Three Sentences

So yesterday on Tumblr, I challenged people to fill my ask box with three-sentence fic prompts that I would write in reply. Here’s an archive of what happened.

(I also wrote some Avengers fic, and some Chuck fic for a writing group I joined.)

But without further ado...writing prompts!

Crumby asked...

"Staff Sergeant," General Beckman said, "I'm sending you on a rescue mission."
Torin usually wouldn't ask any questions, but glancing at the smirking man on her right she couldn't help herself and said, "With Major Casey, General?"
"He'll brief you on Bartowski and Walker during the trip."

Torin Kerr strode from the First’s office and headed toward the lift with a scowl in place, already bringing up her slate. Casey’s record seemed solid—ex-sniper, worked in small teams, which told her that they wouldn’t be working with a platoon, so it was probably recon—but there was only one thing on Walker or Bartowski in the system, which left her with many questions.

The most important one of those, she asked herself right away: “Where the hell is Burbank and what the fukk is a Buy More?”

* * *

Catrogue asked...

An alert popped into her screen, alerting Frea of her new message,"So, Writer Woman, when do I finally nail yummy Agent Barstow and rock his world?"
"I know it's you, but nice try :)," Frea typed, laughing evily at another ridiculous attempt from Cat.
"AWW MAN, WHY CAN'T YoU JUST TELL ME WHEN THEY MEET AGAIN ALREADY," Cat asked, the unknown knowledge and angst killing her slowly.

“Because,” Frea said, and logged off of Twitter.

The click of a shotgun behind her made her freeze, and she slowly turned with her hands in the air, a fearful look in place.

Quistie64 (who was secretly a Viking with a shotgun) stared down at the writer still trapped in her basement, looked at the empty document that Twitter had been covering and said, “That didn’t look like That Which is Greater to me, Frea.”

* * *

Anonymous asked...

Chuck dropped thejoystick. Groaned with defaet and glared athe women sitting next to him. sHE just smirked in triumph

“And that,” Kara Thrace said as she lit a cigar, “is why you don’t challenge the one and only Starbuck to a tournament of Left 4 Dead. Bitch, I’ve faced Six.”

“And got your ass kicked,” Chuck said, but thankfully, klaxons started going off and they were too busy running for the hangar before she could exact her revenge for that comment.

* * *

geistlicious asked...

Peter knew there were Consequences to using the Machine. Hell, he'd seen fifteen years-worth of Consequences first-hand. But he'd never imagined it could cause something like this.

“Really,” Oliver Dunham, who had a chiseled jaw and the compassionate hazel eyes to match, said, “where you’re from, you’re…male?”

Peter—or it should probably be Petra now—avoided putting his hands on his new breasts only because he was in public and the last time he’d tried, his mother Wanda had slapped his hand away (much to the amusement of Pippa Broyles and Axel Farnsworth, and Gene the Bull), and gave a sad nod for all that he had lost.

“Huh,” Oliver said, apparently still a person of few words no matter what gender, and that was that.

* * *

Catrogue asked...

“Okay, Bartowski, we don’t want to get caught by the spook so we have to be very quiet and—”
“Major Casey Sir, you’re silly, that’s just Sarah and she always shares her chocolate with me.”
“Yeah,” Casey grunted, “that’s ’cause you’re a Bartowski.”

“Daddy says Bartowskis are the specialest,” Violet said with a sage nod. “Don’t you think so, Major Casey Sir?”

Casey stared at the midget child in front of him with a look Violet didn’t understand for a long time before he said, “I guess some of ‘em aren’t bad, kid,” and Violet beamed.

* * *

mxpw asked...

He looked down at the picture in his hand. It was a blonde woman, mid-20s, looked like she worked for Fringe Division. “Do I really have to do this now? I just spent all day chasing Matt Damon, I’m kind of tired.”

“Not my fault your day job is a stalkerazzi on this mission,” Natasha said, picking up his cigarette and putting it out with a distasteful look, “or that you have such an obsession with Dogma, come to think of it.”

