#FFF240

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Never Whole Again

Sherlock’s been dead for months. Literally. John’s been dead for months too. Not literally. He doesn’t exactly live either. Exists if he must put a word on it. The grief shouldn’t still be as raw as it was when he realised that Sherlock had no pulse, laying on the pavement outside Barts. Doesn’t matter what everyone tells him. That it’ll get better. Less raw. More faded.

“Faded, my arse!” John had shouted at whoever told such a ludicrous lie.

The love of John’s life was dead and buried, alongside with John’s heart and soul. He felt like an empty shell, and he knew he could never be whole again. The love he felt for Sherlock was all-consuming and no one could ever replace him. John still kicked himself several times a day for never telling Sherlock exactly that. To Sherlock, John was his friend, nothing more.

When Philip Anderson’s campaign, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, made it to the papers, John was indifferent. Easy for Anderson to say now, wasn’t it. He never seemed to have believed anything Sherlock had said or done when he was alive. Paying tribute to him now seemed like hypocrisy to John. He believed in Sherlock. Always had. Until it was too late.

***

When the restlessness becomes too much to bear, John writes to Sherlock. For some reason Sherlock’s email account isn’t deleted, and John’s emails are never returned, so he continues to write. What he writes, varies. It can be anecdotes about Mrs. Hudson, customers at Asda, John’s nightmares, crimes he’s read about in the papers or watched on the news, the latest Bond film, or new knowledge he’s learned from QI. He writes poems too. All of which circles around Sherlock.

The solar system wasn’t important you said

I thought you were a pompous arse saying that

You’d be glad to know I finally agree with you

What significance does it have now when you’re not here to mock it?

Who cares if the Sun moves around in space now?

Not me. Not anymore

You called me your conductor of light

I never told you what you were to me

If I were the Sun, you were the Moon

You appeared cool and bright

You shone just as much as the Sun

The moonlight broke when you died

It went out just like the light in your eyes did

And I’ve been wandering in the dark ever since

Until the day I die, I’ll never see such a light again

John’s mentally exhausted after finishing and sending the poem. It’s his last email, because two days later the light returns to John’s life. Sherlock’s broken in many ways, but John’s determined to heal him, to love him, and to never doubt him again.

I guess I needed to write a bit of angst in between all the fluffiness of Fluffbruary. Sorry, not sorry!

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[#FFF240 Broken Moonlight]

Shining through the trees in the middle of the night, glinting through the window, reflecting in the water. Where does the moonlight shine from, why is it broken? Does it signify peace or danger or something other? Get writing and let us know!

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The Collective <3

[katblu42]

Rippling Path

It's been a while (again) since I've written one of these, and it is a short one for @flashfictionfridayofficial this week.

Fandom: Thunderbirds / Thunderbirds Are Go Warnings: None Word Count: 212

Gordon was unsure how long he’d been there, gazing at the way the moonlight sparkled on the water, making a broken path from the shore towards the horizon.  It was such a calming scene.  A moment to just breathe and take in the soft glow of the moon rising towards the stars above in the midnight blue, leaving its glittering jewels reflected in the rippling surface of the deep navy below, catching the sheen on the slick surface of black rocks and the hints of white foam.

He was transfixed.  Captivated by the simple beauty of it all.

So, when he felt the quiet approach of a certain flannel-clad brother sidling up beside him he knew he’d been here a little longer than might be expected.

“How do you do it, Virgil?” he asked softly, not wanting to break the spell.  “How do you take something so alive with constant movement and capture it on canvas in a way that makes me feel like I could walk out into the water and dive beneath the broken moonlight?”

Virgil had no words in response.  Just an arm to gently reach around and pull his little brother into a warm embrace, which Gordon leant into, resting his head on his brilliant artist brother’s shoulder.

[my-cabbages-gorl]

Delicate by @my-cabbages-gorl

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Romance Rating: Teen audiences & up

Some tags: Zukaang, one-shot, aged-up (Aang is 24 & Zuko is 27), just two men in love being messy as hell, fellas is it gay to find solace in the lips of the man who betrayed you and lead you to you your death

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt Broken Moonlight

Read below or on Ao3

~

The dusty purple curtain of evening settles over the sandstone roofs of Ba Sing Se. From their balcony in the Earth Kingdom palace, the night hums at a placid, noiseless distance. Aang used to dread this yearly week of pacifying nobles and politicians. By the eighth annual summit, after the dam broke and the Firelord now shared his bed, that—along with almost everything else—changed. 

By now, the frenzied, diplomatic commotion of the annual Four Nation Summit has become somewhat of a predictable routine. But this year, even in the quiet of the usual sanctuary of their shared chambers at the end of an exhausting day, something ticks uncomfortably behind Aang’s dark grey eyes as they trace the golden alleys, glittering with life, slashing across the night in Ba Sing Se. 

