This year, the Three Sentence Ficathon has its own dedicated Dreamwidth community: ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
threesentenceficathon.
Here is the information post.
Here is the first ficathon post (now closed for new prompts, but still open for fills!), and here is the second ficathon post. The ficathon will remain open for new prompts through February 12.
Anyway, here's my third set of fills:
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( 13. ) For![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sincereously, in response to the prompt: Any, any, disguises, written 1/14/23
Incognito (95 words)
Fandom = The Enchanted Forest Chronicles
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"One of the vanishingly few upsides of spending seventeen years locked away in a pocket dimension," Mendanbar said as he led Cimorene down the second-left cellar stairs toward the dairy room and its delivery door, "is that I hardly need to bother with disguises anymore. Either people have completely forgotten what I look like, or they still expect to see a handsome young idiot rather than a tired, middle-aged man with graying hair and wrinkles."
He grinned at Cimorene and added, "Getting people to overlook you, on the other hand, takes a lot more work."
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( 14. ) For anonymous, in response to the prompt: Any, any, goddess of the emerald lake, written 1/14/23
Trohpic State (125 words)
Fandom = original
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Her lake was blue, once -- first the clear, cold, pure blue of a mountain sky reflected off granite bedrock, with no plants or animals to interrupt the light's path. Then it was the softer blue of living waters, as lichens and mosses leached nutrients from her shores; weeds and algae bloomed in the shallows; insects came to skim the surface; and fish, amphibians, and birds came to eat the insects, the weeds, and each other.
Now her lake is green, swampy with the explosive growth caused by nitrogen and phosphorous runoff and warming climes, and she fears the day that decaying algal mats will consume all the oxygen and leave her waters dark and dead: goddess of the onyx lake, where hopes come to drown.
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( 15. ) Forkalira, in response to the prompt: any, any, snowstorms and cosy sweaters, written 1/14/23
Preserve me from a winter wonderland (200 words)
Fandom = Homestuck
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"I can see the appeal on an intellectual level," Jade said halfway through the afternoon, from her position wedged into a corner of Rose's couch; shrouded in an afghan; bundled in an oversized sweater, legwarmers, flannel-lined slippers, and a wool hat with a bobble; and clutching a mug of hot cocoa in her hands (themselves protected by fingerless gloves), "but after gathering experimental data, I've concluded that winter is NOT my thing."
"You went out gathering frogs in the ice on LOFAF in a sleeveless evening gown," Dave protested (somewhat hypocritically, Jade thought, given his own sweater and hat, though he'd forgone gloves and legwarmers); "What makes this different from that?"
"Physics isn't real in the Medium -- none of those planets should have had normal gravity, the light sources don't make any sense, and let's not even get into how my shrinking powers worked -- so obviously the temperatures were all fake too," Jade said as she idly kicked her well-padded foot into Dave's shin; "Real ice and snow are terrible, and the minute we're organized enough to start a second town, you and me are moving to the equator where we don't need any of these workarounds to be warm."
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( 16. ) Forsnacky, in response to the prompt: Narnia, Lucy, set my teeth in the silver of the moon, written 1/15/23
Set my teeth in the silver of the moon (180 words)
-----
"If Trees eat earth, what do they drink?" Lucy wondered as she sat beside Mr. Tumnus on the outskirts of the spring planting festival -- closer to the fires, the dancing had grown quite wild (Susan's hair whirled around her like a banner, and she caught a glimpse of Peter throwing an oread into the air), while under the boughs of the trees that had not chosen to edge toward human form and partake in the celebrations, assorted groups of revelers were laughing as they dashed away for more private merry-making.
"Water and light," Mr. Tumnus answered, "though sometimes during the revels they sample Lord Bacchus's wine -- I'm told he can conjure a special vintage for them, fermented from moonbeams alone with no need of vines or grapes to convert that light to substance."
Lucy tipped her head back to gaze at the moon, its waxing circle edging near to full, and imagined how the silver of its light would taste between her teeth, sweet and crisp and sharp, and how its juice might roll cool and brilliant down her throat.
