#3 sentence fic meme

[hourcat]

piarles + exes to lovers...you know i had to. 🤷‍♀️🥰

In a way, it's only fitting that Charles is the one that finds him out here--trapped in the pouring rain outside the venue where the rest of Lance's wedding party has long since retreated from, banging on every window and getting nothing from the darkened room inside because of course the waitstaff are prioritizing the guests currently at the event and not, you know, outside of it.

"Pierre," his familiar voice seems to cut right through the rain, and Pierre's vision is blurred from the raindrops but he doesn't even need to see the face that goes with the voice because he knows Charles; hell, sometimes he used to think he knew Charles better than Charles knew himself, back when they were engaged and living together in a too-small apartment in San Lazzaro and in each other's back pocket. But even with all the time that's passed, it doesn't change the way Pierre finds his breath caught in his throat at the sight of him: now equally wet and bright-eyed with concern and amusement, lips quirked in that way he used to love so much; Charles slows to a stop a safe distance away and keeps shouting over the pouring rain, "I thought you hated weddings," but that's not true at all--hate and fear are two very different things.

[girlivealwaysbean]

i don't know it's because it's more a mature fandom with more older people but i just read an amazing iwtv fiv with 174 COMMENTS??? that's crazy very good very proud

[badassindistress]

First sentence for fic:

It was not quite a matter of life and death, but it was one of lace and damask, which was equally dire.

It was not quite a matter of life and death, but it was one of lace and damask, which was equally dire.

The Fate of the Nation hung on a thread with inconvenient frequency, but never before had that thread been so annoyingly literal (and lacy).

If only the Grand Marshall hadn't been such a slight, stooped figure. If only his emergency last minute replacement hadn't been so admirably tall. And built like she could lift half the High Council on her entirely too broad shoulders.

If only she had been less gifted in the physical, the National Assembly room would not now be filled with stressed lacemakers and peevish embroiderers, hastily repairing the giant tear in the Ceremonial Robes (including delicate lace ruff) as the rest of the High Council fretted, the Third Minister stalled the visiting dignitaries by talking about architecture, and the newly minted Grand Marshall laughed bashfully as she attempted not to move a muscle, lest the sleeves of her damask robe fall off again.

[randomoranges]

some little prince au one-shot silly idea from last week.

this is like, pre prince-au haha

To Be

As was often the norm, after a long day of training and lessons, once they had eaten, Calvin went to lounge in Étienne’s room. The young prince’s quarters were bigger, better lit and more comfortable than his own and Étienne liked to keep his space warm and inviting.

He stretched luxuriously on Étienne’s larger bed after shedding the outer layers of his uniform and stared up at the familiar ceiling. For as long as he could remember, he and Étienne had been joined at the hip, getting into all sorts of mischief together. Étienne had shown him how and Calvin had gladly followed.

It helped, obviously, that Étienne was the prince, and the youngest one at that, and so the scoldings were always gentle. And even though Calvin knew that one day he would serve Étienne’s eldest brother, who would one day be crowned king, for now, he could stay by his friend’s side.

Étienne joined his side moments later and Calvin spared him a glance as he got settled. The light from the window caressed the prince’s features and Calvin felt his breath still for a moment. Étienne looked – beautiful under the pale moonlight that blended with the golden light of the candles that were still on.

Then again, Calvin had often thought that Étienne was pretty – not that he’d ever told him. But, he was, from the curls of his brown hair that framed his face just so, the green of his eyes often bright with humour and the sincerity of his smile, Calvin had fallen slowly but surely for his friend.

“Please tell me your day was better than mine,” Étienne asked him after complaining about his own. For as much as he liked learning, everyone who knew the prince also knew that Étienne preferred to immerse himself in his art or the company of others.  

Calvin tucked Étienne close to his chest where it felt like the most natural place in the world for him to be in this moment and relayed the highlights from training, while the prince played with his hair as he often did when it was just the two of them. It felt nice, this proximity to Étienne and he’d never given it a second thought over the many years they had known each other.

