ohwhataniight

[ohwhataniight]

[ohwhataniight]

Sherlock: Grown-ups like that sort of thing. Archie: Why? Sherlock: I don’t know. I’ll ask one.

[ohwhataniight]

[for the @calaisreno May Promptadoodledoo; land o Goshen, this was a tough one, so thanks for sticking with me]

12: family

Breach imminent MH

Sherlock groans, shoving his phone between couch cushions and drawing a sleeping Rosie closer to him. 

'Bad news?' John asks from his chair. He looks over his reading glasses at where Sherlock is curled around his daughter, and feels affection sting so hard in his chest that he absently rubs at it.

'The worst,' Sherlock answers sullenly

John runs through the likely options in his head, then goes with his gut. 'Your parents are coming to town?'

Sherlock opens his eyes and stares at John, his expression full of surprise, then affection, then shammy casualness. 'I have been a good influence on your deduction skills, clearly.' 

John chuckles. 'That, or your brother advised me to clear my calendar and clean the flat.'

'Meddling queen,' Sherlock mutters into Rosie's hair. Then his phone pings again. 

I haven't told them. MH

John doubles down. 'He knows, I take it? About our… development?' 

'You are doing very well today.' 

'Feelings, Sherlock. I'm good at people and their feelings.'

'Yes, yes, that's why I keep you around. Of course he knows; I let him keep the surveillance up in the stairwell in exchange for having none in here.' 

'Ah.' John had suspected as much, though admittedly he had not considered it at the time of the first (very unplanned) tryst. 'Has he told your parents?' 

'Apparently not.' 

Silence stretches. They've come a long way, but John feels too keenly the risk/reward scenario here, and is undecided.

This time it's John's phone that pings. 

It's up to you, of course, but rest assured: they would be inordinately pleased.  MH

John's eyebrow quirks. 'Your parents like me?' he finally says, going for casual but missing, and he knows it. 

'You're very likeable.'

'You know, from anyone else that would be a compliment.' 

Sherlock doesn't answer beyond a grunt. It's somehow safe to have this conversation in this arrangement, with the comforting stretch of the room and the gorgeous sleeping toddler between them. They're connected, but not so much as to overwhelm. 

'How much time have we got, do you reckon?' John asks, almost to the air.

'Far too little,' Sherlock grumbles.

'Right, but from you that could mean three months.'

'Yes, well, seeing as your birthday is in two weeks, but tis the season of primroses so they have to schedule us in between, I'm surmising it to be about three hours, in actuality.'

John snorts. 'That's a bit harsh.'

'No, no, they're beautiful primroses.'

'Hang on,' John says suddenly, running back through what Sherlock has said. 'They know when my birthday is?'

'Of course.'

'They care when my birthday is?'

'Don't be daft.'

'I'm trying, but they hardly know me. And what they know of me is not altogether flattering.'

'I said don't be daft.'

John can't stop a frustrated noise. 'Then explain it better.'

Sherlock opens his eyes, considers him for a moment, then he breaks eye contact and buries his nose in Rosie's hairline. 'They know of my affections for you. And that's enough for them.'

John's breath deserts him for a moment. 'Sherlock…'

'Don't let's make a big thing out of it, please.'

John wants to laugh. It's already literally the biggest thing in his life. 'Alright,' he says instead. 'But... let me be the one to tell them, yeah?'

Sherlock goes very still, not lifting his gaze. 'You'd be amenable to that?'

Sod this, it's been long enough. John shunts his reading glasses aside and stands, listening to his bones crick as he crosses and crouches in front of the two most important people in his orbit. 'Yeah, course.' He presses his lips against Rosie's forehead, then Sherlock's, without hesitation. 'Try and get rid of me.'

Sherlock finally, finally meets his eyes, and John feels so much he wants to tackle both of them and just cocoon for a little while. Tell the world to bugger off.

So, of course, there's a knock at the door. Sherlock groans, and Rosie's face scrunches up in the universal expression of, "How dare you wake me up, you rude creature."

'Three hours?' John says while scooping his daughter out of Sherlock's embrace. She needs a change. Maybe he should use that baby magic and let Sherlock's parents do it, he thinks with a grin.

'I am not in control of all variables, unfortunately,' Sherlock mutters into the sofa, where he's pressed his face.

John's mouth curves into a smirk as he heaves up (bloody hell, getting older is not for the weak) and turns towards the door. He wishes fleetingly that Sherlock was behind him, in solidarity if nothing else.

Then, suddenly, he is, his mouth pressing against Rosie's sleep-rumpled cheek over John's shoulder. He doesn't turn to John, but he doesn't have to. 'Into battle?'

