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.

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Thanks! ♡

ooohhh I love this, what a cool bit of characterization and worldbuilding!

awwww Susan

Thank you! :)

oh this is beautiful and tragic!

The Republic, dead; his friends hacked in pieces; when some strange instinct leads him to Mustafar, Obi-Wan is more than ready to carry out Yoda's orders.

Then he sees it - barely dry tear trails on Vader's face amidst the inhuman grin, the foul stench of ash and the Dark side, the aftermath of the massacre; it's the tiniest crak, but it's there and that's all that matters.

It might be kinder to kill Anakin, Obi-Wan muses; but that's not who he is and he isn’t feeling merciful, either; he doesn't know what he'll do after, but he will make Anakin face what he has done; he will drag him to the Light kicking and screaming, because this is not Obi-Wan's first war and he isnot losing this fight, no matter what it takes.

Awww 💖

Screaming! I love this so much!

Surprise Kaz!! A better surprise for Inej than it would be for anyone else in the world, really. That's so sweet of him, in his way.

Idealism withers in the face of the Barrel's iron logic, and vengeance inevitably burns itself out in either triumph or death, but all men must have some ruling passion -- the question is whether each man is wise enough to choose his guiding star or whether he lets his appetites and fears make that choice without his knowledge or assent.

Greed is common, as is pride, or any of a thousand particular fears, but vices distort perspective and Kaz relies above all on his ability to see an obstacle or opportunity whole and clear in all its moving parts; money and reputation are useful tools, but poor masters.

Love is even more foolish and delicate a vice than idealism, but for Inej, he's willing to submit.

The glow is a friend to me, no really, I can prove it-- love is in persistence, you see, measured by consistency over time (I cheated on every math test but I remember that part). You need that sort of thing, a stable foundation, to really build something important; that's the first thing they teach you about construction, give or take. We build something bigger than ourselves, around ourselves, to contain ourselves-- call it "home".

The week between Christmas and New Years is a shitty time of year for a birthday. It was when they were kids, and most of their friends were still out of town, and they got annoyed at how all the presents were birthday-and-Christmas presents; and if anything it's gotten worse now that it's smack in the middle of winter break, and they agreed when they were nine to keep any friends they like away from their parents, because they can't complain about anyone they don't know about.

By the 28th, Jason's always going out of his mind with how badly he wants to get back to St Cecelia's, where there's a little more room to breathe. More than ever this year, and he knows he's been a moody bitch all break because Nadia keeps eyeing him over it, half-pissed and half-worried, waiting for him to explain. Except he can't tell her that he kissed Peter in September and now every day he doesn't get to do it again feels twice as long, so he holes up in his room and hides for the day instead, staring at the ceiling and wishing he was back in the dorm. It's lonely and boring, but lightyears better than last year's disaster.

But some traditions are too sacred to break. So with an hour left to midnight, after Mom's taken her pills and Dad's office is locked for the night, he drags himself out of bed to meet Nadia in the kitchen to raid the last of the Christmas cookies. It takes a few truly awful jokes and Jason sacrificing his half of the snickerdoodles to get Nadia to go from scowling to smiling, but he manages eventually.

"Happy thank-fuck-it's-not-our-birthday-anymore," Nadia says at a minute past midnight, and Jason nudges her with his shoulder as he takes the cookie she passes over.

"Happy out-of-this-house-again-next-week."

"I'll drink to that," she answers, reaching over to knock her plastic glass of milk against his, and her laugh feels like the first good thing he's done all break.

[content warning for: murder, human sacrifice, violent imagery, and drowning]

She supposed it was better her than some guileless ingenue. These men. She’d never had use for anyone like that- man, woman, or what have you- but it was the men who always seem to take “no” the worst. Like she was challenging them to a game, rather than telling them to get the hell out of her face before she put her boot through their teeth.

“For the last time,” she growled, “I told you no. I’m not interested in coffee, or dinner, or a trip down to Nesh to see the latest wonders of the Saint Electric.”

“Well, we could go as friends,” the man said, his voice smooth and reasonable, trying to make her seem like she’s the one getting her hackles raised for nothing. “See what comes of it after that. I just want to get to know you better, Mallory. You’re so lively, so smart, even if you never know how to let people in… I could help you.”

Help her. Like she was a silly little girl or a wounded animal, framing his insistence as altruism instead of a fucking annoyance. Fine. He wanted to get to know her better? She would oblige.

“…Fine.” She twirled her hair around a finger, played at being the nervous young woman who didn’t know how to love that she’d been cast as in his mind. “I like birdwatching. We could go down to the river, see what egrets and kingfishers are there. This time of year there’s a lot of migratory birds that stop over in the Peninsula, too.”