Channeling his seismic sense, he notices a stammering hitch in Zuko’s breathing as he enters silently through the heavy stone doors and bends flames alive to light the torches lining the room. Without turning to see whatever practiced, placated expression he wears on his face, Aang can feel there is more than broken moonlight hanging between them. 

“You were excellent today, your highness,” he offers over his shoulder with his arms crossed and back still to Zuko. Amusement that usually soothes somehow prickles Zuko uncomfortably. 

“As were you, Avatar Aang,” his hot breath and scarred hands closing around him—joining him to watch the distant vibrance humming below the palace in the dark. The severe set in Aang’s shoulder stiffens at Zuko’s touch. 

In the last two years of their new relationship, it’s been Aang who finds a stoic and cold Zuko alone in their chambers and works to pry him open, offering his love as a tether to rescue him from the depths of himself. Tonight is different. Zuko tries to remind himself what Aang would say in these moments. 

“You seemed distant today. Is everything—are you...” his voice trails off into the deep blue of the night, intertwining with the static buzzing between them. 

A steadying breath rakes through Aang as his eyes shift sidelong to take in Zuko’s knit brow. “Yes. I mean, no. It’s... complicated.” his voice shakes in the way it does when he’s pretending that he isn’t about to cry. 

“Aang, talk to me.” Zuko’s softness washes over Aang as he steps around him to look up into his eyes. Lavendar moonlight smoothes the exasperated lines of Aang’s face. His palms find Aang’s cheeks—thumbing away the moisture beginning to sting the corner of his eyes. 

“I don't know what I can say, Zuko,” his head shaking gently into Zuko’s touch, a gentle sob shuttering his shoulders as his grey meets Zuko's’ gold. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I-,” another shake in his frame lurches him forward and deeper into Zuko’s touch. 

“Aang,” there’s a sternness in his gilded eyes, filtering through his whisper, “I love you. I’m here. I can take it, whatever it is.” 

“Being here in the Earth Kingdom palace, with you, now,” there’s a hitch in his breath, his words taste strange in his mouth, he’s not sure the rest is worth saying. But he wanted to try, "I was dead, Zuko.” 

The truth and darkness of his words slam down over them like a slab of concrete. Every point of contact between their bodies feels like it's frozen, but somehow—burning. 

“I hated you so much,” he manages between the gasping, sobbing breaths that are coming now. He slams a fist against Zuko’s chest, but he doesn’t flinch. He just nods, tears forming in his eyes. 

“I hated you, Zuko, I hated you,” his cries choke him as Zuko wraps his arms around him, holding him through every wave. 

They remain this way for moments that stretch on into minutes. Whispering I’m sorry and I love you like the words to a hauntingly familiar song. Two lovers, alight with the tortured work of forgiveness in the dead of night. 

When they pull apart, this time it’s Aang's hands that find Zuko’s jaw and pull his tear-stained face up to his. His eyes taking in the pained set of Zuko’s brow before crushing their lips together—moving his mouth against Zuko’s in a wild, desperate erraticism. 

“Aang,” Zuko pants through the thick haze of desire overwhelming him as Aang’s fingers rake through his hair and he feels his hands prying open his robes, “I’m sorry,” his breathing growing heavier with every frantic kiss. “I’m so sorry” The sound of his moans mingling with shame slows the motion in Aang’s body. He pulls his face away, the sight of Zuko’s untied robes, his bright pink lips, and disheveled topknot stabbing him with remorse. 

“I- sorry, I shouldn’t have,” his stormy eyes, purple and flush with need in the moonlight, fall towards the ground as his hands slump down to Zuko’s waist. 

“It’s okay, Aang,” his fingers finding Aang's, "I’m the one who should be... sorry,” he looks down at their bodies still pressed together. Sorry feels pointless. Sorry will never be enough.

“You've been apologizing for ten years. When will I just,” a breath he didn’t know he was holding puffs through his lips impatiently, “...get over it?” he sounded exhausted. 

“No one’s asking you to get over it, Aang,” the silence stretches on between them, but it’s not uncomfortable. Zuko fills his lungs with the evening air before saying, “I’m not asking you to get over it,” their eyes meet again in the anguished purple of the darkness, something sanguine and unspoken settling over them. 

Before he can say anything else, Zuko pulls Aang into his arms, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and curling his head into his chest. His lips rest on the blue of Aang’s arrow, breathing in the sweet sandalwood of his skin like a healing tonic. 

And there, in the dusty indigo of the night, for what feels like the millionth time, he prays a prayer of thanksgiving to Agni that the man in his arms is still breathing. And that after everything, he’s still his.  ~ This is my first @flashfictionfridayofficial submission, and I had SO much fun writing it. Shoutout to @theavatarandthefirelord for being my inspiration to write fff and to write more Zukaang in general. Generally leaning way more into angsty as hell and messy as hell Zukaang - hope ya'll enjoy!

[nyamadermont]

Looking Out From Above

#FFF240 Broken Moonlight

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Avatar: Legend of Korra

994 words

Yu Jin wasn’t entirely sure how the stuffed Juji and Roh-Tan had made it into her private space above the register, but when she looked at their green name tags, and felt the metal, she had a suspicion.