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( 17. ) For anonymous, in response to the prompt: Any, any, nutmeg and cinnamon, written 1/15/23
Spice of Life (125 words)
Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia
-----
In England, Mother rationed spices because of the war, served breakfasts and dinners plain and tasteless but for the ever-present seasoning of fear and smoke, but nearly everything was rationed -- the best and bulk of all goods and food diverted toward the army, the navy, and the RAF -- so Susan hadn't realized that not all scarcities stemmed from the same causes.
England has cattle, salt, and coal, but nutmeg and cinnamon, sugar and oil? Those come from overseas, the luxuries of empire and trade, and here in Narnia whose climate feels like home, she once again finds spices dear as gold, and some days she might almost swear the heaping plates and brimful bowls upon her table retain the taste of London's ash and smog.
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( 18. ) Forintrikate88, in response to the prompt: The Adventure Zone: Balance, Lup/Lucretia, laughing with my feet in your lap / like you were my closest friend, written 1/15/23.
Roads Not Taken (270 words)
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"We're basically best friends by this point, right, so why have we never made out?" Lup asks halfway through the twenty-second year as she and Lucretia chill side by side on the deck of a cruise ship -- she and Barry and Taako are about 98% certain the Light of Creation crashed somewhere in the incredibly scenic tropical archipelago and coral reef system that this particular cruise is designed to showcase (nearly as gorgeous as Lucretia, tbqh) and it turns out that buying tickets with legit cash and playing tourist is a lot easier than wrangling permission to bring a spaceship into a restricted environmental protection zone, who knew? -- and then hastily sits up from her artistic slouch to pound Lucretia between the shoulder blades when the human begins to choke on a mouthful of her piña colada equivalent.
"Hey, hey, Lucretia, breathe with me -- in two three; hold two three; out two three; hold two three..." and Lup keeps that count, rock steady, until Lucretia's face is less ashy and she's gathered enough composure to blot her streaming eyes with a tiny bar napkin; and she keeps her arm slung around Lucretia's waist until her crewmate shrugs her off and straightens to set the remains of her drink aside.
"Wow, I do not have good timing with jokes some days," Lup says when the silence has just started to tip over the line from comfortable to awkward (fuckdammit), "but c'mon, stick your feet in my lap and I'll give you a complementary massage to make up for almost winning you this year's most ridiculous death competition by accident."
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More to follow!
threesentenceficathon.Here is the information post.
Here is the first ficathon post (now closed for new prompts, but still open for fills!), and here is the second ficathon post. The ficathon will remain open for new prompts through February 12.
Anyway, here's my third set of fills:
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
( 13. ) For
sincereously, in response to the prompt: Any, any, disguises, written 1/14/23Incognito (95 words)
Fandom = The Enchanted Forest Chronicles
-----
"One of the vanishingly few upsides of spending seventeen years locked away in a pocket dimension," Mendanbar said as he led Cimorene down the second-left cellar stairs toward the dairy room and its delivery door, "is that I hardly need to bother with disguises anymore. Either people have completely forgotten what I look like, or they still expect to see a handsome young idiot rather than a tired, middle-aged man with graying hair and wrinkles."
He grinned at Cimorene and added, "Getting people to overlook you, on the other hand, takes a lot more work."
---------------
---------------
( 14. ) For anonymous, in response to the prompt: Any, any, goddess of the emerald lake, written 1/14/23
Trohpic State (125 words)
Fandom = original
-----
Her lake was blue, once -- first the clear, cold, pure blue of a mountain sky reflected off granite bedrock, with no plants or animals to interrupt the light's path. Then it was the softer blue of living waters, as lichens and mosses leached nutrients from her shores; weeds and algae bloomed in the shallows; insects came to skim the surface; and fish, amphibians, and birds came to eat the insects, the weeds, and each other.
Now her lake is green, swampy with the explosive growth caused by nitrogen and phosphorous runoff and warming climes, and she fears the day that decaying algal mats will consume all the oxygen and leave her waters dark and dead: goddess of the onyx lake, where hopes come to drown.
---------------
---------------
( 15. ) For
kalira, in response to the prompt: any, any, snowstorms and cosy sweaters, written 1/14/23Preserve me from a winter wonderland (200 words)
Fandom = Homestuck
-----
"I can see the appeal on an intellectual level," Jade said halfway through the afternoon, from her position wedged into a corner of Rose's couch; shrouded in an afghan; bundled in an oversized sweater, legwarmers, flannel-lined slippers, and a wool hat with a bobble; and clutching a mug of hot cocoa in her hands (themselves protected by fingerless gloves), "but after gathering experimental data, I've concluded that winter is NOT my thing."
