3-sentences/ficlets - prompt responses ;) clearly, I had too much fun trying to write the lengthiest sentences possible, at the expense of reasonable structure.

Dragon Age / Karl/Anders / Xianxia setting

Anders has encountered far more incongruous developments in his previous attempts at escape, so he isn't especially concerned right now to find his mage's staff still resonating with his link to the Fade, albeit its taking the form of a slender sword that thrums with a quiet energy, has a life force of its own, seems to strain against his attempts to bring it under his control and quieten it.

What's gotten his heart pounding is the coil of red thread wound around his little finger - not a physical presence but a soul-deep ache that seems to have shown itself to his Sight - following the length of string with his gaze down the slope of the grassy embankment, ending - no, beginning where an unconscious figure lies sprawled out on the dirt.

"Karl!" A strangled shout escapes him, erratic waves of fearhopelovedespair shooting down this uncanny link and causing the other man to stir and blink open his eyes with a soft groan, and Anders doesn't care where they are because they have a chance at a new life here, wherever this is.

Imperial Radch / Breq/Seivarden / Roommates

Seivarden could pinpoint the exact moment that Breq finally ran out of patience - it was when she deviated from her ramrod-straight sitting posture to shift the cursor on the screen, landing it on the mute button and resolutely halting the cacophony of voices direct from Mianaai Enterprises headquarters, leaving the panel of eerie look-alike Mianaai executives/family members to argue amongst themselves via a now-silent video conference call.

"Is this a good time?" Seivarden calls out, already attempting to edge as close to Breq as she can without making an appearance in the frame, then ducking under the webcam's line-of-sight before crawling the rest of the way to kneel under the desk and rest her chin on Breq's knee, sighing softly when Breq starts to run fingers over her hair and the curve of her ear with firm and methodical strokes.

In response to her contented noises, Breq starts to hum one of her songs, the flat affect of her singing voice easily cutting through the reclaimed peace, harmonising with the wet chewing sounds from the cat-shaped terrors Dlique and Zeiat wolfing down their dinner - music to Seivarden's ears.

LOGH / Dusty/Yang / Roommate

Yang regrets agreeing to catsit Admiral for the weekend, because Dusty is enamoured with the crafty old grouch and, worse still, has managed to gain the cat's trust and affection with a whole lot of gentle manhandling - the sort of contact Yang himself would never dare initiate for fear of earning himself a set of scratches to adorn his pale scholar's hands.

He assiduously ignores the plaintive cries of Please, may we keep him, knowing that Attenborough is fully aware of the student apartment building having strict rules forbidding pets in the rooms, and that those whims are short-lived - Attenborough would sooner grumble about fur on every surface than expend the effort to commit to pet ownership.

Besides, Yang is the same, and Admiral is technically Julian's cat, and Yang already has his hands full with Attenborough, although, come to think of it, he finds himself a little envious watching another living creature get so comfortable in his partner's lap.

LOGH / Kircheis/Reinhard/Yang / Modern AU

Had Yang been awake at this point, he might have commented on the scene just about to occur to his right. Reinhard has decided that he wants a seat on the couch; it's still his apartment, all things considered. That couch isn't fully occupied until he says it is.

Kircheis lets out the ghost of a dignified "oof" as Reinhard half-lands in his lap and slings an arm around the former's broad shoulders to pull himself in. "He's so pretty," Reinhard says in a clipped voice, then proceeds to hide his scowl against the underside of Kircheis' jaw. Kircheis' agreement is a low hum that would have escaped Reinhard's notice, had the other not busied himself with pressing a line of kisses down the side of Kircheis' throat. Obediently, Kircheis loosens his collar so that Reinhard may leave his mark if he pleases.

"Don't you dare suggest that I'm jealous of him," Reinhard warns. He already knows that nothing can replace him as the centre of Kircheis' world, for all the attention Yang has been receiving. Comparing himself to Yang may be a theoretical exercise, but one that serves the purpose of reminding himself that Yang is worthy of them. Or, that they are worthy of him?

Reinhard leans over to touch Yang's hair. His centre of gravity shifts, but he is never in danger of losing his balance with Kircheis there to steady him. Yang finally stirs, mouth twitching in his sleep. In response, Kircheis lets out a soft laugh with such genuine warmth that Reinhard wants to kiss him greedily, with enough ferocity to make himself forget this fancy, this obsession they both have with Yang. He considers the matter while slipping his hands under the hem of Kircheis' shirt and his petulant mouth nips at the skin that had earlier been exposed to him. One last, playful flick of his tongue against the reddened skin of Kircheis' collarbones - a proper kiss is in order, to re-establish priorities.