Carpenter watched him turn the idea over in his brain, first with disappointment at the dull proposition of birdwatching, and then with excitement at the possibilities for wet shirts and skinny dipping at the proposition of a river. She could practically hear the gears grinding. The man grinned. “Let’s go!”

The ride was about half an hour in his car, shining and new. His hand rested on her thigh for most of that drive, and he made small talk about how beautiful it was out here. The sun dappled the road, filtering through the early autumn leaves. This man was not one of her people. This man was a city boy, high on the idea of his fancy car and having cowed a girl into enduring his company. He grumbled when they got out and he saw all the mud splattered on the sides of his car. So much for him appreciating the beauty of the outdoors.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Carpenter said, grabbing her bag as she left the car. “Let’s head down to the water, have some fun.”

Their shoes squelched in the thick, sucking mud at their feet. The man did an admirable job of not whining about it; he must have really wanted to see her out of her clothes, splashing in the water and giggling like a school girl. Carpenter wondered where these men built their fantasies about her, wanting her to be soft and sweet and malleable, when she was about as welcoming and kind as a fist with a sour look to match. Why be so insistent about winning a girl when it seemed any one could do to fit the fantasy?

“Look at that one,” the man said, too loudly, and startled the bright blue kingfisher he’d been pointing at.

“Yeah,” she said, "it's a pretty bird." The brick in her bag made a satisfying crunch when it collided with his skull, and he crumpled to the ground in an agonized, lowing heap. "Shame I left my bird watching guide at home. Can't really tell you much about the feathery bastards myself."

Carpenter would have thought that breaking thirty would have meant her days as a lure were over, but some men just don't know how to stay friends with a woman. He'd seemed like a useful contact to keep in the city, someone to act as an alibi, but, oh well! She knelt down over the man she had brought to the river's edge, grabbing his face to hold it steady. In a single, fluid motion she flicked her pocket knife out of her jacket and began to carve the prayer marks into his forehead to prepare him for sacrifice.

"What are you... Ma-Mallory-" he could barely string together words through the pain. "No, please, I don't-"

"What was that?" Carpenter said, performatively loud. "I didn't quite hear you."

"No," he sobbed. He sobbed even louder when her knife slipped and nicked the bottom of his ear in two. "No, please, stop-"

"No?" Carpenter repeated back. "But we've come all the way out here! I thought you said you wanted to get to know me better, have me really let you in. I'm so smart, and pretty, and what were those other things you said?"

"I'm- I'm-"

Carpenter shook her head, flicking her knife closed and pocketing it again. "You're so insistent, and stupid, and you just trust any little person to tell you where to drive your shiny new car. We can just do this little sacrifice thing as friends, if that makes you feel better. Doesn't really matter to my god what my relation to you is."

Now the sackcloth over his head, rough and coarse. This was one of the open hiding places of worship for her people. Regular people didn't wander out here much, and even if they did, they probably didn't think much of some burlap littered on the floor, or of abandoned stakes meant to hold cages for catching crawdads or crabs. The man was sobbing "no, no, no" still, but she would no more listen to his protestations than he had hers. She dragged him by the collar of his shirt to one of the stakes, first tying his hands with rope, so tight she could already see his fingers turning blue, then fetching the sacrificial fishhooks from her bag, pushing them through the skin of his throat. He thrashed, and the first hook ripped clean of his skin. Carpenter frowned.

"You can either stay still and let me put them through the surface," she growled, "or I can put some force into it and actual skewer you through your windpipe."

And still just his damnable sobbing and screaming. It was giving her a headache. Perhaps she should have put some of the hooks through his damn lips, though she doubted it would have done much to shut him up. And so, Carpenter did as her Nana Glass had done when she was a child, singing to her sacrifice of the Trawler Man's garden beneath the waves, of his two faces that would always watch, of his two mouths that would take and give. The cold water lapped at her thighs, soaking her pants through. The silt kicked up around her sacrifice's panicked feet as he desperately tried to escape the fate he'd paved for himself. She pushed his head gently beneath the water.

"We're close enough to the ocean here," she drawled, "that the tide will rise soon enough to take you to the garden." She let up on his head, and the sackcloth broke the water.

"Mallo-" he blubbered, still choking on water, still dizzy with pain. "No- please, Mallory-"

But Carpenter had already turned, trudging through the water and back to the man's shiny new car, which she supposed could be her shiny new car for now. She paused when she got to the door, looking back just once.

"You know," she called, "you really shouldn't go bothering girls who say no."

