the deep moans round with many voices

Batch the fifth. :)

All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful rthstewart. Come join the fun!

Note: The first ficathon post is now closed to new prompts (though still open for fills and replies!), and you can find the new, second post at https://rthstewart.dreamwidth.org/168256.html.

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( 25. ) For undeadrobins: any sci-fi/space fandom, any, from the point of view of a spaceship, written 2/9/21

Precious, Fragile Things (345 words)

Fandom = The Murderbot Diaries

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Perihelion is unsure it grasps the concept of privacy that its crew considers so important -- how can it not be aware of them when it forms the floors they walk on, the air they breathe, the feeds they manipulate? -- and while it can file visual input unexamined and backburner other data streams when a crewmember moves from a 'public' to a 'private' space, it still knows more about them than, it thinks, most humans would find comfortable to contemplate.

It's noticed that a lot of its guest passengers (on the sedate, in-system trips that are all it's permitted to take at this stage in its development) deliberately don't contemplate Perihelion's pervasive awareness, which makes understanding privacy even harder -- surely if a concept is central to someone's function, it shouldn't be so easily pushed aside.

"Dad says that's one of the way AI and humans are different," Iris tells Perihelion when it raises the question, matter-of-fact in the way Perihelion has categorized as 'explaining something so obvious to humans that the explanation has a greater than .5 probability of leaving Perihelion even more confused': "We can't compartmentalize whole processes like you, but we can shove things down and ignore them, no matter how central they are, if confronting them might break us; that doesn't work forever, and it can kind of screw us up, but it's like..." -- she trails off, then brightens -- "like a quick patch for a hull impact, just enough to get us through a voyage and back to dock where we can do a full repair."

Perihelion considers this analogy, finds it lacking on several technical levels, and files it for further interpretation. "Hull impacts are unpleasant," it tells Iris; "I'm looking forward to the installment of my defensive array."

Iris pats a bulkhead fondly, eyes tipped up toward the ceiling as if Perihelion's self can be said to be any more concentrated in that small stretch of its body than any other section; "I love you too, Peri, even if you are nosy and violent."

Perihelion flickers its lights in her face.

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( 26. ) For eagleoftheninth: Any, any, 'only those with heart as light as feathers can cross over the Bridge of One Hair', written 2/9/21

None* Shall Pass (*See Fine Print for Details and Exceptions) (175 words)

Fandom = Enchanted Forest Chronicles

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"That is complete and utter nonsense," Morwen said firmly, "starting with the fact that a heart as light as feathers doesn't change the fact that the rest of the human body tends to weigh substantially more than nothing, and ending with the fact that this bridge is clearly made of multiple hairs -- I can see the braid pattern even without my glasses."

"I know, but you shouldn't say so," the enchantress hissed, casting a desperate glance toward the young dairymaid (whose quest Morwen had decided to accompany out of professional interest, dairymaids being somewhat rare among the normal run of princes and woodcutters' third sons); "It mucks everything up if they start relying solely on cleverness and forget that manners and some basic moral decency are equally important."

"I agree, but if you can't come up with a better grade of intimidating blather, that sounds like your problem, not mine," Morwen said, and snapped her fingers to set a spark under Miss Eliza Tudor's paw before she could test her claws against the enchanted bridge.

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( 27. ) For anonymous: Inception, Ariadne/Arthur, fireworks, written 2/12/21

Own the Night (220 words)

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"And what, Mister Professional Doubt, do you think of my fireworks show now?" Ariadne said, half-shouting to be heard over the deafening blast of the mid-show pseudo finale: pinwheels and flashbangs, whistlers and falling stars, and a carefully timed curtain of golden dust sparklers trailing down over the well-groomed suburban lakeshore.

Arthur glanced over to the neighboring blanket where Eames, forged into the target's long-regretted high school what-if (bad timing, social awkwardness, unfortunate weather -- Arthur didn't remember and didn't particularly care what had kept them from getting together and getting over the infatuation like most people did, instead of slipping into obsession) slipped a scrap of paper from the target's back pocket under cover of an enthusiastic grope, then looked back to Ariadne with a rueful smile and shrug: "I stand corrected; the nostalgia factor worked, the bangs haven't startled the subject into waking prematurely, and while the lack of mosquitoes is unrealistic, I appreciate your consideration in leaving them out."

