#fff242

Sherlock fandom

Am I Dreaming?

Sherlock doesn’t know what’s real and what’s imagination anymore. Everything is a blur of sleep deprivation, thirst, hunger, and excruciating pain. Whenever his jailer and the torturists are leaving him alone, he sighs relieved, but he soon panics when he starts to think about their return. It’s then a vision of John appears before him.

“You can do this, Sherlock. Don’t you dare give up; you hear me? I need you to come home to me, alright? There, now, shh, I’ve got you. Stay strong, Sherlock. For me. Please.”

John’s voice is commanding at first, urging Sherlock to get a grip, but it always turns tender when Sherlock can’t hold back his sobs. He wishes John would touch him, so he could feel his warmth and be comforted by those steady hands that have healed him so many times. Before Sherlock jumped off a roof.

In the early days of his capture, Sherlock was able to see himself from above. Taking stock over his misery and the cell, desperately trying to find a way to escape. The longer he was jailed, the more his brain failed him. It became mushy, the sharp observation skills left him, and he was unable to soar anymore. His only comfort was John’s visits.  

Sherlock knows he’s about to die. Before he met John, this wouldn’t have bothered him at all but now…now it’s an unbearable thought. Never to see John again? Not be able to explain why he had to jump. Why John couldn’t know that it was a magic trick. To beg John’s forgiveness. To tell John…

The door to his cell opens and Sherlock steels himself for whatever gruesome punishment the Serbians have installed for him. A familiar voice gives orders to someone. Sherlock’s eyes are blindfolded, but his hearing is still excellent. That voice…no, it can’t be. The person speaks Serbian, and to Sherlock’s knowledge, Mycroft doesn’t speak Serbian. Unless he’s learned it sufficiently enough to rescue Sherlock. No, that doesn’t make sense. Mycroft doing legwork? If Sherlock wasn’t so exhausted, he would’ve laughed. It comes out as a cough, which sends a sharp stab of pain through his entire body.

He must’ve blacked out, because when he wakes his cell is gone. At his right side there’s a small window. Sherlock’s brain is too dizzy to comprehend where he is, but he realises something. He is soaring again, but what he sees underneath is impossible. London. Sherlock is soaring above London!

“Am I dreaming?” he whispers and closes his eyes as tears start to form.

“Brother mine,” Mycroft says softly at Sherlock’s left side.

Sherlock keeps his eyes firmly shut. He can’t bear if this isn’t real.

“You are not dreaming, Sherlock,” Mycroft assures him.

Is his voice trembling?

Sherlock feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s warm. He opens his eyes and there he is, Mycroft Holmes, his arch enemy and big brother. They’re on a private jet, Sherlock discerns. Before he can ask, Mycroft lifts an eyebrow and nods.

“I will let him know.”

Sherlock sighs relieved and falls asleep while the tarmac comes into sight.

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[#FFF242 Soaring Above]

Over land and sea, over forests and meadows, cities and deserts, or even higher, through the clouds and among the stars. Are you flying or fleeing? What can you see from up there? Let your imagination take wings and write!

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Past The Ocean, The Skies

Character: Grian

Wc: 1042

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 242, “Soaring Above”

Ao3: Here!

Finally.

Grian secured his elytra on his back and saw it transform into a pair of bird wings. He raised them and felt the feathers flutter with the strong breeze.

The wings were great in length, this time, yet thin and precise. Perfect for soaring long distances. White to grey to black, perfect camouflage looking from below into the sky and from above into the sea.

It’d been way too long.

For @flashfictionfridayofficial entry: #fff242: Soaring above

and @fluffbruary February 27 : table | blush | laundry

Fandom: Bang Brave Bang Bravern

Pairing: Ao Isami/Lewis Smith

Words: 398

—

I wish I could have touched his face and ease that crease on his forehead… I wish I could have grabbed him and…

One in a million, but one and the same. Lewis thought as he soared above the clouds and began to disintegrate.

I wish we could have shared some more time… I wish I could have known you much earlier…

Regrets came in late of course. Afterthoughts that didn’t have any more space in the present time.

Fragments of memories, of a life that past, flashed before him like a camera reel. The shards of broken glasses became tiny mirror prisms showing scenes of his life.

