volke and tanith, modern paramilitary business
Deep in the Congolese jungle, rain-soaked from three days of relentless thunderstorms, crouched in the underbrush, Tanith addressed her squadron for the last time—detailing exactly how they would be approaching the compound, who would be in what positions, and how to handle every potential upset—and the squad as raptly attentive, or rather, all but one.
“Did you get all that, sniper?” Tanith asked Volke after the briefing, saying the word as if it were a particularly contemptible slur—ever since he’d entered her command, he’d been distant and unresponsive, and that struck her has haughty and insubordinate.
Volke twitched an eyebrow upward, feigning interest: “You do things your way, commander, and I’ll get things done on my end—my way,” he said cooly, gripping his rifle more tightly as he spoke, eyes glittering.
mia and rhys, at the zoo
Rhys had woken feeling dizzy and feverish, but Mia had been looking forward to their zoo visit for so long that he hadn’t the heart to tell her—so, instead, he’d forced himself to come along.
He’d been content idling about in the petting zoo—he could sit down, there, and he’d gotten to be good friends with Steve the goat—but Mia had disappeared a quarter-hour ago, and he was starting to wonder where she’d gotten off to when suddenly he spotted her with a gasp: ”What the… how did you…”
Mia was leading a fourteen-foot-tall elephant behind her (fully outfitted with a saddle and tack), tromping through the tiny petting zoo corral (sending chickens squawking and llamas galloping in every direction), grinning broadly: “Someone left a gate open,” she shrugged, “so c’mon, man of destiny—you gotta have your noble steed, right?”
three-sentence fics
1) Give me a pairing in my ask (does not need to be romantic).
2) Give me an AU setting.
3) I will write a three-sentence fic.
I had a blast with this last time, and me and a bottle of wine are about to get cozy with literally nothing better to do this fine evening.
so! send me as many prompts as you like; it’ll be a good time
(I can write FE7-10)
prompt: volug/rafiel, volug trying to motivate rafiel and help get his confidence up.
((I’m sober now? Maybe?))
Rafiel had been fretting over the same tattered bouquet for hours now—standing tall in the wildflowers, turning over in his hand first a tulip, then a daisy, then a rhododendron, his expression pinched and anxious as he scrutinized each in turn.
Volug tilted his chin slightly upward, watching the heron from afar—watching for a long while, the slight smile on his face betraying his amusement.
“Chrysanthemum,” he said at last, and Rafiel turned, startled to find the wolf standing there: “the queen likes chrysanthemum.”
prompt: stefan/zihark, training fic, or post-battle fic.
((consider this my premature apology for quality. i am ten drinks in tonight.))
“You’re from Daein,” Stefan called over the keening, ringing clash of their swords, and Ziahrk pulled back—wondering what part of his swordplay had given it away, what misstep he’d made that betrayed his origin.
“i understand why Ike fights, I think. But you…” Stefan’s lips curled back into a smile—a vaguely twisted smile, a lion’s smile—”you’re a puzzle, Zihark.”
Zihark swallowed, the wind sharp in his ears; Stefan’s smile told him that he’d already guessed the answer to that puzzle.
prompt: tibarn/leonardo, fantasy-medieval king’s champion.
When Reyson left the palace for Castle Kilvas (left of his own accord, left for good, according to the note he’d lain on the nightstand), Leonardo did not see his king grieve—did not see him at all, for he’d shuttered himself away in the deepest chamber of the palace, and took no visitors.
Leonardo thought of Sir Edward, slain months ago alongside him, among the rocks by cavernous lair of the dragon they’d set out to slay, his corpse too burnt and mangled to even grant a proper burial.
When Leonardo went to his king now, he wondered what was worse—losing a love to the grave, losing a love to another—but either way, he could abide by this silence no longer: he’d defended his king all his life, and now he would be the one to console him.
prompt: ike/soren, hipster au.
Ever since they’d started backpacking up the west coast, Soren had grown used to their standing out, as dirty and rugged-looking as they often were, wandering from town to town—but once they started hiking through Seattle’s Capitol Hill district, he found they had an irritatingly different problem: they blended in too well.
Soren knew that Ike’s thick-rimmed glasses were simply a result of his being too lazy to put his contacts in, and his plaid shirt was more a reflection of his southern-born sensibilities rather than his being trendy, and his tacky faux-cowboy boots were a simple matter of practicality, but that didn’t stop some skinny-jeaned blonde from sauntering up to him in the street: “Hey, handsome, you coming to the Aesop Rock concert tonight?”
“Don’t bother,” Soren hissed, sidling up beside Ike and glaring at her, “he doesn’t listen to that pretentious white-rapper windbag.”
prompt: innes/cormag, generic office setting.
Innes saw the crash coming before anyone—he’d run the numbers a thousand times, compiled a report complex enough to shame any economics Ph.D., ran over a dozen simulations—but at the end of his hours-long appeal to the president of the Morgan Frelia itself, the answer came back loud and clear: yes, there’s something crooked here, and no, we won’t stop it.
“You should get out while you can, kid,” Innes muttered hotly to the young trader riding the elevator with him, squeezing the handle of his briefcase so tightly it nearly snapped in his hands, “this firm’s rotten to the core.”
Cormag considered carefully, watching Innes—thinking that there was something noble in the way the gray-haired suit held himself, something that reminded him of old president of Grado Sachs, before asking: “Where are you headed, then—can I go there?”
three-sentence fics!
because everyone else is doing it
and i’m nothing if not a sheeple
(even if I sort of fail at writing shortfic, but whateva, shits & giggles & such)
1) Give me a pairing in my ask (does not need to be romantic).
2) Give me an AU setting.
3) I will write a three-sentence fic.
I can do FE8, 9, 10, and sort-of 7.