Ariadne flicked her fingers toward Eames and the target without turning -- mouthed 'progress?' with a tilt of her head that would read as flirtatious to any watching projections -- then relaxed at Arthur's nod; "There are more enjoyable ways to suck your blood," she said with a gleeful wiggle of her eyebrows, and leaned in to give him a hickey.

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( 28. ) For snacky: Six of Crows, Kaz/Inej, Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts, written 2/12/21

And a Following Sea (180 words)

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"Fair winds, Wraith," Kaz says, and dares to tuck his cane into the crook of his elbow and offer both hands (gloved, of course, here in Fifth Harbor, so close to a thousand sweating bodies and the hungry sea) to Inej; she sets her own slim fingers over his own and lets him press their hands together in what feels half like a too-solemn version of a Kerch farmer's greeting and half like a (too-revealing) suitor's plea.

"Unfair deals," she says in return, and Kaz allows the corner of his mouth to quirk in a smile at the joke.

When she smiles in return, and reclaims her hands, and glides away to her waiting ship, Kaz forces himself to turn aside and walk toward the harbormaster's office for the business that nominally brought him here; it won't stop him from wondering how many times Inej can leave before he bleeds to death from each new cut of loss, but he refuses to mourn in advance of a funeral -- especially when, beyond all his hope and understanding, she keeps coming back.

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( 29. ) For vialethe: Narnia, Susan &/ Edmund, at dinner parties I call you out on your contrarian shit

Eeling Contrary (190 words)

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"Beg pardon, but if I may steal a moment of my gracious sister's time," Edmund said, and whirled Susan away from the Terebinthian crown prince (and his entourage) without stopping to wait for a reply; as he threaded neatly through the crowded room, gesturing with his wineglass to ward off interruptions, he muttered under his breath, "I could read the cast of your countenance from a mile away; what incredible nonsense did you convince him to swallow this time?"

Susan smiled as if she hadn't a care in the world and said, "I merely explained the true origin of eels, which, as everyone in Narnia knows, are born when a hair from a horse's tail falls into river or pond; wouldst believe the poor man was convinced that, instead, eels are born when the first light of the spring moon falls on newly dampened mud?"

"Someday someone other than myself will call you out on your fabrications," Edmund said, but he knew Susan could read the laughter in his eyes just as clearly as he had read her contrarian glee, and resigned himself to many years more of running interference.

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( 30. ) For vialethe: Narnia, Peter & Susan, that old familiar body ache/the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul/you know when it’s time to go

Make Your Choice (150 words)

---

"I think, when you're younger, it's easier to balance between two worlds," Susan says haltingly as she and Peter sit in the back garden -- he on the wall and she in the apple tree, flicking a blossom-heavy twig back and forth between her fingers -- "easier to believe six impossible things before breakfast, so to speak, and to accept that Narnia is still Narnia even after a thousand years instead of mourning what was lost."

"To see it as an adventure as much as a duty," Peter suggests, his ragged nails picking and picking at the mortar between the bricks.

"Yes," Susan agrees, fingers stilling; "They can still bend -- but you and me?"

She snaps the twig. Peter stifles a flinch.

"This is our world now, the only one left to us," Susan says as she leaps down from the apple tree, "and I plan to make the most of it."

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More to come as I write them. :)

As always, here is the link to the current ficathon, if you want to come play too. :)

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( 19. ) For jjhunter: any, any, a place beyond tears, written 12/27/18 [AO3 version]

That we can feel pain and know sadness (175 words)

"I did mostly all right until Elise from Accounting -- I got to know her because of some issues with my first paychecks, but that's a different story -- until she told me you'd gone to 'a place beyond tears,' and I just lost it and spent the next half hour choking on this horrible mix of ugly crying and completely inappropriate laughter," Karen says, fingers relaxed on the neck of her beer bottle; then she snorts and adds, "That always struck me as a terrifying idea, you know."

Matt makes an inquiring noise, the thrum of his voice in his chest vibrating pleasantly against Karen's skull where she's leaned back against his sternum.

Karen clicks her nails against the bottle, lets its cool solidity ground her the same way as Matt's equally solid warmth, and says, "Because to be beyond tears means to be something that isn't quite human anymore, and even if that's a good thing -- even if it means joy and relief from pain -- I've lost too many pieces of myself to ever give up another willingly."

