#fic solar flare

[heliopauseentertainments]

Solar Flare

Now a complete 92k word novel. Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Megatron/Rodimus, one-sided Starscream/Rodimus, Megatron & Starscream, background relationships

Major Characters: Megatron, Rodimus, Starscream, Zeta Prime, Ratchet

Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of VIolence, Blood & Gore, Serious Injuries, Weddings, Suggestive Themes, Horror Elements (I.E. Horror of the Divine), Reincarnation, Ambiguous Relationships, One-Sided Relationships. Please see AO3 entry for full applicable tags. AU: Canon Divergence, Gods/goddesses, Early War

Summary:  "To destroy a corrupt system, we must first destroy its gods, starting with this one." In which Megatron makes a mistake by sparing Rodimus, the Prime of the Sun.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth

Note: inspired by this art piece on Tumblr.

1st chapter under cut; the full length is on AO3.

"To destroy a corrupt system, we must first destroy its gods, starting with this one."

Megatron, at first, had been so sure of his words as he pointed at the red and yellow mech across the hall, bedecked in jewelry and silk.

The ornate metal doors that had blocked off the throne room laid crumpled on the polished marble floor under his feet, a testament to the temple’s weakness against real resistance.

In his initial planning, after storming the Temple of the Sun in Nyon, he had thought killing a false god would be the easy part. Especially since this Prime did not have a Lord Protector, no zealous paladin dedicated to defending his worthless spark, Megatron had assumed that there would simply be one less obstacle to his goal.

The defenses had been minimal. Pathetic guards ran screaming for their lives after the mundane frontal assault on the main reinforced doors. There had been no point in giving chase, so Megatron had ordered his soldiers to let them flee. Better to have terrified survivors tell the tale, whereas dead mechs couldn’t spread word of change.

If the other Primal temples were built like this one with pitiful security, their job would be a lot simpler. Megatron doubted that would be the case, but he had also doubted this push would have gone so smoothly.

Now he watched as Primal acolytes pulled on the Prime’s arms and hands, trying in vain to tug him to safety, wherever that might be found, far away from the armed intruders.

The Prime shook them off with an undignified curse before marching unhindered towards Megatron, whom he’d fixed with a glare. Not one of anger, no, one of being inconvenienced.

“What are you doing in my house? You’re freaking out my dudes!”

What.

Megatron wasn’t often taken aback, but it appeared today had yet more surprises in store for him than a suspiciously easy siege.

He had just blasted through reinforced doors with his mechs, neutralized several guards with nary a fatality, and kicked down the door to the sacred throne room where the Prime was expected to waste away his days in luxury and splendor. Yet this… this garish half-pint approached him, fine brocades and bangles swaying with the motion, with neither fear nor hesitation.

Megatron hadn’t been prepared for this.

He had been prepared for the pampered brat cowering on the beautiful, shining marble, begging for his miserable, privileged life. He had been prepared to mercilessly terminate that wastrel with a fusion cannon blast, right through the spark and through that stupid Matrix.

Just as soon as Megatron tired of the sniveling, of course.

Consternation on his face, he powered down his cannon with a soft whir as it was lowered to his side.

“Excuse me?”

The Prime planted his hands on his hips, the bejeweled and festooned fins of his spoiler tilted upward in bold defiance.

"You heard me, bolt brain."

Now that wasn't a very godly thing to say at all. What were they teaching these high-caste deadbeats these days? Insults like that were what Megatron would have expected from an overcharged cadet at a seedy spaceport, not the alleged reincarnation of Solus Prime.

For all the supposed elegance and grace of a Prime, especially the Prime of the Sun, this was a smart-mouthed little punk.

This wasn't remotely what had been expected.

Megatron scowled down at the mech who dared call himself a god.

With a wave of his arm, some of his lollygagging soldiers dispatched towards the back of the throne room to seize fleeing acolytes.

"Don't you realize what's happening here?" Megatron asked, staring right back into the defiant, burning blue gaze. "Are you really that brave or are you just foolish?"

