Flash Fiction (Take 19 - Final)
Sep. 14th, 2011 09:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: And here are the last three, at the last minute thanks to annoying RL complications. Please enjoy!
For azardarkstar
Prompt: Superman finds lost keys
Fandom: Justice League Unlimited. Warning: sheer crack.
For hockeyiris
Prompt: Maes/Roy, coffee
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist. Warnings: implied slash.
For theablackthorn
Prompt: Kyouya/Mori, misunderstanding
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club. Warning: implied slash
a/n: And that's the last of them. Thursday brings an update to The Beautiful Lie. Friday brings an update to The Break of Day. And Saturday brings an announcement of the release of the Charity Sip Blitz!
For azardarkstar
Prompt: Superman finds lost keys
Fandom: Justice League Unlimited. Warning: sheer crack.
Superman blinks as a red-yellow blur passes him in the hallway, making his cape billow out to the side.
“SorrySupes. Notimetochatgottarunbye!” says the Flash, all in a rush.
Shaking his head, Superman continues toward the Watchtower's main console, determined to drag J'onn out of his self-imposed solitude. He makes it around one corner, lifting a hand to greet Vigilante and Shining Knight as they pass, when the red-yellow blur streaks by him again, this time heading in the opposite direction.
“IknowIleftthemheresomewhere.”
He's gone again, in the blink of an eye and a suspicion creeps into the edges of Superman's mind. He bites back a sigh. Perhaps he's wrong. Only time will tell.
Shaking his head, Superman picks up where he left off, stopping briefly to have a conversation with Captain Atom, who's looking rather chipper after his extended stay in the med-lab. Apparently, it takes time to reform his body.
This time, Superman hears Flash before he sees the crimson blur, and he turns to watch, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. Captain Atom, too, seems amused and they watch as Flash runs past them, only to skid to a halt directly in front of Superman.
“There you are!” he exclaims, as though Superman's been hiding somewhere instead of walking down the main corridor. “Say, do you think you could do me a favor...?” And he looks up at Superman with the largest puppy dog expression that Superman has ever born witness to. Flash, despite his eyes being covered by the opaque lenses, is a master at managing this.
Superman sighs. As he suspected. “Again?”
Flash nods. “Again.”
Turning his head, Superman shifts to X-ray vision and scans the Watchtower, searching first the usual suspects before spying the missing item.
“Third floor broom closet,” he says with patience only Ma Kent could have given him.
Flash grins. “Thanks, big guy!” He playfully salutes and then vanishes, leaving Captain Atom to blink at Superman, very confused.
Superman shrugs. “Lost his car keys again.”
“Why does he need a car?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“SorrySupes. Notimetochatgottarunbye!” says the Flash, all in a rush.
Shaking his head, Superman continues toward the Watchtower's main console, determined to drag J'onn out of his self-imposed solitude. He makes it around one corner, lifting a hand to greet Vigilante and Shining Knight as they pass, when the red-yellow blur streaks by him again, this time heading in the opposite direction.
“IknowIleftthemheresomewhere.”
He's gone again, in the blink of an eye and a suspicion creeps into the edges of Superman's mind. He bites back a sigh. Perhaps he's wrong. Only time will tell.
Shaking his head, Superman picks up where he left off, stopping briefly to have a conversation with Captain Atom, who's looking rather chipper after his extended stay in the med-lab. Apparently, it takes time to reform his body.
This time, Superman hears Flash before he sees the crimson blur, and he turns to watch, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. Captain Atom, too, seems amused and they watch as Flash runs past them, only to skid to a halt directly in front of Superman.
“There you are!” he exclaims, as though Superman's been hiding somewhere instead of walking down the main corridor. “Say, do you think you could do me a favor...?” And he looks up at Superman with the largest puppy dog expression that Superman has ever born witness to. Flash, despite his eyes being covered by the opaque lenses, is a master at managing this.
Superman sighs. As he suspected. “Again?”
Flash nods. “Again.”
Turning his head, Superman shifts to X-ray vision and scans the Watchtower, searching first the usual suspects before spying the missing item.
“Third floor broom closet,” he says with patience only Ma Kent could have given him.
Flash grins. “Thanks, big guy!” He playfully salutes and then vanishes, leaving Captain Atom to blink at Superman, very confused.