“Who is she?” Clint asked, finally, as he couldn’t really waste time defending the cinematic genius that was Alan Rickman not having any junk.

“Olivia Dunham—we want to recruit her, we think she’s got some abilities that could come in handy and besides,” Natasha gave a slightly feral smile, “everybody knows you only bring in the best.”

* * *

Anonymous asked...

Dr Horrible clutched his reverse ray and ...

…gave the scene a critical look as he said, “Not precisely what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?” Moist asked, and perfected a completely legitimate moonwalk.

Dr. Horrible, PhD in Horribleness and all, gave the people walking backwards a sigh and said, “I just wanted to see if there were any hidden messages in the songs, like with Beatles albums.”

* * *

Anonymous asked...

Ellie screammmmed...

…and Chuck and Sarah immediately sprang apart, Sarah going for her gun, which she immediately reholstered when she saw that it was just Ellie.

“Wh…wh…you…” Ellie said, staring at the bright red and gold suit of armor.

Chuck gave his sister a sheepish look as he said, “This would probably not be the best time to tell you I’m Iron Man and my girlfriend is a SHIELD agent, huh?”

* * *

mxpw asked...

“Do you have any threes?” Sarah asked Natasha.
“No,” the redhead said. “Go fish.”

“So,” Natasha said once Sarah did not get her wish, “still trapped in the bunker, huh?”

“Yeah, Frea didn’t have any new ideas so she just stole her Go Fish scene and turned me into Chuck and you into me.”

“Cool,” Natasha said, and asked for a five.”

* * *

Anonymous asked...

Abed took another bite of his sandwich and observed the campus from Jeffs car

“Have you noticed the weather?” he asked conversationally. He was getting better at saying things conversationally thanks to the fact that he had watched all of Gilmore Girls over a four-day period. “It never changes.”

* * *

Amy asked...

The liquor fell with a hard smash to the floor but everyone ignored it on account of all the guns pointing att each other

That is, until the door swung open to reveal Phil Coulson, who took in the scene—Steve with an old luger pointing at September, Natasha with her Glocks aimed at Olivia Dunham, Dunham with her Glocks aimed at Hawkeye, who was of course pointing his service-issued Sig at Peter Bishop—with an eyeroll. ”At ease,” he said to his team, “they’re the help I called in about the whole universe ending and—dammit, really, my Glenfiddich again—I was saving that!”

* * *

Anonymous asked...

Peter struck the observer first even though it was useless move, but it gave Walter enough time to activate the device

“Now, Peter!” Walter shouted, and Peter dropped to the ground. The Observer was hit full in the chest by a blast so powerful that it knocked him backward and through the wall.

“Wow,” Peter said, staring at the cartoon-style Observer-shaped hole in the wall, “you really weren’t kidding when you said that mxpw’s love for Olivia in Glasses might just be the thing that saves the world.”

* * *

Catrogue asked...

“C’mon, Casey, you can’t tell me you don’t think fondly of me and that thing I do with my—”
“Hi-oh! Casey, Carina... Hi! Just dropping off Vi for her evening with Sarah.”

Carina immediately straightened from where she’d been practically draped over Casey, who had been trying to clean his Sig Sauer at the table, and Chuck yelped and covered Violet’s eyes with his hand. “We’ve talked about this!” he hissed at the both of them.

Casey and Carina looked at each other, and Carina asked, “Do you think he’s more offended by the gun or the innuendo?” like Chuck and Violet weren’t even standing there.

* * *

Amy asked...

Sarah stared at the five year old in bemusement and looked from one tiny gleeful face to a longer more unconventionally handsome gleeful face

“You want me to do what?” she asked.

“I want you to be my show and tell!”

It didn’t make any more sense the second time than it had the first, so she asked, “Show and tell what?” and Chuck practically fell over laughing.

* * *

Anonymous asked...

“Are you kidding me, Bryce? That’s just amazing, let’s go tell Jill that we passed our Stanford exams without even cheating.” Chuck said. “Hopefully' she passed too,” Chuck thought.