"Oh, yeah, I know what's happening.”

Megatron sincerely doubted that, but better to hear what nonsense this unknowingly condemned moron could come up with. Maybe it would be amusing.

“You're being a total spike right now, bursting in unannounced and trashing my house like one of those medical academy parties they show on the holonet. Wreck your own house!"

Not nearly as amusing as Megatron had hoped.

What in the damned hell was this punk talking about?

No wonder this one had no Lord Protector. Who would tolerate this? Shooting him now would do the world a favor. Making a political statement at this point would be a bonus.

"Didn't your caretakers teach you any manners? Rude." Well, Terminus had tried but…. That was hardly the point. The sheer impertinence of this idiot who had no idea he was about to have a hole put through his spark at point-blank range by a fusion cannon.

"I'm about to kill you and you're upset by my lack of aristocratic manners?"

Manners hadn’t really mattered much where he came from, the predominantly manual-class and disposable-class underground city of Tarn, in the various mines where he’d labored in dangerous conditions for ages, or in the black-market pop-up gladiatorial arenas of Kaon. He had never had use for such niceties and this punk was upset that he wasn’t holding out his little finger while seizing the Primal temple.

Ridiculous.

What next? Did he expect Megatron to use a napkin when painting the floor with the Prime’s slowly dimming lifeblood?

Despite the situation and his rapidly approaching final moment, the Prime relaxed slightly, seeming to consider the contradiction now that it had been pointed out, rubbing his chin all the while.

"I suppose when you put it like that, but only a Prime can kill a Prime so like do whatever—Hey! Wait!"

The hand rubbing his chin abandoned its work to point squarely at Megatron's nose.

"I know you! You're that lunatic that got Kaon blown to slag!"

That was it; they were done here. He had tired of this highborn simpleton’s antics.

“Enough!” Megatron bellowed, smacking that accusing point away with the back of his hand. “I don’t have time for your inane blathering!”

“Hey, rude—“

“Seize him!”

Mechs surged forth, several making grabs for the Prime’s limbs.

The Prime struggled, swearing as he strove to free himself of unwelcome hands. He kicked and punched, denting plate. More than a few titanium teeth from Decepticon mouths pinged against the floor after being knocked out.

Flatline would be rather busy later patching up these morons, Megatron thought, intrigued by just how much of a fight this pampered fool was putting up.

The struggle went on until the soldiers managed to immobilize the Prime’s limbs, removing any space for him to get in another good swing.

"Might I suggest something?" A high-pitched voice piped up behind Megatron’s back, persuasively smooth with all the owner’s public speaking practice despite the underlying tinny screech.

"You may not, but you'll do it regardless of my permission, so out with it, Starscream. Let’s get your suggestion over with."

Starscream stalked closer and began to circle the restrained Prime, as though inspecting a new, expensive purchase. His thrusters clicked haughtily against the smooth floor with every step.

"Rather than immediately dispatch this 'god,' why not simply keep him prisoner?"

"What purpose would that possibly serve?" What a waste of precious fuel and man-hours that could be better allocated elsewhere. Why take on the unnecessary responsibility of babysitting?

"Well, would not a new mech simply be chosen as a puppet to take their place? A supposed reincarnation plucked from a hot spot like a shining miracle in the dark night. The Senate and their drooling lackeys will rally around the divine newspark, stir up the people's faith, and so on and so forth. Keep him alive and that little problem just solves itself, doesn't it?"

Starscream had always had an optic for political nuance, even if Megatron often discarded it in the name of idealogical stringency. He generally felt his time was better spent not playing those games. Direct action tended to suit his purposes far better.

“What of the Matrix?” Megatron asked, gesturing with his thumb at the Prime’s chest. Each Prime had one, bestowed upon them by the priesthood that served their predecessor. Relics passed down between supposed incarnations, a symbol of divinity. Turning that worthless relic into a profane trophy of scrap that would almost as profoundly undermine the blind faith of the populace as actually murdering one of their so-called “gods.”

