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Tumblr backup: Three-sentence fiction
Dec. 16th, 2017 06:58 pmToday’s three sentence ficathon roundup! Six fills: three SSSS, one Heroes of Olympus, one Harry Potter, and one Sunstone because apparently I see a prompt that says “any fandom” and decide to fill it with the most obscure thing I can think of.
(Also, I wrote Sunstone fic and it was … safe for work? There are heavy hints about NSFW activities about to ensue, though.)
prompt: Harry Potter, Luna(/Any), bravery
“What about Gryffindor?” said the hat wheedlingly. “You’d do well in Gryffindor. Frankly, I’d put anyone who wore those earrings to their first day at a new school in Gryffindor.”
prompt: Any/any, any fandom, the quality of mercy
Sunstone, Alan/Anne
“Before we get started,” Alan whispered, his breath against Anne’s ear lighter than cotton, as if he was getting ready to lay down a pattern of ink on her skin, “I want to hear you say it.”
This was it: she couldn’t pretend anymore that she was just here to boggle at the weird kinky people, that she wasn’t crazy enough to trust a guy she’d only known for a couple of weeks and who hurt women for fun–but she knew, from the half-told stories she’d heard from his friends, from the looks of concern they’d shot him when his ex walked into the club, that she wasn’t the only one who was trusting beyond reason and experience. She wanted to deserve his trust, to be what he needed–that was what this was about, wasn’t it?–so she took a deep breath and said, as she let it out in a sigh: “Mercy.”
prompt: Stand Still Stay Silent, Reynir (& or /) Tuuri, up to no good.
Hogwarts AU!
“I know it looks like just a blank scrap of parchment, but I found it in Filch’s office and it seemed important and you’re the best at charms, so I thought you might …”
“And what were you doing in Filch’s office, a goody two-shoes Hufflepuff like you?” Tuuri said, but the teasing had no sting to it–she liked the flattery more than she would have admitted out loud–and when Reynir ducked his head and went scarlet she decided to drop it for now. Instead, she bent over the piece of parchment, smoothing the edges out with her fingers (and just maybe, coincidentally, brushing his in passing.)
prompt: Stand Still Stay Silent, Onni & Tuuri, “You should never worry about me”
Tuuri watched the fight through the windshield, Reynir clutching the seat behind her–Sigrun had said not to, but she couldn’t stay in the sleeping compartment once she heard the explosions and gunfire start, what if she needed to start driving quickly, or what if–and then she saw a shape plummeting from the sky, almost too fast for her eyes to follow, talons extended, a high hunting shriek splitting the air.
“Onni!”
She couldn’t stop to wonder how he had gotten here, physically, how he had known to come; she could only watch with her heart in her mouth as he drove the masses of trolls backwards, his beak and talons bloodied with every swoop–until something that Tuuri couldn’t see knocked him out of the sky, and he fell, somewhere beyond the rectangle that was her only window on the world.
prompt: Stand Still Stay Silent, Onni/Bjarni, safety
The dock is unsteady under Onni’s feet, the sunlight blindingly bright, as he steps off the quarantine ship and Bjarni pulls him into a brief, tight hug, and a dozen excuses for his sniffles and his red eyes spring to his lips, even though he knows that Bjarni doesn’t need them, won’t ask. So this is Iceland–there are spirits here, of course, the same as everywhere, in the wind and the earth and the sea, but they’re … less hurried, quiet, almost peaceful, and there’s a strange sense of emptiness which takes Onni a moment to identify–there’s no pressure at the boundaries of his spirit, nothing trying to get in, nothing hostile at all.
“So this is,” Onni says, trying for a light and casual tone, but his voice comes out embarrassingly thick; light and casual isn’t something he can do, but maybe putting a hand on the small of Bjarni’s back at their strides match up, just to feel the steadiness of him, is, “this is what it’s like to be safe, huh?”
prompt: Heroes of Olympus, Percy + Jason, Percy’s slow recovery after Tartarus
Jason knows what it’s like to lose yourself; he used to think that that was something he and Percy had in common, but now, even after Gaea’s been defeated and the camps are at peace and everything, when he sees Percy startle at noises or at movements like his reflexes have been reset to “twitch”, when he sees how carefully he moves when he’s teaching sword class, using every ounce of concentration to hold something in check, something that scares him when monsters and Titans and Giants don’t–now Jason’s starting to think that he doesn’t know anything at all.
And it’s stupid, but he feels like he should be able to help, to fix things, to make things okay again, because he doesn’t know how to just let things not be okay.