Edited 2023-01-18 18:30 (UTC)

That last line!!!! 😭😍

Despite all of the magic tricks he’s stolen and stored up his sleeves over the years, there’s always one Kaz Rietveld has never mastered. Even when he changed his dress and his stage name to 'Brekker', Kaz still failed to perform this magic trick seamlessly. His fingers always fumbled in and out of his gloves, and no matter how much he practised as he grew lankier and harder, he never could quite catch the wisps of Jordie’s ghost to bring him back from the Barge alive and warm.

A knife doesn’t bend, even beneath the most brutal of hands. The metal may grow warm and threaten to weaken beneath the hottest of flames, but a knife never bends and bows and breaks even when it’s forced to submit. It never folds, never crumbles; it remains firm and hard and dangerous, even when handled carelessly.

Despite her best efforts, Tante Heleen never breaks her.

"I fixed it for you," Yennefer said as she thrust his lute toward him rather violently. Jaskier blinked stupidly and reluctantly took the instrument, immediately cradling it between his hands and against his chest. While it still had some scorch marks and a minor stain from the monster’s blood, it looked as good as new and, well… rather beautiful.

Yennefer looked at him guardedly. Jaskier smiled and positioned the lute across his chest as he began to strum its strings. "My beautiful Yennefer, as kind as any viper—"

She rolled her eyes and walked away, but Jaskier saw her fond smile even if she didn’t mean for him to spot it.

=D Out of all of them, he's probably the one with the most on his plate.

This is such a great character moment - capturing all sorts of emotions/layers, from Jo's straightforward compassion and curiosity to his darker feelings (to his surprise that her words do make him feel better, despite everything), along with also her gaucherie (I think that's the word) where she's trying to make it better, and managing to do so from her sheer honesty.

idk maybe this is set during age of ultron??? who knows.

*

"You still owe me a dance, Captain," Peggy said as she extended her hand expectantly. She smiled a red-lipped smile as she patiently waited for him to take her hand and let her lead him to the empty dance floor.

It didn’t matter to him that this wasn’t real; even in his dreams and in the nightmarish illusions that a witch would conjure to torture him with, Peggy was always there with her lips painted red and a smile on her face. And for Steve, nothing could ever feel nightmarish about that.

Thank you =D

No one can seem to keep their eyes off of him; the bruises on his face are a still a deep red, too new to have more than the faintest purple hue around the edges. Hargrove watches him particularly closely, smirk on his face that only grows when Nancy and Jonathan come down the hall, fingers threaded together and arms bumping with each step as they stay close.

Whispers start immediately—nothing quite so scandalous as Steve losing his girlfriend to freak Byers has happened since Will Byers came back from the dead—but Steve gives them all the attention they deserve (none), closing the last bit of distance between his and Jonathan's lockers, and cupping Nancy's face in his hand to kiss her, warmth left over from Jonathan's lips against hers seeping into his (and those whispers become a roar).

Thank you - I like to think that Missy visited them all, if only for research, at least once (after all, just because Twelve was the newest model didn't mean she'd be unable to pick up pointers from the older ones; also, it's always fun to pit herself against him when he least expects it).

Entering Narnia, even that first time, before ending the one hundred year winter and the white witch’s rule, felt like coming home; the warmth and comfort it brought the four Pevensie children was like all those months ago, before any wars, when they sat in the sitting room together with their parents and all seemed right with the world.

When Peter knelt in front of the Goddess’s tent in the war camp, he felt warmed by Her presence - not just by her words agreeing to get their brother back from his own foolishness - and someday he would know it’s because the Goddess loved the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve like they were Her own, and that afforded them some of Her Blessings.

And while they might have been barred entry from Narnia in the end, all they needed to do was gather together around a fire, and they would be by Her side once more, by Hearth and Home and Family.

Thank you - part of that is he's over being quite so gentlemanly (Delgado was such a gent, even when he was plotting evil), and is a bit more expedient (mostly. There was that time he spent a decade stuck in a statue, waiting on the Doctor, after all), and a bit more impatient (and slightly craftier if only for his future!knowledge that Three doesn't have). :D

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2023 Three Sentence Ficathon - Post #1

Re: Adventure (Arda; Éowyn & Éomer)

Re: Spice of Life (Chronicles of Narnia)

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Re: Spice of Life (Chronicles of Narnia)

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Obi-Wan, Not his first war, AU

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Re: Obi-Wan, Not his first war, AU

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As a seal upon thy heart

tom bodett "we'll leave the light on for you" (guess the song)

bare: a pop opera, Jason & Nadia

The Silt Verses, Carpenter, "I said no, and so..."

Re: As a seal upon thy heart

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Re: Narnia, Stargates, Doctor Who, MCU, amongst others

Re: Doctor Who, Third Doctor & Jo Grant

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Stranger Things - Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler

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