Megatron tapped his finger against his chin in thought.

“Would not destroying the Matrix render the point moot?” A new god couldn’t be reformatted without it, right? At least, not as far as he knew. The whole thing was rustwash anyway, but that was the official narrative.

Starscream scoffed, waving a hand flippantly at the very idea as he continued to circle the immobilized Prime. His wings fluttered with interest, a behavior Megatron had seen his second-in -command perform on several occasions when he wanted something.

Something about this useless creature had caught Starscream’s attention. That would need to be ironed out later.

“Please. They probably keep a bunch of them in the basement or in a bunker somewhere or something. You break one, someone steals a backup and claims it’s the real thing, safely defended from our destructive irreverence. You get accused of having destroyed a fake one for publicity and the whole ‘message’ you want to send crumbles in shame. You know how it is with these ‘relics.’ A shanix a dozen. Best keep this one as ‘proof’ for now.”

A broad, knowing grin stretched across Starscream’s face, shining with implication.

“And, after all, you can only have the fun of killing him once.”

He hated that Starscream had a point—several, in fact. Telling the seeker so, however, would just cause more problems—the overinflated ego sort—down the line.

Megatron would settle for a simple acknowledgment as he leaned down to get a better look at this bedighted speedster.

The Prime was practically encrusted with jewels and precious metals in the form of ornate jewelry, brocaded mesh draped luxuriously over the fins of his spoiler. Feet planted firmly on the ground, the Prime glared defiantly back up at his captor. In any other situation, Megatron would have thought him a beauty to behold, but now the red mech was just a symbol of resources squandered on mere opulence.

The sight disgusted him or… it should have.

“Very well, Starscream.”

Megatron heaved a tired sigh.

“I haven’t decided what his fate will be just yet,” he said, straightening back up. “Lock him up somewhere. I don’t care where. It doesn’t matter. Just get him out of my sight.”

A few of his mechs hesitated, the ones holding the arms and shoulders of acolytes, as though they weren’t sure what to do with their prisoners. Megatron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood back up. Did he have to spell out everything for these idiots?

“The cultists too! Just go!”

--

Finally.

The throne room was at peace without that Prime spitting and screaming, now that the brat had been hauled off somewhere in the temple complex, preferably kept under lock and guard.

With the quiet, Megatron could finally get a look around, take stock of the damage and what exactly they had just conquered. This place held many, many valuable resources that they could utilize, either directly or by fencing the goods. Furthermore, he’d gotten it all for the low price of a few explosives, a couple of boot-licking lives, and inadvertent custody a very rude little “god.”

He would figure out what to do with that brat later.

Megatron took a long and slow ventilation before approaching the now abandoned, golden throne at the far end of the room. It glittered in the warm yellow-orange light from the lamps. An impression of the sun was embossed into the high back of the throne and again, smaller, on the arms and seat. It was almost too small, hardly having room for the treads on his back. It was made for more regal frames than his own, intended for heavy industrial work below ground.

The soldiers that still lingered in the room, along with his few lieutenants that had accompanied him, watched in silence.

“We will reinforce the Temple of the Sun, make it an impregnable fortress,” he said, sitting and relaxing into the Primal throne. He supposedly “desecrated” it merely by touch, let alone smearing it with spilled energon and oil from fighting his way through the temple. A shame some of that shed fuel didn’t belong to the previous occupant of this glorified chair.

No matter. It belonged to him now.

From here, it was a short step to de facto controlling the city of Nyon and its weak council.

“With a little work, it’ll make a fine base.” The first, in fact, unless one counted the ruins of Kaon, the last city he and his forces held, he thought, caressing one of the cushioned arms of the throne. After Senate forces bombed the city from the surface of Cybertron, the revolutionaries were forced underground.

Megatron gestured for his lieutenants to approach.

