Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2025-01-16 04:41 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2025-01-16 04:41 pm
Nobody's Relationships Are Going Well Here.
Here's a third batch of ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
threesentenceficathon fills!
Death Note, Light/L, 280 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'And you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever.'
It’s almost perfect, watching L die. It’s a shame Light couldn’t kill him with his own hands. But he can hold L as he dies, he can smile at him and watch L’s eyes widen and feel that electric instant of understanding between them: no more masks, no more pretences, nothing but victor and victim.
I win. He mouths it, just for L to see, and L—
L surges up with his dying strength and kisses Light on the mouth.
It throws Light, badly. His mind plunges instantly into calculations – L has done something unexpected, how to respond?
It’s only a matter of seconds. But, by the time he’s reminded himself that these tests are no longer a threat, L is dead in his arms.
He wanted to savour the light leaving L’s eyes. It’s gone; he was distracted. At least it means his scream of anguish and frustration will sound real.
His father’s hands are on Light’s arms, trying to coax him away from L, and Light lets himself be drawn away; he can’t think clearly enough to know whether he should keep holding on. When he climbs to his feet, a little unsteadily, he finds his legs shaking.
He hasn’t taken his eyes off L, although his mind is screaming at him to find Rem, find her Death Note. He can still taste L’s death in his mouth, the bile and the terror of it.
Why would L do that? What’s the intention behind it; what does it mean? Just a desperate final effort to make Light slip up in front of the team? Or something else?
If there are any answers, they’re locked inside the corpse on the floor.
Death Note, Light/himself, 180 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'To be honest, fucking my clone has always been my fantasy.'
Light’s never had much interest in sex. It’s a tool, a means to an end. He’s never met anyone worth the effort and indignity and messiness involved; he’s never really expected to.
But now that he has his hands on himself—
It’s a game, a thrilling balance of risk, not unlike the dance he’s been locked in with L. They’re the same person, tangled together in a furious battle for the upper hand. In every second, Light is striving to take his other self apart, to hide his own body’s reactions, and he knows his counterpart is doing the same.
For once, Light feels he’ll actually have to fight for his victory. He knows the ecstasy of truly being evenly matched at last.
They come in the same instant, neither victory nor defeat, and Light locks his hands around his other self’s throat as they do.
It’s been fun. He wouldn’t mind doing this again. But they can’t both be the god of the new world, and he can’t write his own name in the Death Note.
Danganronpa V3, Shuichi and Maki, 420 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'There ain't no reason you and me should be alone tonight.'
For a moment, Shuichi thinks that Maki isn’t going to answer her door, but eventually she pulls it open.
“What?” she asks, voice flat.
There’s a redness under her eyes. Shuichi tries not to think that too loudly; he has a feeling that just noticing it is going to get him killed.
“I was worried about you,” he says.
“I can look after myself.”
“I know you can.” He’s not afraid for her safety; with Maki furious and grieving, it’s everyone else who’s at risk. “I just... I didn’t want to leave you alone. And, honestly, I could do with some company as well.”
She looks at him for a moment longer, then lets out a short, hard sigh. “Fine. Training?”
“That sounds good,” Shuichi says, relieved.
He’s hoping training might take his mind off it, at least a little. If he’s honest, it kind of makes it worse. He’s so conscious of the fact that it’s just the two of them, that there’s no Kaito cheering them on.
If Maki’s thinking the same thing, she doesn’t show any sign of it; she seems as focused as ever. But she has to be thinking about him, right?
“Do you want to talk about Kaito?” Shuichi asks, when his absence begins looming too large to ignore.
“No,” Maki says.
“I know you... really cared about him,” Shuichi says, carefully. “I don’t know if it’d help, but—”
“You were in love with him, weren’t you?” Maki asks, looking him straight in the eye.
Shuichi chokes. When he manages to speak, his voice is a little more high-pitched than he was aiming for. “Why – why would you ask that?”
“If you’re not going to talk about your feelings,” Maki says, “don’t ask me to talk about mine.”
“I’m not – I’m not...” He grasps for the rest of the sentence and finds nothing there but air.
Maki breaks her gaze from his. “If it’s any consolation, he wasn’t interested in either of us. We’re both equally pathetic.”
Shuichi wants to deny it: no, of course I wasn’t in love with Kaito, what are you talking about?
But it’s not like – it’s not like the thought never crossed his mind. He never really entertained any thoughts of anything happening between them, but he guesses that doesn’t change how Kaito made him feel.
He takes a long time to try to put his feelings into words.
“I don’t think it’s pathetic to love him,” he says at last. “I think it’s the only thing we could really do.”
The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, Andrew and Ashley, 210 words, NB incest. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'say what you want to satisfy yourself, but you only want what everybody else says you should want.'
“I’m sick of your complaining, Andy,” Ashley growls.
“Don’t call me—”
“All I’ve been doing is trying to keep us safe,” Ashley says. “And all you’ve been doing is whining about how much you hate this.”
