Flash Fiction Fills Take 65 Part Final
For the-flurry-of-dancing-flames
Prompt: Trepan and Chromedome, "Are you sure you want this? Once we start there is no going back.”
Fandom: Transformers MTMTE. Warnings: None
“Now are you sure you want to do this?” Trepan asked.
He almost sounded concerned, though it fell flat given the way he circled Chromedome like some kind of predator.
Chromedome nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Yes, but… you do know that once you do, there is no going back?” Trepan's tone edged toward condescension, as it always did when he thought Chromedome was being particularly obtuse.
Chromedome's plating drew tight. “I know.”
“Because I'm brilliant, but not even I could fix this,” Trepan continued with a wide flourish. “Once you are done, they will cease to exist to you. The pain will be gone, but so will everything else.”
Chromedome's spark fluttered. “That's not a good argument against. Besides, it's not like I'll know there's anything to regret.”
“Mmm. You do make for a fine point.” Trepan's fingers flicked dismissively. “Very well. Since I can't convince you otherwise…?” He trailed off, raising an orbital ridge.
“You can't.”
“Then let's begin.” Trepan circled behind Chromedome. “You'll want to inject here, at an angle, so your injectors won't snap.” His fingers brushed the back of Chromedome's neck, sending a chill down his spinal strut.
Chromedome shivered. “Snap?”
“Only if you flail, so you'd best be gentle.” Trepan shrugged. “After that, well, I think you know the rest. Extend your injectors.”
Shhnk.
They were so new as to still itch.
“Now begin. And remember concentrate.”
Was he sure?
Yes.
Chromedome slid the injectors into his own processor and began to edit. Memory after memory. Smile after smile. Arguments and embraces. Promises and lies. Good times and bad.
But most of all, a single name.
Gone.
The needles slid free. Chromedome slumped with exhaustion. He felt hollow, but free.
“Now Chromedome.” Trepan slid around in front of him. “What can you tell me about Mach?”
Chromedome looked up, confused. “Who?”
Trepan grinned. “Oh. No one of consequence. Just a ghost. Congratulations, by th way, you passed.”
“Passed what?”
“Only the hardest test of all.” Trepan offered him a hand. “Come along now. Let's get you some fuel.”
Chromedome accepted the offer and was pulled to shaking knees. “My head hurts.”
“Yes, it will for a while yet. But don't worry, that will pass.”
Chromedome made a noncommittal noise and followed after Trepan as if in a fog.
Still, he wondered, who the frag was Mach?
For Otterwillow
Prompt: g1 hook and scraper- “I can’t always think of witty comebacks”
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: None
“Hook.”
Four Constructicons scattered, some so fast that tools clattered in their wake. They vanished from the common room with a speed few knew them capable, leaving Hook alone. His armor clamped tight, though he still stood tall.
He pretended he hadn't heard that tone of voice, the one that they had all learned to obey. It didn't matter. Hook's designation was the one which had been uttered. There was no point in fleeing.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Hook asked, careful to keep his tone polite and neutral, even as he edged the plans he'd been editing underneath another datapad.
It wasn't his fault they needed adjusting. Sometimes, he swore his fellow Constructicons wouldn't know a complete schematic if it grew legs and danced around in front of them.
Scrapper all but loomed behind him, for all that he was only a few inches taller than Hook himself. His visor seemed to point like a laser between Hook's shoulderblades.
“What are you doing?”
“Working on a private project,” Hook said, dismissive. “As I believe I am entitled to do when I am not on shift.”
Scrapper edged into Hook's peripheral vision, so close that their fields overlapped and Hook got his first taste of Scrapper's disapproval. It was bitter.
“This is not a private project.” Scrapper reached over Hook, snagged the edge of the poorly hidden datapad, and pulled it into view. “These are my schematics that I finished this morning that I have to Scavenger to begin preparing for. I do not recall sending them to you.”