So this is what he does: he sits next to Percy on the shore of the lake, with the sky above and the water below, and they don’t talk or even look at each other most of the time, but he can feel Percy’s presence solid and warm beside him, and Percy knows that he’s there, and maybe if Percy can make it through Tartarus and back, then Jason can do this.
(Also, I wrote Sunstone fic and it was … safe for work? There are heavy hints about NSFW activities about to ensue, though.)
prompt: Harry Potter, Luna(/Any), bravery
“What about Gryffindor?” said the hat wheedlingly. “You’d do well in Gryffindor. Frankly, I’d put anyone who wore those earrings to their first day at a new school in Gryffindor.”
prompt: Any/any, any fandom, the quality of mercy
Sunstone, Alan/Anne
“Before we get started,” Alan whispered, his breath against Anne’s ear lighter than cotton, as if he was getting ready to lay down a pattern of ink on her skin, “I want to hear you say it.”
This was it: she couldn’t pretend anymore that she was just here to boggle at the weird kinky people, that she wasn’t crazy enough to trust a guy she’d only known for a couple of weeks and who hurt women for fun–but she knew, from the half-told stories she’d heard from his friends, from the looks of concern they’d shot him when his ex walked into the club, that she wasn’t the only one who was trusting beyond reason and experience. She wanted to deserve his trust, to be what he needed–that was what this was about, wasn’t it?–so she took a deep breath and said, as she let it out in a sigh: “Mercy.”
prompt: Stand Still Stay Silent, Reynir (& or /) Tuuri, up to no good.
Hogwarts AU!
“I know it looks like just a blank scrap of parchment, but I found it in Filch’s office and it seemed important and you’re the best at charms, so I thought you might …”
“And what were you doing in Filch’s office, a goody two-shoes Hufflepuff like you?” Tuuri said, but the teasing had no sting to it–she liked the flattery more than she would have admitted out loud–and when Reynir ducked his head and went scarlet she decided to drop it for now. Instead, she bent over the piece of parchment, smoothing the edges out with her fingers (and just maybe, coincidentally, brushing his in passing.)
prompt: Stand Still Stay Silent, Onni & Tuuri, “You should never worry about me”
Tuuri watched the fight through the windshield, Reynir clutching the seat behind her–Sigrun had said not to, but she couldn’t stay in the sleeping compartment once she heard the explosions and gunfire start, what if she needed to start driving quickly, or what if–and then she saw a shape plummeting from the sky, almost too fast for her eyes to follow, talons extended, a high hunting shriek splitting the air.
“Onni!”
She couldn’t stop to wonder how he had gotten here, physically, how he had known to come; she could only watch with her heart in her mouth as he drove the masses of trolls backwards, his beak and talons bloodied with every swoop–until something that Tuuri couldn’t see knocked him out of the sky, and he fell, somewhere beyond the rectangle that was her only window on the world.
prompt: Stand Still Stay Silent, Onni/Bjarni, safety
The dock is unsteady under Onni’s feet, the sunlight blindingly bright, as he steps off the quarantine ship and Bjarni pulls him into a brief, tight hug, and a dozen excuses for his sniffles and his red eyes spring to his lips, even though he knows that Bjarni doesn’t need them, won’t ask. So this is Iceland–there are spirits here, of course, the same as everywhere, in the wind and the earth and the sea, but they’re … less hurried, quiet, almost peaceful, and there’s a strange sense of emptiness which takes Onni a moment to identify–there’s no pressure at the boundaries of his spirit, nothing trying to get in, nothing hostile at all.
“So this is,” Onni says, trying for a light and casual tone, but his voice comes out embarrassingly thick; light and casual isn’t something he can do, but maybe putting a hand on the small of Bjarni’s back at their strides match up, just to feel the steadiness of him, is, “this is what it’s like to be safe, huh?”
prompt: Heroes of Olympus, Percy + Jason, Percy’s slow recovery after Tartarus
Jason knows what it’s like to lose yourself; he used to think that that was something he and Percy had in common, but now, even after Gaea’s been defeated and the camps are at peace and everything, when he sees Percy startle at noises or at movements like his reflexes have been reset to “twitch”, when he sees how carefully he moves when he’s teaching sword class, using every ounce of concentration to hold something in check, something that scares him when monsters and Titans and Giants don’t–now Jason’s starting to think that he doesn’t know anything at all.
And it’s stupid, but he feels like he should be able to help, to fix things, to make things okay again, because he doesn’t know how to just let things not be okay.
So this is what he does: he sits next to Percy on the shore of the lake, with the sky above and the water below, and they don’t talk or even look at each other most of the time, but he can feel Percy’s presence solid and warm beside him, and Percy knows that he’s there, and maybe if Percy can make it through Tartarus and back, then Jason can do this.
