Flash Fic Friday (Take 13 - Part Two)
Jun. 8th, 2011 10:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Good evening, folks! I'm back from the beach and I've managed to tidy up three flash fiction for your reading pleasure. The last four won't come along until Saturday since I have things planned for Thursday and Free Fic Friday. Gives me plenty of time to write those last ones.
Enjoy! And keep in mind, these haven't been perfectly edited. Just cursorily.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
firegirl0
Prompt: Superman/Batman, “So... how are you?”
Fandom: DC 'Verse Animated Series. Warning for language, blatant disregard of canon, Batman snark
For azardarkstar
Prompt: “I was never worth noticing.” Pairing of my choice.
Fandom: Bleach. Warning for angst, spoilers, slight language, alcohol use, hints of slash and het. One-sided Izuru/Byakuya, Toushirou/Unnamed Female
Forkr4nky
Prompt: Kenpachi/Byakuya, tea ceremony
Fandom: Bleach. Warnings for slash, SPOILERS, some OOC
a/n: I hope you liked!
Join me tomorrow where I'm hosting Torquere's Livejournal. (I'll post a link first thing in the morning). I'll be sharing a oneshot from the Requiem of Janus universe, along with offering chances to win a $5 Torquere Gift Certificate and a free copy of The Requiem of Janus. There might also be prompt fics and whatever else I can think of. See you then!
Enjoy! And keep in mind, these haven't been perfectly edited. Just cursorily.
For
firegirl0 Prompt: Superman/Batman, “So... how are you?”
Fandom: DC 'Verse Animated Series. Warning for language, blatant disregard of canon, Batman snark
For a man who is “indestructible,” faster than a speeding bullet, and more powerful than a locomotive – Bruce is only quoting the tabloids here, he would never use such imprecise definitions himself – Superman manages to get himself indisposed quite often.
And “quite often” he expects Batman to extricate him from these indispositions. Well, to be fair, Superman doesn't expect anything, but he has such a high opinion of Batman that Bruce refuses to disappoint. The decision is entirely Bruce's of course, and he's never pressured into it, but he's intelligent enough to realize that sometimes, the world does need Superman. To keep Batman from getting bored if nothing else.
Sneaking into Luthor's newest fortress is never a challenge for Batman. Luthor is very intelligent and very rich, but he has such a limited view. He always structures his defenses against Superman and other metahumans. He never thinks about Batman and his newest gadgets, or how easy – and subtle – it is to take a more mundane route that doesn't involve speeding down corridors (Flash), or breaking down walls (Hawk Girl).
By the time Batman stands outside the cell where Superman is being kept for some nefarious plot of Luthor's that never makes sense, not even to Luthor, Batman is barely winded. In fact, he's more annoyed. He's had to leave Nightwing in charge of Gothan for this jolly jaunt to the edge of Metropolis and Luthor wasn't even creative this time. Not that Batman doesn't trust Nightwing, he just prefers to keep his eyes on Gotham himself.
Dick says that he's possessive and a control freak. Bruce prefers to call it protective and doesn't deign to respond to the latter.
Superman, for all that he's shackled with Kryptonite – where in the hell does Lex keep getting this stuff anyway? Bruce has only a small shard himself and it took hell and high water to get a hold of it – looks mighty cheery to see Batman standing there. He's a mess, sweaty, bloody, with a torn uniform and in need of a good night's sleep, yet he still pulls up a Boy Scout smile upon sight of Batman.
“So,” Superman drawls, his voice a tad raspy from lack of hydration. “How are you?”
Batman sighs, the sigh of one long-suffering. “Only you, Clark. Only you,” he mutters, as he pulls out his technologically advanced paperclip and picks the lock in seconds. The door swings open with a cheerful squeak and Batman steps inside, examining the Kryptonite cuffs. “Just so you know, I won't always be here to save your ass.”
Clark laughs, a hoarse sound, as the cuffs click free and he all but slumps, forcing Bruce to catch him. “But then we wouldn't meet like this.”