But they were cute, and fit nicely under her arms and chin as she got under the covers and settled down for the night.

She wriggled a little bit, lining up her bones on the little mattress she had kept with her since running away from that lady. It felt thin when she was really tired, but it was the only thing that was really hers. 

Juji’s whiskers tickled her nose, and she giggled. Just a little bit. No one could hear her. 

Ok, it was almost the only thing. 

She nuzzled Roh-Tan’s side and fell asleep. 

***

The crash startled her awake, but when it was quiet after that, she decided maybe Tan had just fallen out of bed again. 

It made her sad. 

The first few times, she had gone running over to his bed, but he was never there. He was always coming out of the water closet, a towel in his hands. He would throw the towel over his shoulder and give a big yawn, stretching his arms almost wide enough to hit the walls. 

He’d ruffle her hair and say, “Sorry, kid. My bed just isn’t big enough sometimes. You’re the smart one. If you sleep on the floor, you can’t fall, can you?”

He’d smile at her, but it never felt the same as when he smiled in the daytime. 

She would open her arms for a hug. He’d bend over and pull his hands up to her shoulders. 

The first time Tan had wrapped her in a hug, she had gotten all tight and stiff and scared. She didn’t really know why. 

That time, he just put his huge hands on her little shoulders, but really lightly. It was almost like they weren’t really there. He squatted down low and looked at her. “Did I scare you?” She shrugged and pushed his hands off her. But she didn’t run away.

He pulled his hands back and sat down on the floor.

“I won’t do that again, Yu Jin. I’m sorry.”

She hugged herself and rubbed her arms. “It’s ok.”

He didn’t say anything. He put his hands down on his knees and just sat still.

That night was the first time he told her, “You can leave if you want to. But you can always come back. If you want to.”

She couldn’t hear much from her little spot, but she knew he hadn’t gone back to sleep yet. She thought about getting out of bed and asking for some tea, but Juji’s whiskers tickled her nose again and she sneezed.

“Juji! Stop that!” she fussed at the stuffed animal.

And then she giggled about telling a stuffed animal to stop doing something.

She tried to imagine what Lin was like, using her bending to put the little toys in her spot without coming in. Did she wave her hands? Did she throw them up to Tan to put away? Did Tan throw them onto her mattress from outside her curtain?

She hugged the toys a little tighter and snuggled into her blankets.

***

“Lin? I know it’s late…”

Yu Jin rubbed her eyes. When she opened them, she could only see a little glow from the streetlight outside, where it sort of bounced off the ceiling.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

She pulled the toys tighter to her chest. She knew there were nights Tan didn’t sleep, but he’d never said much to her about it.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Silence.

Tan chuckled.

“Ok, maybe waking you up would be better than that.”

Silence.

Yu Jin thought about those times she heard Tan and Lin talking in the morning before she had to get out of bed. The way their voices stayed low and soft. She heard her name sometimes. They almost always laughed.

Tan’s voice was a little like that, but Yu Jin missed hearing Lin’s voice, too.

“Yeah. It was a bad dream.”

Silence.

Tan sighed.

“Yeah. That bad dream.”

He had never told her about his bad dreams.

He had listened to her talk about finding herself in the lady’s house. The lady telling her she lived here now and she had to stay. She had to stay quiet. She had to clean the dishes. Getting punished all the time. Getting little bits of food to eat.

“I can’t ask you….”

Silence.

“Lin?”

Silence.

“Are you there?”

Yu Jin rolled over and pulled the curtain open, just a little. It took her a minute to find him. He was sitting below the phone with his knees pulled up tight. The faint glow from the streetlights was just enough to see that he was still holding the receiver in his hands. He had to have been standing up to talk to her. 

She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear him breathing. It was almost like he was shaking, but his hands were still.

She couldn’t remember him sitting so still before.

The bell jingled only once.

Yu Jin looked over to the door, and saw Lin’s left hand raised as she closed the door with her right. Above the door, the bell was frozen, upside down.

Silence.

Lin made a small motion, and the bell pivoted back down to its correct position, but it didn’t ring.

She looked around, but didn’t move. “Tan? Are you out here?”

Behind the counter, he just said, “Here.”

Lin’s bare feet made no noise.

Just as she turned to face him, a cloud must have moved, because moonlight flooded in around the posters and signs in the window.

Lin knelt and opened her arms.

Tan reached for her, and bent his head to her shoulder.

From her spot above, Yu Jin watched Lin hold Tan, washed in the broken moonlight.

[renee-writer]

Shattered

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial 240 prompt Broken moonlight. Mood board via Pinterest.

Broken

Shattered

Fallen down

Out of the sky

No way 

To place the pieces back together

Right?

No!

