rthstewart | Three Sentence Ficathon 2022 Part 2

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Three Sentence Ficathon 2022 Part 2

UPDATE 14 FEBRUARY 2022 -- 3SF 2022 IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS! Do continue to fill prompts already posted but the 3SF 2022 is now closed. We'll be back next year in a new comm (If I can get my act together). Thank you again!

THIS IS THE NEW POST FOR PART 2 OF THE 3 SENTENCE FICATHON -- ALL NEW PROMPTS SHOULD BE POSTED HERE
You may continue to fill prompts (but not leave new ones) at the original Post 1 here but please post new prompts here, not there. And if you're asking, hey is just me, or did this get enormous really fast? Why yes, yes it did. Last year, it took us ten days before I opened a new post. This year, it took us about 5.5 days to get there. So, by all means, go back and fill in Post 1 and post new prompts here!

Also woops, in an indication of how busy I've been with other things, I neglected to post that for a third year in a row the awesome

conuly started a master list of unclaimed prompts and has been updating it as time permits. Obviously a huge task! Thank you!

Welcome to the Three Sentence Ficathon!

Here's a Friending meme!

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

What do I do first?
You can start 3SF by posting 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."

Open ended and anthropomorphic fills are popular too, such as:

Any, Any, "I don't like sand."

or

Earth geography, sand, "I don't like humans very much, either."

What happens after that?
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

I'm really overwhelmed by all the prompts and how much there is and how fast it goes. I can't read 1,000 prompts and fills. It's too much.
I hear this a lot and it keeps a lot of people from participating. The 3SF is big and it moves fast, especially at first. I get overwhelmed, too, and I'm hosting the thing. With 2020 and 2021 sucking so badly you don't want something that's supposed to be fun cause you anxiety. I have a couple of suggestions for managing the 3SF volume.

First, really, you don't have to read every prompt and fill on every page. You can start at the last page of this and just go forward, or back a page or two. It's fine.
You can come and go as time and energy allow, you don't have to participate the whole time, and it drops off quite at bit after about 2 weeks and especially once we open a new post because this one is approaching 4,500 comments.
Even after the 3SF and new prompting end, people fill prompts all year long.
You can fill an already filled prompt and you can can leave a prompt that's already been prompted before. People do it all the time.

Always make sure you're looking at top-level comments only, not threaded. That helps a lot. Your screen should look like this.

But shouldn't I read everything to see if someone already prompted the same prompt I want to leave if someone already filled it?
No. Prompt as many times as you want, as much as you want. It doesn't matter if someone prompted the exact same prompt. Go ahead and prompt again!

I left a prompt and no one filled it. Can I prompt it again?
Absolutely!

Can I spread the word?
Yes, please. I generally fail at creating banners and embed codes but if you create one and make it really idiot-proof, I might be able to post and share it. Feel free to cross-post this entry. If you create your own banners or icons, let me know and I'll share!
Please share the 3SF with your followers, friends, and any channels and comms you are active on. I'll post on fandom calendar, Tumblr, and Twitter, but I don't have many connections in other spaces such as Discord.

Here's my attempt at a text box that might go horribly awry.

How long will it go?
The 3SF closes to new prompts on February 13, 2022. The entry stays open permanently and people post fills all year long. (There were a bunch of new posts to the 2021 3SF this week!)

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 and archive warnings, triggers, pairings, ratings, tags, and squick?

I thought a lot about this. It boils down to reader beware. In my experience, this typically gets too big, moves too fast, and the stories are too short for content warnings and ratings to even apply. It is too big for me to moderate in this way. You should assume spoilers are fair game and that the initial poster and the responder have opted to use no content warnings or tags. This means AO3 content warnings for dubcon, violence, canon character death, underage, etc. COULD be present (and much more). I've found personally that I can skim and scroll by stuff that, from the prompt, I can tell isn't my favorite flavor of delicious cake. Use your best judgment, protect yourself, and be prepared to skip over things that aren't your thing. In this format, the obligation is on you, the reader, to protect yourself from triggering content.
Some posters do include warnings and spoiler tags or include spoiler space, but they don't have to do so.

