Flash Fiction Fills (Take 29) Part II
Mar. 6th, 2012 05:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Afternoon, folks! Two more flash fic fills for you today. Plenty more to come. Some fluff, lots of angst. Please enjoy.
For azardarkstar
Prompt: MiragexSkyfire, “Someone Like You," Adele
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for hints of mechslash, implications of Starscream
For firegirl0
Prompt: SephxCloud, “Impossible,” Shontelle
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII. Warnings for hint of slash, Cloud being 16, canon character death, angst
a/n: Two more that got away with me. Two more that are longer than the average flash fic. More angst on the menu!
I do hope you enjoyed. Next update will be tomorrow, then I'll skip a day. Feedback is always welcome!
For azardarkstar
Prompt: MiragexSkyfire, “Someone Like You," Adele
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for hints of mechslash, implications of Starscream
Skyfire likes to recharge out under the stars as often as he can. Something about the confines of the Ark gets to him every once in a while. Maybe it's a flyer thing. Maybe it's that he's larger than everyone, forced to subspace most of his mass while in root made, and the Ark simply isn't big enough to contain him comfortably.
Mirage can't blame Skyfire for seeking the sky either. He can see the appeal in having the notion to see the galaxy, fooling himself into thinking the nearest dim star is Cybertron. He can almost imagine himself there, back home, in a time before there was war.
Skyfire watches the stars for a different reason. Mirage knows. He never asks, never pries. He doesn't have to.
It's a terribly broken world that Skyfire has onlined to. There's much he still has to mourn. The death of their home, of hundreds of mechs he probably knew, and the shattering of a much beloved friendship.
Mirage understands. The rest of the Ark doesn't, or can't, but Mirage does.
Missing Starscream, or the Seeker Starscream used to be, doesn't make Skyfire a Decepticon sympathizer anymore than Mirage's longing for the Cybertron of old makes him a traitor.
It's why Mirage is here, lying next to Skyfire on the cold, rocky ground outside the volcano. He could be in his shared quarters with Tracks, lounging on a warm berth. But he'd rather be here with Skyfire. With a mech who understands. Who can share his grief.
“Will we ever be able to return?” Skyfire asks, words staticky with longing.
Mirage leans his helm on the shuttle's shoulder. “Of course.”
“It won't be the same.” Skyfire's free hand rubs at his abdominal plating, which is still scored by laser fire from the earlier battle. By Starscream. “It can't ever be the same.”
Mirage reaches over, gently replacing Skyfire's hand with his own, stroking over the damaged plating. Skyfire can't feel it in all likelihood, but the pain here isn't physical. It isn't a matter of scorched sensors.
“No," Mirage agrees, his spark keening with grief. “We can only make do with what we have.”
Skyfire takes his hand, pulling it toward his mouth, nuzzling the delicate fingertips. “Is this making do?”
Mirage smiles, his energy field humming with something approaching content. “It's something altogether new.” He pauses. “I enjoy it.”
The shuttle's plating vibrates, a tangible sign of his own pleasure. “Good.”
Somewhere lost in the universe, Cybertron drifts endlessly. Here on Earth, however, Mirage is starting to feel that he's no longer suffering the same, lonely fate.
Mirage can't blame Skyfire for seeking the sky either. He can see the appeal in having the notion to see the galaxy, fooling himself into thinking the nearest dim star is Cybertron. He can almost imagine himself there, back home, in a time before there was war.
Skyfire watches the stars for a different reason. Mirage knows. He never asks, never pries. He doesn't have to.
It's a terribly broken world that Skyfire has onlined to. There's much he still has to mourn. The death of their home, of hundreds of mechs he probably knew, and the shattering of a much beloved friendship.
Mirage understands. The rest of the Ark doesn't, or can't, but Mirage does.
Missing Starscream, or the Seeker Starscream used to be, doesn't make Skyfire a Decepticon sympathizer anymore than Mirage's longing for the Cybertron of old makes him a traitor.
It's why Mirage is here, lying next to Skyfire on the cold, rocky ground outside the volcano. He could be in his shared quarters with Tracks, lounging on a warm berth. But he'd rather be here with Skyfire. With a mech who understands. Who can share his grief.
“Will we ever be able to return?” Skyfire asks, words staticky with longing.
Mirage leans his helm on the shuttle's shoulder. “Of course.”
“It won't be the same.” Skyfire's free hand rubs at his abdominal plating, which is still scored by laser fire from the earlier battle. By Starscream. “It can't ever be the same.”