Never 

You are still breathing

Still alive

As the moon is still whole

Even when it is looks broken

You are as well

Still whole

Even when you feel

And are perceived

As all sharp pieces

Like the quarter moon

Hold fast

You will again shine as bright

As a harvest moon

You just need to find

The right person

To place you back together

Someone who isn't afraid of your sharp edges

Remember

The moon isn't shattered

It is just hidden

You and it will shine bright again

I promise.

[reblog-house]

The Wizard's Search For The Witch

Characters: Scar, Pearl

Wc: 1010 (I heard +/- 10% of the word count limits is okay. Hope that it is 🤞🤞)

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 240, "Broken Moonlight"

Ao3: Here!

Moonlight broke through the leaves above, barely illuminating his path. 

Scar had been walking aimlessly under the trees for some hours now. He knew what he wanted to find, but he didn’t know where it was. Nobody had given him clear directions, but that was fine. He was used to traveling long distances to sell his magical wares, so he wasn’t afraid of what lurked in the shadows. But something about this forest felt different. He felt like his feet moved on their own, lured in by some outside force he couldn’t control. Each step took him deeper into the forest, and his conviction that he was on the right path grew with each tree that he passed.

In this forest, there was a lady who defied the rules they all abided by, who decided to break convention, to become a witch, isolated from everyone else for her taboo. 

She broke her soulbound. 

He needed to find her. 

He didn’t know the full story, and he needed to know. Nobody would choose to break a soulbound without a reason, and even with a reason, that was too extreme a move to pull. Too risky. 

Scar had found his soulbound once in his travels, but the man had somebody else, so Scar left him alone. Now, Scar would hold no resentment towards him, except the first thing this ‘Grian’ character did when he found out they were bonded and Scar’s choice in career, was to scold him for his ‘reckless behavior’ and ‘unnecessary injuries’. Since then, Scar made sure to harm himself in stranger ways to annoy the man from afar. His fault, really. Couldn’t blame Scar for taking drastic measures.

But enough about himself, he had a witch to find.

All he knew was that she lived in the middle of the forest, high on a tower she built and that she tamed wolves for fun. Dangerous, they all called her. Scar wanted to see her to believe it. There was little that couldn’t be stopped with one of his crystals.

He kept his boogie detection crystal on hand all the way, just in case. You never knew when you’d meet someone with the infection. Better safe than sorry. He’d already been infected once and he shuddered when he remembered the heinous acts he had to commit to satiate it.

He’d been walking for long enough that his legs started to hurt. He popped open a healing potion and took a sip. It was never good to ignore his body when it was nearing its limits, he learnt the hard way. The potion was just enough to null the pain and accelerate the healing of superficial wounds he may have gotten along the way, but his pains extended beyond that. He knew he would regret it the next morning, but he couldn’t stop to rest now. He was so close already, he knew.

Scar first heard about the woman from a man who claimed her a devil. She ‘called upon him an enderman’, he claimed. If that was the case, Scar was impressed — he’d never heard of anyone with such an ability — but it was unlikely. Surely something else was going on.

His feet stopped in their tracks before his mind noticed and he stumbled forward.

In the distance, he could see what they had been talking about.

A large tower, built of stone and topped with wood. He couldn’t see the details from far away, but the skill was impressive. 

It was exactly what he was looking for.

Immediately, his legs picked up speed. He stumbled over himself a couple times — he really was gonna regret exerting his body — but never stopped moving. 

Only when he was under the tower — and wow was it tall. Much taller than it seemed from afar — did he stop, already a sweaty mess, heaving for air. He really really didn’t like running, besides the obvious reasons.

Now, Scar didn’t know the etiquette for speaking with witches. Sure, he was a wizard, but those were different niches, very different cultures and education types. Normally, he wouldn’t want to intrude just in case she found offense in that, but he doubted she’d hear him yell from below.

Unless… 

It was worth a try.

“Helloooo? Lady witch with the dooogs?” 

There was a second of silence, only interrupted by the rustling of leaves, and then— 

She dropped right in front of him. 

Scar shrieked, arms going everywhere and he fell on his back.

The witch laughed.

“Didn’t think I’d meet somebody this way! Or today. I really scared you? Aww.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” Scar said as he pushed himself off the ground and then dusted himself off.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she said, more serious now, and started circling him like a wolf to its prey. “Who are you?” Her eyes narrowed. “Who sent you here. Was it Ren?” 

“Ren?” The face of the man who claimed her a devil came to the forefront of his head. “Oh, but I’ve never met a Ren!” 

From the look on her face, she clearly didn’t believe him. A good strategy normally, but it really wouldn’t do him any favors now. 

“Don’t worry, I come here on my own. I’m a wizard, see?” He splayed his arms open to show off his robes.

“I see…”

“Look, I just want some answers.”

“Ah.” Immediately, her posture hardened.

“Not— not for anyone else, mind. I just… some things don’t really add up. I think they may be lying about some things.”

“You think? Enlighten me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, just— like the enderman thing! You can’t sic them on people, they don’t follow orders!”

At once, she growled in frustration. “Right? But people don’t listen!”