Hook bristled. “Because they are not complete! I had to bribe Scavenger to give them to me. Bribe him!” He resisted the urge to snatch the datapad back from Scrapper. “You do this every time, Scrapper. There are miscalculations, there are imperfections, there are--”
“Is,” Scrapper interrupted, “nothing wrong with these schematics. They are suited for their purpose. And yes, they use substandard materials.” His voice was cold, and even.
Hook tried not to quiver. There was always something in the press of Scrapper's field, something that demanded obedience, that sent trills through Hook's spark and called to the coding that allowed him to combine with the others.
He hated that coding.
“I-I still find it unacceptable!” Hook retorted, reaching for indignation and landing somewhere closer to compliance. He hated arguing with Scrapper because that fragging coding always left him without a comeback.
Scrapper slid the datapad into his subspace, away from Hook's twitching fingers, and grabbed Hook's hand instead. “That is not your choice to make, Hook. It is mine. Now...” He tugged Hook's hand, pulling him closer. “There is still the small matter of your disrespect.”
Another ripple coursed through Hook's plating. Sometimes, he wasn't even sure if it was excitement or dread. Especially since it wouldn't keep him from making corrections in the future.
Hook braced himself. “Very well then,” he said, clinging to his arrogance. It was all he had left anymore. “Do your worst.”
Scrapper hummed a laugh. “I intend to. Let's go.”
There went that tone again, the one that sent four Constructicons scurrying out of the workroom.
Hook sighed and followed.
For vulpismajor
Prompt: Magnus/Megatron/Rodimus, “I thought we were dating?”
Fandom: Transformers: MTMTE. Warnings: None
The Lost Light was an exceptionally large ship. Even so, when in the midst of trying to keep a secret, it was suddenly, exceedingly tiny. Especially since he never expected to find himself needing to conceal the truth.
Ultra Magnus never meant for this to happen. He wasn't even sure he knew exactly how or even why.
No. That would be lying to himself, and he was already lying to Rodimus. He couldn't pass the barrier into spinning his own falsehoods as well.
Ultra Magnus knew how and when it happened. It was the why which still concerned him.
Why had he allowed himself to get close to Megatron? Why had he allowed quiet moments and quiet times and that first kiss? Why had he leaned in for a second and then a third? Why had he taken it further? Why had he pressed Megatron to the berth, deepened the kiss, and indulged himself?
Why, why, why.
These were the questions that haunted him.
The quiet smile the morning after. The slanted, aside look when no one else was watching. The spark of something akin to hope.
Ultra Magnus hated to shatter it. But it was a lie. As false as everything else evoked.
Ultra Magnus was with Rodimus. They were in a relationship. There were certain expectations to mechs within a relationship, including fidelity and honesty.
Or were they? Sometimes, Ultra Magnus wasn't sure. Words were never spoken. Promises were never made or commitments offered. One night, Rodimus had climbed into his berth, and he never quite left it after that.
Ultra Magnus had not been upset to have him there. Whatever undefinable element that existed between he and Rodimus was very welcome. As both Ultra Magnus and Minimus Ambus.
The addition of Megatron was unexpected.
Now he had this secret, this lie of omission, this indiscretion. It nestled inside of him, an itch he couldn't scratch, an invasion of acid rain, and a nagging at his cortex.
There are reasons, Minimus Ambus, that you are not fit to wear that name. And this, right here, is now one of them.
The most obvious course of action was to inform Megatron that nothing further could happen. Well, nothing even more further. Then, he would have to go to Rodimus, confess his sins, and seek forgiveness. Certainly, there should be no difficulty in obtaining it. Rodimus had his own ledger.
But then, so did Minimus. A certain engagement with Chief Tyrest came to mind.
A part of him balked however.
He could not explain this strange and new attraction to Megatron, but that did not mean he was willing to surrender it. He felt, despite all that Megatron was and is, that they had a certain rapport.
Rodimus' value was not to be discounted either. Ultra Magnus was not interested in letting Rodimus go either.
It was a quandary. It was a mess. It was a chaos.
Ultra Magnus did not like any of those things. He especially did not like being stuck int his predicament, this mess of his own making.
He did not like this choice.