He could see a makeshift boxing ring on top of a ship. Brought on by his suggestion to do some boxing where they could unleash their pent-up sexual frustration and the misunderstanding between them, the Japanese lieutenant was ready to find connection.

“Do you feel it too?” The yellow-blonde-haired American man asked his Japanese counterpart as he lay on top of him grinding their crotches together much to the delight of their comrades, who thought they were only horseying around.

Isami, a Japanese gentleman and a dignified military officer, blushed and was suddenly speechless. Shyness, yes. Better to lay blame it on that emotion, but frotting with Lewis in front of the public wasn’t what one would call a proper decorum.

“That’s private,” Lewis heard Isami say when they were in the canteen eating their curry.

It occurred to him that before the Purge, he and Isami began to talk in earnest. Still the same stoic younger lieutenant, he gave signs to Lewis when he wanted to strike a conversation.

One time Lewis observed how Isami stood there next to him, not responding at all, looking at Bravern’s direction. After giving his reply, he thought it was all over. He was ready to leave when a hand stopped him.

“Lewis… wait…”

The American watched the smooth face in front of him, the imperial almond-shaped black eyes, the urge to kiss those thin lips was so strong he had to step back.

“Your eyes remind me of blue ocean.”

His last recollection was Isami’s face during their last goodbye when the latter was boarding Bravern. A simple nod. That recognition that the two of them perfectly understood.

You stay alive for me while saving the world.

Then everything turned to dust.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Pairing: ZukAang (ATLA) Zuko x Aang

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Mild Angst

Word count: 802

Zuko stared at Aang from outside his cell below the ship’s deck. They're approximately six days away from the Fire Nation Capital. Aang’s stomach turns at the sudden realization, it has been twenty-five days since Zuko has captured him and he has grown fond of the Prince’s presence in his tiny prison cell. They have shared intimate moments, and some days he finds the Prince lying next to him in the middle of the night, soundly asleep and breathing peacefully. Aang sighs and gets up from  his chair, “Are you going to just stand there or are you going to come inside?”

He sounded discourteous, Aang didn’t mean to. But he was exhausted and being stuck in his diminutive cell did not help the suffocation he’s feeling. When Zuko opened the cell door and stepped in, he looked at Aang with apologetic eyes. He could almost hear Zuko’s unspoken words, his apologies, his confession, his cognizance. Aang simply takes his hand and places small and gentle kisses on Zuko’s fingertips, silently reassuring the Prince that everything will be alright.

“Would you like to..” Zuko started, staring intensely at Aang’s lips, “..come to the deck with me?”

Aang gasped at the question, shocked at how nonchalant Zuko suggested the activity. He smiled at the Prince as tears formed in his eyes, quietly asking, “Is this a test?”

The Prince laughed, the sound sending electricity down Aang’s spine. Zuko responds, “I trust you because..” He paused, holding his tongue from saying things he might regret later, he shakes his head and continues, “..because I just do.”

Zuko tugged at the airbender’s hand, leading him up to the deck of the ship. It seems that Zuko had planned to invite him out here all along because on the far end of the deck, Aang sees his glider perched on top of the crates. He was about to run off, however, a strong squeeze on his hand stopped him. Aang looked back at Zuko with a sad smile, “I’m sorry, I just got excited.”

“I know, I’m just.. Nervous, that’s all.” Zuko says as he lets go of Aang’s hand, “I said I trust you, and I do. I know you will always come back to me.”

With a nod from Zuko, Aang sprints to where his glider was, his bare feet feeling cold against the steel of the ship. He spends no time warming up, he whips his glider and soared through the clouds. Aang didn’t even notice how the sun burned his skin when he ascended to the sky, he took no notice of anything as he breathed in the salty and fresh air. Laughing as he passed through the mist, soaking his clothes. But Aang didn’t care. Realistically, he’s only been held captive for less than a month, it hasn’t been that long but his mind wandered around his friends. Katara, Sokka, Toph and Suki. Where are they now? Did they survive the Serpent’s Pass? That was the last time he saw them before he was captured by Zuko. The feeling of guilt buried deep inside him is now bubbling up, Aang has always thought he is responsible for his friend’s lives, and he left them alone, traveling through a deadly pass. But his friends are strong, surely they can survive without him. They might be in Ba Sing Se by now. 