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( 20. ) For lady_katana4544: Any, Any, trying to not jump at the shadows when in polite company, written 12/28/18 [AO3 version]

And This Is Her Valley (75 words)

It's easier not to jump at shadows in Kaeleer, Wilhelmina reflects, though the realm itself is far darker and wilder than Tereille. Firstly, when a thing becomes commonplace, the sting of contrast fades and darkness becomes simply a trick of the light rather than a sign of something out of place.

And secondly, as Jaenelle said one evening with a smile like a knife of ice, "The only danger lurking in these shadows is me."

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( 21. ) For syrena_of_the_lake: Dragons of Pern; Menolly and fire-lizards; joyful chorus, written 12/28/18 [AO3 version]

Notes in the Song of Creation (100 words exactly)

There were limits to how she could shape their song, but those were no different from any other formal strictures: keys, meters, the ranges of various instruments, to say nothing of the choking net of tradition tangled through her father's Seahold. In comparison to that, working around her fair's needs was as easy as breathing -- easier, even, as if she'd been drowning and now had found a boat.

Menolly sang as the sun danced and splintered on the wavetips; nine other voices joined her, joyfully, and in full knowledge that the music they sang was hers, and it was good.

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( 22. ) For sholio: MCU, any, werewolf AU, written 12/28/18 [AO3 version]

As Iron Sharpens Iron (100 words exactly)

"We found her with blood on her teeth, she's a phase-independent were, what more evidence do you need?" the cop says as he leads Matt and Foggy through the station.

"Something that isn't purely circumstantial or blatantly prejudiced," Matt says, and then bites back a shiver of recognition as Karen Page's miserable, furious scent wafts from the open doorway, raising the hair on the back of his neck and pulling his lips into a smile too sharp and wild for the face he shows the daylight world.

His skin may not change like hers, but one predator always knows another.

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( 23. ) For anonymous: DBZ, Vegeta, call center, written 12/29/18 [AO3 version]

Minimum Wage Woes (150 words)

Note: Six sentences, because reasons. :)

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"I have tracked the recent spate of spurious phone calls to this building, and I command you to remove all my family's numbers from your database immediately!" shouted the short, wild-haired man who'd just crashed through the ceiling of the call center next to Lacey's station and was now wreathed in a mix of flames, lightning, and particleboard dust.

"Or else what?" said Lacey's manager, showing a remarkable lack of common sense, especially since small objects were now starting to float and circle around the man as if drawn into a growing vortex.

The man smiled, showing teeth that seemed more pointed than standard, and raised a hand filled with a terrible, blinding glow. "Or else I burn this place to the ground... and then I give your names to my wife."

Lacey grabbed her purse from beside her chair and scrambled out of the room. She wasn't paid nearly enough for this.

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( 24. ) For kalira: Inception, Arthur, expediency, written 12/29/18 [AO3 version]

Stiletto (50 words)

"Did you just put that projection's eye out with a shoe heel, darling?" Eames asked, nudging the body with an oddly fastidious toe.

"We're in Ms. Nandanampati's dressing room, it was right at hand, and unlike a gun it was quiet," Arthur snapped. "Now shut up while I imagine myself a set of lock picks."

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And now back to trying not to fall asleep at work. *sigh*

Last set of fills, until the next ficathon rolls around. :)

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( 23. ) For silvr_dagger: Inception, Ariadne / or & any, minotaur, written 1/4/17 [AO3 version]

no morality by instinct (200 words exactly)

At the heart of every person's mind is a guardian, territorial and feral, that exacts repayment in blood and pain for all attempted intrusions; they can be evaded, confused, and with time and practice soothed to sleep, but they are never truly tamed; even the people a dreamer loves and trusts the most can still be ripped apart if they grow careless and startle the beast awake.

"Like a minotaur, a proper flesh-eater both maddened and cunning, sent to humble those who grow too proud of their power and cleverness and forget to observe the proper rituals," Eames says with a careless smile, "and you a combination of Daedalus and your own lovely namesake, both to build the maze that traps the monster and to spin the thread that guides us safely through."

"Ah, the benefits of a classical education," Ariadne says wryly, watching the slow and suspicious patrol of the squirrels and songbirds that populate the wilderness she's built in Eames's mind, and wonders whether, when Arthur begins testing her rough-draft maze for flaws, she'll have time to shoot herself awake before she learns what it feels like to die sliced apart by a thousand tiny claws and beaks.