Why is 3SF split among several posts? That seems confusing.
It is confusing and we always lose momentum once we have to move to a second post. The reason is because at 5,000 comments to a single post, DW installs a human test CAPTCHA, which is a pain for users. So, once this entry gets to the upper 4,000 comments, I open a new post. If you've been waiting until things slow down to participate, when we open a second post is often a good place to join.

If I have questions, what do I do?
I'm rthstewart everywhere, here, Twitter, Tumblr, gmail and AO3.

A special thank you to

conuly .
Last year, Conuly started logging all unfilled prompts.
This year's (2021) unfilled prompts are here.
Last year's (2020) unfilled prompts are here.

Conuly asks that you not reply, as they want to be able to edit and add more prompts to the list.

Here, have some icons and banners and let me know if you've created your own!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

LOL!

Aaah..

Now there's a cliff hanger if ever there was one!

Absolutely!

Hey Jim, don't eat the brownies on the second shelf, I made them for the sensory testing tomorrow and you do not want to know the secret ingredient in each one... at least not yet.

* * * * *

Jim, do NOT eat the meatballs in the blue Tupperware bowl, they're for testing and remember what happened with the brownies? - 'cause I'll never forget and neither will most of the building and next time YOU can do the 'splaining and damage control.

* * * * *

Okay Ellison, it's on, they're TOFU this time and yeah, you are too gonna eat them but not until I'm damn well ready to test you with them - and no whining, Oh Great Sentinel, you ASKED for it!!

To Sect Leader Nie Huaisang

It has been too long, and we each have had too much time to think about what was done to and by us and everyone good and very very bad, and about what we were and still are... so tell me Nie-xiong, can two of the devils left in this wide world of ours befriend each other again?

Wei Wuxian

Edited 2022-03-29 00:04 (UTC)

"A man in a pinstripe suit and a redhead walk into a bar" sounds like the beginning of a joke. That both of them also end up laughing a lot through and after the adventure doesn't hurt the belief that the most terrifying thing in the universe is a Time Lord and a human laughing together. When both of them accidentally end up at the Metagalactic Grand Prix's open mic qualifiers, rather than trying to wow the crowd with their (lack of) singing, they proceeded to provide one of the most memorable manzai acts the qualifiers had ever seen and heard.

Edited 2022-03-29 00:02 (UTC)

"Oh my," Alice said finally, watching from a safe distance, "I have never seen such a thing as roses that talk, and certainly not roses that talk... and eat Queens!"

"Perhaps you should think again about the feast at the end of your game," the Gnat murmured in her ear, "or at least decline the crown you will be offered."

Alice, who had dearly wanted a crown, watched the last little bit of the Red Queen - a buckle-shoe-clad foot! - disappearing into the petal covered centre of the biggest red rose... and decided that she did not want it that dearly...

This is great! (And your icon is perfect!)

This is great!!!

They’re bundled up next to the braziers—it’s the dead of winter, and freezing, and really they should have moved inside ages ago but Teomitl had started complaining about something Tizoc had said regarding their military tributes so of course Acatl had asked him to explain—but well, anyway, between the food and the conversation Acatl is sufficiently entertained not to notice the cold.

And then Teomitl, usually so determined never to show weakness, starts shivering so hard he drops a grilled newt, and when Acatl looks at him he mutters “It’s chilly out. I should...I should get home.”

He should. He really should. But instead of a goodbye, what comes out of Acatl’s mouth is, “Stay.”

Teomitl chewed on his lower lip for a moment before switching his attention to the inside of his golden lip piercing, where it would at least be less noticeable. He’d certainly been more terrified than this—he’d been to war, he’d taken captives, he’d seen men die—but he didn’t think he’d ever been more nervous than he was in this moment, sitting in Neutemoc’s receiving room with Acatl by his side as he waited to meet their mother. Since an illness several years ago, she moved slowly. There was plenty of time for him to imagine all the ways it could go wrong.

Acatl must have seen the look in his eyes, because he reached over and patted his forearm briefly. “She will adore you.”

“But,” he started, and stopped.

“And she will definitely give her blessing for you to court my sister.”