The shifting cushions disturb Yang, who mutters something incoherent, and reaches up to pat Kircheis' knee in greeting. "Don't give away all our secrets in your sleep," Kircheis teases the newly conscious man. To anyone else but Reinhard, it would appear that Kircheis had admonished him. The conditions set by Yang are generous enough, permitting Kircheis to rest a hand against his cheek. Reinhard huffs at the tender gesture and insistently rakes his fingers through the dark, tousled hair. He's never been particularly gentle with Yang, and Kircheis' presence does nothing to soften his impertinent touch. They'll work on this. Reinhard wants to erode his defenses with a barrage of relentless affection. Kircheis, on the other hand, is confident that he will be more easily won over with patience.

MDZS / f!Wangxian / High school classmates

Observing how she leans over her desk, stretching each leg in turn, perching on the edge of her seat, balancing an elbow on the backrest of her chair, Lan Wangji decides that her new classmate Wei Wuxian does not, in fact, know how to sit.

The teacher's back is turned and Wei Wuxian leans across the aisle to flash her a conspiratorial grin - "You look familiar," she says in a low voice, the curve of her lips sending a slash of longing through Lan Wanji's chest, like a scythe, a premonition, a lifetime of unspoken words, loss, and finally, a deep contentment.

Wei Wuxian is halfway out of her seat, kicking her under the table and whispering, "No? Not familiar at all? I thought I saw you at band practice. I'm joining band too, you know? I play the-", pantomiming flute-playing, her upper body swaying in an exaggerated manner, "the toot-toot."

SVSSS / f!Liushen / Roommates, then Professors

Something is wrong with me, Liu Qingge thinks, about to deliver the most important presentation in her career to date, yet seized by the irrepressible notion that Shen Qingqiu is in the perfect position to grab her by the collar and tug her closer, cover that few centimetres of difference in height, become recklessness and impulsivity incarnate (by Liu Qingge's standards, at least) - touch their lips together, a quick peck on the cheek, or something.

Shen Qingqiu, oblivious to these thoughts, continues fiddling with the lapels of Liu Qingge's shirt, while the latter enters a panicked flashback montage of their college days, featuring: an unglamorous, unkempt, and tipsy Shen Qingqiu falling asleep against her shoulder (thin thread of drool and all), Shen Qingqiu doing vicious keyboard battle against (alongside?) enraged fans on some message board the night before their last final of the semester, Shen Qingqiu with an autumn leaf poking out of her hair, because Liu Qingge couldn't construct the perfect scenario to remove it without seeming like a creep, and there it stayed for almost half a day…

"Liu-shimei, hey, you there, Liu-juju?" Shen Qingqiu's familiar teasing voice, accompanied by a slight edge of annoyance, snaps her out of the reverie, and she laughs at the ridiculous suffixes, their inside jokes, suddenly awash with the confidence that she is every atom of the magnificent and talented academic powerhouse that Shen Qingqiu thinks she is.

SVSSS / SQQ/SQH / Roommates

No, Shen Qingqiu cannot believe that he is being asked to proofread and edit the dialogue for Shang Qinghua's latest harebrained idea - when the BLEEPing idiot knows what a stickler he is for consistency and minutiae in fictional world-building, such an invitation is akin to a request for Shen Qingqiu to keel over on his desk and let the humble dream of completing his thesis by its official deadline hop onto a cloud and drift over the distant horizon.

He cannot believe the title - Proud Immortal Demon Way (ppfffffttttt, and it's going to be a harem visual novel!!!), nor can he believe that Shang Qinghua is ambitious and foolhardy enough to single-handedly code the game, as if downloading IndieVideoGameMaker dot exe was a lodestone which would help this absurd fancy of his crystallise into a functional product.

But he is also weak, so weak and soft-hearted, he berates himself, as Shang Qinghua comes up behind him and plants a soft kiss upon his brow, slipping a compilation of illegible notes into his hands.

TGCF / Hualian / Thrift store AU

The thrift store doesn't get much traffic, so Xie Lian is always grateful when San Lang pops over to drop off a homemade lunch and lean over the low cashier counter to watch him eat; Xie Lian is grateful for the food, and not about to admit that he prefers sneaking glances at the curve of San Lang's shoulders, the curling and flexing of his slender fingers while the latter languidly stretches, arches his back like an insouciant cat.

San Lang behaves himself when the rare customer enters the store, always managing to disappear before he's sighted as though in possession of a supernatural keenness for any living being that approaches the premises - Xie Lian's eight hundred or so years of existence have left him with certain suspicions, but he's got nothing that could conclusively prove that San Lang is anything out of the ordinary, except…

The odd times when San Lang is in a cheeky mood, decking himself out in the finest offerings from the store while he bursts into little ditties which could be original gibberish, or snippets of song in a language Xie Lian only recognises as English from his days of masquerading as a private tutor: the deeper meaning of a sentence like "I wear your granddad's clothes" is utterly lost on him, but San Lang sure looks incredible.