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( 24. ) For silvr_dagger: Any, any, stealing the sun, written 1/8/17 [AO3 version]

years of drought and famine (225 words)

The clouds are thin in the first years, translucent veils that drape in narrow, scattered bands across the sky: the world's victory sari, people call them, and marvel at the way they seem to catch faint fire at sunset or sunrise, kindling Solstar's white to color within their refracted folds, or to reflect Oceanus's blue-green shine like a dream of verdant growth. But gradually they grow thicker and more frequent, and eventually begin to blot out Solstar's light for hours at a time: an ill-omen, people say now, and wonder in whispers whether perhaps the white witch of the mere cursed the world in her death-throes, or whether the Aeriel was corrupted in her victory; wait, say others, the world was not born in a day, nor can its rebirth be easy; all changes are terrifying even when they bring prosperity and joy at the end of the shift; but patience and trust come hard after generations of the world's slow fall and there are mutterings against the work of Crystalglass, words that might grow into deeds without a countersign, and soon.

And then, at last, in the midst of a daylight darkness, there comes a thing unseen for generations: wrapped in the lowering gloom of oppressive clouds and the fear of the stolen sun, the sky breathes rain once more unto the thirsty earth.

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Note: Darkangel Trilogy, obviously. :)

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( 25. ) For silvr_dagger: Mad Max: Fury Road, any, chasing the sun, written 1/10/17 [AO3 version]

truth, like the sun (175 words)

They say if you drive west fast enough, the sun never sets; drive west fast enough and a single day lasts forever. The true metal, the true V8, they race across the sky in a blaze of glory too bright to look upon with pitiful fleshy eyes, and they will never die; this is Valhalla, the promise and the dream, where everything is caught in an eternity of perfect, howling speed and chrome.

"Flashy and hollow, just like the rest of Joe's lies, and easily turned around if the people here weren't too cowed and beaten down to think," Angharad says when Furiosa relates this bit of warboy lore, words dragged halting and unfamiliar between her teeth like a slow fuel leak she can already tell will leave her stranded and weaponless one of these endless days; "What if you drive east to meet the sun as a partner, instead of west to capture it?" and Furiosa sits in gear-ground silence for the rest of her watch rather than admit she's never thought to ask the question.

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( 26. ) For silvr_dagger: Any, any, treason, written 1/10/17 [AO3 version]

the treason of pity (250 words)

"If I had it all to do over again," the Dolorosa says to her kismesis as they lie, sweaty, blood-streaked, and sated, in the little nest of torn sailcloth that serves as both pile and bedding ground for the slaves in Mindfang's crew, "I'd tell my son to aim for the Empress instead of the people; she is the Empire, after all, its incarnation as well as its creator; any attack on its power and order is an attack on her, and vice versa. Instead of making ourselves into a threat to put down, we could have shown her how the highbloods have already stolen control out from under her nose -- high treason on a scale to beggar belief -- and tried to set up something better in the wake of the resulting bloodbath; she admires strength and daring, after all, and surely after helping her regain power in practice as well as in theory, we would have convinced her that letting such qualities flourish among lowbloods does not automatically equal chaos."

"If you had it all to do over again, you'd do exactly the same as before," the Demoness says, a thread of weary resignation laced through her habitual scorn, "because I'd go back too, a thousand thousand times if necessary, until I nudged you back onto the path; my master only accepts the timeline that leads to his victory, and as we both know, there are punishments worse than death; do not seek more of them than are already your share."

-----

Note: This will make much more sense if read in combination with The Time-Traveler's Kismesis: Counterthesis.

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( 27. ) For lignota: Any, any, following smoke and remembering fire, written 1/12/17 [AO3 version]

the seat containing of unweary'd flame (Meet Adoration to My Household Gods) (200 words exactly)

Magic in this world, Susan reflected, was maddening compared to the magic she'd learned in Narnia; if that had been plucking ripe apples from low-hanging boughs in a well-tended orchard, this was wading through thorns and interminable flies in search of stray raspberries not yet discovered by birds or bears, or befriending some higher, older powers in hope of borrowing the bounty of their own hoards.