Scar smiled. Caught her.

She seemed to realize at once and dropped her shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah victim of circumstances. Tell me about it.”

He thrusted an arm forward. “I’m Scar. Nice to meet you!”

She paused. Then took it. 

“I’m Pearl. There’s no harm in talking, I guess.”

[fourohfourrealitynotfound]

death glows

For @flashfictionfridayofficial #FFF240 - Broken Moonlight

(554 words)

Tonight, the moon was a mere hazy smudge obscured behind storm clouds. Lockwood cherished nights like this, when the clouds blotted out the moonlight and the street was pitch-black between flashes of the ghost lamp. The death glows really popped in the darkness.

He sat up on the roof, gazing out over the street below. London was an old city, and on nights like these he could see the layers of death going back centuries. There were smaller, brighter glows of recent deaths of local vermin and larger, fainter glows from tragedies lost to time. Well, maybe not—Lockwood had never bothered to research the history of Portland Row. George surely had notes somewhere, but he was content with making up his own little stories about each death glow.

The third most troubling death glow was a large swath that spread across the pavement in front of two houses across the street. The length was height of three men, and it was so faint that he had to focus to catch sight of it between the flashes from the ghost-lamp. Lockwood supposed this might be someone who was run over or a series of people who died together.

The second most troubling death glow was the faint light coming from the front door two and a half stories below his feet. This was Jack Carver's death glow shining through the frosted glass next to the front door. When it appeared, Lockwood had studied Jessica's window in search of her glow, but she had died too far into the room for the light to be seen from outside.

The most troubling death glow was the lack of one at the corner of the front garden: the place he had spotted the death glows of his parents on the day they died. He wished there was still something of them left behind like he death glow he had of Jessica, but the agents that cleaned up after young Lockwood reported seeing them had been thorough. All he had was this old house and all of their things, which wasn't really them.

Behind him, the attic window creaked open. "Want to join me, Luce?" Lockwood asked without turning around.

"Not Lucy," George said. "She's passed out on the couch in the study. I'm surprised you're still up; that raw-bones really gave the two of you a good chase."

"Believe me, I'm knackered," Lockwood said. "Just wanted to take advantage of the good weather while it's here." The air held a cold nip, the harbinger of a harsh winter to come.

He hummed. "I see. What's on your mind?"

Lockwood pointed across the street. "That death glow. Any clue what the cause was?"

George gave him a look that said he knew he was deflecting, but he was going to let it slide this time. He leaned further out the window and pushed up his glasses. "I don't see it."

"It's big," Lockwood said. "Like, number 32's steps to the left edge of number 34's garden."

"Ah, that is big." George grimaced. "I think I know that one, actually. It's gruesome."

"Want to tell me all the gory details over a cuppa?"

"Only if there's biscuits, too. And if we don't stay out on the roof, I'm freezing, Lockwood."

"You've got a deal," Lockwood said with a smile.

[lucigoo]

The World is Ending, and Yet I Smile

FFF240 @flashfictionfridayofficial Pairing -Siirus/Remus

Warnings -Vague mention of canon problems, ending of the world, bittersweet

Summary -The Moon is broken and the moonlight fractured, and yet Sirius looks a this husband and smiles Word Count - 535 A03 here

Sirius walked home with trepidation. He wanted to be there, just in case, after all, there wasn't really much on the outside to look at now anyway. The moon was broken. The idea of that should have filled him with worry. He and Remus had spent their young adulthood trying to save the world, their middle ages also trying to save the world and the time in between in some kind of crisis or another. Akkaban, drugs, alcohol, fighting with one another.

Merlin, Sirius thought with a grimace, the fighting with each other had always been the worst. They were explosive at the best of times, Sirius dying, coming back to see Remus was widowed from Tonks had been like a stab to the gut. It was a good job he loved Remus as much as he did, after they had literally fought, Sirius punching him straight in the mouth, for the first time in their entire lives. They usually had bitter words and cruel jabs, but Sirius won't forget the look of betrayal on Remus face at a smack. Honestly, he was such a baby, sometimes Siirus thought with fondness. That fondness brought him back to rushing home. He had been to see Harry and Teddy, they were all moving in together until the world ended. Too much magical blood had been spilt and now the world was ending because the moon was broken. Sirius sighed as he walked through his door. WOndering how Remus would be, the aches and pains had been a lot softer over the last few months, the transformation lasting shorter and shorter, last month he said it was like a full body sneeze and he was Moony for only 30 minutes maximum. Sirius hated that the world was ending, hated that his boys were going to lose the time they deserved, but he and Remus were getting old, maybe not by wizarding standards, but at 63 they had lived hard lives. Lives that had aged their bodies (if not Sirius' beautiful reflection) beyond their actual age. Sirius had known he would lose Remus soon, each moon harder, each moon making each and every breath he took more precious, so the rest of the world was panicking. Terrified of the outcome, of the changing word, of everything ending, and yet. As he finally saw Remus, sleeping peacefully in their bed, the moon's jagged light shining on him, as bright as ever on a full, but with none of the power, he couldn't help but crawl in next to him and pull him close, kissing his head. As Remus snuggled in close Sirius sent a silent goodbye to Moony, knowing he wouldn't be coming back, as much as he would miss him, being able to hold Remus close as the world ended was worth it for him, and the first relief Remus had had in 59 years. Sirius snuggled close to his husband. One of only two beings in the world glad that the moon was unfixable. They had bled and lost for this world time and time again, now it seemed the scales had tipped and they got to spend their lives together, literally until the end of the world.  