But on the way to Jill’s dorm, the world changed, and suddenly exams didn’t matter so much when the news that night was covered in news of bald men in fedoras dragging people from their homes and murdering them in the streets.

Their frat buddy Simon immediately joined the Fringe division. Chuck, Jill, and Bryce weren’t far behind.

* * *

Anonymous asked...

Anonymous asked: Hi, mom, it's Kevin. So, the good news is that the majority of the house didn't burn and we're pretty sure Bobby wasn't inside. The bad news is the tattoo parlor won't even offer a refund for Lacey's ... oh, well you'll see when you get home.

Sarah decided not to delete that voicemail and instead slipped her phone back into her pocket as she leaned back into the seat of their private jet.

Chuck came out of the jet’s shower, still rubbing his graying hair dry with a towel as he said, “Any trouble with the kids while we were gone?”

“Just the usual,” Sarah said, and smiled at her husband of twenty-five years even as she wondered if maybe letting their children follow them into the intelligence business had been a bad idea.

* * *

Jamie asked...

Violets eyes rounded at the sight

“Is that…is that…is all of that for me?”

“Haha, nice try, munchkin,” Sarah said, and she plucked the seven-year-old up for a piggy-back ride into the rest of the room where the presents had been neatly arranged by “Santa” himself (or herself, as Sarah had drawn those duties this year from the chore hat). “You’ve got a new cousin now, remember?”

* * *

mxpw asked...

A nerd, a FBI agent, and a Black Widow walk into a bar.

Natasha Romanoff didn’t exactly feel the nerd moniker was entirely fair—just because a girl could appreciate the ass-kicking abilities of a certain vampire slayer, it didn’t make her a drooling idiot like some of the morons she’d encountered when she’d infiltrated Priest-Con—and the FBI thing was for a cover, but she was still the Black Widow, and she could still get a drink whenever she pleased, dammit.

The sight of Clint Barton waiting for her on a bar stool made her raise an eyebrow. ”Hey, handsome,” she said, her voice a purr, “buy a fellow agent a drink?”

* * *

Anonymous asked...

Chuck let out a yelp as she flung him easily onto the bed> sqeeeeeee

“Seriously, I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, but the Psycho Elf Queen from Fulcrum didn’t appear to be listening. “Any second now, my girlfriend is going to come bursting in through that door, and while I think she’s hot when she’s mad, you probably won’t share my point of view on that.”

Psycho Elf Queen just laughed in a way that made Chuck very, very nervous.

* * *

Anonymous asked...

Bryce grimaced another mouthful of blood and glared up at his captive, ready to give them what for (FREEBRYCELARKINYEAH!)

“Oh, god,” Chuck said, shaking his head and trying to break the ropes tying him to his desk chair. “Does the fact that you keep biting—ow! Stop that! Geez!—me mean I’m going to be a vampire, too, Bryce? You really should have mentioned this before we became roommates because I feel like this goes against the roommate agreement and I like Italian food waaaaay too much to give up that lifestyle and—OW!”

* * *

Anonymous asked...

They’ve been watching the movie for a good hour, and Sarah is growing visibly sleepy, though she gives no sign of wanting to turn in for the night. Chuck guesses she needs the company, and he’s willing to stay as long as she needs. He’s none too eager to be alone himself.

She makes no move to close the distance between them, which makes him ache a little, but he says nothing. The movie plays on, with neither of them giving it any more than a passing interest, until Sarah finally shows the first break in the dam by sighing and shifting closer to him and it’s almost like they’re dating for real for a second.

“I’m really going to miss that goldfish,” she says, and Chuck nods in agreement.

* * *

Anonymous asked...

Matthew's lips thinned white with the horror the image presented

Slowly, he set the photograph down and let out a slow breath. Beside him, he could feel Mary shake as she tried—more or less successfully—to contain her laughter.

“Mother,” he said in what he hoped was a slow, measured tone, “I of course respect the fact that Dr. Clarkson has begun courting you in earnest, but perhaps we could skip viewings of the sunbathing pictures in the future?”

