Flash FIction Fills (Take 25) - Part One
Jan. 3rd, 2012 04:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Got half of the flash fiction for ya today, and the other half tomorrow! Enjoy!
For mandalee1013
Prompt: Ione's thoughts while unconscious
Universe: Infinity's End, Whispers of Yesterday. Warning: stream of conscious
For hockeyiris
Prompt: Roy/Maes, drinking and New Years
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (anime-verse). Warnings for slash, drinking
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: Lady Crysan/Ichigo, "you look good enough to eat"
Fandom: Crossover. War of the Animum/Bleach. Warnings for intended het, language, some nudity
a/n: Not only do I have more flash fiction coming tomorrow, but more ficcage coming up this week! Some Transformers fic, some Bleach fic, some original fic. Lots of reading. :)
Hope you enjoyed!
For mandalee1013
Prompt: Ione's thoughts while unconscious
Universe: Infinity's End, Whispers of Yesterday. Warning: stream of conscious
It's cold. Sinking into icy waters. Closing over her head. Swallowing her.
She can't breathe. Can't think. Trapped. No aether. Nothing.
There's laughter. He's mocking her. He's always mocked her. Nothing's changed in that regard.
Ione screams, incandescent with rage. Bubbles form at her lips, rising upward, crashing against an icy ceiling.
Hatred and loathing intermingle. He left footprints in her blood. Blue eyes, forever sightless. Grief. Regret. Pain.
Broken and boneless. Fenris, turned to ash. Aponi, pinned and stuffed. Grey with death. Worse than fading, but it's close.
Heartbeat slowing. No breath in her lungs. Darkness wrapping around her, tendrils thick and impenetrable. Hands around her throat. Aether consumed.
There's a broken peace. Her aether folds in on itself. She's hot and cold, flesh stretched taut. Her fingers and toes are numb.
Ione's alone.
And then, a warmth. A touch of heat blankets her body from head to toe. A pressure, familiar and welcome. She leans into it, yearning to be closer.
Ione gasps, sucking in desperate breaths, chest heaving. The air tastes sweet, honey and butter on fresh bread. Crisp like after a rainfall.
Aether coils deep, burrowing into the warmth. A last vestige against the darkness.
Gale's green eyes look down on her, dark with concern. She hasn't the strength to reassure him. She wants to live. Numb fingers twitch.
Sleep is no escape. It crests over her nonetheless. Reality is the nightmare. Dreams are worse. She's trapped between.
Help me.
There's a whisper. “I'm here.”
Ione sleeps.
She can't breathe. Can't think. Trapped. No aether. Nothing.
There's laughter. He's mocking her. He's always mocked her. Nothing's changed in that regard.
Ione screams, incandescent with rage. Bubbles form at her lips, rising upward, crashing against an icy ceiling.
Hatred and loathing intermingle. He left footprints in her blood. Blue eyes, forever sightless. Grief. Regret. Pain.
Broken and boneless. Fenris, turned to ash. Aponi, pinned and stuffed. Grey with death. Worse than fading, but it's close.
Heartbeat slowing. No breath in her lungs. Darkness wrapping around her, tendrils thick and impenetrable. Hands around her throat. Aether consumed.
There's a broken peace. Her aether folds in on itself. She's hot and cold, flesh stretched taut. Her fingers and toes are numb.
Ione's alone.
And then, a warmth. A touch of heat blankets her body from head to toe. A pressure, familiar and welcome. She leans into it, yearning to be closer.
Ione gasps, sucking in desperate breaths, chest heaving. The air tastes sweet, honey and butter on fresh bread. Crisp like after a rainfall.
Aether coils deep, burrowing into the warmth. A last vestige against the darkness.
Gale's green eyes look down on her, dark with concern. She hasn't the strength to reassure him. She wants to live. Numb fingers twitch.
Sleep is no escape. It crests over her nonetheless. Reality is the nightmare. Dreams are worse. She's trapped between.