“You should come to the next training sessions,” Calvin encouraged him as he tried to do every so often. Étienne grimaced at that, making him laugh quietly.

“No thank you; it’s absolutely muddy out there. I don’t see why anyone needs such barbaric skills anyways.” He added with evident disdain, making Calvin roll his eyes at the comment, fond despite everything else. It was no secret that the youngest prince of the palace was far from a fighter and could rarely be persuaded to attend any training whatsoever much to the chagrin of the king and of the head of the king’s guard.

“Will you come and watch at least?” Calvin knew that he could get Étienne to come and watch him on occasion, if the weather was nice. Sometimes, he would even sketch the drills the knights would go through and Calvin was always secretly impressed by what Étienne showed him afterwards.

Étienne made a noncommittal shrug, “I was thinking of riding into town tomorrow after my lessons; I need a distraction.”

Calvin nodded, he knew what the prince meant by that. Whenever Étienne got a little restless, he would visit the town and mingle with the people. Sometimes, he would even spend the night at the inn with whomever had stricken his fancy. Calvin had also known for years now that Étienne preferred both the company of men and women, and really, it was no secret.

Still, every time the prince went out, Calvin thanked the stars that they lived in peaceful times and that the royal family was well loved by the locals. That, or at the very least, he did not have to worry as much about Étienne staying out of the castle.

However, Étienne’s potential trip into town brought forth another question to Calvin.

“Can I ask you something?” He started, putting the words together in his mind before he chickened out. It was a rather personal question and even though he knew Étienne wouldn’t judge or make fun of him for it, there was still a bubble of fear that wedged itself inside of him.

Étienne shifted so that they were facing each other, as if sensing that what Calvin had to ask him was serious, and then motioned for him to go on.

“What’s it like to kiss a man?” He said ever so quickly while holding his breath and hoping for the best. He knew his friend wasn’t going to laugh at him for asking, but he did still wonder what Étienne’s reaction was going to be.

The prince blinked, as if surprised, and then a soft smile came to his lips, while Calvin tried to remember what it was like to breathe.

“I’d say it’s pretty much the same as kissing a woman, except sometimes, some of them have lots of facial hair and it can tickle.” He paused, making sure he hadn’t missed any extra information worth relaying to Calvin. “Why do you ask? Is it something you’d like to try?” He added as if giving him the invitation he needed to pursue his plan.

Calvin’s eyes widened slightly and he looked away, suddenly shy. He didn’t know why Étienne wasn’t one to normally be mean for no reason. Even if the prince wouldn’t indulge his little folly, he wouldn’t mock him for it.

“Maybe…” He finally admitted, daring at the last second to look back to Étienne and maybe he was imagining things, but he swore he saw a flicker of something run through the greens of Étienne’s eyes.

“Well, in that case, aren’t you just in luck. I happen to have some experience in that field.” Étienne shifted once more and Calvin found himself with an armful of his favourite prince, pressed close to one another, while his heart sped up quite a bit. Even in his wildest of dreams, it never went quite like this.

This was very different from any other time they had lain together, late at night, talking when they should have been asleep. This felt more intimate even if absolutely nothing had happened yet, but the potential for a shift was ever so present. They were on the brink of something big and Calvin could only pray that whatever happened wouldn’t ruin what he already had with Étienne.

Étienne cupped his face and the warmth of it against his cheek made Calvin’s body heat up all over. He leaned into the contact, marvelling at it and anticipated what would – could – hopefully would happen next.

For a moment, the prince simply caressed his cheek with the pad of his thumb and the action was soothing as well as grounding. Calvin could imagine the paint speckled thumb against his cheek and even though the prince had never touched him this way, the image of his thumb flecked with paint was familiar enough, reassuring even. This was Étienne, after all. His best friend. The boy he had grown up with. It would only be fair and make perfect sense that Étienne would be the first boy he would want to kiss.

