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DJ ([personal profile] djsoliloquy) wrote2013-03-15 03:51 pm

[3 Sentence Fic-A-Thon 2013 Fills]

Various filled prompts for the 2013 3 Sentence Fic-A-Thon!

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Assassin's Creed, Ezio, alone

All the rooms in the house are empty.

His mother and sister are--safe, he hopes, he prays, but his brothers and father are counting on him and him alone, and Ezio knows he cannot fail, cannot.

Anger shudders through him with a sick sense foreboding that he hates and is not used to, and with a steadying breath he kneels beside the hidden chest in his father's office to take up the white robes and broken blade.


Assassin’s Creed, William Johnson/Thomas Hickey, tried and true

“You’re bearing it well,” Johnson says as he pulls at the bindings, fitting Thomas’s arms tighter than they have ever attempted before but Thomas simply groans and accepts the new tension, thrilling Johnson anew with how very good the lad can be when approached in the right manner.

Each time is like a gift, but with patience they can always get here eventually—that place where coarse exteriors and sparring words are scoured away under the ache of pleasure and exhaustion, where they both get exactly what they need and for a time everything is simple, raw and true.

Thomas lifts his head and manages a tired grin, mouth open and lips dry from breathing hard as he says, “Thank you, Mister Johnson.”


Assassin's Creed, Altair/Malik, secret smiles

Malik smiles when he thinks he is alone, elusive and gentle little grins without a hint of malice as he reads correspondences behind the counter—but he is not alone this time, and Altair watches in secret, trapped by what he almost accidentally stumbled on in the gloom of the Bureau’s inner chamber.

Something unsettled and raw opens inside him to watch Malik like this, so near a quiet happiness that Altair would not have thought possible for him; in the end Altair almost cannot turn away from it, this moment that will never be intended for him, that he was never meant to see.

Altair lowers his eyes and leaves without a sound, suddenly unwilling to be the one who breaks Malik’s peace again.


Gentleman Bastard, Stephen Reynart, self-imposed expectations

When he finally sits down to a meeting with the Salvaras, Stephen Reynart finds he isn't especially surprised to feel the toe go sliding up his leg beneath the table.

It does give him pause when Doña Salvara smiles and gives his arm a familiar touch as she excuses herself from the table, and as she steps into the next room Don Salvara smiles at him too—and the toe continues its playful exploration right up along Reynart’s calf.

Then Reynart smiles, relaxing as he lets his legs fall open to let Lorenzo move higher, and the two of them manage to feign a passing interest in cakes and conversation until Sofia returns; it isn't often things go better than Reynart expects, but he's more than happy to acquiesce when they do.


Greek mythology, Helen/Aphrodite, the most beautiful

Helen knows her, knows that iridescent loveliness, and so knowing stands in helpless awe before the old woman — the guise even more beautiful and terrible than the others somehow, raising a blush to Helen’s face and wringing her heart. Something tugs at her robes, and then comes the familiar whisper in Helen’s ear, the voice that can render her breathless no matter the words.

“Don’t make me regret you,” says Aphrodite with her usual sweet smile, the breath against Helen’s neck as gentle as a warm sea breeze.


Mass Effect, Shepard, always knew how it would end

Shepard has seen planets burn, civilizations razed, and loved ones killed in every possible way; there is nothing left of history not dripping red from the Reapers’ destruction and the sacrifices made to stop them. In all that time the objective has never really changed, and it’s going to take more than a final desperate Catalyst negotiation to change it now.

Deep down she always felt it would end this way, and in the short time it takes to finish the red path she hopes the Reapers finally feel it too.


Mass Effect, Shepard/Garrus, Western AU
(also: not my fanart but you should check this out as well. you're welcome.)

(i)

Garrus has had it up to here with the law, and doing what he can against corruption and a rogue lawman is tough but—well, someone's got to do it. The first time he meets Shepard, riding in on one of the finest horses in the west, Garrus recognizes a kindred spirit and feels a flicker of hope renewed.

Looks like there's a new sheriff in town.

(ii)

There may be some treasure or relic of vital importance under all that rubble, but half the satisfaction locating it rests in the fact that there's only one shovel and, upon deciding the matter in a mature fashion, Garrus isn't the one holding it.

He stands watch, gazing with satisfaction over the desert while Shepard mumbles about wind and takes up the spade. “Two kinds of people in the world, Shepard,” Garrus calls down, tone equal measures teasing and morale-boosting, “those who manage to actually shoot the bottles and those who dig—you dig.”

(iii)

The morning after they get around to buying those dances for Grunt’s coming-of-age, Garrus wakes in a gloomy cramped space with a vicious hangover—and something warm and feathery nesting on his head.

“What is that,” he hisses and Shepard laughs beside him in the dark, explaining about chickens and chicken coops along with a more hypothetical-sounding tale that ends with the heroes evicted by the fine ladies of the House of Blue Delight and asked never to return under threat of reopening charges of mild property damage.

Which all sounds vaguely familiar, though before Garrus musters a groggy sympathy for the birthday boy Shepard adds, “At least Grunt behaved himself—I don’t think this coop would have been big enough for three of us.”


Pokemon, Red/Green, nothing can keep them apart now

The newer generations of usurper brats must not be as tough as back in the day, because by the time Red finally comes down off that mountain Green is sickeningly, distressingly glad to see him—not that Green would ever say so, but it does feel less like Red’s coming back and a lot more like he’s coming home, and wow, embarrassing.

Green doesn’t say please either, when they’re eating breakfast together and Red gets that faraway expression on his face as he gazes into the west, the light in his eyes suddenly as devoid of warmth as electricity on snow, and what Green ends up saying is, “Stay.”

It comes out all weird and sounding like please anyway, even though they haven’t always fit that well, even though both of them are pretty awful at being ordinary, but this time Red looks like he hasn’t sat down in years and Green’s getting tired of wandering Kanto between Gym matches like he’s doomed to never find what he’s looking for, maybe because it’s been up a damn mountain this whole time—

—but then Red turns from the window in a decisive way and does this thing with his face that looks suspiciously like a smile, and after a moment Green returns with a grin of his own: this time they’ll both stay.


Tsuritama, Akira, all grown up

They meet up in Florida, a couple days of bass fishing off Natsuki's boat while Akira takes a break from investigating some Miami seafood diner, an apparently suspicious establishment that Akira (dramatically pushing on his sunglasses for the punchline) honest to goodness actually describes as fishy.

And Natsuki watches, speechless, as Tapioca follows up the line with a long quack, all of it natural yet curiously practiced — and Natsuki can't help thinking back to the Akira who solemnly entered a high school class under the guise of student, the Akira who disliked puns and jokes and fun in general or at least thought he should, though Natsuki was never much convinced.

“Get off my boat, that was terrible,” Natsuki says in the post-pun silence, and after a moment Akira gives a little smile and they both burst into laughter.