Three Sentence Ficathon

[rthstewart]

UPDATE! EDIT!
 We're running into the Dreamwidth comment limits so all new prompts should be posted here Keep responding to and filling already posted prompts here, but all new ones should go to the new thread!

Someone did this banner for me a couple of years ago.  It's great, isn't it?  If it was you, please step up and take a bow!
It was st_aurafina!   Thank you again!


caramelsilver ran one last year on Livejournal and I did two over here a few years ago. We'll keep it open until January 31, 2019 which should give everyone time to play a little. This is a delightful part of the online fandom community.


What is the 3 Sentence Ficathon?
This is a challenge where you answer a prompt with a fic consisting of only three sentences. It's open to all fandoms and you can post and answer as many prompts as you like, as many times as you want.

What do I do first?
You post prompts! When posting a prompt please format it this way:

fandom, character(s), prompt word/sentence.

Only one prompt per comment please.  So, for example,

Star Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi, I don't like sand."

What else?
You answer other posters' prompts in three sentences (or more if you can't stop yourself) and fill as many prompts as you want, as many times as you wish. If you see that a prompt you loved has already been filled, go ahead and fill it again! Multiple fills of the same prompt are allowed and even encouraged!  (We get really fun stories going this way).

Can I still post if I need more than 3 sentences?  Or should I just abuse grammar in ways the English language never contemplated?
Yes.  Yes.


But I'm not a member of Dreamwidth
No problem. You can comment anonymously or through open ID

Can anyone play?
Yes! Please signal boost this to your flist, followers, and any other places you frequent. Come one, come all!
The more people who come and play, the better!

Can I spread the word? 
Yes, please.  I'd love to create a nifty banner with an embed code but I fail at it.  So if you create one, I'll post it and everyone can use it.

How long will it go?
Tentatively, we'll close it on January 31, 2019. 

Are there any rules about cross-posting?
Nope, you can post wherever you want, whenever you want. A lot of folks collected their responses together and posted them on AO3 under the 3 sentence fiction tag. 3SFs are a terrific prompt for remixes and could be helpful for Yuletide bears, too.

What about spoilers, content warnings, triggers, pairings, ratings, tags, and squick?
I thought about this.  It wasn't an issue the last 2 times I ran this but times change.  In my experience, this typically gets too big, moves too fast, and the stories are too short for content warnings and ratings. You should assume spoilers are fair game and that the initial poster and responder have opted to use no content warnings or tags. I've found personally that I can skim by stuff that, from the prompt, I can tell isn't my favorite flavor of delicious cake. Use your best judgment and be prepared to skip over things that aren't your thing.


And here, have some icons!










I'll start things off...

Edit to add on 12/18/2018 Please check out this update here. And this friending meme if you're so inclined here.

Comments

[lady_katana4544]

On AO3

Traveling with Gamora and the Guardians was a good idea, Natasha thought as she watched the Guardians work on their weapons and move among each with such ease that she hadn't seen anywhere outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers.

There were supposedly good things according to Rogers and Fury that they could learn from teaming up with the Guardians.

Natasha hadn't expected though that she would end up taking the fiercely beautiful Gamora to bed after a rough tenth mission with the team. She's woken up first and finds herself watching Gamora as she slept calmly, bathed in starlight through the window of her quarters.

Gamora sighed in her sleep as she turned towards Natasha to rest her head slightly on Nat's chest.

Re: Stargate: SG-1

[candlesinthewell]

Ahaha, this is perfect! Never, never touch mysterious carvings in mysterious temples.

MCU, Thor & Loki

[chasingkerouac]

Thor adjusted the red velvet white-trimmed hat to sit at a jaunty angle on Loki's head. It was surprising that he was cooperating -- true, Loki was currently chained to the chair, but past experience proved many times over that the chains acted merely as a formality. Loki had slipped out of his far share of bindings, both Midgardian or otherwise. "There. You look quite festive, brother."

