Welcome to the Three Sentence Fic-A-Thon:

[caramelsilver]

This is a challenge where you answer a prompt with a fic consisting of only three sentences. It's open to all fandoms and you can post and answer as many prompts as you like. Only one prompt per comment please.

When posting a prompt please format it this way:

fandom, character/pairing, prompt word/sentence.

Lastly, please pimp this to your flist, I'd like as many as possible to come and participate!

Have fun!

If you have any questions ask them to the first comment.

Edit December 10th: Thanks to the brilliant grim_lupine we now have a delicious account. So head on over there to find some unfilled prompts: three_sentence_ficathon's delicious bookmarks.

A small note from grim_lupine who's organizing the delicious archive: "So I'm not familiar with all the fandoms here; sometimes when people post a ficlet they abbreviate a fandom and sometimes they don't (like BSG versus Battlestar Galactica, but I know that one) so I might have it listed twice in the delicious tags. If someone notices something messed up they can comment below." -- So do that, and when requesting something new, please use the fandom's whole name.

Comments

[notoriousreign.livejournal.com]

Chronicles of Narnia, King Frank/Queen Helen, when we were young.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

For all the bounty of their new kingdom, they can't quite get the scones to taste quite right.

"Too much magic in the water, what?" Helen says, and her tone is joking, but Frank recognizes the faraway look in her eyes.

"Perhaps it's the magic in your smile," he muses dramatically, and she blushes as he takes her hand.

[notoriousreign.livejournal.com]

♥ Very sweet, than you. =)

[st-aurafina.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is darling. I love Frank and Helen.

run-on sentences and stolen scones ftw

[outofbeta.livejournal.com]

Sometimes she remembers the streets of London, the cold, wet, glorious streets; November nights, the fog drawn around them like a blanket, thick and yellow and oddly comforting.

Sometimes she remembers her mother's front room, laid out in perfect order, perfect cleanliness; she tastes the scones on her tongue, warm and crisp from the oven, meltingly soft at the centre.

And sometimes she opens her eyes on another new morning, green and fresh and beautiful, the streams silver in their beds, the sky stretching azure to the far horizon, and she looks at the man who lies beside her, round and peaceful, snoring gently, and knows she would never, ever go back.

[lyamainu.livejournal.com]

When Helen was a little girl, she used to play princess. The family pets, the squirrels and birds of the back yard, and a stray dog were her subjects. Sometimes she wonders what she knew.