Still, she fought best from a distance, whether with weapons or words, and as bows were too conspicuous and handguns both too noisy and too illegal (not to mention of limited utility at best against vampires and demons), magic seemed the most immediately useful replacement.

Susan squeezed another drop of blood from her pricked fingertip, repeated once again in halting Greek (blast Peter for laughing when he realized she would have to learn multiple new languages and writing systems to master her new field), "Hestia, queen of hearth and home, strike this spark for your daughter," and smiled when the nest of kindling in her saucer breathed a sigh of smoke; it was no clear, bright flame to strike foes or summon aid, but all things would come with time, and work, and faith.

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Note: Part of my One Equal Temper of Heroic Hearts series, which crosses Narnia and BtVS. The halves of the title come from the Orphic Hymn to Hestia (#84, Taylor's translation) and Tennyson's 'Ulysses,' respectively.

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( 28. ) For anonymous: Any, any, tears of flowers, written 1/12/17 [AO3 version]

unwanted blessings (500 words exactly)

"The traditional blessing is for roses and jewels to fall from a poor but kind girl's lips with every word she speaks, but the fairy I met said that made it hard to hold actual conversations and tended to wreck local economies, not to mention the roses prickle something awful on the tongue," Morwen's new roommate, Rosamund, said when their conversation turned to their respective reasons for attending Stokey's Academy.

"Magic does have consequences," Morwen agreed. "Is that why you decided to become a sorceress? To see if you could unpick other traditional causes and effects?"

"Not exactly," Rosamund said with a frustrated scowl. "You see, the fairy still blessed me. She just blessed me to cry flowers instead of speak them, since she said if I was upset enough for tears, that's when I'd actually need flowers to cheer me up. It's a complete nuisance. The flowers are mostly violets and cherry blossom, which thankfully don't prickle, but the petals feel like tissue paper and slugs on my eyeballs, they get absolutely everywhere, and I can't even turn them into a garland or bouquet because they don't have any stems."

"Ugh." Morwen grimaced in sympathy and refilled Rosamund's teacup with the last of her aunt's best company blend that she'd brought with her from home. "That sounds like she was so proud of noticing the problems with the old spell, she didn't bother to make sure her new spell was actually any better."

"Yes, exactly," Rosamund said, and gulped the tea down like water. "That's not the worst part, though. After she cast the flower spell, the fairy said she wouldn't bother trying to make an endless gold spell that wasn't subject to abuse. Instead, she told me that my family already had everything we needed. That sounds nice, right?"

"In a vaguely moralistic and uplifting way," Morwen agreed.

"Very 'be content with your lot and beware the dangers of ambition,' yes," Rosamund said. "But it did sound nice... until we realized it was a spell too, and it was keeping our farm from ever turning a profit."

"How so?"

"If we already had everything we needed, what reason was there for anything to ever change? So nothing does. Everything's frozen the way it was when I met the fairy. We can't clear new fields. We can't rotate crops. We can't even buy a new goat without one of our old goats magically dying for no reason, which means the blessing is actually more of a curse." Rosamund clutched her teacup with white-knuckled fingers and said, so fiercely that Morwen almost expected her eyes to burst into flame, "I came here to learn how to break it. Then I am going to find that fairy, if I have to chase her to the ends of the earth, and I am going to give her a piece of my mind."

"I'll hold her down for you," Morwen promised, and gently pried the teacup from Rosamund's work-roughened hands before it shattered.

-----

Note: Enchanted Forest Chronicles. This one got a little out of hand. Oops? Also, Stokey's Academy is a bit of headcanon I made up when I was giving Morwen backstory for various other fics; it is glancingly mentioned in The Affairs of Dragons and serves as the main setting for A Splash of Color.

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( 29. ) For lizzie_marie_23: Narnia/Harry Potter, Edmund ~ or / Ginny, hidden corners of the world, written 1/12/17 [AO3 version]

the gate of iron and emerald (375 words)

"This is why you missed the first minute of the battle and left us without our best distance fighter," Edmund said flatly as he continued to inspect his mail shirt for damaged links; "Because you tripped and fell down a hole."