Starscream strode forward, an impatient twitch to his wings and several complaints no doubt already at the tip of his tongue. He still looked smug from his earlier “victory” in changing Megatron’s plans. In stark contrast, Soundwave, ever the professional, simply walked and waited in inscrutable silence for his orders.

"Now, as you know, the Senate is de facto independent, even if they nominally operate under the First Prime in Iacon. They serve no gods but themselves,” Megatron began, “we need to work quickly to fortify our position here. We have some time because they need to calculate the political risk of assaulting Nyon."

They could make good use of this place if they were quick, before the Senate could retaliate for the revolutionaries’ transgressions against the gods. Nyon, however, had one beautiful advantage that Kaon did not: a Primal temple. Even they would hesitate to simply annihilate a sacred location, no matter who held it. Not because they believed, but because the face they would lose with the public would be incalculable.

Megatron smirked, getting comfortable in the stolen throne. Just sitting here was daring the Senate to do something self-destructive and drastic. It was perfect.

Starscream opened his mouth, probably to object, but before he could get words out, he was cut off by a finger pointed in his direction.

“Organize the fortification efforts and recall Shockwave to our new position. Soundwave—“ The blue mech straightened up further to show he was giving his leader his undivided attention. “Round up and contain the remainder of the priesthood. We’re moving in. Once you’ve done that, turn your attention to following the newsfeeds. I want to know the nanoklik Iacon thinks about making a move.”

With a nod, the Soundwave turned on his heel to carry out the command.

Now he just needed to figure out what to do with the blasted Prime of the Sun. Throttling him was unfortunately off the table, for today at least.

Starscream loudly cleared his vocalizer, apparently having something else to say before getting on with his duties.

“What is it now, Starscream?”

“Well, if I may, I have a potential solution to your little Prime problem,” he started, still beaming. It was as though he had guessed Megatron’s thoughts.

“One that could legitimize our position here.”

“I’m listening.” Begrudgingly, but he would hear Starscream out. Might as well.

Megatron narrowed his optics but said nothing as he leaned his face on a raised fist. The seeker took that as permission to continue, a slippery grin stretching across the smooth metal of his face.

“What do you think of the title of Lord Protector? ‘Lord Megatron’ has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

[heliossecretdeskdrawer]

I... actually have a WIP Wednesday snippet for this blog this week.

A preview of that Solar Flare!MegaRod breeding kink request for the two anons. This fic isn't going to be canonical with Solar Flare, but uses that setting.

Warnings for the snippet: mentions of plug-n-play, nudity, alien (to the characters) anatomy

Megatron had known, of course, that one day Rodimus would likely want to actually make use of his spousal privileges beyond merely stealing his warmth at night.

Rodimus had even once mentioned to him after their union ceremony that he hadn’t had the opportunity to “enjoy the company” of any of his previous protectors, as they had all died beforehand. Once it had become obvious that Megatron was not going to drop dead, fling himself fatally into harm’s way, or jump to his death from a window like the others, naturally Rodimus would probably have started to get ideas.

One night, after several months of passively letting himself be used as a personal heater, he had little reason to be surprised when hands started to roam across his plating long after dark, long after Rodimus was supposed to have been asleep.

A hand planted itself on the middle of his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Not that Megatron was opposed to linking up. Rodimus was pleasant to look at and, with his high energy frame, could probably take and receive a high amount of charge at unimaginable speeds. His defiant and independent nature would also ensure a unique experience.

“Nothing,” Rodimus said, as if on reflex.

An obvious lie, given that Rodimus was now using that hand to hoist himself up and… kick off the tarpaulins?

Cold night air rushed in to replace the liberated warm air formerly trapped by the covers. In the caldera of an active volcano, the nights were still “brisk” this many miles above the lava lakes. The tangle of the city below captured much of that radiant heat.

Rodimus clearly wasn’t trying to trade charge then, a relatively stationary interaction.

Megatron just sighed.

“Why are you making a mess of the berth?”