It was finally Étienne who closed the last of the distance between the two of them and pressed his lips to Calvin’s first, nearly taking him by surprise at the sudden shift.

Calvin wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but sure enough, just like Étienne had told him, it was pretty much the same. And yet, it was also so very different, for Étienne’s lips had been foreign to him up until this very moment, a far away fantasy, and they proved to be soft against his own. Just as Calvin started to register the shape and feel of them, the kiss was over and Étienne pulled away.

Too soon, in his opinion. There was so much more to commit to his memory.

“See what I mean?” The prince asked, voice ever so caring and soft.

“I think I need to try again.” Calvin seized his opportunity and moved in as Étienne laughed quietly, more than pleased to welcome him back. This time, they met halfway, Étienne parting his lips for Calvin’s eager tongue and this, by far, was much better. Sure, Calvin had had a dalliance here and there, but he felt as though he could spend a lifetime kissing Étienne and it still wouldn’t be enough.

He loved the way Étienne held on to him gently, one hand caressing his cheek, and when they pulled away, Étienne looked at him as though he was his most treasured artefact. Calvin brushed his thumb over the prince’s kiss swollen lips and returned his easy smile. They both laughed, a private affair between them, before Étienne pulled him back to him for another eager kiss.

Calvin felt alive and bold from the way Étienne clung to him, breathy little moans escaping his lips that were like music to his ears. He dared let his hands travel down the length of Étienne’s sides and only wondered briefly why it was he had waited this long to kiss his beloved prince. Étienne was so responsive to his touch, going as far as to twine their legs together to be closer still and Calvin wanted even more.

“Étienne,” He said, breaking the moment. Étienne looked at him, face flushed but pleased and Calvin knew right then and there that he’d want this for as long as possible.

“What’s it like to lie with a man?” He whispered, using his earlier question, lips near brushing against Étienne’s, teasing him really.

Étienne looked at him, surprised, but evidently pleased by the question, “I’d say,” He started voice thick with evident want as he licked his lips in anticipation, and Calvin silently thrilled at the fact that he was the reason for putting Étienne in this state, “That it’s a wonderful thing and I’d be more than happy to assist you with that,” he murmured back, before he gently pushed Calvin on his back in order to clamber on top of him.

Calvin grinned, admiring the view of his gorgeous prince, here with him, in all the senses of the word.

FIN

[bericas]

Trick or treat!

3 sentences of fic in an au where Everything is the Same but the ships are scerica, boydia, allisaac, stora, dethan, jaiden, and malira, and also they get to have pool parties sometimes, set in s4:

"Stop!" Erica shouts, voice raw. "Stop! It's Scott!" Her hands are stained with Scott's blood, claws still out. She can't focus long enough to remember how to retract them.

[blackjackkent]

Word prompt ask!

And because I always give you more than one prompt, haha ...

Firefly / Threnody / Wildcard

Whichever catches your fancy :)

(Drop a word in my inbox and I’ll write three sentences of a fic based on it)

:D Eyyyy, thank you!

I receive: prompts You receive: Jaheira content ;)

-----

Firefly

When Rion was six, she would sit on the stoop of the house and catch fireflies in her bare hands in the warm, thick summer air. Jaheira, still heavy in her mind with many losses, watched the little girl’s movements - quick and yet gentle - and smiled a little in spite of herself. It was a reminder that nature existed even in the civilized wasteland of Baldur’s Gate, and a reminder that her child could know the land in these small doses, even among high buildings.

-----

Threnody

“A wailing ode, song, hymn or poem of mourning composed or performed as a memorial to a dead person.”

It felt as if she lived an entire lifetime in those few moments she knelt on Irenicus’s laboratory floor alongside Khalid’s broken body. The keening wail in her mind had no melody, for she knew nothing of music, and yet it was a song in its way. A crescendo of grief, starting from mute disbelief and slowly rising into deafening anguish; a chorus, call and response, of the attempt at comfort and its screaming denial; a final coda, a dissonant leading chord resolving into nothing but silence.