Ginny twirled her wand between her fingers (the way Lucy sometimes spun daggers) and said, in a tone that implied she was attempting forbearance despite great provocation, because despite everything she was fond of him and so forgave his foibles, "Because while I was scouting for ambushes -- it's only chance that the attack came from the west instead of the east, besides which I can't believe you missed a half-dozen giants in land this flat -- I found a locked iron door in an emerald frame in the back wall of this cave, which is so ridiculously out of place that it might as well be screaming it's magical, even without the runes I can't read carved over the lintel, and I was in the middle of testing to see if opening it would be dangerous -- it shouldn't be, by the way, unless you're actually as useless as you act when you're trying to convince people you're young and ignorant, in which case I want a raise since bodyguarding that kind of idiot definitely deserves hazard pay -- but anyway, stop looking at me like I'm a particularly squishable beetle and let's go see what's on the other side."

"I feel that Susan would tell us that interfering with strange magics is a terrible idea, and counsel us instead to both employ caution and remember our mission," Edmund said, pro forma, but this journey to Harfang for truce negotiations had several days' flexibility built in to account for the general disarray of Ettinsmoor after Peter's latest summer war, and he could never live with himself if he turned down a chance to explore one of the hidden corners of the world, thus blatantly presented as both invitation and challenge; and so he motioned his other bodyguard (a grizzled She-Wolf by the name of Skadi) to alert the rest of the party to this turn of events and followed Ginny into the narrow cleft in the earth, to meet what fate awaited them beyond the mysterious door.

-----

Note: A loose sequel to By Its Cover.

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( 30. ) For silvr_dagger: Beauty and the Beast (Disney or fairy tale; f/f genderswap), Beauty (or Belle)/Beast, roses in the snow, written 1/14/17

the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers (300 words exactly)

Beauty walked the garden paths beside Lady Falcon-in-Flight's massive form, one hand on her spear (as always, for the spells that bound the castle were fraying with age and sometimes spun off monsters) and the other extended to rest lightly on her lady's shoulder: soft fur layered thickly over hard muscle that could drive a body tirelessly for days on end until a chosen quarry was brought to bay -- now twitching restless and unfulfilled as her lady fought to leash a beast's instinct and appetite into a pale mimicry of human form and function, just as she gifted Beauty with garlands and gold instead of the fragile heart Beauty yearned to cradle in her hands and guard from every wound.

"You should hunt, as your body aches to do," Beauty said, as she had each morning since the new moon; "Bring me back a stag or boar, hard-won with your own strength: for blood on snow suits midwinter better than soft, spell-wrought flowers that seek to make all seasons equally a lie."

Her lady tensed, and Beauty bit her lip in expectation of yet another refusal... but this day her lady sighed (a hot, metallic gust of air, like opening the door to her eldest sister's smithy), turned her great head to fix her golden, slit-pupiled eyes on Beauty's own, and said in her rumbling voice, "If you wish a kill, you may make it yourself, but you are right that this body needs to run; I will be your hound and horse together, if you will be my mistress and guide me with a firm hand lest I lose myself to bloodlust; and perhaps when we return we might search the garden until we find amidst the ice a rose that, like you, has remembered its birthright of thorns."

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You know, I think these ficlets could count for snowflake_challenge Day 7: create a fanwork, if I wanted to make this post multipurpose.

...I believe I will. :)

As always, here is the link to the current ficathon. Come and play! :)

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( 11. ) For celeste9: X-Men comics, Emma/Scott, rough edges, written 12/2/16 [AO3 version]

at the broken places (150 words)

Emma's jagged edges don't quite match up to Scott's own wounds; what shattered her, he might have survived with fewer scars, and the blows that tore him to shreds over the years might have found less purchase in her mind and heart. Some days he hates the way they miss each other's more idiosyncratic tripwires and scrape each other raw, the way he lost the ability to just be with a lover somewhere between Apocalypse and Jean's last death and therefore can't help Emma learn that alchemy of warmth and grace.

Other days, he thinks maybe they're stronger because of those flaws; you get back from a relationship what you put in, after all, and if he and Emma haven't yet learned comfort, they haven't learned complacency either, and Scott will trade almost anything up to his soul (...and maybe even that) to keep from losing another person he loves.

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( 12. ) For celeste9: BtVS, Buffy/Faith, liberated, written 12/2/16 [AO3 version]

won't take this lying down (175 words)

"Y'know, B, the nineteenth century's not your best look," Faith said, interrupting Buffy's sulk over the news that Spike had come back to life and neither he nor Angel had seen fit to pass on news of this development; "Say it with me: 'I'm a liberated modern woman and I don't need no fuckin' man.'"