He'd agreed to meet both Megatron and Rodimus, somehow, at the same time and on the same night. He had, in the chaos, confused his own schedule, and therefore, set himself on the path to truth.
A choice would have to be made.
The Lost Light was a very large ship, but Ultra Magnus still had nowhere to hide. And he was running out of time.
For smuttybugggu
Prompt: Starscream/Grimlock
Fandom: Transformers AU. Warnings: None
“Starscream.”
“What?” He didn't look up. He remained focused on his objective.
“It's your move.”
Starscream's wings hiked upward. “I know that.”
Laughter rumbled deep in Grimlock's chassis. “Are you sure? Because it's been ten minutes.”
Starscream narrowed his optics. “I'm thinking. This requires planning.”
“Star, we're playing Checkers.”
He huffed a ventilation. “Your point?”
Grimlock hummed. A finger traced along the edge of Starscream's wing. He shivered and flicked it back at his lover.
“It's not that serious,” Grimlock said. “It's just a game.”
“One I intend to win.” Starscream peered at the board.
“You don't have to win at everything.”
Starscream snorted. “You don't know me at all, do you?” He reached across the board and moved a single piece. “Your turn.”
“I know you. I just didn't realize that extended to an organic board game.” Grimlock chuckled and made his move in less than thirty seconds. Hah. He clearly wasn't playing this as much attention as he ought.
“It extends to everything.” Starscream smirked and promptly jumped all but one of Grimlock's pieces. “Checkmate!”
“We're playing Checkers.”
“No. I”m winning Checkers,” Starscream retorted with a snicker. “And you owe me.” He poked Grimlock in the chassis, right over his still gleaming Decepticon badge.
Grimlock captured his hand, fingers warm as they wrapped around Starscream's wrist, and he pulled it toward his mouthplate. Starscream's knuckles brushed against it.
“I don't remember making a bet,” he murmured.
Starscream shivered. “Yes, well, we did. So graciously accept your defeat.”
Grimlock purred at him, “When it comes to you, I always do.”
a/n: And that's all folks. All of the flash fic have been posted!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/332275.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Prompt: Trepan and Chromedome, "Are you sure you want this? Once we start there is no going back.”
Fandom: Transformers MTMTE. Warnings: None
“Now are you sure you want to do this?” Trepan asked.
He almost sounded concerned, though it fell flat given the way he circled Chromedome like some kind of predator.
Chromedome nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Yes, but… you do know that once you do, there is no going back?” Trepan's tone edged toward condescension, as it always did when he thought Chromedome was being particularly obtuse.
Chromedome's plating drew tight. “I know.”
“Because I'm brilliant, but not even I could fix this,” Trepan continued with a wide flourish. “Once you are done, they will cease to exist to you. The pain will be gone, but so will everything else.”
Chromedome's spark fluttered. “That's not a good argument against. Besides, it's not like I'll know there's anything to regret.”
“Mmm. You do make for a fine point.” Trepan's fingers flicked dismissively. “Very well. Since I can't convince you otherwise…?” He trailed off, raising an orbital ridge.
“You can't.”
“Then let's begin.” Trepan circled behind Chromedome. “You'll want to inject here, at an angle, so your injectors won't snap.” His fingers brushed the back of Chromedome's neck, sending a chill down his spinal strut.
Chromedome shivered. “Snap?”
“Only if you flail, so you'd best be gentle.” Trepan shrugged. “After that, well, I think you know the rest. Extend your injectors.”
Shhnk.
They were so new as to still itch.
“Now begin. And remember concentrate.”
Was he sure?
Yes.
Chromedome slid the injectors into his own processor and began to edit. Memory after memory. Smile after smile. Arguments and embraces. Promises and lies. Good times and bad.
But most of all, a single name.
Gone.
The needles slid free. Chromedome slumped with exhaustion. He felt hollow, but free.
“Now Chromedome.” Trepan slid around in front of him. “What can you tell me about Mach?”
Chromedome looked up, confused. “Who?”
Trepan grinned. “Oh. No one of consequence. Just a ghost. Congratulations, by th way, you passed.”
