beer_good_foamy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beer_good_foamy) wrote2020-03-01 09:21 pm
beer_good_foamy) wrote2020-03-01 09:21 pm
Entry tags:
3 sentence ficathon fills
OK, so I wrote a few things for rthstewart's fantastic 3 sentence ficathon. One of very few bright spots in a very dreary February. Here they are in no particular order and occasionally with some slight editing.
Swimming Lessons (Jessica Jones, daemon AU)
Jessica remembers when her daemon would take on many forms; flying, running, climbing, laughing with her, crying with her...
When he settled as a fighting fish, a lot of that had to go, obviously. But at least he's small enough that she always has a whiskey bottle for him to live in.
I Before E Except After AAAAARGH (BtVS, how to get people to spell your name right)
"Oh, it doesn't really bother me," D'Hoffryn said; "if they're invoking me, odds are I'm going to have them killed anyway, so why sweat the small stuff?"
"But if these human vermin can't even show enough respect to learn the names of their betters, if even the name 'Wyndam-Pryce' is beyond them, even with all their pitiful technical advances, why should we ever allow them to continue their miserable little lives alongside us?"
They discussed it a bit further, then realised that there was probably someone who could help them with an either technical or magical solution, but their e-mail to willow.rosenburg@ucsunnydale.edu bounced for some reason.
Business As Usual (Welcome to Night Vale, After seven What's New Pussycat, throw in one It's Not Unusual)
And now, the Night Vale Community Calendar.
Monday, the City Council has issued a warning for ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs; Tuesday: ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs; Wednesday: ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs; Thursday: ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs; Friday: ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs; Saturday: Why not enjoy a lovely moonlit stroll with your loved ones around the Blood Stone Circle to celebrate the traditional National Sacrifice A Family Member Day? Sunday: ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs.
Digressions (Black Books/Good Omens)
"Oh, excuse me, Mr Black, I... Um... Mind if I move one of the bottles here... I have a book to sell you, a first edition Sterne, signed, of course, yours for five pounds... Mind if I just..?"
Bernard stared drunkenly at Aziraphale, down at his own dirty suit, then back up with a frown as the angel paid himself from the till; "Fine, four pounds, and I'll probably take a loss on it, but whatchagonnado."
As he left the shop and took a deep breath of fresh air, Aziraphale wondered at how far they could fall and still keep their pride, and hoped when the trumpets sounded, Bernard would have time to drop by the dry cleaner's first.
Regret Is The Final Emotion (BtVS, Buffy/Faith)
They talk about it over wine, once and never again, about what happened between them all those years ago between the dance at the Bronze and the death in the alley; Buffy assures her she doesn't regret it, it might have been nice to pursue, but blood and apocalypse and going evil and well, she's in a different place now, and so are you, right? Yeah, sure, I mean.
Sometimes it makes Faith want to scream that Buffy can look back and see something that was, neatly wrapped up with a beginning and an end, where all she can see is a big fat never-was.
So Help You (Knives Out, Marta and Blanc at the trial)
As far back as she can remember, Marta's had a fear of public speaking - a perfectly rational one, considering what would happen if social contracts or embarrassment or just thoughtlessness made her tell a lie in front of all those people, and right now there's Ransom smirking at her and the Drysdales glaring from the stands and the lawyers and journalists waiting to pick apart every word she says, and -
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
She seeks out his eyes, the only one there for her sake, returns his smile, and suddenly it's all so very easy.
Turning Into A Penguin Would Be Easier (Doctor Who/H2G2, written before s12 finale)
"Do not tell me," Zaphod told the computer in the most threatening tone he could muster while pouring himself another two emergency drinks (one for each head), "that we docked with another ship while in infinite improbability drive." The computer, being by its very nature a bad liar, cheerfully disobeyed him with a long, almost entirely nonsensical, and entirely correct explanation of the nature of improbabilities.
In the cargo hold, the identical doors of two identical TARDISes opened, the Doctor peered from both while adjusting his (and her) long scarf, looked at themself, then quickly slammed the doors and ran to opposite ends of the universe.
Thud (Gideon the Ninth, hide and seek)
"Come out, come out, wherever you are, Griddle!"