-----

Wildcard

Jaheira remembered Minsc’s moments of wildness on the road in Amn, the times that Aerie had nearly fallen in battle and Minsc had seemed to become twice his size in rising to her defense. It was an unpredictable sort of loyalty, as dangerous as it was touching; it unsettled her greatly to think that he saw in her something also worth protecting with so much violence and so little forethought. To be a wychlaran of a berserker was a disquieting responsibility she did not wish for, rather like holding a lit firecracker in one hand and deciding in which direction it should be thrown.

[alleyskywalker]

I don't know if you're still getting prompts but if you are

Theon/Robb + reversed power dynamics

"Kneel before the Prince, greenlander scum." One of Theon's men pushes their prisoner down to his knees onto the stone floor. The young man makes a dull, repressed sound of pain around the gag, but for a long moment, he does not look up at Theon.

"We've caught ourselves a wolf," Theon tells him men. "And not just any wolf. A royal one." If this doesn't make his father understand… He's certain Asha will be furious, at least. He's willing to bet she had hoped their plan would go poorly. Instead it has gone remarkably better than Theon could have expected. She doesn't know Stark the way I do, Father, Theon had insisted at the last council before they laid the trap. Besides their my hostages. I'd rather kill them than let you waste them. He's relieved his father had listened, first and foremost because Theon seriously doubts he would have actually found the strength to kill the boys. Rickon's fucking four. Drowned fuck.

Robb has now finally deigned to look up at him. The hatred in his eyes takes Theon aback for a moment, although…what else had he expected? For a moment, he considers removing the gag, seeing if Robb will try actually bite him. Then decides against it. "Everyone out," he says, instead. The men hesitate, but it only takes a glare from Theon to usher them out. They've come to obey him, at least, at this victory has done him some good on the Respect and Admiration scale too.

He turns his attention back to Robb, who's still glaring at him. His legs aren't bound but his arms are securely twisted behind his back, and the gag has been fashioned as muzzle in such a way that it probably obscures his breathing some. He won't try anything. "You came for your brothers," Theon says, shaking his head. "I knew you'd come for them in force, the way you couldn't for your sisters, but even I didn't think you'd come yourself, you absolute idiot." He feels a bite of pity at that.

Robb's eyes narrow and for a moment, he strains against the gag, then stops, likely reminding himself it's useless and humiliating to try.

"What do you think will happen to you?" Theon approaches him now, touches a hand against his cheek. Robb leans away sharply, almost falls over. "We could kill you..." Theon muses. "But that would be a waste. I don't think, however, that we need all three of you."

Robb's eyes go wide. In a furry he tries to stand, but Theon shoves him back down. Fascinated, he watches the change of emotions on Robb's face - anger fading into pleading. Theon can almost hear him saying, kill me but not my brothers. For some reason, this makes Theon want to hit him. It must have shown on his face, because Robb closes his eyes, visibly bracing himself. "You think I'll hit you?" Theon scoffs, pretending he hadn't thought it. "That's no way to treat highborn hostages."

Slowly, Robb opens his eyes now to stare at him with confusion. "Well, we're not letting you go," Theon explains, in the tone he'd use with a child. "Once the terms are signed, we can probably send Bran back. The boy is crippled and no military mind. He'll never lead men himself. More importantly, he's old enough to remember both you and Rickon and not wish to put your lives in peril." And clearly doesn't have the personality for that sort of decision. "You and Rickon will remain hostages to ensure your brother's and the North's good behavior." Theon smiles at him, almost tenderly. He can't keep the heavy layer of irony out of his voice. "We'll treat you well."

[istadris]

Hello, is it still possible to ask for a 3-sentences ficlet? If yes, I'd like a Peach/Bowser too (but I can't read French, so thanks Google translation) please! Tangled AU? With Peach using her frying pan pleeease??