"Thanks, I hate it," Loki intoned flatly.

"You have not even seen yourself. You cannot hate what you have not yet seen." Thor beamed. He should have taken Bruce up on the offer of a celluar device. They quite often took pictures, and the sight of his brother dressed in such holiday finery was worth sharing. "You know, with the stories the Midgardians tell of this Santa Claus, it would not surprise me if he was actually Asgardian. He can fly, he can enchant animals to fly as well, he uses magic to know the innermost thoughts and actions of all of the children of the world."

"Yes, he sounds just riviting."

"If I didn't know any better, his powers almost sound like... Loki...?"

"Hmm?"

"Brother, are you...?"

"I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about. " Loki gave a small shrug, careful not to jostle the hat. "Besides, I would look awful in red."

Re: MCU, Thor & Loki

[sholio]

LOLLLLL. Perfect. XD (true, Loki was currently chained to the chair ... ahahaha, omg.)

Re: Stargate: SG-1

[archersangel]

glad that you liked it. :-D

[zdenka]

This is lovely!

[ernest]

Ha! I love this so much

[ernest]

oh, i'm in love with the atmosphere here, and how the darkness feels natural down here, but the light is cruel. absolutely wonderful!

[ernest]

thank you so much! i live to make the simplest things just heartwrenching, so it's good to hear i did a good job

Re: an attempt at something lovecraftian

[ernest]

[yes, academia is the concept!]

this is really cool, and i love that even though these manuscripts are far enough in the past to be "the ancients" the narrator keeps them very present and tangible by speaking of Jove and the Goddess and "aleth." there's just a lot here and it's all terrific.

Re: Illustrated: the Millennial’s Tale

[ernest]

These are all just wonderful, and I love how they all fit together! Thank you so, so much

[candlesinthewell]

Sunless Sea, any, A mirrorcatch box full of very angry dream-snakes

Teen Wolf, Stiles, Derek

[froggydarren]

He heard the stories about werewolves, of course -- the warnings, the examples, the missing people who couldn't live in magical society anymore. Nothing made him ready for this though, for the way everything was different in America, including the wolves who didn't seem to need potions or spells to keep themselves under control.

It takes a while for Derek to open up to him enough to explain about anchors.

[countlessuntruths]

Once, when he was still a boy, his father had told him about Shang one day having a wife and all the qualities that a good wife should have (calm, obedient, refined in taste) and perhaps it was that Shang had never quite found the appeal in women, but the idea had seemed... quite boring, if he had to be honest; while he had never doubted his father's wisdom (and he certainly didn't then), quietly, Shang wondered why couldn't he, instead of finding a good match, perhaps worry about finding someone he wanted to be with, someone he could talk to and practice and laugh, someone whom he shared more than duty with?

These days, Mulan wakes him up by jabbing her freezing toes under his calves until he can't ignore her and when he tries to catch she laughs and moves away from bed, far too cheerful for waking up so early, telling him that they absolutely need to leave the bed if they want to have some time to practice, ("seriously, Shang, I mean it!") and she laughs (snorts, actually: it's ridiculously, unbearably charming), loud and bright as a gong when he drags her back to bed.

(They end up being late not only to practice but to three meetings as well).

[froggydarren]

"We couldn't really travel until Neal was old enough to come with," Elizabeth says, looking out on the view -- Paris in spring is something she always wanted to see and it's perfect now, the flowers in bloom in the garden on the rooftop overlooking the city.

"And we wanted you to meet the boy," Peter continues her thought, glancing at the corner where their son is surrounded by the spoils from their earlier visit to Disneyland.

Neal -- Julien now, in this life -- looks on, smiles softly and then looks at his friends with a nod, glad they could finally make it, after all.

Teen Wolf, Derek (implied Derek/Stiles)

[froggydarren]

You speak many languages, Derek Hale.

It's a secret he's been holding to his chest, closely, though it's no surprise that the people who knew his family back when remember. Stiles, of course, knows about his fluency in Spanish though none of the others for years.

