Flash Fiction Fills Take 56
Jan. 22nd, 2015 07:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Two flash fiction posted, all of them written. I feel so accomplished. :) be warned, these are self-betaed. Otherwise, enjoy!
For Fuzipenguin
Prompt: TFP, Megatron, “they used to shout my name/now they whisper it”
Fandom: Transformers: Prime, post-Predacons Rising. Warnings for spoilers.
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: SuperBat, “Gotham will still be here when you get back”
Fandom: Justice League Animated 'Verse. No warnings.
a/n: Had a lot of feels and fun with these prompts. The other two flash fiction are done but one of them needs some editing since it belongs to a series (and a title, too) and the other is a bit of a leap in my fic canon so I have to write the piece that comes before it. lol. Keep an eye out for them!
That being said, I do hope you enjoyed these! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
For Fuzipenguin
Prompt: TFP, Megatron, “they used to shout my name/now they whisper it”
Fandom: Transformers: Prime, post-Predacons Rising. Warnings for spoilers.
He has nowhere to go.
He contemplates leaving Cybertron altogether, but even in its current state and on his own, Cybertron is still home.
How ironic that the Autobots have chosen to reside in Kaon. It is where Megatron would have gone but that option is not available to him. So he goes to Iacon. Where else is there for a failure?
The shower of sparks has slowed to a trickle, Megatron notices. He takes a perch on the highest structure left in Iacon and stares into the distance, toward Kaon. It doesn't escape his notice that the landscape between the two is littered with the scars of war. It will take more than the Omega Lock and Optimus' sacrifice to restore Cybertron to her former glory.
Megatron's shoulders sink.
He had done this. And what had it brought him?
In a way, he'd accomplished his goals. Cybertronians no longer suffer under Quintesson-based rule. They are no longer ruled by strictures that confine them. There is no council or Prime to limit the heights a mech can reach.
And Megatron emerges lord of nothing, with a legacy of death and destruction and loss behind him. Much like his namesake.
He will not go down in history as a hero, but as a villain. A murderer who destroyed his planet for the sake of his own tyranny. That is how he will be remembered. Once, they had chanted his name because he was their champion. Now he has become equivalent to Unicron, not only metaphorically, but in frame. If they speak of him, it will be in whispers, hushed murmurings of fear.
Once, that fear would have been enough for Megatron. Not so much now.
Megatron's armor clamps tightly against his frame, foreign with the extra weight. He does not wish to look down at himself and see what he's become, how Unicron had twisted his frame to suit his own ends, so that Megatron only resembles a shadow of himself.
What use is there in perpetuating the Decepticon movement now? Total domination? What will that bring him in the end? When he's killed all who oppose him and all that are left are the most violent, the most twisted, and cruel. When he can't trust the mech beside him for fear of being stabbed in the backplate.
He wonders if it might have been madness. If his personal fury and struggle to survive had morphed his sanity into something that couldn't see the construction for its gears.
Orion had tried to tell him. And he had not listened. And then he became Optimus Prime and if there is one thing Megatron still knows to be true, he will not bow to a Prime. He will not open his audials to one.
He could never be friends with Optimus Prime. That is Orion's betrayal.
Megatron looks at his hands, the claws designed for rending, the talons for tearing. They are crafted for destruction.
What does a gladiator do with himself when the war has been lost and there is no one left to fight?
He pulls his hands into fists.
He supposes now he'll have to find out.
Orion would have been proud of him.
He contemplates leaving Cybertron altogether, but even in its current state and on his own, Cybertron is still home.
How ironic that the Autobots have chosen to reside in Kaon. It is where Megatron would have gone but that option is not available to him. So he goes to Iacon. Where else is there for a failure?
The shower of sparks has slowed to a trickle, Megatron notices. He takes a perch on the highest structure left in Iacon and stares into the distance, toward Kaon. It doesn't escape his notice that the landscape between the two is littered with the scars of war. It will take more than the Omega Lock and Optimus' sacrifice to restore Cybertron to her former glory.
Megatron's shoulders sink.
He had done this. And what had it brought him?
In a way, he'd accomplished his goals. Cybertronians no longer suffer under Quintesson-based rule. They are no longer ruled by strictures that confine them. There is no council or Prime to limit the heights a mech can reach.
And Megatron emerges lord of nothing, with a legacy of death and destruction and loss behind him. Much like his namesake.
He will not go down in history as a hero, but as a villain. A murderer who destroyed his planet for the sake of his own tyranny. That is how he will be remembered. Once, they had chanted his name because he was their champion. Now he has become equivalent to Unicron, not only metaphorically, but in frame. If they speak of him, it will be in whispers, hushed murmurings of fear.
Once, that fear would have been enough for Megatron. Not so much now.
Megatron's armor clamps tightly against his frame, foreign with the extra weight. He does not wish to look down at himself and see what he's become, how Unicron had twisted his frame to suit his own ends, so that Megatron only resembles a shadow of himself.
What use is there in perpetuating the Decepticon movement now? Total domination? What will that bring him in the end? When he's killed all who oppose him and all that are left are the most violent, the most twisted, and cruel. When he can't trust the mech beside him for fear of being stabbed in the backplate.
He wonders if it might have been madness. If his personal fury and struggle to survive had morphed his sanity into something that couldn't see the construction for its gears.
Orion had tried to tell him. And he had not listened. And then he became Optimus Prime and if there is one thing Megatron still knows to be true, he will not bow to a Prime. He will not open his audials to one.