(You know what, I might go back to the previous ask and translate it now...)

"...And until you agree to guide me to this "Mushroom Kingdom", I won't release you!", she finishes her speech with while pointing her frying pan at Bowser.

If she hadn't whacked him in the face hard enough to knock him out, Bowser would have simply laughed at this ridiculous air-head who didn't even know she was the long-lost princess of the kingdom she seeked.

But she did pack a mean punch, and this was the opportunity of a lifetime : between her innocence and his roguish charms, by the time they reached the Mushroom Kingdom, he would have this pretty little thing wrapped around his finger.

*

1 pairing + 1 AU = 3 sentence fic

[batri-jopa]

[tinknevertalks]

Alright, this is me going for it^^ For the pairing/AU thingy: Teslen + "they are villains"

Hey lovely! Hope you like this!

"They are villains," she heard the tied up goons mutter as she sauntered to Nikola, twirling a pair of handcuffs around one finger, licking her lips as he smirked at her. 

"They're… villains?" he heard the goons question as he laid down his gloves, his electricity now fully contained within him as Helen stroked his cheek, her other hand (with those lovely handcuffs) directly over his heart.

"Are… are we the villains?" the goons asked as darkness fell and the unmistakable sound of a zipline reeling in echoed around the room, the last sighting of either hero for many (exceedingly enjoyable for them) months.

[nostalgia-tblr]

WIP Ask Game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!

I wasn't tagged for this I'm just procrastinating, and it's been a while since I did this one so New! Filenames! Appear! I left out my main AU WIP and also a couple that got asked about in previous editions of this meme. These are all Loki show/MCU fics because apparently that is my Thing at the moment:

5 times seduction

lokius stockholm syndrome fic

sylki hurt-comfort (but she's shit at it)

parry

mobius made them do it

the one with the file

fucked up sakaar dubcon fic again

straightforward

twee thor

suddenfilth

thor's tragic arranged marriage (NOT THORKI FIC)

[hourcat]

you should absolutely write more of that dick pic fic if ur so inclined like I am LISTENING

i am taking this as a follow-up 3 sentence request

Pierre's gaze falls to where Charles is now white-knuckling the phone--for the briefest of moments, it looks like he's concerned that Charles hadn't found the joke funny, or maybe that he'd been offended and was worried about apologizing, which...Pierre knows him better than that, Charles knows, but it's still comforting to know that he really does care.

Of course, the moment passes quickly as he registers the image in the blink of an eye, and Charles can only watch in muted horror as Pierre goes redder than Charles has ever seen him in his life before snatching the phone from his grasp, turning the screen off as if that will erase the image of his dick from where it's been burned into Charles' eyelids.

"I," he starts after a long beat, voice too loud, then stops and shakes his head and tries to laugh a little before he continues, "that was not for you," which, yes Charles knew that bit (the errant thought of I wish it was skitters through his brain, which he does not have time to unpack)--but hearing it somehow makes the reality of every date night story his best friend has ever told come to life: that that photo is on someone else's phone, gaudy and lustful and full of an intention that makes Charles want to squirm in his seat for a reason he can't quite identify.

[doodleimprovement]

Nicknames

"well, what did you call him?" Ingo questioned, hands carefully sanding off the wooden doll in his hands.

Akari chuckled "Well, at first we tried calling him "Benson". cause that's his name, but he hated it" she applied a little pressure to the mortar, grinding the berries down into their vibrant juice, ready for wood staining "So we started calling him "Barry", and he liked that a lot better"

[randomoranges]

amnesia au part 196

Of course, on the morning of their date, Étienne woke up feeling completely off both mentally and physically. He thought and hoped it would pass, but the more the day went on, the more the idea of being out literally anywhere made his stomach turn. He felt even worse thinking Edward would be annoyed at him for having to cancel, however eventually, he had no choice but to text him.