It's only when Stiles and John invite him on their trip to Poland to visit their extended families that Derek decides to let them know that Polish is one of the languages he always spoke and understood.

[froggydarren]

Cliff knows that she only does it because she thinks he can't feel her. She makes herself invisible so he can't see, but the touch, though faint, is there around his shoulders and there's a coolness to it that makes it somehow less intrusive than any of the other hugs, the kind that he shrugs out of.

He knows she'll eventually find out, but he'll deal with telling her he knew all the time when that happens.

[froggydarren]

The stream of gold slows to a trickle as his pieces break off in lumps where he'd once seen Fandom plant her roots. She's gone now and he feels foolish for cutting off her arms when she'd done nothing but pull the goodness in and made him thrive.

A tear slides down his face as he looks at the empty spaces... and then he hears it -- the laughter from far away, the giddiness that he once saw right at the hole that she left behind, the signs of her life and thriving while he slowly withers away and dies.

[tehsharkie]

Overheard at Zee: I Have Had It with These Motherf_ck_ng Snakes in This Motherf_ck_ng Box

THE TIRELESS MECHANIC: Er, look, I know you're still upset, but the Captain just dumped this on me so I'd appreciate it if you could give me a hand - or hook - but please don't detach your hook and throw it at me -

THE SATISFIED MAGICIAN: Tell me, what's most cruel: using an engine to imprison a lucid monster, or to imprison an insane human?

THE TIRELESS MECHANIC: Leaving me to carry a box of lucid monsters!

Welcome to PHU, Del

[tryslora]

She didn't want to go into the Dreaming alone. She could lose herself here, walking out of her meadow and into the forest, following winding paths with no anchor to haul her back into the real world.

But she didn't come here on purpose. Sometimes sleep steals her away, plunks her down in the middle of the meadow, and this time there are no shadows in the trees. Del sees clearly, the paths reaching away from her, beckoning to her, begging for her to explore.

She starts down one path, and in the distance she sees lights flickering. They dance joyfully, and she skips along the path in time with the flickers, twirling and shouting, singing a bright tune that echoes the motion of the lights.

When she reaches the small clearing, there are no more paths, but the lights still flicker in the distance, still beg for her to come play.

Never step off the path. She knows this, remembers this even in the dreamfog that slips through the cracks in her mind, filling her with joy and pleasure. She has to reach those lights.

She steps between the trees, and begins dancing again, whistling as she skips.

She never sees the shadows coalescing behind her, never sees the darkness that swallows the way back to sanity and home.

Kagerou Project

[reccyls]

Ayano tucks Tsubomi and Kousuke into bed and whispers, "Good night, sleep tight," over their heads, letting her breath tickle their foreheads so they'll giggle and smile, another little ward against nightmares that doesn't always work, but she still tries anyway; then she pretends to do the same for Shuuya, who suffers the facade with petulant pouting at least until they're sure the other two are asleep, which is when the both of them slip out of the bedroom to continue to investigate the secrets Dad's hiding. And there's so much of it, so very well hidden away, that Ayano doesn't find herself climbing back under her own sheets until four, five in the morning each night, even on school nights.

She's so tired she feels like she could sleep for a hundred, thousand years; her grades are slipping, Shintaro snaps at her more because she keeps zoning out in class, unable to focus on anything but just how heavy her eyelids feel, and Kousuke and Tsubomi both trust her, both still don't suspect anything's wrong but they will if this keeps up, and she's already dragged Shuuya into this mess, her mess, Dad's mess- no, no, she can't think like that, heroes don't think like that: things will be okay; she'll fix this soon, and Dad can stop acting so strange, and Shuuya can not have to be involved in all this, and Tsubomi and Kousuke won't have to worry, and Shintaro won't hate her anymore, and everything will be just fine. It has to be.

