(/Battler), I’m looking out for you but I don’t think you want to be found out

Umineko, Kanon, Sometimes you try to freeze time / 'Til the slots are a blur of spinning wheels

For Kanon, the promise of the golden land was never something so abstract as the promise of rest after a hard day’s work, or the promise of eternity held in the gleaming curve of a ring — he wanted a new body, fashioned from some new and bright technology, and he wanted the right to live and be loved. Genji and Shannon could console themselves no matter which way the roulette spun, but Kanon had one chance to beat the house, to be a human.

“Kanon-kun is human,” Jessica insisted in her last breath, and his heart cried not enough of one, but for her sake he’d strike at the moon’s reflection until time stood still.

Edited 2022-05-03 16:18 (UTC)

kanon!! oh this wonderful, brave, determined boy! and he doesn't care about the abstract, he wants the right to be loved! and i love jessica tooooo, she's so firm in her insistence that he's human and deserving. kanon, please let yourself be cared for, she'll love you no matter what your body is ;__; thank you so much, i love this fill immensely.

i love! kanon! and i'm glad i could translate some of my kanon love into 3sf form for you. thank you for prompting and for reading~

Pathologic, Haruspex, That is the path to Paradise / Likewise, the road to ruin

Pathologic, Bad Grief, "Never took blood, but I dressed for a red harvest. How it bloomed..."

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Page 2 of 50

Three Sentence Ficathon 2022

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Marking Bloody Dates (Naruto; Kakashi, Sakura, Naruto)

Disco Elysium, Harry/Kim

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Memorials (Greenwing & Dart)

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel

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Guardian; Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan

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Teen Wolf: Derek/Stiles

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Dress Up Your Pet Day (Inception; Arthur/Eames)

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Shang Chi (Katy drags Shaun home for the holidays because someone's got to help eat all the food.)

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Live Free or Die Hard, John/Matt

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Stargate Atlantis, Christmas Traditions

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Littlewood, Hero & Dark

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Testing the, er, Waters (Naruto; Kakashi/Naruto/Sakura)

Once Upon a Time, Rumple/Belle

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Amalie, Twelve Houses series by Sharon Shinn

Star Trek: The Original Series - Spock & Bones

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You Are My Glory (Cdrama)

sit in my chair and ruin my sleep (Company, Bobby)

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Obsidian & Blood, Acatl/Teomitl

Disco Elysium, Kim/Harry, Esprit de Corps handshakes go both ways is all I'm saying!

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FFVII, no the timelines likely don't match up and no I do not care :D

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Ghost Trick, D-99, prison times

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Pathologic, trans woman Rubin

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A Woman Who Defies The World Of BL (A Man Who Defies The World Of BL; Mob, Ayato)

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A bit different sect leader Jiang

Scum Villain's Self Saving System, Shen Qingqiu & MtF!Luo Binghe

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Re: Scum Villain's Self Saving System, Shen Qingqiu & MtF!Luo Binghe

Re: Scum Villain's Self Saving System, Shen Qingqiu & MtF!Luo Binghe

Re: Scum Villain's Self Saving System, Shen Qingqiu & MtF!Luo Binghe

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Avatar, fem!Jake Sully

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Transformers G1 cartoon, S3

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Miraculous Ladybug, Chat Noir's Sense of Self-Worth

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