“What’s it look like? Getting stuff out of the way. Obviously.”

“Out of the way for what exactly?”

Megatron finally bothered onlining his optics to watch as Rodimus continued kicking away the bedding. In short order, he had managed to clear the entire recharge slab of anything that wasn’t the padding underneath them.

“Fucking, duh. Why are you so dense? I thought you were supposed to be smart, Megs.”

Well, he had had an inkling that that was what Rodimus had been after, but once he started destroying the usual nest of tarpaulins and cushions, Megatron had discounted the possibility.

Megatron pushed himself up on his elbows.

If Rodimus had wanted to interface, there would have been no need to move anything. They would only need to simply unspool a few cables from their chest compartments and link up to corresponding ports. Despite their different sizes, they probably weren’t different enough to require adapter attachments.

Or at least, that was the most basic method. Everyone had their preferences.

“I fail to see how that requires you to throw everything to the floor.”

Rodimus paused, putting his hand to his chin in thought as he sat on his knees. He looked off to the side like he had forgotten something.

“… Oh, that’s right. You don’t know yet.” He clapped his hands together and gestured condescendingly towards Megatron with them. “So… Primes do things a little differently. One of the better kept secrets, I guess. Probably easier to show you. Hold on a sec.”

Click. Hiss.

Megatron looked down to see a strange appendage pressuring in the middle of where Rodimus’s pelvic armor usually was.

“What in the void is that?”

“A spike.”

Megatron tilted his head to the side, not really following.

Red and rounded at the top, it looked a bit more like a toy version of a police officer’s baton than anything… spiky. What a weird looking thing. What was it for?

“Which is… what exactly?”

“So, you know how cables go into ports?”

Megatron nodded.

“This whole thing is like a very special cable.” A mod then, perhaps? “And I’m going to put it in your special port.”

“My what?”

[umseb]

jenson button and sebastian vettel chat in the paddock on qualifying day, monaco - may 28, 2016 📷 james gasperotti / motorsport images

[tsams-and-co-memes]

Decided to draw SaMS Solar Flare meeting my Solar Flare (I usually just call him Flare) because why not. I created my Flare for a fic I was working on, then not long after, SaMS Solar Flare was introduced. I got really excited, and I've been meaning to draw them together ever since

In my mind, them meeting would be fairly amusing to witness, since they're both made to protect specific people, they've both dealt with an Eclipse in one way or another, and they both are pretty quiet and stoic about things. They're similar, even though my Flare would more than likely try to deny that

Time spent on this: 15 hours and 59 minutes

If you like this, please consider reblogging it!

[magpie-murder]

quote; Solar Flares // @bluegarners

this is my (first) piece for @dickgraysonbigbang ! i was paired with the absolutely phenomenal @bluegarners to draw for her fic, Solar Flares. i'm not being dramatic when i say this is the best fic i've read IN MY LIFE. i couldn't stop myself from drawing a second piece for this fic, which will be uploaded when chapter two is up. keep your eyes out for fic fanart in the future— there are two more art ideas that i just did not have the time to get to before the bang deadline was up and i am just WAY too attached to this fic to let them go

[skitskatdacat63]

I don't think I can ever emotionally recover from these

[bluegarners]

anatomy of a grave, by s.s. @teacupmotif//Grayson #9//solar flares//Tales of the Teen Titans #50//Mary Oliver, "When Did It Happen?"//Prodigal arc, Robin #13//Faithful and Virtuous night, Louise Glück

[pinkjasminetea]

reading solar flare and i am obsessed with john and seb's dynamic right now bc this is basically them

[maladaptivewriting]

i don’t usually headcanon regulus as trans, not to say i don’t read and love fics with trans reggie, but it’s just not in my personal repertoire.

i do however headcanon dorcas as trans. always. even if i’m reading someone else’s fanfic, dorcas is trans unless otherwise stated. 