“Passed what?”
“Only the hardest test of all.” Trepan offered him a hand. “Come along now. Let's get you some fuel.”
Chromedome accepted the offer and was pulled to shaking knees. “My head hurts.”
“Yes, it will for a while yet. But don't worry, that will pass.”
Chromedome made a noncommittal noise and followed after Trepan as if in a fog.
Still, he wondered, who the frag was Mach?
For Otterwillow
Prompt: g1 hook and scraper- “I can’t always think of witty comebacks”
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: None
“Hook.”
Four Constructicons scattered, some so fast that tools clattered in their wake. They vanished from the common room with a speed few knew them capable, leaving Hook alone. His armor clamped tight, though he still stood tall.
He pretended he hadn't heard that tone of voice, the one that they had all learned to obey. It didn't matter. Hook's designation was the one which had been uttered. There was no point in fleeing.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Hook asked, careful to keep his tone polite and neutral, even as he edged the plans he'd been editing underneath another datapad.
It wasn't his fault they needed adjusting. Sometimes, he swore his fellow Constructicons wouldn't know a complete schematic if it grew legs and danced around in front of them.
Scrapper all but loomed behind him, for all that he was only a few inches taller than Hook himself. His visor seemed to point like a laser between Hook's shoulderblades.
“What are you doing?”
“Working on a private project,” Hook said, dismissive. “As I believe I am entitled to do when I am not on shift.”
Scrapper edged into Hook's peripheral vision, so close that their fields overlapped and Hook got his first taste of Scrapper's disapproval. It was bitter.
“This is not a private project.” Scrapper reached over Hook, snagged the edge of the poorly hidden datapad, and pulled it into view. “These are my schematics that I finished this morning that I have to Scavenger to begin preparing for. I do not recall sending them to you.”
Hook bristled. “Because they are not complete! I had to bribe Scavenger to give them to me. Bribe him!” He resisted the urge to snatch the datapad back from Scrapper. “You do this every time, Scrapper. There are miscalculations, there are imperfections, there are--”
“Is,” Scrapper interrupted, “nothing wrong with these schematics. They are suited for their purpose. And yes, they use substandard materials.” His voice was cold, and even.
Hook tried not to quiver. There was always something in the press of Scrapper's field, something that demanded obedience, that sent trills through Hook's spark and called to the coding that allowed him to combine with the others.
He hated that coding.
“I-I still find it unacceptable!” Hook retorted, reaching for indignation and landing somewhere closer to compliance. He hated arguing with Scrapper because that fragging coding always left him without a comeback.
Scrapper slid the datapad into his subspace, away from Hook's twitching fingers, and grabbed Hook's hand instead. “That is not your choice to make, Hook. It is mine. Now...” He tugged Hook's hand, pulling him closer. “There is still the small matter of your disrespect.”
Another ripple coursed through Hook's plating. Sometimes, he wasn't even sure if it was excitement or dread. Especially since it wouldn't keep him from making corrections in the future.
Hook braced himself. “Very well then,” he said, clinging to his arrogance. It was all he had left anymore. “Do your worst.”
Scrapper hummed a laugh. “I intend to. Let's go.”
There went that tone again, the one that sent four Constructicons scurrying out of the workroom.
Hook sighed and followed.
For vulpismajor
Prompt: Magnus/Megatron/Rodimus, “I thought we were dating?”
Fandom: Transformers: MTMTE. Warnings: None
The Lost Light was an exceptionally large ship. Even so, when in the midst of trying to keep a secret, it was suddenly, exceedingly tiny. Especially since he never expected to find himself needing to conceal the truth.
Ultra Magnus never meant for this to happen. He wasn't even sure he knew exactly how or even why.
No. That would be lying to himself, and he was already lying to Rodimus. He couldn't pass the barrier into spinning his own falsehoods as well.
Ultra Magnus knew how and when it happened. It was the why which still concerned him.