[nyctanthes]

The deprivation, it still surprises him, long past the time he should be surprised by anything (by what a man will do to a child, given his druthers, given a justifiable end). Inside her there’s a black, gaping pit of need - smaller than it used to be, but still there, never to be completely filled by pancakes and sugary cereals; soap operas and thirteen-year old nerd boys; not even by the awkward, fearful, desperate love of a second father (who is absolutely nothing like the first one.)

He recognizes the darkness. It echoes the one inside him. And not booze and pills and work; not a shared cigarette, a pull from the same flask, accidentally on purpose bumping hips with his high school ex; not even having someone – a child, a girl - to take care of drive it away for good.      


But this, their nighttime ritual - well, their once every ten days ritual (he gets distracted, she gets temperamental.) It helps.


“Last one for tonight. Your pick.” 


“Peter. And the snow.”


It comes out before he can push it down: an eye-roll, an impatient expelling of breath. He opens his mouth: to complain that she had no right to go through Sara’s books; point out that someone who runs away to Chicago and has time for a makeover before she waltzes home in the nick of time to slaughter a passel of demon dogs and close an inter-dimensional portal is too damn old for a bedtime story; threaten that this is the absolute last time he’ll read it to her.


But she looks at him with those hollow, unblinking eyes, and the words fade away.


“When he woke up his dream was gone. The snow was still everywhere. New snow was falling! After breakfast he called to his friend from across the hall, and they went out together into the deep, deep snow.”

He’s rewarded with the hint of a smile, a muted sigh of content. She snuggles deeper into the mouse nest of faded quilts she insists on sleeping under.

“Does the snow ever get so high here?"


“Nah, excepting big blizzards of course. It doesn’t snow so much over there, either. It’s just that with the plows, the narrow streets, it looks higher."


“Enough for a snowman, though."


“There, yes. Here, too."

“And he likes the bath?”

“Of course. It gets cold out in the snow. Feels good to warm up in a nice, friendly tub.”

She pooches her lips out, unconvinced.

“When you came to the house, you were cold, right?”

“Yes. My toes hurt.”

“And the shower warmed you up? You felt better while you were taking one, afterwards too? Liked how you felt toasty from the inside out, not just on the surface?”

“Yes.”

“With the tub, it's the same thing. Better, even. You can add bubbles."

She nods, skeptical, but slightly less so than the last time they had this conversation.

He prepares himself for her next sortie, reminds himself not to lose his temper.

“You’ll let me go outside? To make one? Next time it snows?”

“Maybe.”

“I’d be careful. To not be stupid.”

“It couldn’t sit around. You’d have to destroy it, right after you built it. You’d have to make it in the dark, when everyone is sleeping, so no one will see you.”

“Halfway happy, right?”

“You’re getting it, now.”

And for a while, it’s a little lighter.




[Hopefully the book reference isn't too vague. It's Ezra Jack Keats' The Snowy Day.]

Homestuck, Vriska [spoilers, cw character death & violence]

[runespoor]

It doesn't hurt as much as when you closed your eyes on your Quest Bed; this is faster than bleeding to death. But still, seeing Terezi standing over you, you can't tell if the feeling of burning in your chest is because of the sword she ran through your ribcage, or some weak, misfunctioning pulse of your bloodpusher.

Then you eyes close and you think your dreams are full of teal rain falling on your face.

Re: Teen Wolf, Stiles, Derek

[kalira]

Oo nice crossover/twist!

[ernest]

I really like Changeling: The Dreaming, though I haven't played since college. Anyway, here's some more from this verse!

Our Philosophy
The secrets Guilden uncovers when he turns over rocks and replies are dark and dismal, not the glittering drama of court intrigue that the king no doubt expects.

Crantz makes a good teammate in this quest to glean what afflicts him, and with his rustic hospitality the information he gains is of a warmer nature; they keep an eye on each other’s blind spots.

And Hamlet in turn, directs their gaze out to the quintessence of dust, so they can find nothing of their purpose except what he finds fit to let them see.