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edenfallingAnother set of six. :)
All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderfulrthstewart. Come join the fun!
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7. Foralexseanchai: any, baked in, written 2/3/21
Tactical Ingredients (110 words [counting the emoticon])
Fandom = original
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People talk a lot of nonsense about baking with love to explain why homemade is better and draw attention away from the subtle social calculation of, 'I put effort into this so you'd better reward me with appreciation,' as well as the unspoken message of, 'I'm improving office morale so pushing me aside or, god forbid, firing me, would be a terrible mistake.'
I don't bake with love. I don't bake with ingratiation, either.
What my cookies and brownies and almond pastries say is, 'Give me a 10% raise or suffer the consequences.'
My boss has been eating them for months.
I'm feeling pretty good about my year-end review. :)
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8. For anonymous: Any, any villain, "do you really believe everything you're told?", written 2/3/21
Verify Your Sources (40 words)
Fandom = The Magnus Archives
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Jon smiled as the static rose around him.
"Not everything -- I'm perfectly well aware that people can mislead by implication, or may sincerely believe and relay inaccurate information -- but by and large, yes. Now, tell me what your plan is."
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9. For anonymous: any, any, a wreath of candles, written 2/4/21
Let There Be Light (175 words)
Fandom = Rusty Quill Gaming
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"It would have to be a horizontal wreath," Cel said absently, then paused and visibly perked up, one hand rising to tug on their goggle strap; "Oh, unless you made it sort of-- sort of three-dimensional, with little candle-cups set in a spiral pattern around the frame so none of them are directly under any other candle or any greenery of your choice -- or flowers, flower wreaths are also an excellent option, though I think less traditionally mixed with candles than greenery? -- anyway, that sounds like a fascinating little project; would you like me to help build one?"
Zolf, who had been thinking about solstice crowns and old dwarven traditions, blinked, gathered himself, and said, "I'm not sure that would be safe to hang on a wall or a door, but so long as you understand I haven't done metalwork since I joined the navy, I'd be happy to try making a vertical candle wreath -- we'll let Hamid figure out how it should be displayed."
Cel grinned; "That, Mr. Smith, sounds like an excellent plan."
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10. Fornea: The Magnus Archives, Jon Sims/Martin Blackwood, holding hands, written 2/4/21
This Feels Like a Metaphor for Something (125 words)
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"The Lonely tends toward damp, all kinds of fog, oceans, rain, and here's you, all bone-dust paper I'll soak into mush, send your ink streaky and illegible until people mistake you for rubbish."
"I don't think whatever the Beholding has written on me is worth reading," Jon said, "and paper makes a moderately functional towel in a pinch; there's no point bringing you back and not helping you feel dry and warm."
"Are you quite certain you dislike poetry?" Martin asked, a wry grin easing into his voice though his face stayed blank and stiff, and he wove his fingers between Jon's, one warm, sweaty palm pressed against another.
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11. Forwolfish_willow: any, any, caught in the middle, written 2/4/21
Swing Your Partner (140 words)
Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Contains violence and Unknowing-style unreality.
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Clowns to the left of him, jokers to the right, and here Tim is (is he Tim? he thinks he used to be Tim), stuck in the middle with an... with probably an axe, so there's nothing left to do but swing.
Plastic warps into Sasha's face -- except it's not Sasha's face, because he can't remember Sasha's face, because something stole her even more thoroughly than Grimaldi stole Danny -- and Sasha's voice says, soft and high and desperate, "Please, Tim, it's me, Sasha; you're hurting me!" until his sharp weight on a stick (a hammer? a macuahuitl? why does he know that word? is it a word?) splinters her to shards of silence amidst the calliope's song.
This is the fifth time he's killed his best friend since the world went mad; he doesn't think he can take much more.
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12. For anonymous: harry potter, ginny weasley, sword(s), written 2/4/21
Whoso Pulleth out This Sword (325 words)
Structural restrictions are for the birds. *wry*
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"I'm just saying that if Fawkes brought Harry the Sorting Hat so he could pull out the sword of Godric Gyffindor in his time of need, that sets a precedent," Ginny said as she charmed the blackboard clean. There was no real point since the Room of Requirement would provide a fresh board the next time they met, but Ginny grew up with brothers who kept 'forgetting' to put the toilet seat back down unless she and Mum shamed them into it, and she knew the power of setting good habits. Besides, cleanup gave her more time to talk with the other DA leaders.
"If there's a chance the Hat might drop a fancy magic sword on some other Gryffindor's head someday," she continued, "I think we ought to learn how to do something other than swing it around like a Beater's bat or an overgrown carving knife."
"You have a point," Neville said. "Conjuring a sword might also be a useful distraction technique during a duel. Someone expecting a spell probably won't be prepared for a huge chunk of steel flying at their face."
Ginny grinned. "They probably won't be prepared for a punch or a hard kick in the unmentionables, either, but a sword has more style. Besides, ancient magic objects don't usually appear once and vanish forever. I'll bet you two Sickles somebody will end up using Gryffindor's sword at least one more time before Voldemort dies for keeps."
Neville looked reluctant, then thoughtful. "It doesn't count if it's Harry again."
"That's fair," Ginny agreed as she rolled the now-clean blackboard up against the wall. "So, what do you say?"
"Make it three Sickles and you're on," Neville said.
Two years later, after all was said and done, Ginny cornered Neville in the ruins of Hogwarts and held out her hand, dry-eyed and implacable as flame.
He sighed. Then he sheathed the ruby-hilted sword and handed over her winnings, only slightly bloody.
