threesentenceficathon | 2023 Three Sentence Ficathon

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2023 Three Sentence Ficathon - Post #1

Welcome to the 2023 Three Sentence Ficathon!
As of 16 Jan 2023 this post is NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS! PLEASE POST YOUR NEW PROMPTS HERE, IN POST 2! Do continue to fill prompts here but please put all new prompts in Post 2.

This post will remain open for new prompts until we hit 4000 comments, at which point we'll open a new one to avoid captcha as long as possible. New fills and comments on fills will always be welcome.

How to Prompt

Prompts should be one prompt per comment, formatted in this way: fandom, character(s), prompt word/sentence

Example: Star Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi, I don't like sand

Prompts may also be open ended, unspecific, or anthropomorphic, such as:

any, any, I don't like sand
or
Earth geography, sand, I don't like humans very much, either

Prompts for relationships are welcome; a / is used for romantic/sexual relationships and an & for platonic. A prompt that uses both means the relationship can be written as either romantic or platonic, such as:

Star Wars, Anakin/&Obi-Wan, I don't like sand

Prompts may be repeated if they are unfilled; there is no obligation to read through every prompt to make sure yours isn't a repeat. This year's 3SF will stay open for new prompts through Sunday, February 12th.

How to Fill

Respond to your chosen prompt with a short fic of three sentences containing the fandom & characters requested!

Prompts can be filled more than once, as many times as someone has a new idea for them.

Notes & Rules

No, fills do not need to be exactly three sentences! It's more of a guideline. Please abuse grammar and punctuation as much as desired.

3SF is a Choose Not to Warn space. Spoiler and content warnings are not required, though writers are free to add them if they please. If you see something you don't like, just scroll until you do!

A Dreamwidth account is not needed to participate. Anonymous prompts/fills are welcome, or you can use Open ID.

Cross-posting is encouraged; there is a 3SF Collection on AO3 if you'd like to post fills there as well.

Note that the comm is searchable! Tick the 'include comments' button when searching to easily find prompts for your chosen fandom/characters.

And most importantly, have fun! If you have questions, check the Sticky Info post and if they're not answered there, head to the Contact the Mods post.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Ahaha, yes, good. This is the fix-it we need and deserve, and of course Chirrut is doing that. :D

Aww, very cute!

Sweet and sad in the best way.

Ooooh, eldritch Jedi. I love that concept, and I love how you describe them as scary, but still beautiful.

Oh, that’s beautiful and cozy.

Oh, I love this.

Eddie woke up in the dark, which wasn’t unusual in any way, but he was pretty surprised to be waking up at all considering his last conscious thought had been about how much pain he was in and how he was dying and leaving Henderson behind and how he had really, really thought that this year would be his year.

It took him awhile to orient himself, but it was clear enough that he was still in the Upside Down, still surrounded by those horrible demobats — though they weren’t swarming him anymore, maybe because they’d already killed him once and attacking him wouldn’t do any good anymore — and even longer to traipse across the desolate landscape from portal to portal to realize they were all closed up for good.

The demobats followed him the whole time, apparently having nothing better to do now that the portals were closed and their master hopefully defeated, and Eddie tried to ignore how their presence as he sat, slumped and exhausted both physically and emotionally, in the bleak Upside Down ruins of his trailer only made him feel lonelier than he’d ever thought possible.

"This is unfathomable!" Georgia exclaimed, stomping her foot as she planted her hands on her hips. For dramatic effect, she blew the loose hair away from her face. Zion only looked amused.

"Really?" he asked incredulously, crossing his arms against his broad chest like he wasn’t aware of what that did to her. "This is unfathomable?"

"Yes!" she glared, planting her hands on her hips. She looked at him with utter horror that he would question such a thing. "Those shoes don’t go with my dress, Zion. It’s unfathomable!"

It was supposed to be a relaxing dinner out – a nice steak, some wine – not an exploding lobster tank and camo-clad terrorists rappelling down the walls.

"I knew this would happen!" Matt shouted.

"I keep tellin' ya, kid," John yelled as he dove behind the table, returning fire with one hand and pushing a waiter to safety with his right, "Friday the 13th is technically NOT a holiday!"

Dinotopia, any, a brave new world

Sam basked in the familiar surroundings, the faces of the people he loved, and the home he’d missed for so many lonely years while he was traveling through time and space, living other people’s lives and wondering if he’d ever see his own again.

Now they encircled him with their solid physical presence, a fortress of loved ones anchoring him to his own time, his family, laughing and crying and celebrating the victory with him.

“Welcome home, Sam.”

Neither of them have any experience with children, other than being them once, so everything about the Kenari boy is new, sometimes terrifying, sometimes hilarious, and often deeply moving. Did all children pick up language and tech this quickly, or was Maarva already assuming her child was smarter, quicker and in every way above average? After the first parent-teacher conference at Rix Road Primary, which leaves her and Clem both seething over demerits for “not coloring between the lines” and “runs with scissors,” Maarva concludes that the fault obviously lies with those who just can’t keep up with her son.

Bwahah. Excellent, and being practical seems to be her wont.

