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Last 3 Sentence Ficathon Fills Post
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watsons_woes's July Writing Prompts, I found another annual month-long low-stress short fic prompt fest to participate in.
Tidying up my last few fills; fics over 100 words are appearing on AO3 as usual; recs post to follow.
Prompt: Any fandom (but especially Narnia), any character, fandom-appropriate idioms for “cold as a...”
“Almost reminds me of the witch’s days, it’s cold enough to freeze your b—” The macaque trailed off. “Excuse me, your Majesties.”
“No,” said Edmund, rubbing his hands together, “no, I quite agree.”
Prompt: any, any, teeth, claws, and cuddles
One does not ask a tiger for cuddles, of course, but Lucy had thought sometimes that it must be wonderfully soft and warm—before she stopped herself, because surely that would be terribly disrespectful, and she was a Queen now. It hadn’t ever occurred to her that the tiger might want them.
But when General Bitterfang the Grim, who had fought bravely against the White Witch, heard the news that her son had been slain in combat with the giants, Lucy would never have turned her down when she sought out her Queen for comfort, and the sort of healing that could not come from a cordial.
Prompt: Greek Mythology, Hestia & Artemis, family
What is a hearth? Hestia holds domain over the fires in the centre of houses, kindled in pits and braziers, and over ovens built into walls, and even over clay ovens outside, if they are built for a house, for cooking, for securing a steady warm presence.
But there are other fires far from domestic walls, but needed as much or more for warmth and food, where hunters make camp and cook their game and huddle close to tell tales, and deep in the wilderness, miles from any central civic hearth, Hestia still grants her niece her warmth and protection.
Prompt: MCU, Clint/Natasha, drive
Natasha plucked the keys out of Clint’s hand and slid between him and the Corvette. “You are a cruel, cruel woman,” Clint said, as he sulkily made his way around to the passenger seat.
Natasha raised her eyebrows at him and said, “Come on, baby, let me take you for a ride that won’t end in the car going up in flames,” and Clint sighed and put his feet up on the dash.
watsons_woes's July Writing Prompts, I found another annual month-long low-stress short fic prompt fest to participate in.Tidying up my last few fills; fics over 100 words are appearing on AO3 as usual; recs post to follow.
Prompt: Any fandom (but especially Narnia), any character, fandom-appropriate idioms for “cold as a...”
“Almost reminds me of the witch’s days, it’s cold enough to freeze your b—” The macaque trailed off. “Excuse me, your Majesties.”
“No,” said Edmund, rubbing his hands together, “no, I quite agree.”
Prompt: any, any, teeth, claws, and cuddles
One does not ask a tiger for cuddles, of course, but Lucy had thought sometimes that it must be wonderfully soft and warm—before she stopped herself, because surely that would be terribly disrespectful, and she was a Queen now. It hadn’t ever occurred to her that the tiger might want them.
But when General Bitterfang the Grim, who had fought bravely against the White Witch, heard the news that her son had been slain in combat with the giants, Lucy would never have turned her down when she sought out her Queen for comfort, and the sort of healing that could not come from a cordial.
Prompt: Greek Mythology, Hestia & Artemis, family
What is a hearth? Hestia holds domain over the fires in the centre of houses, kindled in pits and braziers, and over ovens built into walls, and even over clay ovens outside, if they are built for a house, for cooking, for securing a steady warm presence.
But there are other fires far from domestic walls, but needed as much or more for warmth and food, where hunters make camp and cook their game and huddle close to tell tales, and deep in the wilderness, miles from any central civic hearth, Hestia still grants her niece her warmth and protection.
Prompt: MCU, Clint/Natasha, drive
Natasha plucked the keys out of Clint’s hand and slid between him and the Corvette. “You are a cruel, cruel woman,” Clint said, as he sulkily made his way around to the passenger seat.
Natasha raised her eyebrows at him and said, “Come on, baby, let me take you for a ride that won’t end in the car going up in flames,” and Clint sighed and put his feet up on the dash.