Teomitl, younger brother to the Mexica Emperor, thought about that for a moment and tried not to wince. Yes, it would certainly give him an advantage...but maybe he shouldn’t have worn all his finery.

There is jade on the emperor’s fingers, his ears, piercing his lower lip. There is coral in his headdress and beading the hems of his cloak and loincloth. Even the ends of his sandal straps bear precious gems.

Acatl kneels in his gray cloak, dust in the ends of his long, tangled hair, and helps him take them off. One by one he slips off the rings, unties impossibly fine cotton fabric, sets the feathered headdress aside where it won’t be damaged. He’s very precise. This isn’t something to be rushed.

Until finally Teomitl whispers desperately, “Acatl, *please—”*

And Acatl stands, and pulls his lover into his arms.

They should have been farther along their planned route than they were. Teomitl’s feet almost itched with the urge to keep marching, to keep leading his troops along the campaign trail. But he wasn’t a fool, and he knew they needed rest and better food. The Totonac traders from along the coast were able to provide both.

That wasn’t all they had.

His reverie was interrupted almost immediately by the sight of a group of his warriors clustered around a tub, staring in apparent fascination at whatever was inside. Without thinking about it, he headed over to investigate.

The wooden tub was full of round, spiky...things. Things with little feet on the underside, crawling gently over each other. Things that had gently undulating spines.

Sea urchins. He stared at them, fascinated. He’d seen dead ones, but they were so different when they were alive.

“You want to buy?” the trader asked.

He agreed without a second thought.

(Acatl was predictably unimpressed with his failure to haggle, but he did agree they were both cute and rather tasty, so Teomitl counted it as a win.)

It is not, in the end, planned. Acatl doesn’t agonize over it for days, doesn’t bite his tongue and curse his fate and resolve to bury his desires forever. He could have, but he doesn’t. (Admittedly, this is probably only because Mihmatini comes to him a week after that horrible day in the courtyard and tells him, very matter-of-factly, “My husband is in love with you,” and it takes him an entire month to stop blushing whenever he thinks about it, by which time he’s fully accepted that yes, if Teomitl does want him he’s not even a little bit opposed to the idea.)

So by the time it happens, he’s entirely moved past the need to justify it to himself. He’s sworn vows of celibacy? Well, he swore vows to support the current emperor too, and this is a much less painful one to break. It will happen when it’s meant to.

Teomitl looks at him, smiling in the sunlight, and he thinks, Now?

Teomitl’s fingers brush against his as they eat a late dinner in his courtyard, and he thinks, Now?

Teomitl plucks an errant bit of something from his hair, and he thinks—

He doesn’t think at all, because Teomitl’s mouth on his has erased all thoughts from his mind.

Really, Acatl thought with a disgusted sigh, he should have seen it coming. Yes, Teomitl had changed a great deal from the impetuous, arrogant youth he had been. He was steadier now, more confident and secure in himself. He knew he was loved, too, which had gone a considerable way towards tempering his...well, everything.

But he was still a youth of imperial blood, brother to two Revered Speakers, and he’d never in his life learned to tone down his enthusiasm when it came to gifts.

“Acatl, what do you think?”

Acatl looked at the jade-inlaid mirror that was apparently intended as an anniversary gift, closed his eyes, and reminded himself that when he wasn’t being given things that could have paid for a nice house in the better parts of the city, Teomitl made his heart melt.

Then he said, “No.”

He is a fool. No, worse than that. There aren’t words harsh enough, bitter enough, for the kind of man he is. What sort of man stands in front of his wife and his teacher and says such things to them? What sort of man strides onto the remnants of a fresh battlefield, with the people he loves still bleeding, and demands that they help him in his cause? Of course they turned him down. Of course they’re sure to hate him now. He’s treated them—gods, the look on Acatl’s face—he’s treated them worse than Tizoc.

Mihmatini had cried, when they’d been alone, and he’d had no right to console her. His sword had lay in the dust between them, and he’d entertained thoughts of driving it into his own heart. It’s still a little tempting.