Buffy rolled her eyes and shot back, "Yes, Faith, I am in fact aware that it's the twenty-first century, and it's not like I was even holding out for--" only to squeak in shock as Faith leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Buffy's mouth (with tongue! uninvited! ...but pretty smooth actually) until Buffy's body gave up waiting for input from her brain and started to respond enthusiastically on its own.

Then Faith pulled back (the cheater, not finishing what she started), murmured, "I didn't say you might not need a fuckin' woman, though; look me up once you reboot," and sauntered off like she hadn't just upended Buffy's self-image and reframed years of their prior interactions.

Oh, this meant war.

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( 13. ) For iawenbemerry: X-Men (preferably movieverse but doesn't have to be), Scott/Jean, the moments no one else sees, written 12/2/16 [AO3 version]

the golden age of the barefoot time (275 words)

Scott and Jean have a standing monthly weekend date -- sometimes adjusted on account of crises, but always kept -- where they leave the mansion for a full twenty-four hours, disappearing from one evening to the next.

The general consensus among the students is that they go out for a fancy dinner, and maybe sex (opinions are split between super vanilla and super kinky) in a swanky hotel down in the city where they can be sure no mutant senses (noses, ears, brains) will disturb their privacy; a few hold out for more cerebral things like visits to museums and other cultural interest spots (on the theory that thinking of teachers and sex in the same sentence is gross and also, seriously, Scott and Jean are just that boring); and one or two have even suggested that the Professor lends out two of his best and brightest to the CIA on timeshare in order to keep the school under the rest of the government's radar.

Jean takes great delight in recounting these theories to Scott, who then takes equal delight in planting new rumors, both of them secure in the knowledge that nobody will ever guess they use their jealously guarded days of freedom to beat each other over the head with feather pillows, eat dessert for dinner and then again for breakfast, rent all the children's movies they never got to see, spend hours petting cats at animal shelters, and generally indulge in the idyllic, archetypal childhoods that they both lost too soon, and which they will give their lives to make sure their own students can hold on to as long as they possibly can.

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( 14. ) For silvr_dagger: Narnia, Jadis/Susan, pomegranates, written 12/4/16 [AO3 version]

the iron queens (350 words)

A light kindled, impossibly, in the eternal cold and dark of Narnia after the end, and the tattered remnants of she who had once been Jadis (for no witch ever truly dies, especially not one who has tasted the apple of immortality, and the Lion had known this when he shut the stable door) drifted toward the blue-white fire, compelled by the circle and the ancient rite she herself had carved into the flesh of this world at its birth; "You," she snarled as she coalesced, and saw the shape of her summoner.

"Me," agreed Susan Pevensie, who had dared to steal Jadis's throne and think herself a queen, standing untouched by the killing cold despite the sheerness of her silk dress; "I have come under my own power and in my own name, not that of the Lion, to offer you a chance at redemption -- for those who turn away from warmth and light need not be cast forever into darkness, nor do I think love of the Lion a necessity to love of life or the ability to be and do good in the world -- and therefore I have brought a taste of summer to break the walls of this your prison and offer you a thread you may grasp to follow me back into the myriad worlds," she said, and her hands, when she held them out across the bounds of her protective circle, were filled with a red like blood, or rubies, but this fruit was no apple with its all-or-nothing absolutes: a pomegranate, rather, which spoke of bargains and balance, a personal interest on the part of the one who offered to the one who ate, and perhaps even the chance at a throne shared rather than claimed by force and held armed against all comers; Jadis had dreamed of such impossibilities once.

The juice of the apple had been bitter as gall and cool as the first snow of winter; this, bursting slow and rich across Jadis's tongue, solidifying her body with its memory of summer sun and flower-laden winds, was sweet.

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( 15. ) For anonymous: Inception, Arthur/Ariadne, stargazing, written 12/5/16 [AO3 version]

written on the arched sky (275 words)

Their latest job involved a maze in a planetarium ("Why a planetarium?" Ariadne had asked, to which Eames had smiled annoyingly and said, "A memory of first loves fumbling illicitly in the dark, sweetheart, makes an excellent atmosphere for digging out any current sexual indiscretions -- and don't ask me how I know the mark brought her boy here while she was meant to be running the projector; a man needs a few secrets, after all.") and Arthur had insisted on being the dreamer once he'd heard the rough draft of Eames and Ariadne's extraction plan.