* * *

Anonymous asked...

Olivia looked from her shackles to the shackles of the red head on the greasy wall opposite "Well, look what you've gone and done now"

“How is this my fault?” Carina asked.

“I’m going to assume that question is rhetorical, as I don’t really enjoy stating the obvious all that much, no matter what Peter says.”

Carina tugged ineffectually on the shackles and gave a pouting sigh before she said, “This is so not my fault—I have better, wiser ways of using handcuffs than this.”

* * *

Anonymous asked...

A screech of tires and Sarah flung herself off the motorcycle before it collided with the bus, Chuck... (Sarah from Manchester no San Diego)

Chuck skidded to a halt and stared at the carnage, but Sarah was already on her feet, grabbing his arm and racing across Piccadilly Circus so fast that Chuck was forced to run or be dragged. “Who the hell are you?” he shouted as they dodged in and out of crowds of tourists, running from the men in Mini Coopers who most decidedly were not happy that their traffic accident stunt had not paid off.

Sarah flashed a smile over her shoulder as she said, “Sorry, forgot to tell you—my real name’s Sarah Walker, and I work for MI-6.”

* * *

Brandon C. asked...

Ice filled her veins, her limbs grew jittery as did the world and then her the little hand swept seven.

When she woke, it was to see not her watchface but a clock, and her legs felt strange, but the more pressing problem was that it was oddly hard to breathe through her mouth.

“So, funny story,” a man with short brown-blond hair said, and he was suddenly there next to her in what looked like some kind of infirmary room but everything was floating oddly in the air as though gravity didn’t exist, and he had an actual bow and arrow across his back as he finished, “I was sent to kill you and let you drown, but I kind of made a different call.”

Natasha looked at him in confusion and finally looked down at her legs…and it took her a couple of seconds before she said, in what she felt was a perfectly reasonable voice because she had freaking fins, “Oh, hell no, you did not turn me into a mermaid.”

* * *

Brandon C. asked...

The gun appeared so swiftly it pushed in and under his ribcage before he could even cure in Klingon

“Okay, okay, okay,” Chuck said, laughing. “I’m sorry I accused you of getting slow—that’s clearly not the case.”

“Thought not,” Sarah said, but she holstered the gun back in her waistband before she kissed him.

* * *

quistie64 asked...

His hands were cold. Again. The things she put up with for a chance to have Grazing Day.

“Oh, sorry,” the Scientist said in clear and perfect Cowtonese, which meant he’d been practicing again at night. Gene felt a trill of pleasure, which only increased when the Scientist rubbed his hands together to warm them up. ”By the way, Gene, you were right—I applied the Kottelmeier theory to the equation and it cleared that problem right up, you dear, brilliant mad thing: soon you shall make the perfect chocolate milk for all of us—but not too soon, otherwise they’ll figure out it’s been you behind the science all along!”

* * *

JoeltotheD asked...

Chuck. Sarah. Dinosaurs.

“It’ll be fun, he says—a good time, he says, there’s no possible way the guy’s threats could be real and that dinosaurs really exist,” Sarah said under her breath as she loaded shells into the rifle she’d found in the abandoned barracks on the island. She picked it up and aimed at the door, through which she could hear the roar of the allosaurus approaching. “Dinosaurs don’t exist, my ass.”

* * *

Michael asked...

“Are you sure it should bebe doing that?” Sarah asked. “I don’t think fire is suppose to shoot out the back of a waffle iron.”

“Clearly,” Peter Bishop said as he set down the tray of crepes that the Bishops had been in charge of bringing on the table, “you’ve never been to a potluck with Walter Bishop before.”

“That means you must be the new neighbors,” Olivia said quickly because both Chuck and Sarah were staring at the waffle iron and it was always best to distract from Walter’s crazier inventions. “I’m Olivia—and this is my husband Peter, and I’m pretty sure one of those—” she gestured idly toward where a gaggle of children were running around on the other side of the room—“is our Etta.”

* * *