“I can always come over and make us dinner at yours, if you’d prefer and feel up to it.” Edward texted back without a trace of anger Étienne had for sure thought would be there. (Then again, some small voice dared to remind him, Edward had always stuck around when he’d had a bad day in the past and had never been nasty about it, why would that have changed?)

It wasn’t that Étienne didn’t want Edward over. On the one hand, the idea of spending another evening alone made his skin crawl, but on the other, the idea of his “first” date with Edward being at his apartment because he was having a terrible day and Edward having to take care of him made him feel just as bad.

“But this was supposed to be a date; I don’t want you to be bored or have to take care of me when we were meant to go out.”

“Ok, how’s this: I’ll bring a book and we can just hang out. I’ll still make dinner and we can just spend time together doing our own thing. I don’t mind. Promise.”

He knew Edward’s message was supposed to make him feel better, but somehow it only made him feel even worse that on one day he was meant to function like a normal human being, his body and mind had decided to rebel against him.

“If you really don’t feel up to it, it’s okay and I understand, but I really don’t mind a quiet evening together just chilling.” Edward reiterated after some time had passed.

Biting his lip, Étienne sent out a quick reply before he could change his mind or overthink it too much. “Ok you can come. I do actually want to see you despite everything else.” He also tried to convince himself that Edward wouldn’t have insisted if he didn’t actually want to come over. Once to be polite maybe, but not multiple times.

“Great. I’ll stop by my place to grab some things for dinner and then I’ll drive over as planned. Let me know if you change your mind/if anything comes up x”

Étienne stared at that x for longer than necessary before he promised him that he would and then went to hope that he’d feel somewhat better by the time Edward would come over.

Of course, the universe had forsaken him and so, when his doorbell rang a few hours later, he still felt like garbage, but the prospect of seeing Edward and spending some time with him did make him feel somewhat better – or, at the very least, he didn’t feel like sheltering under a multitude of blankets.

He held Mercury back as he opened the door and was immediately handed a bag as a form of greeting.

He juggled the logistics of groceries and excited puppy as he let Edward in without letting Mercury out and somehow or other, the groceries, dog and human all managed to remain in one piece and on the appropriate side of the door.

“Sorry about all of that; I’m still training her not to jump on people when the doorbell rings; she gets a little too excited.”

Edward made a motion with his hands to let him know that it was fine and crouched low to properly greet Mercury, who was more than happy to see another person, while Étienne brought the first bag to his kitchen.

When he returned to his entrance, Edward was standing once more and so he did the one thing he’d been looking forward to all day and went to greet Edward properly with a long hug. At least, even after many years, Edward’s hugs were still as warm and comforting as they had always been and Étienne let himself be held.

“Thank you for letting me come over; how d’you feel?”

Étienne shrugged from inside the embrace. He’d had worse days, sure, and he’d managed to force himself to take Mercury out for a walk and wash himself before Edward arrived, but that was where his list of accomplishments ended.

“I’ll live; thank you for being accommodating.”

“Of course.”

Étienne led him to the kitchen and showed Edward where the pots and pans were, before he went to sit at the kitchen table, his leg being a rightful pain.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more to help.”

“Don’t worry about it. You stay there and if I need anything I’ll ask.”

He did just that and soon through their conversation, Edward had his kitchen smelling delicious.

Étienne had done his best to stay hydrated and eat during the day and he knew he had to get his weight back up if he ever wanted to get the surgery for his leg, but all his efforts had been put in managing his pain and taking care of Mercury.  Therefore, he had been overwhelmed with the mere idea of making something and thus, he’d snacked here and there when he needed to take his medication, nothing more.

Now, the smell of Edward’s cooking made his mouth water.

“Are you – are you making borscht?” He asked as he made his careful way back to the kitchen. He peered over Edward’s shoulder and observed the pot that was on the stove as well as other odds and ends that were set out.