Mirage reaches over, gently replacing Skyfire's hand with his own, stroking over the damaged plating. Skyfire can't feel it in all likelihood, but the pain here isn't physical. It isn't a matter of scorched sensors.
“No," Mirage agrees, his spark keening with grief. “We can only make do with what we have.”
Skyfire takes his hand, pulling it toward his mouth, nuzzling the delicate fingertips. “Is this making do?”
Mirage smiles, his energy field humming with something approaching content. “It's something altogether new.” He pauses. “I enjoy it.”
The shuttle's plating vibrates, a tangible sign of his own pleasure. “Good.”
Somewhere lost in the universe, Cybertron drifts endlessly. Here on Earth, however, Mirage is starting to feel that he's no longer suffering the same, lonely fate.
For firegirl0
Prompt: SephxCloud, “Impossible,” Shontelle
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII. Warnings for hint of slash, Cloud being 16, canon character death, angst
It's fitting that this is his end. Pierced by his own blade, held by his too-young lover.
In the wake of such agony, his thoughts are briefly clear. He sees the world through grief-stricken eyes, the smell of burning thick around him. Screams still echo in his ears.
His world seems to pause. The Masamune is a cold fire through his abdomen. Betrayal resonates painfully around him.
And Cloud's looking at him with those sad eyes. Cloud is trembling. Sephiroth can feel it vibrating down the length of the sword. Tear streaks cut through the ash on the blond's face. He's broken and bleeding.
He's never looked so beautiful.
Jenova's whispers are briefly gone and Sephiroth can see the bridges he's burned in her madness. Innocent Nibelheim. Cloud's family.
Zack.
Sephiroth aches. For a moment, everything is startlingly clear. Sephiroth regrets. He sees Cloud and all the things he's tossed aside. The words he never said.
He should have said them long ago. Back when they would have carried weight. Perhaps in the pre-dawn hours with Cloud tucked up under his chin, spiky hair tickling Sephiroth's sensitive throat. Perhaps late at night, both of them scrubbing off the day's dirt and grime in the privacy of Sephiroth's personal baths. Perhaps, even, in the middle of the afternoon when they've snuck off just for a moment.
If only, if only. But it's too late now. Much too late.
Cloud is going to kill him. And Sephiroth won't stop him.
This is the only fitting end.
Time starts up again. Cloud shouts, words garbled with anguish. Jenova is back, screeching her indignity. Her fury. Sephiroth doesn't fight any of it.
He's falling, careening toward the poisonous burn. It won't be over quickly. It will be worse than anything Hojo has ever done to him, worse than the nightmares that wrack his dreams, the first taste of blood on his hands.
It will be less painful than that last look in Cloud's eyes.
It's oblivion and Sephiroth plunges into it gladly.
In the wake of such agony, his thoughts are briefly clear. He sees the world through grief-stricken eyes, the smell of burning thick around him. Screams still echo in his ears.
His world seems to pause. The Masamune is a cold fire through his abdomen. Betrayal resonates painfully around him.
And Cloud's looking at him with those sad eyes. Cloud is trembling. Sephiroth can feel it vibrating down the length of the sword. Tear streaks cut through the ash on the blond's face. He's broken and bleeding.
He's never looked so beautiful.
Jenova's whispers are briefly gone and Sephiroth can see the bridges he's burned in her madness. Innocent Nibelheim. Cloud's family.
Zack.
Sephiroth aches. For a moment, everything is startlingly clear. Sephiroth regrets. He sees Cloud and all the things he's tossed aside. The words he never said.
He should have said them long ago. Back when they would have carried weight. Perhaps in the pre-dawn hours with Cloud tucked up under his chin, spiky hair tickling Sephiroth's sensitive throat. Perhaps late at night, both of them scrubbing off the day's dirt and grime in the privacy of Sephiroth's personal baths. Perhaps, even, in the middle of the afternoon when they've snuck off just for a moment.
If only, if only. But it's too late now. Much too late.
Cloud is going to kill him. And Sephiroth won't stop him.
This is the only fitting end.
Time starts up again. Cloud shouts, words garbled with anguish. Jenova is back, screeching her indignity. Her fury. Sephiroth doesn't fight any of it.
He's falling, careening toward the poisonous burn. It won't be over quickly. It will be worse than anything Hojo has ever done to him, worse than the nightmares that wrack his dreams, the first taste of blood on his hands.
It will be less painful than that last look in Cloud's eyes.
It's oblivion and Sephiroth plunges into it gladly.
a/n: Two more that got away with me. Two more that are longer than the average flash fic. More angst on the menu!
I do hope you enjoyed. Next update will be tomorrow, then I'll skip a day. Feedback is always welcome!