[mimisempai]

Two stars

Summary

Crowley believes that, like the moon, he cannot shine without the light of the sun that is Aziraphale. However, although not at all astrophysicist, Aziraphale is about to prove him wrong.

Notes

For today's @flashfictionfridayofficial - #FFF240 Broken Moonlight

This author doesn't know what she's doing (like most of the time) but she does it.

On Ao3

Rating G -  642 words

Aziraphale climbed the last few steps to the roof of the bookshop and immediately saw him sitting on the edge, his feet dangling in the air and his outstretched wings fluttering slightly.

The angel said quietly, "Ah, there you are."

He approached the demon, and when he was near him, asked softly, "May I sit next to you?"

Crowley shook his head and replied, "Idiot, as if you needed to ask."

Aziraphale sat down next to him and replied gently, "You never know, you might need to be alone."

Crowley nudged him gently on the shoulder before replying, "I've been alone long enough."

Aziraphale placed his hand on the demon's that lay on the ground between them, and the demon automatically intertwined his fingers with his own.

They remained in silence for a few moments, then Crowley said almost in a whisper, pointing to the sky, "The moonlight's broken."

Seeing Aziraphale looking at him with a puzzled expression, he explained, "The sky is very cloudy, so we can't see all of the moon's light, only some of it..."

Aziraphale nodded and almost didn't hear the end of the demon's sentence, "...a bit like me when I'm away from you."

"What do you mean?"

Crowley turned to him and replied quietly, "Well, the moon, it doesn't produce or radiate light on its own. It actually reflects the light of the sun that shines on it, hence the impression that it shines. It's a bit like you and me, I'm the moon and you're the sun, I can only shine when you're near me."

Azirphale thought for a few moments before replying, "You know, that would be really romantic if it weren't completely untrue."

Seeing Crowley begin to protest, he stroked the back of the demon's hand with his thumb and continued, "Let me finish, will you? I seem to remember an angel who created nebulae and bright, colorful stars, who was the most luminous person I ever met in my existence as an angel, and the fact that you became a demon has not changed any of that light in you. And that light is yours, not mine."

Crowley chuckled and retorted, "Angel, be serious, there's nothing luminous about me."

Aziraphale placed his hand on the demon's cheek, forcing him to look at him as he replied, "That light, I've seen it so many times over the years, even when you didn't want anyone to see it. If anyone has been illuminated by the light of the other, it's me more than you. I don't see us as the moon and the sun. You don't need my light to shine."

Crowley asked, "And what are we?"

Aziraphale smiled softly as he caressed the demon's cheek with his thumb, "You, the Starmaker, you ask? What do you say to being just two stars that shine on their own, but whose light is stronger when they are side by side? And I know that of the two of us, you're the specialist, so don't come and tell me it's not scientifically possible, okay?"

Crowley chuckled softly because the angel had seen through him, then turned serious as he replied, "Two stars shining side by side, huh? Sounds good."

He saw a mischievous twinkle in the Angel's eyes as he said playfully, "Although when it comes to stars, of the two of us, you're the diva."

"Angel..."

"Huh?"

"Shut up."

Aziraphale was silent for a few seconds before he said, " Dare to tell me that's not tr-"

He couldn't finish his sentence because the demon had pressed his lips to his, capturing them in a kiss that silenced him far more effectively than any threat.

As the kiss deepened, they missed the full moon, its light no longer broken. 

Maybe it didn't need sunlight to shine, just two stars that shone brighter when they were together.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2) 

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[flashfictionfridayofficial]

✨FFF 240 Masterlist

Thank you for all your wonderful entries last week! We loved reading all of them ^^ (If we missed your entry, please let us know)

Consider checking out your fellow writers’ pieces, give out those likes and reblogs and gather some inspiration for the new prompt dropping at 12 pm CET!