Superman shrugs. “Lost his car keys again.”
“Why does he need a car?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Prompt: Maes/Roy, coffee
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist. Warnings: implied slash.
“Roy, wake up.”
He grunts, snuffles, and rolls out of bed more than he rises. He stumbles into the bathroom and squints at the mirror. There's a mark on his collarbone, where teeth and tongue have staked their claim. Luckily, his collar will hide it.
Roy splashes water on his face. Which doesn't really help much, to be honest, but it's a start. He hears Maes chuckle, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as he walks down the hallway, passing by the bathroom.
Ugh. Morning people. Personally, Roy would rather avoid morning and start the day sometime around afternoon.
Roy runs some water over his hair, pokes a finger at the pillow creases in his cheek and then ambles back into the bedroom. He's all too grateful that all he has to wear is a uniform, because the idea of trying to match clothes is anathema to him this early in the day. He pulls on the dark blue outfit, only stumbling once. From downstairs, the smell of coffee and breakfast floats to his nose, and some of Roy's brain starts to prickle into life.
Still, he's not quite awake as he lumbers downstairs, hip smacking into the bannister in the same place it does every morning. He swears he has a permanent bruise there. Roy sourly rubs the sore spot as he thumps down the remaining few steps and hangs a left into the kitchen, bright with streams of sunlight. Inside, Maes is bouncing around like he's made of energy, face lighting up at sight of Roy.
“Good morning,” he says, pulling out a chair and gesturing that Roy sit in it, one hand carefully holding a pan in which eggs crackle and sizzle.
Roy grunts in greeting, throwing his weight into the creaking wood chair.
Maes chuckles. “Ever the cheery one,” he says and shifts the skillet back over the stove. “Maybe this will wake you up.”
Roy blinks as a cup of coffee is set in front of him, the perfect shade of nutmeg. He takes a careful sip, and almost purrs in contentment. Perfect. Two sugars and a splash of creamer, just the way he likes it. A smile curves his lips.
He sags into his chair, his usual laidback pose. “Thanks,” he says, and takes another long sip, having no trouble with the high temperature of it. They don't call him the Flame Alchemist for nothing. Roy snags Maes' arm as his lover passes, prompting Maes to look down at him. “I mean it.”
“I know you do,” Maes says warmly. “And you're welcome.”
He grunts, snuffles, and rolls out of bed more than he rises. He stumbles into the bathroom and squints at the mirror. There's a mark on his collarbone, where teeth and tongue have staked their claim. Luckily, his collar will hide it.
Roy splashes water on his face. Which doesn't really help much, to be honest, but it's a start. He hears Maes chuckle, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as he walks down the hallway, passing by the bathroom.
Ugh. Morning people. Personally, Roy would rather avoid morning and start the day sometime around afternoon.
Roy runs some water over his hair, pokes a finger at the pillow creases in his cheek and then ambles back into the bedroom. He's all too grateful that all he has to wear is a uniform, because the idea of trying to match clothes is anathema to him this early in the day. He pulls on the dark blue outfit, only stumbling once. From downstairs, the smell of coffee and breakfast floats to his nose, and some of Roy's brain starts to prickle into life.
Still, he's not quite awake as he lumbers downstairs, hip smacking into the bannister in the same place it does every morning. He swears he has a permanent bruise there. Roy sourly rubs the sore spot as he thumps down the remaining few steps and hangs a left into the kitchen, bright with streams of sunlight. Inside, Maes is bouncing around like he's made of energy, face lighting up at sight of Roy.
“Good morning,” he says, pulling out a chair and gesturing that Roy sit in it, one hand carefully holding a pan in which eggs crackle and sizzle.
Roy grunts in greeting, throwing his weight into the creaking wood chair.
Maes chuckles. “Ever the cheery one,” he says and shifts the skillet back over the stove. “Maybe this will wake you up.”
Roy blinks as a cup of coffee is set in front of him, the perfect shade of nutmeg. He takes a careful sip, and almost purrs in contentment. Perfect. Two sugars and a splash of creamer, just the way he likes it. A smile curves his lips.