Help me.
There's a whisper. “I'm here.”
Ione sleeps.
For hockeyiris
Prompt: Roy/Maes, drinking and New Years
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (anime-verse). Warnings for slash, drinking
“Shouldn't there be a toast?”
Maes lifts up his glass, admiring the amber liquid within. “Celebrations do call for them. What should we drink to?”
Roy's grin is lop-sided, the sort of smile only the pleasantly sotted bear. “World peace?”
Maes guffaws, nearly choking on his own breath. “I know that was a joke.”
“You caught me.” Roy leans back, sprawling indolently in his chair. He's the very picture of enticement. “How about two and a half kids, a dog, and a white picket fence?”
Maes shudders dramatically. “Pity the poor fool who submits to such a fate.”
“We could always toast to true love,” Roy suggests.
Maes leans forward, closer to Roy, as much as the short, narrow table between them allows. “I thought you didn't believe in such a thing.”
Roy tilts his head to the side, dark eyes impenetrable. “Sometimes I do.”
“Then shall we toast?” There's a warm flutter in Maes' belly; maybe it's just the alcohol. Or maybe it's Roy, Flame Alchemist extraordinaire.
Roy shifts, leaning toward Maes, putting them in closer quarters, near enough that Maes can smell his aftershave. “We shall.” He grabs his shot glass, clear liquid sloshing around. “To love and the new year.”
“To love.” Maes downs the shot as quickly as Roy, but he never takes his eyes off the other man, the atmosphere brewing with heat and promise. In the hallway, the Grandfather clock starts to chime, signaling the end of the old year.
Roy licks a stray drop of scotch from his lips, setting the shot glass down on the table with a quiet click. “Shall we watch the fireworks?”
Maes, actually, would rather watch Roy's face shade with arousal. “We could always make our own.”
Roy chuckles, hooking a finger in Maes' collar. “Someday, you'll have to tell me who you taught you all those cheesy lines.”
“That would spoil the mystery,” Maes retorts and allows Roy to pull him into a kiss, just as the clock chimes midnight.
Maes lifts up his glass, admiring the amber liquid within. “Celebrations do call for them. What should we drink to?”
Roy's grin is lop-sided, the sort of smile only the pleasantly sotted bear. “World peace?”
Maes guffaws, nearly choking on his own breath. “I know that was a joke.”
“You caught me.” Roy leans back, sprawling indolently in his chair. He's the very picture of enticement. “How about two and a half kids, a dog, and a white picket fence?”
Maes shudders dramatically. “Pity the poor fool who submits to such a fate.”
“We could always toast to true love,” Roy suggests.
Maes leans forward, closer to Roy, as much as the short, narrow table between them allows. “I thought you didn't believe in such a thing.”
Roy tilts his head to the side, dark eyes impenetrable. “Sometimes I do.”
“Then shall we toast?” There's a warm flutter in Maes' belly; maybe it's just the alcohol. Or maybe it's Roy, Flame Alchemist extraordinaire.
Roy shifts, leaning toward Maes, putting them in closer quarters, near enough that Maes can smell his aftershave. “We shall.” He grabs his shot glass, clear liquid sloshing around. “To love and the new year.”
“To love.” Maes downs the shot as quickly as Roy, but he never takes his eyes off the other man, the atmosphere brewing with heat and promise. In the hallway, the Grandfather clock starts to chime, signaling the end of the old year.
Roy licks a stray drop of scotch from his lips, setting the shot glass down on the table with a quiet click. “Shall we watch the fireworks?”
Maes, actually, would rather watch Roy's face shade with arousal. “We could always make our own.”
Roy chuckles, hooking a finger in Maes' collar. “Someday, you'll have to tell me who you taught you all those cheesy lines.”
“That would spoil the mystery,” Maes retorts and allows Roy to pull him into a kiss, just as the clock chimes midnight.