“I have killed,” Andrew says, low and dangerous, “three people. Don’t try to fucking tell me I’m not working to keep us safe.”
“What do you want?” Ashley demands, spreading her hands. “What would it take to actually make you fucking happy for a change?”
“I don’t know, maybe I want to not be stuck on a cross-country murder trip!”
“That’s something you don’t want.” And, honestly, she has her doubts about whether he hates it as much as he claims. “What do you want? Some perfect little boring life with a perfect little boring wife?”
Andrew folds his arms. “Sounds better than being on the run with my psycho sister.”
“You don’t want a normal life,” Ashley says. “You’re just telling yourself that because that’s the person everyone else thinks you should be. I know what you really want.”
“Wow,” Andrew says. “And I guess I conveniently want exactly what you want.”
“Not exactly, I guess,” Ashley says. “See, I don’t have a sister to want to fuck.”
Andrew chokes on thin air.
Revolutionary Girl Utena, Miki/Kozue, 290 words, NB incest. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'Oh I see, there never was a "we" / The only one I loved was me.'
Afterwards, Miki buries his face in the bedclothes. He doesn’t say anything. He won’t look at her.
“Oh, don’t sulk,” Kozue says, sitting up in a tangle of sheets. “Doesn’t it feel better to get everything out in the open?”
“We did something terrible,” Miki says, so quietly she can barely make out the shape of his voice. “We can’t go back.”
There are thin lines of blood on his back. Kozue inspects her fingernails.
“You know,” she says, conversationally, “if I could touch the person in the mirror, I don’t think I’d have any interest in you at all.”
Miki jerks his head up from the covers at that.
“I just destroyed us,” he says, “for you.” There’s a wild, frantic edge to his voice she’s never heard before; she basks in it, in seeing a side of him he wouldn’t show to anyone else. “Don’t tell me you didn’t want it now. Please. I can’t – I can’t hear that.”
That’s what she wants: to see him looking at her. That’s what her reflection gives her that he can’t.
“I’m not saying I didn’t want it,” she says. “I’m just saying, if things were different, they’d be different.”
His gaze skates from her eyes to her shoulder, her breasts, and he turns away abruptly.
“I guess there’s no way for things to be different,” he says, after a long moment.
“Like you said,” Kozue agrees, “there’s no going back.”
“So what do we do?” Miki asks, a little desperately.
He’s still keeping his eyes averted. But he said we.
Kozue rests her arms across her knees, looking at him with her head on one side. “I’ve always been more a fan of going forward, anyway.”
I'm having such a great time with this! It's my favourite fandom event of the year.
threesentenceficathon fills!Death Note, Light/L, 280 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'And you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever.'
It’s almost perfect, watching L die. It’s a shame Light couldn’t kill him with his own hands. But he can hold L as he dies, he can smile at him and watch L’s eyes widen and feel that electric instant of understanding between them: no more masks, no more pretences, nothing but victor and victim.
I win. He mouths it, just for L to see, and L—
L surges up with his dying strength and kisses Light on the mouth.
It throws Light, badly. His mind plunges instantly into calculations – L has done something unexpected, how to respond?
It’s only a matter of seconds. But, by the time he’s reminded himself that these tests are no longer a threat, L is dead in his arms.
He wanted to savour the light leaving L’s eyes. It’s gone; he was distracted. At least it means his scream of anguish and frustration will sound real.
His father’s hands are on Light’s arms, trying to coax him away from L, and Light lets himself be drawn away; he can’t think clearly enough to know whether he should keep holding on. When he climbs to his feet, a little unsteadily, he finds his legs shaking.
He hasn’t taken his eyes off L, although his mind is screaming at him to find Rem, find her Death Note. He can still taste L’s death in his mouth, the bile and the terror of it.
Why would L do that? What’s the intention behind it; what does it mean? Just a desperate final effort to make Light slip up in front of the team? Or something else?
If there are any answers, they’re locked inside the corpse on the floor.
Death Note, Light/himself, 180 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'To be honest, fucking my clone has always been my fantasy.'
Light’s never had much interest in sex. It’s a tool, a means to an end. He’s never met anyone worth the effort and indignity and messiness involved; he’s never really expected to.
But now that he has his hands on himself—
It’s a game, a thrilling balance of risk, not unlike the dance he’s been locked in with L. They’re the same person, tangled together in a furious battle for the upper hand. In every second, Light is striving to take his other self apart, to hide his own body’s reactions, and he knows his counterpart is doing the same.
For once, Light feels he’ll actually have to fight for his victory. He knows the ecstasy of truly being evenly matched at last.
They come in the same instant, neither victory nor defeat, and Light locks his hands around his other self’s throat as they do.
It’s been fun. He wouldn’t mind doing this again. But they can’t both be the god of the new world, and he can’t write his own name in the Death Note.
Danganronpa V3, Shuichi and Maki, 420 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'There ain't no reason you and me should be alone tonight.'
For a moment, Shuichi thinks that Maki isn’t going to answer her door, but eventually she pulls it open.