No fucking way, Gideon thinks, ducking down on top of the roof of the nunnery where she can keep an eye on Harrow's every move, even look straight into her bedroom if she'd want to for whatever reason; third time running away has got to be the charm, and if she can just hold out here for a week until the next supply ship comes... and then suddenly the floor beneath her comes alive with bones and she's shoved off the roof so quickly she barely has time to curl up and brace for impact as she lands right in front of her Nocturnal Brattiness' dainty little feet.
She tries to play dead, and Harrow has to clear her throat three times before Gideon realises the flaw in that plan, gets to her feet and limps off towards the kitchen.
By Heck (Person of Interest, Root/Shaw, Shopping for Bear)
Normally, if someone walked up behind Shaw and wrapped something around her neck, they'd be on the floor staring down the barrel of a gun within half a second, and probably not much longer than that; but somehow, somewhen, her muscle memory seems to have filed an exception for Root, and she just asks in the most annoyed voice she can muster what the hell she thinks she's doing.
"Your neck is almost exactly the same size as Bear's, sweetie, did you know that?" Root smiles as she fastens the studded leather collar around Shaw's neck, gives it a tug, then unsnaps it again and hands it to the blushing saleswoman: "We'll take it."
Caught In The Net (Doomsday Book/Doctor Who, written before s12 finale)
Kivrin only travels with the Doctor for a few weeks - relatively speaking, obviously. At first she thinks the Doctor's blank refusal to visit 1348 Oxford might be a race thing (but the Doctor proudly walks any time and place like she owns it), or that she might be worried about catching the plague herself (but she's not human); then the Doctor tries to explain about paradoxes, about fixed points in time, about timelines that can't be allowed to fracture.
And Kivrin decides fuck that; now that she knows how full of holes time is, she'll find some other way to at least save one of them.>
A Modest Proposal (BtVS, Buffy/Faith, leap year)
Faith got as far into her drunken post-coital proposal as "You know, B, there's this old Irish tradition on leap days..." before she chickened out and changed the subject, which was probably for the best; putting a label on whatever this was they were doing would probably just end in tears (not hers, obviously) anyway.
Of course, Buffy wouldn't let it go and kept asking what the tradition was, so she had to come up with something leap year-related.
So now they have more Olympic medals lining the walls of Slayer HQ than they know what to do with and nothing is any less complicated.
rthstewart's fantastic 3 sentence ficathon. One of very few bright spots in a very dreary February. Here they are in no particular order and occasionally with some slight editing. Swimming Lessons (Jessica Jones, daemon AU)
Jessica remembers when her daemon would take on many forms; flying, running, climbing, laughing with her, crying with her...
When he settled as a fighting fish, a lot of that had to go, obviously. But at least he's small enough that she always has a whiskey bottle for him to live in.
I Before E Except After AAAAARGH (BtVS, how to get people to spell your name right)
"Oh, it doesn't really bother me," D'Hoffryn said; "if they're invoking me, odds are I'm going to have them killed anyway, so why sweat the small stuff?"
"But if these human vermin can't even show enough respect to learn the names of their betters, if even the name 'Wyndam-Pryce' is beyond them, even with all their pitiful technical advances, why should we ever allow them to continue their miserable little lives alongside us?"
They discussed it a bit further, then realised that there was probably someone who could help them with an either technical or magical solution, but their e-mail to willow.rosenburg@ucsunnydale.edu bounced for some reason.
Business As Usual (Welcome to Night Vale, After seven What's New Pussycat, throw in one It's Not Unusual)
And now, the Night Vale Community Calendar.
Monday, the City Council has issued a warning for ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs; Tuesday: ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs; Wednesday: ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs; Thursday: ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs; Friday: ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs; Saturday: Why not enjoy a lovely moonlit stroll with your loved ones around the Blood Stone Circle to celebrate the traditional National Sacrifice A Family Member Day? Sunday: ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴛs.
Digressions (Black Books/Good Omens)
"Oh, excuse me, Mr Black, I... Um... Mind if I move one of the bottles here... I have a book to sell you, a first edition Sterne, signed, of course, yours for five pounds... Mind if I just..?"
Bernard stared drunkenly at Aziraphale, down at his own dirty suit, then back up with a frown as the angel paid himself from the till; "Fine, four pounds, and I'll probably take a loss on it, but whatchagonnado."