Why had he allowed himself to get close to Megatron? Why had he allowed quiet moments and quiet times and that first kiss? Why had he leaned in for a second and then a third? Why had he taken it further? Why had he pressed Megatron to the berth, deepened the kiss, and indulged himself?
Why, why, why.
These were the questions that haunted him.
The quiet smile the morning after. The slanted, aside look when no one else was watching. The spark of something akin to hope.
Ultra Magnus hated to shatter it. But it was a lie. As false as everything else evoked.
Ultra Magnus was with Rodimus. They were in a relationship. There were certain expectations to mechs within a relationship, including fidelity and honesty.
Or were they? Sometimes, Ultra Magnus wasn't sure. Words were never spoken. Promises were never made or commitments offered. One night, Rodimus had climbed into his berth, and he never quite left it after that.
Ultra Magnus had not been upset to have him there. Whatever undefinable element that existed between he and Rodimus was very welcome. As both Ultra Magnus and Minimus Ambus.
The addition of Megatron was unexpected.
Now he had this secret, this lie of omission, this indiscretion. It nestled inside of him, an itch he couldn't scratch, an invasion of acid rain, and a nagging at his cortex.
There are reasons, Minimus Ambus, that you are not fit to wear that name. And this, right here, is now one of them.
The most obvious course of action was to inform Megatron that nothing further could happen. Well, nothing even more further. Then, he would have to go to Rodimus, confess his sins, and seek forgiveness. Certainly, there should be no difficulty in obtaining it. Rodimus had his own ledger.
But then, so did Minimus. A certain engagement with Chief Tyrest came to mind.
A part of him balked however.
He could not explain this strange and new attraction to Megatron, but that did not mean he was willing to surrender it. He felt, despite all that Megatron was and is, that they had a certain rapport.
Rodimus' value was not to be discounted either. Ultra Magnus was not interested in letting Rodimus go either.
It was a quandary. It was a mess. It was a chaos.
Ultra Magnus did not like any of those things. He especially did not like being stuck int his predicament, this mess of his own making.
He did not like this choice.
He'd agreed to meet both Megatron and Rodimus, somehow, at the same time and on the same night. He had, in the chaos, confused his own schedule, and therefore, set himself on the path to truth.
A choice would have to be made.
The Lost Light was a very large ship, but Ultra Magnus still had nowhere to hide. And he was running out of time.
For smuttybugggu
Prompt: Starscream/Grimlock
Fandom: Transformers AU. Warnings: None
“Starscream.”
“What?” He didn't look up. He remained focused on his objective.
“It's your move.”
Starscream's wings hiked upward. “I know that.”
Laughter rumbled deep in Grimlock's chassis. “Are you sure? Because it's been ten minutes.”
Starscream narrowed his optics. “I'm thinking. This requires planning.”
“Star, we're playing Checkers.”
He huffed a ventilation. “Your point?”
Grimlock hummed. A finger traced along the edge of Starscream's wing. He shivered and flicked it back at his lover.
“It's not that serious,” Grimlock said. “It's just a game.”
“One I intend to win.” Starscream peered at the board.
“You don't have to win at everything.”
Starscream snorted. “You don't know me at all, do you?” He reached across the board and moved a single piece. “Your turn.”
“I know you. I just didn't realize that extended to an organic board game.” Grimlock chuckled and made his move in less than thirty seconds. Hah. He clearly wasn't playing this as much attention as he ought.
“It extends to everything.” Starscream smirked and promptly jumped all but one of Grimlock's pieces. “Checkmate!”
“We're playing Checkers.”
“No. I”m winning Checkers,” Starscream retorted with a snicker. “And you owe me.” He poked Grimlock in the chassis, right over his still gleaming Decepticon badge.
Grimlock captured his hand, fingers warm as they wrapped around Starscream's wrist, and he pulled it toward his mouthplate. Starscream's knuckles brushed against it.
“I don't remember making a bet,” he murmured.
Starscream shivered. “Yes, well, we did. So graciously accept your defeat.”
Grimlock purred at him, “When it comes to you, I always do.”
a/n: And that's all folks. All of the flash fic have been posted!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/332275.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.