-

Hua Cheng rarely loses his composure, but this time, he barely manages to keep himself together after Xie Lian's curious fingers glide over the smartphone screen, swiping open the UI of a recently-used app. He bites down hard on his lower lip, thankful that Xie Lian is too bashful to look at him for long. The smile and his one twinkling eye are beginning to resemble a mask with a diamond-hard gaze. "Gege," he murmurs in a low voice, "may I have my phone back?"

Xie Lian is fumbling to close the app. There's a large eye with a crimson red pupil that takes up most of the display, set upon a gleaming silver background that appears to mimic an embellished metal surface. As though alive, the eye spins in every direction, like that of an anxious and excitable creature which has found itself waking up in an unfamiliar place. None of the 'carved' symbols are familiar to him. What happened to plain old serviceable characters? Why is everything seemingly represented in esoteric code these days? Is this one of those mobile games the kids are all into these days?

"San Lang, is there even a button to shut this down?" His voice is calm, but his fingers twitch; it's muscle memory. Hua Cheng knows that Xie Lian's sharp, analytical mind is betrayed by his more physically-oriented instincts. He's probably itching to slam the phone against the counter once or twice to see if whatever part he believes has come loose will rattle around inside the casing and fall back into place.

"Give it back, please." Hua Cheng tries to peer over his shoulder at the screen, but his breath hitches when Xie Lian tickles it. Xie Lian has never been more amused. "Oh! It reacts to touch!" His thumb glides over the virtual eye's eyelid, carefully tracing the arc. The store owner is visibly calmer, and so is the eye. He turns to show Hua Cheng without ceasing the gentle stroking. Hua Cheng wasn't expecting a scenario like this to happen when he wrote E'ming's script. "Cute," he says, swallowing. "Didn't realise it could do that! Haha! Now if you don't mind…"

Xie Lian is only slightly reluctant to hand the phone back. Flashing something of a regretful expression, Hua Cheng makes a clean grab for it, snatching it from Xie Lian's outstretched hand just as it starts to shudder violently. "Is it going to be okay?" Xie Lian asks, clearly referring to E'ming.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll be fine!" Hua Cheng shoves his phone somewhere deep inside the oversized fur coat. A muffled, incessant buzzing makes this less believable, but Xie Lian only smiles. He retrieves his own phone - a weathered little device with its miniature screen, number pad with the printed numbers long worn away, and a decades-old but reliable connection to the 2G network. With some difficulty, he navigates to the empty address book. "Whenever San Lang is ready!"

TGCF / SQX/HX / Idols AU

They've stood in this familiar half-darkness so many times before, noticing, but not listening to the roar of the crowds overhead, anticipation on a low simmer as they wait for their cue: the instrumental track from their debut mini-album 'FATE' - Shi Qingxuan fidgeting with sequins on his jacket, He Xuan inwardly anxious but looking the part of a serene statuette.

Shi Qingxuan breaks their bubble of silence, chanting, "Ming-xiong. Ming. Xiong. Ming. Ming-xiong," under his breath, getting into 'Ming-xiong Mode', what he calls the process of switching over to He Xuan's stage persona, lest he slip up during the MC again and get another earful from his brother - the temper tantrums he's used to, can practically ignore, but not the way his heart clenches as he restrains He Xuan, always on the edge of lunging at their manager as though about to snap and tear him apart.

Above them, the narrow rectangular outline of light begins to dim, the cheering now dialed down a notch, dramatised sound effects of howling wind and crashing waves in a rising crescendo signal the start of the introduction - in a moment, the platform will elevate them through the hatch in the stage floor as it slides open - soon after that, chaos will erupt when Shi Qingxuan greets their fans by yelling, "Good evening! Actually! Our name! Should have been Shuang Xuan!"

TGTCF / SQX/HX / Modern AU

It feels like a dream to Shi Qingxuan, waking up to the sound of waves whispering over the sand, somewhere beyond the open window with its heavy black and gold wave-patterned damask drapes, beyond the angular profile of the person beside him, his brow slightly furrowed even in sleep - Shi Qingxuan shuffles closer to press a kiss to that forehead, thinking that no face so beautiful and noble should be marred by something as common as a crease.

The person stirs, and Shi Qingxuan, normally boisterous and exuberant, is suddenly rendered shy under that piercing gaze - he's still getting used to the revelation that who he'd previously known as Ming-xiong has a completely separate identity, is still navigating the waters of how to address him, has been testing out names in his head: He-xiong, He… gege…

"We're the same age but it always seems like you're older," Shi Qingxuan murmurs, burrowing under the covers and snuggling against He Xuan's chest, to which the other probably stoically replies something like you're so noisy, or happy birthday, doesn't matter because he speaks louder in gestures - Shi Qingxuan could melt into his touch, the warmth of his bare skin.