Of course, that's when Luthor's alarms start blaring and the sound of running floats to Batman's ears. If he had a response to Clark's blatant flirtation, it goes by the wayside.
And “quite often” he expects Batman to extricate him from these indispositions. Well, to be fair, Superman doesn't expect anything, but he has such a high opinion of Batman that Bruce refuses to disappoint. The decision is entirely Bruce's of course, and he's never pressured into it, but he's intelligent enough to realize that sometimes, the world does need Superman. To keep Batman from getting bored if nothing else.
Sneaking into Luthor's newest fortress is never a challenge for Batman. Luthor is very intelligent and very rich, but he has such a limited view. He always structures his defenses against Superman and other metahumans. He never thinks about Batman and his newest gadgets, or how easy – and subtle – it is to take a more mundane route that doesn't involve speeding down corridors (Flash), or breaking down walls (Hawk Girl).
By the time Batman stands outside the cell where Superman is being kept for some nefarious plot of Luthor's that never makes sense, not even to Luthor, Batman is barely winded. In fact, he's more annoyed. He's had to leave Nightwing in charge of Gothan for this jolly jaunt to the edge of Metropolis and Luthor wasn't even creative this time. Not that Batman doesn't trust Nightwing, he just prefers to keep his eyes on Gotham himself.
Dick says that he's possessive and a control freak. Bruce prefers to call it protective and doesn't deign to respond to the latter.
Superman, for all that he's shackled with Kryptonite – where in the hell does Lex keep getting this stuff anyway? Bruce has only a small shard himself and it took hell and high water to get a hold of it – looks mighty cheery to see Batman standing there. He's a mess, sweaty, bloody, with a torn uniform and in need of a good night's sleep, yet he still pulls up a Boy Scout smile upon sight of Batman.
“So,” Superman drawls, his voice a tad raspy from lack of hydration. “How are you?”
Batman sighs, the sigh of one long-suffering. “Only you, Clark. Only you,” he mutters, as he pulls out his technologically advanced paperclip and picks the lock in seconds. The door swings open with a cheerful squeak and Batman steps inside, examining the Kryptonite cuffs. “Just so you know, I won't always be here to save your ass.”
Clark laughs, a hoarse sound, as the cuffs click free and he all but slumps, forcing Bruce to catch him. “But then we wouldn't meet like this.”
Of course, that's when Luthor's alarms start blaring and the sound of running floats to Batman's ears. If he had a response to Clark's blatant flirtation, it goes by the wayside.
azardarkstar Prompt: “I was never worth noticing.” Pairing of my choice.
Fandom: Bleach. Warning for angst, spoilers, slight language, alcohol use, hints of slash and het. One-sided Izuru/Byakuya, Toushirou/Unnamed Female
“How long?”
“Years,” Izuru answers truthfully, without a seconds delay. He leans forward, elbows on the table, cupping his sake.
Across from him, the captain of the tenth division inclines his head. “I always thought it was Ichimaru.”
“You and everyone else,” Izuru says with a snort that isn’t half as bitter as it ought to be. “Just like there's a general assumption you are pining after Hinamori-chan.” He lifts his brows, fully aware of how ridiculous that is.
“An erroneous assumption,” Toshirou – here, they are informal – agrees quietly. “Though, to be fair, I'm as much a child to Hinamori as I am to her.”
Izuru's mouth twists with bitter emotions, and he chases them away with a ill-mannered swig of his sake. “And I am invisible. Not worth noticing.”
Toushirou sniffs. “What do you see in him?”
“I could turn around and ask you the same question about her,” Izuru challenges, but then relaxes, realizing that the captain hadn't asked to be offensive.
And, to be fair, sometimes Izuru asks himself that very same question.
Kuchiki Byakuya is so far out of his league that they might as well be on different planets in different universes. Izuru could be trite, say that he thinks Byakuya is handsome or smart or graceful or talented. He could say that he finds Byakuya's eyes particularly expressive, and that he admires the noble for his honor, and the good sense to realize the difference between personal honor and loyalty to the wrong cause.