He could never be friends with Optimus Prime. That is Orion's betrayal.
Megatron looks at his hands, the claws designed for rending, the talons for tearing. They are crafted for destruction.
What does a gladiator do with himself when the war has been lost and there is no one left to fight?
He pulls his hands into fists.
He supposes now he'll have to find out.
Orion would have been proud of him.
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: SuperBat, “Gotham will still be here when you get back”
Fandom: Justice League Animated 'Verse. No warnings.
There is nothing quite so difficult as a sulking Bruce Wayne. Because when Bruce is Displeased with you, you know it. There's no confusion. There's no subtlety.
And right now? Bruce is Displeased.
The silence in the back of the car almost has a weight of its own. Oh, Bruce had finally agreed to come with Clark on a vacation, but that didn't mean he is going to do so gracefully. Apokolips hath no fury like a Bat kept from his cave.
Clark sighs and loosens his tie. He's already removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. As far as he's concerned, his vacation started the moment he put his bags into the trunk of the car.
“Could you at least try and look like I'm not torturing you?”
Bruce flips the next page in his magazine as though it's a criminal trying and failing to get a hit in on Batman. “I could,” he says. And then lets it end there.
This is going to be harder than he thought. Clark raps his fingers on his knees.
“It's only for a weekend,” he says. “Gotham will not fall apart without you. And you left Dick in charge with plenty of backup.” Hell, Clark had even asked Connor to stick around the city for a while and Diana already said she planned to be 'around'. “There's nothing to worry about.”
Bruce snorts and flips another page. Clark has never seen such fierce page-turning in his life. Except, maybe, for that time he forgot Lois' birthday and she wasn't consoled by anything he brought her. Woman could hold a grudge like no one he ever met. Until Bruce, that is.
“Don't you think you deserve a vacation?”
Bruce, at last, lifts his eyes from the glossy magazine pages and looks at Clark. “Bruce Wayne takes vacations all the time.”
And there he goes again, talking about himself in third person as though Bruce Wayne is the construct and not the other way around. Clark resists the urge to sigh. Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“And Batman can't?”
“Crime doesn't take vacations.”
Seriously?
Clark peers from behind his fingers to stare at his lover. Bruce is looking back at him, completely even. But is that a twitch at the corner of his mouth? Has Bruce been... teasing him?
Clark sits back and narrows his eyes. “You are looking forward to this, aren't you?”
“No.” But Bruce hides behind his magazine. “But as you said, this is only for the weekend and I can pretend. For your sake.”
“For my sake?”
“Isn't that what I said?”
Yes. He's definitely hiding a smile. Clark shakes his head and fights down the urge to vent his irritation. It's all part and parcel to loving Bruce Wayne, he thinks.
“You,” Clark says, folding his arms across his chest, “are one frustrating individual, Bruce.”
Bruce rattles his magazine as he lowers it, full on smirking. “You should have realized that by now, Kent.”
Game. Set. Match.
And right now? Bruce is Displeased.
The silence in the back of the car almost has a weight of its own. Oh, Bruce had finally agreed to come with Clark on a vacation, but that didn't mean he is going to do so gracefully. Apokolips hath no fury like a Bat kept from his cave.
Clark sighs and loosens his tie. He's already removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. As far as he's concerned, his vacation started the moment he put his bags into the trunk of the car.
“Could you at least try and look like I'm not torturing you?”
Bruce flips the next page in his magazine as though it's a criminal trying and failing to get a hit in on Batman. “I could,” he says. And then lets it end there.
This is going to be harder than he thought. Clark raps his fingers on his knees.
“It's only for a weekend,” he says. “Gotham will not fall apart without you. And you left Dick in charge with plenty of backup.” Hell, Clark had even asked Connor to stick around the city for a while and Diana already said she planned to be 'around'. “There's nothing to worry about.”
Bruce snorts and flips another page. Clark has never seen such fierce page-turning in his life. Except, maybe, for that time he forgot Lois' birthday and she wasn't consoled by anything he brought her. Woman could hold a grudge like no one he ever met. Until Bruce, that is.
“Don't you think you deserve a vacation?”
Bruce, at last, lifts his eyes from the glossy magazine pages and looks at Clark. “Bruce Wayne takes vacations all the time.”
And there he goes again, talking about himself in third person as though Bruce Wayne is the construct and not the other way around. Clark resists the urge to sigh. Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“And Batman can't?”
“Crime doesn't take vacations.”
Seriously?
Clark peers from behind his fingers to stare at his lover. Bruce is looking back at him, completely even. But is that a twitch at the corner of his mouth? Has Bruce been... teasing him?
Clark sits back and narrows his eyes. “You are looking forward to this, aren't you?”
“No.” But Bruce hides behind his magazine. “But as you said, this is only for the weekend and I can pretend. For your sake.”
“For my sake?”
“Isn't that what I said?”
Yes. He's definitely hiding a smile. Clark shakes his head and fights down the urge to vent his irritation. It's all part and parcel to loving Bruce Wayne, he thinks.
“You,” Clark says, folding his arms across his chest, “are one frustrating individual, Bruce.”
Bruce rattles his magazine as he lowers it, full on smirking. “You should have realized that by now, Kent.”
Game. Set. Match.
a/n: Had a lot of feels and fun with these prompts. The other two flash fiction are done but one of them needs some editing since it belongs to a series (and a title, too) and the other is a bit of a leap in my fic canon so I have to write the piece that comes before it. lol. Keep an eye out for them!
That being said, I do hope you enjoyed these! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