"You went out gathering frogs in the ice on LOFAF in a sleeveless evening gown," Dave protested (somewhat hypocritically, Jade thought, given his own sweater and hat, though he'd forgone gloves and legwarmers); "What makes this different from that?"
"Physics isn't real in the Medium -- none of those planets should have had normal gravity, the light sources don't make any sense, and let's not even get into how my shrinking powers worked -- so obviously the temperatures were all fake too," Jade said as she idly kicked her well-padded foot into Dave's shin; "Real ice and snow are terrible, and the minute we're organized enough to start a second town, you and me are moving to the equator where we don't need any of these workarounds to be warm."
---------------
---------------
( 16. ) For
snacky, in response to the prompt: Narnia, Lucy, set my teeth in the silver of the moon, written 1/15/23Set my teeth in the silver of the moon (180 words)
-----
"If Trees eat earth, what do they drink?" Lucy wondered as she sat beside Mr. Tumnus on the outskirts of the spring planting festival -- closer to the fires, the dancing had grown quite wild (Susan's hair whirled around her like a banner, and she caught a glimpse of Peter throwing an oread into the air), while under the boughs of the trees that had not chosen to edge toward human form and partake in the celebrations, assorted groups of revelers were laughing as they dashed away for more private merry-making.
"Water and light," Mr. Tumnus answered, "though sometimes during the revels they sample Lord Bacchus's wine -- I'm told he can conjure a special vintage for them, fermented from moonbeams alone with no need of vines or grapes to convert that light to substance."
Lucy tipped her head back to gaze at the moon, its waxing circle edging near to full, and imagined how the silver of its light would taste between her teeth, sweet and crisp and sharp, and how its juice might roll cool and brilliant down her throat.
---------------
---------------
( 17. ) For anonymous, in response to the prompt: Any, any, nutmeg and cinnamon, written 1/15/23
Spice of Life (125 words)
Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia
-----
In England, Mother rationed spices because of the war, served breakfasts and dinners plain and tasteless but for the ever-present seasoning of fear and smoke, but nearly everything was rationed -- the best and bulk of all goods and food diverted toward the army, the navy, and the RAF -- so Susan hadn't realized that not all scarcities stemmed from the same causes.
England has cattle, salt, and coal, but nutmeg and cinnamon, sugar and oil? Those come from overseas, the luxuries of empire and trade, and here in Narnia whose climate feels like home, she once again finds spices dear as gold, and some days she might almost swear the heaping plates and brimful bowls upon her table retain the taste of London's ash and smog.
---------------
---------------
( 18. ) For
intrikate88, in response to the prompt: The Adventure Zone: Balance, Lup/Lucretia, laughing with my feet in your lap / like you were my closest friend, written 1/15/23.Roads Not Taken (270 words)
-----
"We're basically best friends by this point, right, so why have we never made out?" Lup asks halfway through the twenty-second year as she and Lucretia chill side by side on the deck of a cruise ship -- she and Barry and Taako are about 98% certain the Light of Creation crashed somewhere in the incredibly scenic tropical archipelago and coral reef system that this particular cruise is designed to showcase (nearly as gorgeous as Lucretia, tbqh) and it turns out that buying tickets with legit cash and playing tourist is a lot easier than wrangling permission to bring a spaceship into a restricted environmental protection zone, who knew? -- and then hastily sits up from her artistic slouch to pound Lucretia between the shoulder blades when the human begins to choke on a mouthful of her piña colada equivalent.
"Hey, hey, Lucretia, breathe with me -- in two three; hold two three; out two three; hold two three..." and Lup keeps that count, rock steady, until Lucretia's face is less ashy and she's gathered enough composure to blot her streaming eyes with a tiny bar napkin; and she keeps her arm slung around Lucretia's waist until her crewmate shrugs her off and straightens to set the remains of her drink aside.
"Wow, I do not have good timing with jokes some days," Lup says when the silence has just started to tip over the line from comfortable to awkward (fuckdammit), "but c'mon, stick your feet in my lap and I'll give you a complementary massage to make up for almost winning you this year's most ridiculous death competition by accident."
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
More to follow!