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: Lady Crysan/Ichigo, "you look good enough to eat"
Fandom: Crossover. War of the Animum/Bleach. Warnings for intended het, language, some nudity
Surrounded by scantily-clad women with painted faces and alluring scents, Ichigo is quite convinced he's fallen victim to another one of Renji's not-hilarious pranks.
“I was under the impression you were in need of assistance,” he says stiffly, doing his best Byakuya impersonation.
The woman next to him, breasts spilling out of her blue kimono not unlike Matsumoto-san, giggles at him. “Oh, we are,” she purrs, latching onto his arm with a grip that would put Kenpachi to shame. “We are so lonely.”
Ichigo works his jaw. This is not funny. See? Not laughing.
“That's not why I'm here,” he tries to protest. He's here, ladies, to destroy a couple of Hollow. But does he see any? Of course not.
His hand shoots out, catching the wrist of her free hand, seconds before it succeeds in creeping to the tie of his obi. “No touching, you!”
“Dianthe,” she corrects and presses closer. “But touching is required here. You look tense. Let me help.” Her floral perfume is overpowering. Will he be able to escape with dignity intact?
Wait. Screw dignity. He just wants to get out alive.
Another woman latches on to his left arm, inner thigh rubbing his leg. “Ooo, Dianthe. You'd better share this one.”
Ichigo feels his face get hot. “Uh...”
Dianthe hisses. “Back off! I grabbed him first.”
“Ladies that is quite enough,” another voice interjects, coming from above them. “Kurosaki-san is my client.”
“Yes, Lady Crysan.” Both women pout but withdraw, leaving Ichigo free to look at the newcomer, who makes him flush all over. She's regal, refined, dressed in a green kimono with hair spilling over her shoulders. But the look in her eyes is that of a predator.
“After all,” she purrs, taking his arm and leading him away, “Kyouraku-taichou was kind enough to send him here and he deserves the best.”
Ah, the name of his betrayer. Ichigo knows who to blame. If he survives this intact, anyway. By the look in Lady Crysan's eyes, he's about to be thoroughly consumed.
“I was under the impression you were in need of assistance,” he says stiffly, doing his best Byakuya impersonation.
The woman next to him, breasts spilling out of her blue kimono not unlike Matsumoto-san, giggles at him. “Oh, we are,” she purrs, latching onto his arm with a grip that would put Kenpachi to shame. “We are so lonely.”
Ichigo works his jaw. This is not funny. See? Not laughing.
“That's not why I'm here,” he tries to protest. He's here, ladies, to destroy a couple of Hollow. But does he see any? Of course not.
His hand shoots out, catching the wrist of her free hand, seconds before it succeeds in creeping to the tie of his obi. “No touching, you!”
“Dianthe,” she corrects and presses closer. “But touching is required here. You look tense. Let me help.” Her floral perfume is overpowering. Will he be able to escape with dignity intact?
Wait. Screw dignity. He just wants to get out alive.
Another woman latches on to his left arm, inner thigh rubbing his leg. “Ooo, Dianthe. You'd better share this one.”
Ichigo feels his face get hot. “Uh...”
Dianthe hisses. “Back off! I grabbed him first.”
“Ladies that is quite enough,” another voice interjects, coming from above them. “Kurosaki-san is my client.”
“Yes, Lady Crysan.” Both women pout but withdraw, leaving Ichigo free to look at the newcomer, who makes him flush all over. She's regal, refined, dressed in a green kimono with hair spilling over her shoulders. But the look in her eyes is that of a predator.
“After all,” she purrs, taking his arm and leading him away, “Kyouraku-taichou was kind enough to send him here and he deserves the best.”
Ah, the name of his betrayer. Ichigo knows who to blame. If he survives this intact, anyway. By the look in Lady Crysan's eyes, he's about to be thoroughly consumed.
a/n: Not only do I have more flash fiction coming tomorrow, but more ficcage coming up this week! Some Transformers fic, some Bleach fic, some original fic. Lots of reading. :)
Hope you enjoyed!