As he left the shop and took a deep breath of fresh air, Aziraphale wondered at how far they could fall and still keep their pride, and hoped when the trumpets sounded, Bernard would have time to drop by the dry cleaner's first.
Regret Is The Final Emotion (BtVS, Buffy/Faith)
They talk about it over wine, once and never again, about what happened between them all those years ago between the dance at the Bronze and the death in the alley; Buffy assures her she doesn't regret it, it might have been nice to pursue, but blood and apocalypse and going evil and well, she's in a different place now, and so are you, right? Yeah, sure, I mean.
Sometimes it makes Faith want to scream that Buffy can look back and see something that was, neatly wrapped up with a beginning and an end, where all she can see is a big fat never-was.
So Help You (Knives Out, Marta and Blanc at the trial)
As far back as she can remember, Marta's had a fear of public speaking - a perfectly rational one, considering what would happen if social contracts or embarrassment or just thoughtlessness made her tell a lie in front of all those people, and right now there's Ransom smirking at her and the Drysdales glaring from the stands and the lawyers and journalists waiting to pick apart every word she says, and -
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
She seeks out his eyes, the only one there for her sake, returns his smile, and suddenly it's all so very easy.
Turning Into A Penguin Would Be Easier (Doctor Who/H2G2, written before s12 finale)
"Do not tell me," Zaphod told the computer in the most threatening tone he could muster while pouring himself another two emergency drinks (one for each head), "that we docked with another ship while in infinite improbability drive." The computer, being by its very nature a bad liar, cheerfully disobeyed him with a long, almost entirely nonsensical, and entirely correct explanation of the nature of improbabilities.
In the cargo hold, the identical doors of two identical TARDISes opened, the Doctor peered from both while adjusting his (and her) long scarf, looked at themself, then quickly slammed the doors and ran to opposite ends of the universe.
Thud (Gideon the Ninth, hide and seek)
"Come out, come out, wherever you are, Griddle!"
No fucking way, Gideon thinks, ducking down on top of the roof of the nunnery where she can keep an eye on Harrow's every move, even look straight into her bedroom if she'd want to for whatever reason; third time running away has got to be the charm, and if she can just hold out here for a week until the next supply ship comes... and then suddenly the floor beneath her comes alive with bones and she's shoved off the roof so quickly she barely has time to curl up and brace for impact as she lands right in front of her Nocturnal Brattiness' dainty little feet.
She tries to play dead, and Harrow has to clear her throat three times before Gideon realises the flaw in that plan, gets to her feet and limps off towards the kitchen.
By Heck (Person of Interest, Root/Shaw, Shopping for Bear)
Normally, if someone walked up behind Shaw and wrapped something around her neck, they'd be on the floor staring down the barrel of a gun within half a second, and probably not much longer than that; but somehow, somewhen, her muscle memory seems to have filed an exception for Root, and she just asks in the most annoyed voice she can muster what the hell she thinks she's doing.
"Your neck is almost exactly the same size as Bear's, sweetie, did you know that?" Root smiles as she fastens the studded leather collar around Shaw's neck, gives it a tug, then unsnaps it again and hands it to the blushing saleswoman: "We'll take it."
Caught In The Net (Doomsday Book/Doctor Who, written before s12 finale)
Kivrin only travels with the Doctor for a few weeks - relatively speaking, obviously. At first she thinks the Doctor's blank refusal to visit 1348 Oxford might be a race thing (but the Doctor proudly walks any time and place like she owns it), or that she might be worried about catching the plague herself (but she's not human); then the Doctor tries to explain about paradoxes, about fixed points in time, about timelines that can't be allowed to fracture.
And Kivrin decides fuck that; now that she knows how full of holes time is, she'll find some other way to at least save one of them.>
A Modest Proposal (BtVS, Buffy/Faith, leap year)
Faith got as far into her drunken post-coital proposal as "You know, B, there's this old Irish tradition on leap days..." before she chickened out and changed the subject, which was probably for the best; putting a label on whatever this was they were doing would probably just end in tears (not hers, obviously) anyway.
Of course, Buffy wouldn't let it go and kept asking what the tradition was, so she had to come up with something leap year-related.
So now they have more Olympic medals lining the walls of Slayer HQ than they know what to do with and nothing is any less complicated.