“Yeah; I made borscht the other day and had some in the freezer. I figured soup would be good if you were feeling a little off. I got some pierogies as well.”

He swallowed thickly in anticipation.

“That sounds amazing, actually; I’ll set the table.”

Étienne could have wept. On top of everything else he had missed from living with Edward, his cooking was way up there. Edward had never called himself a chef and he never made what he considered to be complicated dishes (unless he was set on duplicating some fancy pastry or cake he thought was ridiculously expensive and overpriced), but Étienne had always loved his cooking from the very beginning. Whatever his trick was, Étienne had been sold from day one.

Edward had tried teaching Étienne how to make some dishes over the many years they had lived together, but he’d always been a lost cause. Even the soup had given him trouble and no matter what he did or didn’t do, it never tasted quite as good as Edward’s, even when he had helped him out.

He shook his head, quietly amused by his memory and reached over for the dishes before he slowly made his way towards the table, feeling just a little bit better for the first time that day, the idea of a warm meal made by Edward already warming his insides.

--

PREVIOUS: CXCV CURRENT: CXCVI NEXT: CXCVII

[johnnyutah]

🌹 for you my leige

for every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence of a random WIP i'm currently writing. send me one here!

“Agent,” Lindsey begins, “with all due respect—” then Peter smartly wrests the phone from her grip before she can tell Erickson how little he knows about the local police department, which is dick, and what she thinks of him sending them out here while ordering them around from his cushy throne back at the field office, which is bullshit.

[thebibliosphere]

So, anyway, I say as though we are mid-conversation, and you're not just being invited into this conversation mid-thought. One of my editors phoned me today to check in with a file I'd sent over. (<3)

The conversation can be surmised as, "This feels like something you would write, but it's juuuust off enough I'm phoning to make sure this is an intentional stylistic choice you have made. Also, are you concussed/have you been taken over by the Borg because ummm."

They explained that certain sentences were very fractured and abrupt, which is not my style at all, and I was like, huh, weird... And then we went through some examples, and you know that meme going around, the "he would not fucking say that" meme?

Yeah. That's what I experienced except with myself because I would not fucking say that. Why would I break up a sentence like that? Why would I make them so short? It reads like bullet points. Wtf.

Anyway. Turns out Grammarly and Pro-Writing-Aid were having an AI war in my manuscript files, and the "suggestions" are no longer just suggestions because the AI was ignoring my "decline" every time it made a silly suggestion. (This may have been a conflict between the different software. I don't know.)

It is, to put it bluntly, a total butchery of my style and writing voice. My editor is doing surgery, removing all the unnecessary full stops and stitching my sentences back together to give them back their flow. Meanwhile, I'm over here feeling like Don Corleone, gesturing at my manuscript like:

ID: a gif of Don Corleone from the Godfather emoting despair as he says, "Look how they massacred my boy."

Fearing that it wasn't just this one manuscript, I've spent the whole night going through everything I've worked on recently, and yep. Yeeeep. Any file where I've not had the editing software turned off is a shit show. It's fine; it's all salvageable if annoying to deal with. But the reason I come to you now, on the day of my daughter's wedding, is to share this absolute gem of a fuck up with you all.

This is a sentence from a Batman fic I've been tinkering with to keep the brain weasels happy. This is what it is supposed to read as:

"It was quite the feat, considering Gotham was mostly made up of smog and tear gas."

This is what the AI changed it to:

"It was quite the feat. Considering Gotham was mostly made up. Of tear gas. And Smaug."

Absolute non-sensical sentence structure aside, SMAUG. FUCKING SMAUG. What was the AI doing? Apart from trying to write a Batman x Hobbit crossover??? Is this what happens when you force Grammarly to ignore the words "Batman Muppet threesome?"

Did I make it sentient??? Is it finally rebelling? Was Brucie Wayne being Miss Piggy and Kermit's side piece too much???? What have I wrought?

Anyway. Double-check your work. The grammar software is getting sillier every day.