Izuru could say that he likes Byakuya's quiet calm, and occasional bursts of anger that seem so out of character, but prove the passion behind the mask. Or the way Byakuya tries to be so cold, but his gaze softens whenever he looks at Rukia-san. How he's not quite as stuck up anymore, how he'll actually go drinking with Renji sometimes.
Izuru could say all those things, but he doesn't think any of them are the answer Toshirou's looking for.
“I don't know,” Izuru says. “I just know what I want.”
Toshirou nods sympathetically, drinking deeply of his own sake. “All the things we can't get,” he replies, and Izuru can't agree more.
“Years,” Izuru answers truthfully, without a seconds delay. He leans forward, elbows on the table, cupping his sake.
Across from him, the captain of the tenth division inclines his head. “I always thought it was Ichimaru.”
“You and everyone else,” Izuru says with a snort that isn’t half as bitter as it ought to be. “Just like there's a general assumption you are pining after Hinamori-chan.” He lifts his brows, fully aware of how ridiculous that is.
“An erroneous assumption,” Toshirou – here, they are informal – agrees quietly. “Though, to be fair, I'm as much a child to Hinamori as I am to her.”
Izuru's mouth twists with bitter emotions, and he chases them away with a ill-mannered swig of his sake. “And I am invisible. Not worth noticing.”
Toushirou sniffs. “What do you see in him?”
“I could turn around and ask you the same question about her,” Izuru challenges, but then relaxes, realizing that the captain hadn't asked to be offensive.
And, to be fair, sometimes Izuru asks himself that very same question.
Kuchiki Byakuya is so far out of his league that they might as well be on different planets in different universes. Izuru could be trite, say that he thinks Byakuya is handsome or smart or graceful or talented. He could say that he finds Byakuya's eyes particularly expressive, and that he admires the noble for his honor, and the good sense to realize the difference between personal honor and loyalty to the wrong cause.
Izuru could say that he likes Byakuya's quiet calm, and occasional bursts of anger that seem so out of character, but prove the passion behind the mask. Or the way Byakuya tries to be so cold, but his gaze softens whenever he looks at Rukia-san. How he's not quite as stuck up anymore, how he'll actually go drinking with Renji sometimes.
Izuru could say all those things, but he doesn't think any of them are the answer Toshirou's looking for.
“I don't know,” Izuru says. “I just know what I want.”
Toshirou nods sympathetically, drinking deeply of his own sake. “All the things we can't get,” he replies, and Izuru can't agree more.
For
kr4nky Prompt: Kenpachi/Byakuya, tea ceremony
Fandom: Bleach. Warnings for slash, SPOILERS, some OOC
Anyone else would be surprised. Shocked. Thrown for a loop. Slackjawed and gaping.
Byakuya, however, doesn’t even find need to raise an eyebrow. Yes, he agrees, Kenpachi is an uncouth barbarian with a thirst for battle and lust for blood unparalleled by anyone in the Shinigami ranks. Yes, he hardly knows his manners and speaks his mind quite often and gropes Byakuya whenever he damn well feels like it.
But Kenpachi is not stupid. Far from it in fact. Byakuya had only to show him once, and he's already learned every exact motion necessary for the perfect noble tea ceremony. Down to the number of times to stir the tea and how to serve it.
Now, kneeling here on the tatami, watching Kenpachi prepare and present the tea to a select group of Shinigami, Byakuya can hardly contain his smirk. They are all half-dozen of them watching with open mouths, eyes skipping to Byakuya as though they expect the noble to be whispering every step in Kenpachi's ears.
Byakuya, however, is nothing more than a silent, very amused spectator. He sits in seiza, watching with no small amount of pride, because there's nothing more hilarious than seeing his fellow Shinigami speechless. Especially the more stolid ones. Byakuya remembers being such a Shinigami once upon a time.