[teecupangel]

So i had these ideas while at work. what if Altair and Ezio were aware of Desmond and they’ve been trying to get to him either going forward in time or pulling Desmond back to their’s. pulling him back would be easier and they’ve been trying but none of the ‘calls’ stick. That’s because Desmond needs to be ‘vulnerable’ in order to be pulled back. Not necessarily physically or mentally vulnerable but like his soul? Same feeling as when your in a good book or your ‘in the zone’ of a craft or sport. Desmond hasn’t been able to get that feeling in ages because *gestures at assassin/templar/isu BS*

I saw “Altaïr and Ezio trying to pull Desmond back in their time but none of the ‘calls’ stick” and thought “Well, yeah, it won’t stick. Both of you are trying to call the same number at the same time so, of course, you’ll both get a busy signal.”

But we can make this work a bit by making their ‘calls’ actually visible to Desmond alone. But he doesn’t realize it because he thinks he’s just Bleeding.

That the fact that, even for a few seconds, he could feel their touch or could hear them as if they were talking to him, only mean that his Bleeding Effect was getting more severe.

And, of course, he was the only person who could see them so everyone believes him when he says his Bleeding Effect is getting worse.

And when his soul is finally vulnerable, it is during the time when he finally accepts his fate to die for the world.

But then both Altaïr and Ezio try to pull him to their time periods and, instead, gets pulled to his because he’s in a prime state for such an event, yes, but he is also in one of the most guarded locations in any given time: the singularity of which the Isus’ calculations have been moving future and past events along for it to come to fruition.

And Desmond is too surprised by what has happened that he missed his chance, that moment of confusion meant that he was too late to activate the device.

And the world burns.

[bbglewis]

Solar Flare is being cuddled in a blanket by the fire cozy

the healthy relationship. the communication. THE LITTLE DETAILS. the dynamics with other drivers. the unending support for each other through the worst of times and so much joy during good times. THE REFERENCES BACK TO SOLAR FLARE IN NEWER FICS

[heliopauseentertainments]

At long last, Solar Flare is finished!

I'll do a proper promo post tomorrow, but today, please enjoy: Epilogue

[heliossecretdeskdrawer]

I'm not the anon who sent the breeding ask, but it opened the floodgates I guess! Sorry for latching on.

Could I please request some Megarod breeding kink, with bottom Megatron? If possible, set in a vaguely Solar Flare setting? Because I am *loving* that fic and all its worldbuilding.

It's not quite done yet, but here's the first chapter of it. It's taking longer to assemble the whole thing than I thought. Because apparently I needed to build background into it.

I've got another 1.5k words of this in progress, but that's gonna be, uh, more.

[umseb]

sebastian vettel during the team portrait on media day, brazil - november 24, 2011 📷 matthew kingston-lee / instagram

[darkwater-fic-recs]

(Ongoing)

[crazywolf828]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Multi

Fandom: RWBY

Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Sun Wukong/Yang Xiao Long

Characters: Blake BelladonnaYang Xiao LongSun Wukong (RWBY)

Additional Tags: Future Fic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hiking, It's just real cute and soft yall, it's what they deserve

Summary:

Blake's spent more than enough of her life in the woods, there's no good reason she should be dragged out of their nice warm bed at the crack of dawn and down some trail Sun and Yang had found a few days ago. "Is there a reason I had to come?" Blake asks grumpily. The one downside to both of her partners being the embodiment of the sun itself is that they tend to rise with it. "Aw come on Blake! You're going to love the view when we get there!" Sun exclaims with this megawatt smile that makes the edges of his eyes crinkle. "Besides," Yang starts, a small tilt to her lips, "you would just text us all morning complaining you're cold without us there." And okay, maybe Blake pouts a little because Yang's right, but that still doesn't mean she wants to be up right now. "Fine, let's get this over with." - Request: i really miss sunny bees 🥺 maybe jst like them hangin out and stuff or looking at frogs in the woods

Happy birthday @cookiecrow! Hope you enjoy it bestie!