We’ll see you then ✨

Never Whole Again by @lisbeth-kk

The World is Ending, and Yet I Smile by @lucigoo

Looking Out From Above by @nyamadermont

Shattered by @renee-writer

130 peppermint tea variations by @stories-by-rie

The Universe Might Answer: Broken Moonlight by @embracing-the-ineffable

Moondust by @cocoamoonmalfoy

Shooting for the Moon by @polizwrites

The Wizard’s Search For The Witch by @reblog-house

Two Stars by @mimisempai

In the Moonlight by @mtnikolle

Fu-Inle. by @darkhorse-javert

Five’s Second Day by @scribe-of-stories

Dark Moon by @soniasrsstuff

Lunation by @hd-literature

looking up from underneath by @whatifwekissedinthesawbathroom

Blue Moon by @aalinaaaaaa

The New Devil by @odysseywritings

Moonlit Flit by @janetm74fics

Broken Moonlight by @pandoras-comment-box

death glows by @fourohfourrealitynotfound

Delicate by @my-cabbages-gorl

Broken Moonlight by @betweenthetimeandsound

and i’ll be damned if i cannot dance with you by @ineedaplacetostay

Broken Moonlight by @goblin-writer

Rippling Path by @katblu42

Broken Moonlight by @landofspaceandrainbows

Fortune’s Star by @edosianorchids901

Of moon rabbits and secrets by @aziz-reads

[polizwrites]

Shooting for the Moon

This is a fill for today's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt [#FFF240 Broken Moonlight] as well as my @thehawkeyesbingo A1 - Werewolf AU square. It's also a POV-swap remix of A Hairy Situation.

Fandom: MCU/Marvel Pairing: Bucky Barnes/ Clint Barton Rating: General Tags:  No Powers AU,  Werewolf AU, werewolf!Bucky,  hookup to dating,  Summary:  Bucky was surprised to find himself in a former hookup’s bed after having wolfed out; but maybe he shouldn’t have been.   Word Count: 811

Bucky ached all over, his head was pounding like crazy and he’d swear his  tongue was covered in fur … unlike the rest of him, which no longer was.  

While none of this was unexpected, waking up in bed - instead of a filthy alley or under a tree in Prospect Park - was very much out of the ordinary.  Even more so the fact that it was someone else’s bed,  and very much still occupied by said someone.  

The last thing Bucky remembered was staring up at the moon, its light broken up by bands of clouds, but its power over him still very much in effect.   He’d been out for vengeance - and from what he could vaguely recall, he’d more than settled that score. 

It still didn’t explain what he was doing here,  in bed next to a man who was not only still breathing; in fact, he was snoring slightly, and smelled vaguely familiar on top of everything.  One more impossible thing to believe before breakfast, Bucky supposed. 

He opened his eyes to see  the back  of a dark, sandy blond head; no help there.   “Huh? Wh’re ‘m I?” Bucky managed to mumble around slightly too-large teeth; apparently spoken words were still a bit of a challenge.  

The man rolled over, stared at him for a shocked moment and blurted out “James?!”      

“Clint?!  Oh my god, did I…?”  Bucky was equally shocked to discover he’d somehow ended up in the apartment of a former hookup.  A hookup that maybe he’d managed to fall a little bit for, too.   He went to sit up and a sharp stabbing pain in his side made him hiss; he pressed his hand to his side to discover  a couple of loops of elastic wrap wrapped loosely around his torso.

Break into my apartment while you were all wolfed out? Yeah. But you obviously didn’t tear me limb from limb, so that’s a win.”   Clint flashed him what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile, but Bucky was still too busy trying to process what had happened. 

He looked down at his side to see a knife wound every bit of five inches long; its inflamed edges proof that silver had been involved, but clearly it had been cleaned and bandaged.  “You let a werewolf into your home,” he asked in disbelief, poking at the elastic wrap, “and then … gave it first aid?”

“You snuck in through the window and scared the hell out of me at first, but then I saw you were hurt.” Clint shrugged. “For what it’s worth, you were a pretty good patient. What do you remember about last night?”

Bucky gave a guarded explanation, finding Clint’s reaction to the mention of Wanda somehow encouraging.  Maybe he had more of a chance with him than he’d thought.  When Clint asked why he’d come here, Bucky danced around the question, focusing on what had happened to his victim. 

But Clint wasn’t that easily put off, and when he asked again why Bucky had come to his apartment after the fight,  he decided honesty was the best policy.  I … uh … guess part of me thought this would be a safe place. That I could … trust you.”

Even though I never heard back from you after our little hookup?”  Clint’s response was a little sharp, and entirely earned. 

“That was kind of shitty of me, wasn’t it?”  Bucky admitted. “But it’s not like I can let anyone get close, not with being what I am.”

When Clint assured him that his secret was safe,  Bucky’s heart skipped a beat; after  thanking him, he nearly kissed Clint, but was afraid of pushing too far, too fast.  Sure, they’d fooled around, but that was a one night stand kind of thing.  What Bucky truly wanted was so much more.  

As if he hadn’t intruded on Clint’s life too much already, Bucky shamefacedly asked if he could borrow something to wear home.  One drawback of being a shifter was the whole clothing - and lack thereof - situation.  

Once he was dressed, Bucky had one more request.  “I hate to ask you for anything else, but I am dying for a cup of coffee.”

“Unfortunately, I’m all out.” Clint replied, “but there’s a pretty good diner about a block away from here. How about we head over there together? My treat.”  