“What?” she asks, voice flat.
There’s a redness under her eyes. Shuichi tries not to think that too loudly; he has a feeling that just noticing it is going to get him killed.
“I was worried about you,” he says.
“I can look after myself.”
“I know you can.” He’s not afraid for her safety; with Maki furious and grieving, it’s everyone else who’s at risk. “I just... I didn’t want to leave you alone. And, honestly, I could do with some company as well.”
She looks at him for a moment longer, then lets out a short, hard sigh. “Fine. Training?”
“That sounds good,” Shuichi says, relieved.
He’s hoping training might take his mind off it, at least a little. If he’s honest, it kind of makes it worse. He’s so conscious of the fact that it’s just the two of them, that there’s no Kaito cheering them on.
If Maki’s thinking the same thing, she doesn’t show any sign of it; she seems as focused as ever. But she has to be thinking about him, right?
“Do you want to talk about Kaito?” Shuichi asks, when his absence begins looming too large to ignore.
“No,” Maki says.
“I know you... really cared about him,” Shuichi says, carefully. “I don’t know if it’d help, but—”
“You were in love with him, weren’t you?” Maki asks, looking him straight in the eye.
Shuichi chokes. When he manages to speak, his voice is a little more high-pitched than he was aiming for. “Why – why would you ask that?”
“If you’re not going to talk about your feelings,” Maki says, “don’t ask me to talk about mine.”
“I’m not – I’m not...” He grasps for the rest of the sentence and finds nothing there but air.
Maki breaks her gaze from his. “If it’s any consolation, he wasn’t interested in either of us. We’re both equally pathetic.”
Shuichi wants to deny it: no, of course I wasn’t in love with Kaito, what are you talking about?
But it’s not like – it’s not like the thought never crossed his mind. He never really entertained any thoughts of anything happening between them, but he guesses that doesn’t change how Kaito made him feel.
He takes a long time to try to put his feelings into words.
“I don’t think it’s pathetic to love him,” he says at last. “I think it’s the only thing we could really do.”
The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, Andrew and Ashley, 210 words, NB incest. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'say what you want to satisfy yourself, but you only want what everybody else says you should want.'
“I’m sick of your complaining, Andy,” Ashley growls.
“Don’t call me—”
“All I’ve been doing is trying to keep us safe,” Ashley says. “And all you’ve been doing is whining about how much you hate this.”
“I have killed,” Andrew says, low and dangerous, “three people. Don’t try to fucking tell me I’m not working to keep us safe.”
“What do you want?” Ashley demands, spreading her hands. “What would it take to actually make you fucking happy for a change?”
“I don’t know, maybe I want to not be stuck on a cross-country murder trip!”
“That’s something you don’t want.” And, honestly, she has her doubts about whether he hates it as much as he claims. “What do you want? Some perfect little boring life with a perfect little boring wife?”
Andrew folds his arms. “Sounds better than being on the run with my psycho sister.”
“You don’t want a normal life,” Ashley says. “You’re just telling yourself that because that’s the person everyone else thinks you should be. I know what you really want.”
“Wow,” Andrew says. “And I guess I conveniently want exactly what you want.”
“Not exactly, I guess,” Ashley says. “See, I don’t have a sister to want to fuck.”
Andrew chokes on thin air.
Revolutionary Girl Utena, Miki/Kozue, 290 words, NB incest. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'Oh I see, there never was a "we" / The only one I loved was me.'
Afterwards, Miki buries his face in the bedclothes. He doesn’t say anything. He won’t look at her.
“Oh, don’t sulk,” Kozue says, sitting up in a tangle of sheets. “Doesn’t it feel better to get everything out in the open?”
“We did something terrible,” Miki says, so quietly she can barely make out the shape of his voice. “We can’t go back.”
There are thin lines of blood on his back. Kozue inspects her fingernails.
“You know,” she says, conversationally, “if I could touch the person in the mirror, I don’t think I’d have any interest in you at all.”
Miki jerks his head up from the covers at that.
“I just destroyed us,” he says, “for you.” There’s a wild, frantic edge to his voice she’s never heard before; she basks in it, in seeing a side of him he wouldn’t show to anyone else. “Don’t tell me you didn’t want it now. Please. I can’t – I can’t hear that.”
That’s what she wants: to see him looking at her. That’s what her reflection gives her that he can’t.
“I’m not saying I didn’t want it,” she says. “I’m just saying, if things were different, they’d be different.”
His gaze skates from her eyes to her shoulder, her breasts, and he turns away abruptly.
“I guess there’s no way for things to be different,” he says, after a long moment.
“Like you said,” Kozue agrees, “there’s no going back.”
“So what do we do?” Miki asks, a little desperately.
He’s still keeping his eyes averted. But he said we.
Kozue rests her arms across her knees, looking at him with her head on one side. “I’ve always been more a fan of going forward, anyway.”
I'm having such a great time with this! It's my favourite fandom event of the year.