He flew as high up as he could until he could no longer see the Fire Nation ship below him, until he could no longer see Zuko. It’s as liberating as it is suffocating. He could fly away right now and spend his energy flying to the Earth Kingdom again, he could try to find his friends. Aang shakes his head and comes back to reality, he descends below the clouds just enough so Zuko can spot him and keep an eye on him. Reassuring the Prince that he’s here.

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 242, soaring above.

I only have one character who can fly, Naomi. So I wrote this about her finding her inner-strength.

Naomi had always been weak. She never minded much that she couldn’t hold an illusion for long or levitate high because she never needed those abilities growing up. Instead, she was book-smart; enough to get into the most prestigious academy in Serenta. It was her pride. But now, surrounded by friends who were so strong, she couldn’t help but feel like she was weighing them down.

She couldn’t bear it anymore the night her friend group was attacked. Everyone sprung into action, chasing the assassin, examining the weapon, making sure the others were alright. Everyone but her, who froze in fear even though she wasn’t the target. 

Shame followed her to sleep then stuck by her side the next day. Shame kept her from meeting her friends’ eyes, despite them telling her she wasn’t a burden. Shame told her she needed to do something.

She waited a week until the moon was full, and her powers were at their strongest. She knew she couldn’t try something little and call it a day. So she climbed up staircase upon staircase until she stood on the edge of the dormitory roof. Oh, this was such a bad idea. Getting hurt wouldn’t help her friends in any way. She looked up at the full moon. It twinkled and winked, promising to not let her fall. Naomi took a deep breath and leaped.

She levitated, hundreds of feet above the school grounds. For a moment, all she could do was stare at the courtyard below her, not quite trusting herself to move. But then she became angry at herself. She was always stuck when she needed to take action.

Naomi slowly propelled herself forward, away from the ledge’s safety. As she became more comfortable, she tried twirling. A laugh bubbled up from her throat as she spun as weightlessly as a leaf in the breeze. She couldn’t believe she never tried anything like this before. It felt so right.

Naomi soared over the whole courtyard and the garden, dotted with glowing nocturnal flowers, before she felt an ache in her muscles and sweat beading across her brow. She slowly lowered herself to just above the treeline, but couldn’t sustain her powers and plummeted the last few feet directly into a bush. She brushed leaves from her hair with scratched hands, steeling her resolve to become stronger.

She climbed back up to the roof the next night, but without the full moon, she couldn’t stay in the air for as long. She tried again every night, and little by little, her powers grew.

She perfected gliding on her back as if she was swimming through a pool of starlight. She built up her endurance enough that during the next full moon, she managed to fly all the way to the neighboring town. She saw the outline of the mountains in the distance, the gateway to her clan’s territory. Her heart swelled at the sight, the sudden surge of feeling nearly knocking her out of the air.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

To fly is wonderful, even in the lumbering Tiger Moths at Oxford, seeing the verdant green, then the ripples of autumn across wood and hedges. Leave everything behind; tutorials, essays, the ghost of war in the dull autumn in 1939. All that, or almost all is away when he's in the air. And then to Scotland, the great fifths and sea and rougher, less steady fields. The Lizzys aren't cracking fast, but they're handy. To bump down in a patch and then scurry up again, with what might be the dash of an old-time highwayman, gone almost before he was known, and skimming the hedges like a fleeing pheasant, except a little neater. (And he will come to be even more glad of the subtle fleetness in later years, and scratch airfields).

for @flashfictionfridayofficial #FFF242 - Soaring Above

(158 words)

Lance had gone to pilot's school with a dream of flying between galaxies, surrounded by darkness and stars.  

He found after reaching space that his favorite type of flying was actually planet-side, when he was close enough to see the surface but far enough that everything felt blurry and indistinct. All of his problems felt so distant here, when he was miles above the villages and oceans and mountains. Surely his mistakes couldn't mean the end of the universe when everything looked so small. 

Usually, this sight would calm Lance right down, but today its soothing effect was lost on him. He just couldn't quite catch his breath, like something about the movement of his chest was off-kilter, like his heart was off-beat. His palms felt clammy on the yoke, and everything outside looked a bit more blurry than it should.