That was, of course, until that one battle in Hueco Mundo when Kenpachi had been as much a hindrance as a help and Byakuya can't remember a time when he'd had so much fun. That battle was also the turning point in Kenpachi's estimations of him, when Byakuya had moved up from “prissy, pretty boy” to “a worthy challenge.” He's very much glad that Kenpachi has groped and sparred him out of being such a “tight ass.”
There is nary a clink of porcelain as Kenpachi finishes the tea preparation and serves it to his guests with perfect poise and grace. Byakuya watches, his lip curling with amusement, as their fellow Shinigami eye the tea with no small amount of trepidation. Kira-fukutaichou, being far too polite for his own good sometimes, is the first to try Kenpachi's tea, while said captain sits back with a fang-bearing grin.
A look of pleasant surprise washes over the blond's face as he lowers the cup. “It is excellent, Zaraki-san,” Kira-fukutaichou says, and there's not a hint of lie in his words.
Kenpachi grins, remembers his manners, and bows just a little, the bells in his hair jingling. “Thanks, Kira,” he says and tosses a look over his shoulder, all pride and swagger at Byakuya.
Sipping at his own tea, Byakuya agrees, and he inclines his head at his lover, showing his own approval. Kenpachi leers, Byakuya's innards do a heated twist, and suddenly, Byakuya can't wait for the whole thing to be over. Privacy is, at once, a necessity.
Byakuya, however, doesn’t even find need to raise an eyebrow. Yes, he agrees, Kenpachi is an uncouth barbarian with a thirst for battle and lust for blood unparalleled by anyone in the Shinigami ranks. Yes, he hardly knows his manners and speaks his mind quite often and gropes Byakuya whenever he damn well feels like it.
But Kenpachi is not stupid. Far from it in fact. Byakuya had only to show him once, and he's already learned every exact motion necessary for the perfect noble tea ceremony. Down to the number of times to stir the tea and how to serve it.
Now, kneeling here on the tatami, watching Kenpachi prepare and present the tea to a select group of Shinigami, Byakuya can hardly contain his smirk. They are all half-dozen of them watching with open mouths, eyes skipping to Byakuya as though they expect the noble to be whispering every step in Kenpachi's ears.
Byakuya, however, is nothing more than a silent, very amused spectator. He sits in seiza, watching with no small amount of pride, because there's nothing more hilarious than seeing his fellow Shinigami speechless. Especially the more stolid ones. Byakuya remembers being such a Shinigami once upon a time.
That was, of course, until that one battle in Hueco Mundo when Kenpachi had been as much a hindrance as a help and Byakuya can't remember a time when he'd had so much fun. That battle was also the turning point in Kenpachi's estimations of him, when Byakuya had moved up from “prissy, pretty boy” to “a worthy challenge.” He's very much glad that Kenpachi has groped and sparred him out of being such a “tight ass.”
There is nary a clink of porcelain as Kenpachi finishes the tea preparation and serves it to his guests with perfect poise and grace. Byakuya watches, his lip curling with amusement, as their fellow Shinigami eye the tea with no small amount of trepidation. Kira-fukutaichou, being far too polite for his own good sometimes, is the first to try Kenpachi's tea, while said captain sits back with a fang-bearing grin.
A look of pleasant surprise washes over the blond's face as he lowers the cup. “It is excellent, Zaraki-san,” Kira-fukutaichou says, and there's not a hint of lie in his words.
Kenpachi grins, remembers his manners, and bows just a little, the bells in his hair jingling. “Thanks, Kira,” he says and tosses a look over his shoulder, all pride and swagger at Byakuya.
Sipping at his own tea, Byakuya agrees, and he inclines his head at his lover, showing his own approval. Kenpachi leers, Byakuya's innards do a heated twist, and suddenly, Byakuya can't wait for the whole thing to be over. Privacy is, at once, a necessity.
Join me tomorrow where I'm hosting Torquere's Livejournal. (I'll post a link first thing in the morning). I'll be sharing a oneshot from the Requiem of Janus universe, along with offering chances to win a $5 Torquere Gift Certificate and a free copy of The Requiem of Janus. There might also be prompt fics and whatever else I can think of. See you then!