At some point while he’s been feeling sorry for himself, an ahuitzotl has eeled its way into his tunnel and is now leaning against his side like a dog. He buries his face in its wet, spiky fur and takes a deep lake-scented breath. So he’s ruined everything between himself and the people he loves.

He’ll just have to make amends.

Thank you! I adore Alice in any and all of the versions created... :)

Made sense at the time... :)

I do like my kidfic :)

I'm not great at suspense, but sometimes... it just happens. Thanks!

There is nothing a awful as pain you worked for.

Acatl is not suited for politics. He’s tried to explain this so many times—to Ceyaxochitl, to his siblings, to his priests—but nobody ever listens. He doesn’t even like politics. He is a priest for the Dead. Let him be only that, and he’s content. He has no patience for sly games, for whispers like knives in the dark.

But now the knife is at his throat, and a man he hates is smiling triumphantly at him, and he knows he’s lost.

Priests aren’t encouraged to be vain. Their long, tangled hair, twisted as the roots of the Underworld, is intended as proof of that. But priests for the Dead are held to somewhat higher standards, presumably because they already work with corpses all day and their fellow clergy would like to be able to stand downwind of them occasionally.

And therefore, Acatl spends one day a week attempting with varying degrees of success to comb his hair out. This is harder than he thinks it really should be; his hair is thick and wavy and falls past his waist, and there’s just so much of it. Normally, getting it clean and untangled takes hours.

Normally, he doesn’t have Teomitl.

The man had shown up just past dawn with a steaming bowl of porridge and a smile, and when he’d spotted Acatl’s still-wet hair he’d asked, “Can I help?”

And Acatl, weakened by that smile, had said yes.

So now he’s sitting cross-legged on his mat with Teomitl kneeling behind him and an oiled comb dragging slowly through his hair, and each touch makes him shiver. He can feel the closeness of their bodies, the way Teomitl’s fingers almost but not quite brush his skin. He wants to speak, but he’s not sure he has the breath for it. And if he did, what would he say? This is his sister’s husband.

It’s Teomitl who finally breaks the silence. “Your hair looks like obsidian.”

He feels his face heat up. “It does not.”

“You can’t see it from this angle,” Teomitl says, and there’s something so terribly soft in his voice.

Acatl bites his lip, remembers the way Teomitl had smiled at him—remembers the way he’d smiled back, the way it had made his heart full and warm for the first time in days—and says nothing.

It’s been a very long time since Teomitl has been clumsy. He’s been training with weapons almost since he was big enough to hold one; each movement is as familiar to him as his own limbs. He can’t even remember the last time he dropped any of them or even so much as fumbled his grip.

But he hasn’t been himself lately, not while knowing he’s been walking farther and farther away from the people he loves, and so he’s wrapping his fingers with shaky hands and trying—trying *so hard*—not to think of a different pair of hands on his own.

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Three Sentence Ficathon 2022 Part 2

Re: Dr Who - Seven and Mel Bush

Re: Dr Who, Twelve

Re: Stagate SG1 - Daniel (rather a lot over 3 sentences...)

Re: Jeeves and Wooster/Dr Who (and yes, every bit as serious as it sounds :)

The Sentinel (a very old but dear fandom of mine...) from Blair to Jim

The Untamed, Wei Wuxian

no subject

Through the Looking Glass, Alice :)

Re: Through the Looking Glass, Alice :)

no subject

Obsidian & Blood, Acatl/Teomitl

Obsidian & Blood, Teomitl (AU)

Obsidian & Blood, Acatl/Teomitl

Obsidian & Blood, Teomitl

Obsidian & Blood, Acatl/Teomitl

Obsidian & Blood, Acatl/Teomitl

Obsidian & Blood, Teomitl

Re: Through the Looking Glass, Alice :)

Re: Dr Who - Seven and Mel Bush

Re: Dr Who, Twelve

Re: Stagate SG1 - Daniel (rather a lot over 3 sentences...)

Re: Miraculous Ladybug, Gabriel Gets His Wish, Exactly As He Asked.

Obsidian & Blood, Acatl

Obsidian & Blood, Acatl/Teomitl

Obsidian & Blood, Teomitl