One should always be worried about alien duplicates, but none of them would ever call her old thing. <3 <3 <3

Memories seep from their veins, from their skin, from their eyes, memories that are not theirs and it hurts, but the twins still persevere because this is their duty, their honor, and no one else can do it, so they bleed the memories of millennia. But Luke stands as the embodiment of his slave ancestors (his father, his father's mother, her mother, and hers, and hers, and back longer than anyone remembers) and the last remnant of the vast and ancient Order of the Jedi. And Leia becomes the embodiment of the blue lakes and snowcapped mountains and regal cities of the planet she was not born to but became hers.

"What's the damage?" Rodimus asked, and First Aid tried and failed to hide a wince.

"Three deactivated, sixteen seriously wounded. All of them, uh - late in the battle." Now it was Rodimus's turn to wince - the three dead mechs hadn't been friends, exactly, but they had been his, and their lost sparks were laid to his account. "Um, look, I'm not a tactician, so take this with a grain of selenium..."

And that was rare enough that Rodimus put down his stylus entirely to give 'Aid his full attention. "Go ahead. I'm not a tactician either, you can't be worse than me at it."

The attempt at self-deprecation fell flat, and First Aid didn't even try to pick it up again, sweetspark that he was. "Just - next time you go after the Decepticon High Command? Maybe take out Cyclonus first."

"...yeah. Yeah, that was a tactical error, in retrospect." Rodimus ducked his head down, rubbed over it with one hand. "Sorry, 'Aid. Thanks for all your hard work today."

"I didn't say it to make you feel bad." And, throwing rank to the winds - not that Rodimus cared about that anyway - First Aid came over and hugged him, until Rodimus unbent enough to hug him back. "You did your best. And you know better now. That's all you can do."

"Mhm." Rodimus carefully didn't respond, just leaned into the hug for as long as First Aid wanted, and ducked his head down for pats as they separated. "Get some rest, okay, lil doc? Hot Spot'll string me up if he thinks I'm overworking you."

"Oh, he will not." But First Aid agreeably trotted off, presumably toward his own berth, leaving Rodimus to lean back in his chair and wrestle with his own thoughts.

Said thoughts were on the violet god of vengeance Cyclonus had become, when the Autobots had managed to bring Galvatron down. All but untouchable in the air, death to those on the ground - Cyclonus had always been singleminded in his purpose, but his purpose tended to swing back and forth on Galvatron's whims. With Galvatron no longer conscious, Cyclonus's focus had narrowed down to a single, needle-sharp point. Really, it was a miracle they'd only lost three. And Galvatron himself, who was probably in some Decepticon medbay getting welded back together already.

The deaths still hurt, but - Rodimus's spark was hanging on the glimpse he'd caught of Cyclonus's expression, just before he'd transformed and started raining destruction down on all of them. Not just dismayed, not just enraged, something beyond both of them. It wasn't just duty or loyalty that had ignited Cyclonus's engines then, Rodimus would swear to it on his own spark.

Given that... he couldn't hate or blame Cyclonus, even if the jet had killed a hundred of Rodimus's Autobots. He just hoped Galvatron knew what a treasure he had in Cyclonus, and returned his lieutenant's love with some measure of loyalty.

Eliot stands perfectly still, shocked into silence, while Parker shares a smirk with Hardison.

The kiss has been unexpected, shocking, the touch of Parker’s lips on one corner of his mouth and Hardison’s on the other; now they wait for his reaction, his decision.

Eventually, after a moment that seems like a lifetime, Eliot slides one arm around each of them and pulls them closer, tightly against him as if he's never going to let them go.

The three of them are staring at the screen with Kassa’s picture – they’ve picked Fest as his birth planet and after a lot of arguing and searching, she and Clem have decided he is nine years old so all the splicer needs to generate the fake record that will follow Kassa the rest of his life is a name.

“In some cultures your parents give you a name,” Maarva tells him, “but you get to pick yours.”

The boy nods and carefully taps Cassian Jeron into the console – those dimly remembered names he thinks were his parents, his broken promise to Kerri, and the blowgun are the only things he has from Kenari.

MWHAAAAA You can ship him with everyone. Except Jill

Edited 2023-01-16 00:09 (UTC)

oh no D:

*CLAPS LOUDLY LIKE A SEAL*
"Ironic" Alchemiter shenanigans! Daves! Great Tits and Thick Cocks! Thank you, this is the exact sort of silliness I had in mind.

Ahahaha

Thor tosses Mjolnir and the golden retriever joyfully leaps after it, barking with ecstatic joy, skids to a stop so sudden, the dog throws up a cloud of long yellow hair and grass, then grabs the hammer’s handle in his mouth and trots back for them to repeat the game of fetch -- over, and over, and over.

“It’s weird how it’s so breed-specific,” Thor says to Loki. “All retrievers and spaniels can pick up Mjolnir but a Border Collie or Rottweiler can’t.”

I'm with you, Rufus!! Wonderful!

"Really?" Lois asks sceptically. "Glasses?"

Clark rolls his shoulders and touches the bridge of his glasses self-consciously. "What? You don’t think I’m unrecognisable?"

He rolls his eyes when Lois bursts into laughter, clutching her chest as she doubles over and claims she’s about to hack up a lung for him to catch.

Edited 2023-01-16 00:31 (UTC)

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Page 136 of 247

2023 Three Sentence Ficathon - Post #1

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