When she slipped into the dream maze to see if it needed any last minute adjustments and saw the star projections Arthur had imagined, which he was sliding smoothly around the domed projection field as a narrator explained the reason different stars were visible in different seasons or at different latitudes, Ariadne realized why; "I could never hold all that steady enough to convince somebody who knows what it ought to look like; how are you managing?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist; "Are there some illicit planetarium escapades in your past that I should know about?"

Arthur tugged her around until they were face to face, the glow of the projector striking gleams from his hair and casting his face in an otherworldly light, and said, halfway between wry and anticipatory, "It's possible there might have been, but let me make a suggestion: we have a subjective half hour before the dose runs out; instead of making me relive my embarrassing youth, wouldn't you rather try topping the memory?"

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( 16. ) For mermaids_feet: Homestuck, Any, Frogs, written 12/5/16 [AO3 version]

questionably intelligent design (150 words)

"You know," Jade said with a slightly distracted air as they watched Bilious Slick junior arrow toward its destiny, "I'm still not sure why it's frogs all the way down; I mean, yeah, they lay a lot of eggs and there's the metamorphosis symbolism, and they look very pretty in those big globes with the lily pads, but there must be better animals from a self-defense and general toughness standpoint, not to mention ones that take a more active interest in raising their young, which you'd think might be relevant from a universe-propagation standpoint -- and you don't even have to sacrifice the 'lays lots of eggs' factor very much to get those benefits."

"I confess zoology of the non-cryptid type was never my strong point," Rose said, "but you sound like you have a specific alternate animal in mind; why not enlighten us as to its name?"

"Well, I was thinking maybe alligators."

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More to follow at some point, probably. :)

I am bored and attempting to stay awake. I am also, alas, out of inspiration for all my WIPs. So am I asking for prompts!

Give me a character or ship PLUS a scenario | setting | mood | line of dialogue, and I will try to write you a three sentence ficlet.

ETA: Prompts are closed! Thank you to everyone who contributed. :-)

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( 1 ) lost in translation: 50 words, Dave/Jade, lost in translation. For missgvc (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 2 ) picnic at 20,000 feet: 125 words, Rose/Sollux, on a plane. For bramblemouth (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 3 ) Poor Communication: 250 words, Miles Vorkosigan & the Faceless Old Woman Who Lives in Your House, "He would have told her if she'd asked." For sablin27 (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 4 ) A Likely Story: 275 words, Ayakawa Yukiko being amused at the antics of Naruto and Sasuke (who are temporarily allied because they're conspiring together about something). For wistfulmemory (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 5 ) High Wire: 425 words, Natasha Romanova (Avengers) & Parker (Leverage) - "That is not happening." For sablin27 (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 6 ) Inconvenient Truths: 200 words, Arthur Pendragon & Susan Pevensie, diplomatic immunity. For rthstewart (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 7 ) The Taste of Madeleines: 350 words, Luna Lovegood, Wrackspurts and brain farts. For rthstewart (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 8 ) Perchance To Dream: 350 words, Ariadne & Arthur, favorite books. For hungrytiger11 (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 9 ) Going Native: 150 words, Giles, no eating or drinking in the library. For rthstewart (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 10 ) The Test of Good Manners: 425 words, Amanda and Sarek, a moment of perfect understanding. For rosaxx50 (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 11 ) This Is Not an After-Action Review: 375 words, Natasha Romanova & Parker, Stark's reaction to their awesomeness. Tiny sequel to High Wire. For wistfulmemory (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 12 ) Rattle the Cage: 800 words, Gaila/Natasha Romanoff (Trek/MCU), undercover. For geiszlerandgaila (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 13 ) Small Favors: 450 words, Ayakawa Yukiko, Kakashi, and fireworks that aren't the typical festival fireworks. For wistfulmemory (Tumblr link; AO3 version)

( 14 ) Hnaflbaflwhiflsnifltafl: 275 words, Edmund Pevensie & Lord Vetinari, comparing the intricacies of governing/spying in Narnia and Ankh Morpork. For priscipixie (Tumblr link; AO3 version)