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More to come at some point. :)
All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful
rthstewart. Come join the fun!---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
7. For
alexseanchai: any, baked in, written 2/3/21Tactical Ingredients (110 words [counting the emoticon])
Fandom = original
-----
People talk a lot of nonsense about baking with love to explain why homemade is better and draw attention away from the subtle social calculation of, 'I put effort into this so you'd better reward me with appreciation,' as well as the unspoken message of, 'I'm improving office morale so pushing me aside or, god forbid, firing me, would be a terrible mistake.'
I don't bake with love. I don't bake with ingratiation, either.
What my cookies and brownies and almond pastries say is, 'Give me a 10% raise or suffer the consequences.'
My boss has been eating them for months.
I'm feeling pretty good about my year-end review. :)
---------------
---------------
8. For anonymous: Any, any villain, "do you really believe everything you're told?", written 2/3/21
Verify Your Sources (40 words)
Fandom = The Magnus Archives
-----
Jon smiled as the static rose around him.
"Not everything -- I'm perfectly well aware that people can mislead by implication, or may sincerely believe and relay inaccurate information -- but by and large, yes. Now, tell me what your plan is."
---------------
---------------
9. For anonymous: any, any, a wreath of candles, written 2/4/21
Let There Be Light (175 words)
Fandom = Rusty Quill Gaming
-----
"It would have to be a horizontal wreath," Cel said absently, then paused and visibly perked up, one hand rising to tug on their goggle strap; "Oh, unless you made it sort of-- sort of three-dimensional, with little candle-cups set in a spiral pattern around the frame so none of them are directly under any other candle or any greenery of your choice -- or flowers, flower wreaths are also an excellent option, though I think less traditionally mixed with candles than greenery? -- anyway, that sounds like a fascinating little project; would you like me to help build one?"
Zolf, who had been thinking about solstice crowns and old dwarven traditions, blinked, gathered himself, and said, "I'm not sure that would be safe to hang on a wall or a door, but so long as you understand I haven't done metalwork since I joined the navy, I'd be happy to try making a vertical candle wreath -- we'll let Hamid figure out how it should be displayed."
Cel grinned; "That, Mr. Smith, sounds like an excellent plan."
---------------
---------------
10. For
nea: The Magnus Archives, Jon Sims/Martin Blackwood, holding hands, written 2/4/21This Feels Like a Metaphor for Something (125 words)
-----
"The Lonely tends toward damp, all kinds of fog, oceans, rain, and here's you, all bone-dust paper I'll soak into mush, send your ink streaky and illegible until people mistake you for rubbish."
"I don't think whatever the Beholding has written on me is worth reading," Jon said, "and paper makes a moderately functional towel in a pinch; there's no point bringing you back and not helping you feel dry and warm."
"Are you quite certain you dislike poetry?" Martin asked, a wry grin easing into his voice though his face stayed blank and stiff, and he wove his fingers between Jon's, one warm, sweaty palm pressed against another.
---------------
---------------
11. For
wolfish_willow: any, any, caught in the middle, written 2/4/21Swing Your Partner (140 words)
Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Contains violence and Unknowing-style unreality.
-----
Clowns to the left of him, jokers to the right, and here Tim is (is he Tim? he thinks he used to be Tim), stuck in the middle with an... with probably an axe, so there's nothing left to do but swing.
Plastic warps into Sasha's face -- except it's not Sasha's face, because he can't remember Sasha's face, because something stole her even more thoroughly than Grimaldi stole Danny -- and Sasha's voice says, soft and high and desperate, "Please, Tim, it's me, Sasha; you're hurting me!" until his sharp weight on a stick (a hammer? a macuahuitl? why does he know that word? is it a word?) splinters her to shards of silence amidst the calliope's song.
This is the fifth time he's killed his best friend since the world went mad; he doesn't think he can take much more.
---------------
---------------
12. For anonymous: harry potter, ginny weasley, sword(s), written 2/4/21
Whoso Pulleth out This Sword (325 words)
Structural restrictions are for the birds. *wry*
-----
"I'm just saying that if Fawkes brought Harry the Sorting Hat so he could pull out the sword of Godric Gyffindor in his time of need, that sets a precedent," Ginny said as she charmed the blackboard clean. There was no real point since the Room of Requirement would provide a fresh board the next time they met, but Ginny grew up with brothers who kept 'forgetting' to put the toilet seat back down unless she and Mum shamed them into it, and she knew the power of setting good habits. Besides, cleanup gave her more time to talk with the other DA leaders.
"If there's a chance the Hat might drop a fancy magic sword on some other Gryffindor's head someday," she continued, "I think we ought to learn how to do something other than swing it around like a Beater's bat or an overgrown carving knife."
"You have a point," Neville said. "Conjuring a sword might also be a useful distraction technique during a duel. Someone expecting a spell probably won't be prepared for a huge chunk of steel flying at their face."
Ginny grinned. "They probably won't be prepared for a punch or a hard kick in the unmentionables, either, but a sword has more style. Besides, ancient magic objects don't usually appear once and vanish forever. I'll bet you two Sickles somebody will end up using Gryffindor's sword at least one more time before Voldemort dies for keeps."
Neville looked reluctant, then thoughtful. "It doesn't count if it's Harry again."
"That's fair," Ginny agreed as she rolled the now-clean blackboard up against the wall. "So, what do you say?"
"Make it three Sickles and you're on," Neville said.
Two years later, after all was said and done, Ginny cornered Neville in the ruins of Hogwarts and held out her hand, dry-eyed and implacable as flame.
He sighed. Then he sheathed the ruby-hilted sword and handed over her winnings, only slightly bloody.
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More to come at some point. :)