He sags into his chair, his usual laidback pose. “Thanks,” he says, and takes another long sip, having no trouble with the high temperature of it. They don't call him the Flame Alchemist for nothing. Roy snags Maes' arm as his lover passes, prompting Maes to look down at him. “I mean it.”
“I know you do,” Maes says warmly. “And you're welcome.”
Prompt: Kyouya/Mori, misunderstanding
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club. Warning: implied slash
For four weeks now, Kyouya has been lingering in a state of uncertainty. He's usually quite sure of his observations. Of his theories. Of the facts he's uncovered and their path to truth. He rarely, if ever, doubts himself.
This, however, is something he not only has to be one-hundred percent absolute about, but has a high capacity for a bitter fall out. Not only that, Kyouya just can't be sure. Of all the members of the host club, Mori-senpai by far is the most difficult to read.
It's hard to tell. Are his actions kindness or do they have a deeper meaning? Could Mori-senpai be interested in Kyouya, or is it all part of their platonic friendship, born of their associations in the host club?
Kyouya simply doesn't know the answer to those questions. And the idea of outright asking is anathema to him. Kyouya doesn't ask, he knows. He can't very well have his reputation tarnished by the fact he's unable to reason out motivations.
All he can do is watch. Lurk in the shadows, almost like a stalker really, and see if he can't somehow find the answers on his own. Perhaps the truth will make itself known. Perhaps Kyouya will reach an understanding without embarrassing himself.
Perhaps Mori-senpai actually is interested in him and Kyouya is only wasting time, consulting endless notations and second guessing his own observations. So when the voice pours out of Kyouya's contemplative silence, it's all he can do not to startle ten feet in the air.
“It's not a game,” says the voice behind him, Mori-senpai's voice. Kyouya would recognize that low pitch anywhere.
He whirls, nearly scattering his absolutely useless notes. “I...” Kyouya straightens, forcing himself to composure. “To what are you referring?”
Mori-senpai comes closer, invading Kyouya's personal space, and he's hard-pressed to be bothered by this. In fact, his heart seems to have acquired an extra beat. “You don't know?” Mori-senpai asks, a hint of tease in his voice.
“I have my suspicions.”
Strong fingers gently hold Kyouya's chin, tilting his face up toward the taller student. “Would you like me to confirm them?”
“My data does require a confirmation,” Kyouya murmurs.
Mori-senpai's kiss is all the proof he needed.
This, however, is something he not only has to be one-hundred percent absolute about, but has a high capacity for a bitter fall out. Not only that, Kyouya just can't be sure. Of all the members of the host club, Mori-senpai by far is the most difficult to read.
It's hard to tell. Are his actions kindness or do they have a deeper meaning? Could Mori-senpai be interested in Kyouya, or is it all part of their platonic friendship, born of their associations in the host club?
Kyouya simply doesn't know the answer to those questions. And the idea of outright asking is anathema to him. Kyouya doesn't ask, he knows. He can't very well have his reputation tarnished by the fact he's unable to reason out motivations.
All he can do is watch. Lurk in the shadows, almost like a stalker really, and see if he can't somehow find the answers on his own. Perhaps the truth will make itself known. Perhaps Kyouya will reach an understanding without embarrassing himself.
Perhaps Mori-senpai actually is interested in him and Kyouya is only wasting time, consulting endless notations and second guessing his own observations. So when the voice pours out of Kyouya's contemplative silence, it's all he can do not to startle ten feet in the air.
“It's not a game,” says the voice behind him, Mori-senpai's voice. Kyouya would recognize that low pitch anywhere.
He whirls, nearly scattering his absolutely useless notes. “I...” Kyouya straightens, forcing himself to composure. “To what are you referring?”
Mori-senpai comes closer, invading Kyouya's personal space, and he's hard-pressed to be bothered by this. In fact, his heart seems to have acquired an extra beat. “You don't know?” Mori-senpai asks, a hint of tease in his voice.
“I have my suspicions.”
Strong fingers gently hold Kyouya's chin, tilting his face up toward the taller student. “Would you like me to confirm them?”
“My data does require a confirmation,” Kyouya murmurs.
Mori-senpai's kiss is all the proof he needed.
a/n: And that's the last of them. Thursday brings an update to The Beautiful Lie. Friday brings an update to The Break of Day. And Saturday brings an announcement of the release of the Charity Sip Blitz!