“That kind of sounds like a date.”  Bucky said before he could think better of it. 

“Because it kind of is.”  

Bucky couldn’t leave well enough alone -  he had to know for sure that Clint was on board with everything that he was.  “Even with the whole ‘wolfing out’ thing?”

“Call me crazy,” Clint replied with a grin, “but yeah.”

Bucky couldn’t help but break out into a relieved grin in return. “Huh. In that case, call me Bucky. All my friends do.”

[ao3feed-winterhawk2-archive]

Shooting For the Moon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54930505 by Politzania Bucky was surprised to find himself in a former hookup’s bed after having wolfed out; but maybe he shouldn’t have been. Hawkeyes Bingo - Werewolf AU -- Flash Fiction Friday - #FFF240 Broken Moonlight Words: 786, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Remix, POV Bucky Barnes, Mild Hurt/Comfort read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54930505

[winterhawk-ao3feed]

Shooting For the Moon

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54930505

by Politzania

Bucky was surprised to find himself in a former hookup’s bed after having wolfed out; but maybe he shouldn’t have been.

Hawkeyes Bingo - Werewolf AU -- Flash Fiction Friday - #FFF240 Broken Moonlight

Words: 786, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Remix, POV Bucky Barnes, Mild Hurt/Comfort

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54930505

[a-victorian-girl]

Jeez, Lis... :((

Sherlock fandom

Never Whole Again

Sherlock’s been dead for months. Literally. John’s been dead for months too. Not literally. He doesn’t exactly live either. Exists if he must put a word on it. The grief shouldn’t still be as raw as it was when he realised that Sherlock had no pulse, laying on the pavement outside Barts. Doesn’t matter what everyone tells him. That it’ll get better. Less raw. More faded.

“Faded, my arse!” John had shouted at whoever told such a ludicrous lie.

The love of John’s life was dead and buried, alongside with John’s heart and soul. He felt like an empty shell, and he knew he could never be whole again. The love he felt for Sherlock was all-consuming and no one could ever replace him. John still kicked himself several times a day for never telling Sherlock exactly that. To Sherlock, John was his friend, nothing more.

When Philip Anderson’s campaign, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, made it to the papers, John was indifferent. Easy for Anderson to say now, wasn’t it. He never seemed to have believed anything Sherlock had said or done when he was alive. Paying tribute to him now seemed like hypocrisy to John. He believed in Sherlock. Always had. Until it was too late.

***

When the restlessness becomes too much to bear, John writes to Sherlock. For some reason Sherlock’s email account isn’t deleted, and John’s emails are never returned, so he continues to write. What he writes, varies. It can be anecdotes about Mrs. Hudson, customers at Asda, John’s nightmares, crimes he’s read about in the papers or watched on the news, the latest Bond film, or new knowledge he’s learned from QI. He writes poems too. All of which circles around Sherlock.

The solar system wasn’t important you said

I thought you were a pompous arse saying that

You’d be glad to know I finally agree with you

What significance does it have now when you’re not here to mock it?

Who cares if the Sun moves around in space now?

Not me. Not anymore

You called me your conductor of light

I never told you what you were to me

If I were the Sun, you were the Moon

You appeared cool and bright

You shone just as much as the Sun

The moonlight broke when you died

It went out just like the light in your eyes did

And I’ve been wandering in the dark ever since

Until the day I die, I’ll never see such a light again

John’s mentally exhausted after finishing and sending the poem. It’s his last email, because two days later the light returns to John’s life. Sherlock’s broken in many ways, but John’s determined to heal him, to love him, and to never doubt him again.

I guess I needed to write a bit of angst in between all the fluffiness of Fluffbruary. Sorry, not sorry!

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @peanitbear @raina-at @7-percent @ninasnakie @sabsi221b

[soniabigcheese]

Aw that's beautiful

Rippling Path

It's been a while (again) since I've written one of these, and it is a short one for @flashfictionfridayofficial this week.

Fandom: Thunderbirds / Thunderbirds Are Go Warnings: None Word Count: 212

Gordon was unsure how long he’d been there, gazing at the way the moonlight sparkled on the water, making a broken path from the shore towards the horizon.  It was such a calming scene.  A moment to just breathe and take in the soft glow of the moon rising towards the stars above in the midnight blue, leaving its glittering jewels reflected in the rippling surface of the deep navy below, catching the sheen on the slick surface of black rocks and the hints of white foam.

He was transfixed.  Captivated by the simple beauty of it all.

So, when he felt the quiet approach of a certain flannel-clad brother sidling up beside him he knew he’d been here a little longer than might be expected.

“How do you do it, Virgil?” he asked softly, not wanting to break the spell.  “How do you take something so alive with constant movement and capture it on canvas in a way that makes me feel like I could walk out into the water and dive beneath the broken moonlight?”

Virgil had no words in response.  Just an arm to gently reach around and pull his little brother into a warm embrace, which Gordon leant into, resting his head on his brilliant artist brother’s shoulder.