John nods, then reaches for the door.

[<3]

#beautiful

[ohwhataniight]

when fleabag said, “with all the love i have for her. i don’t know where to put it now.” and when anne carson wrote, “you remember too much, / my mother said to me recently. / why hold onto all that? and i said, / where can i put it down?” and when mitski sang, “i don’t know what to do without you / i don’t know where to put my hands” and when donnie smith in magnolia (1999) cried, “i really do have love to give! i just don’t know where to put it!” and when emily dickinson once wrote, “we outgrow love, like other things / and put it in the drawer —”

[ohwhataniight]

Being a young adult is so strange. You enter a coffee shop. The 20 year old girl waiting behind you cried all night because she just came to a new city for university and she feels so alone. That 27 year old guy over there works a job he is overqualified for, he lives with his parents and wants to move out but doesn't know what to do about it. That one 24 year old dude already has a car, a house, and a job waiting for him once he graduates thanks to his dad's connections. The 26 year old barista couldn't complete his higher education because he has to work and take care of his family. The 28 year old girl sitting next to you has no friends to go out with so she is texting her mother. That couple (both 25 years old) are married and the girl is pregnant. The 29 year old writing something on her laptop has realized that she chose the wrong major so she is trying to start all over. We are not alone in this, but we are actually so alone. Do you feel me

[ohwhataniight]

SewBeautifulx on Etsy

[ohwhataniight]

[ohwhataniight]

Doodles

[ohwhataniight]

I think one of the most realistic parts about Baby Reindeer (2024) is how much Donny downplays the abuse he faces

I know everyone wants to hate on him for being “stupid” and blame him for everything that happened because yes from an outsiders perspective he made questionable choices but isn’t that what HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE DO?

I know so many people who’ve “played nice” or tried to downplay abusive behavior. You try and tell yourself “It wasn’t that bad”, or that it was just some crazy experience that should be forgotten. It seems so much easier to stay silent and just try to move on.

You don’t wanna start problems

You don’t wanna be mean

You don’t wanna be the bad guy

[ohwhataniight]

腐向け 洋画洋ドラまとめ by mono

[ohwhataniight]

Scenes without background music: Drunk Sherlock and John play Celebrity Heads.

[ohwhataniight]

[for the @calaisreno May Prompts4eva. Just a wee stilly bit today, y'all; this weekend is Full of Family *grimace* instead of fic, sadly.]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) 11: secret

John.

Yes?

Do you recall how we agreed to be honest with each other from now on?

Yes…

I have to tell you something.

Right.

It's a secret, but Judy says I should tell you.

(Judy is his therapist; not her real name, he just has a thing for Judy Garland John doesn't understand.)

Sherlock… Do I need to sit down?

Yes, I suppose that would be wise.

Jesus Christ. What is it?

Alright. Okay.

Okay?

Please don't… overreact.

Sherlock.

Fine! It's just that I-- Well…

You what?

(Sherlock sits, looks him in the eye, his expression contrite)

I don't… actually like the thing with the peas.

(John's head explodes, basically)

I… am going to kill you.

[<3]

#THIS TOTALLY HAPPENED

[ohwhataniight]

when I say I'm typing one-handed, this is what I mean

[ohwhataniight]

Sunbath

[ohwhataniight]

John and his baby <3 

[ohwhataniight]

I'm writing a paper on the les mis fandom and I was wondering whether any one of you would be interested in reading it and giving me some feedback. Thank you so much in advance!

#les mis #les miserables #academia #theory #exr #enjolras x grantaire #grantaire x enjolras #queer #fanfiction theory #fanfiction meta #fanfiction #fandom #fandom theory #enjoltaire #les mis fandom

[ohwhataniight]

May 11 - Secret

Thanks for all the wonderful comments, threats, tears and bills for counselling. For those just finding these for the first time, this is a May-long multi-part fic, so there are a whole 10 days of micro-fics to read as well as this! All the other parts can be found here!

Some of you might have noticed the pattern that we're alternating between John and Sherlock. Some of you might also have noticed that they're not travelling in the same direction time-wise. All will be revealed, I hope, at some point before May 31st.

Anyway, enjoy some more angst and unhappiness. And happy Saturday!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the door banged shut, announcing Lestrade's departure, Sherlock considered the conversation they had started the evening with. Surely, his closest friend couldn't fail to spot what all the other people in his life knew full well to be the case. It wasn't as if he was keeping it a secret. 

He's lonely. 

For two years, he's lived in the house left to him by his oldest friend all by himself. There is no noise coming from downstairs anymore, no interruptions of tea and chatter. He goes to bed in the oppressive silence and wakes up to the same. And it's killing him. 

Then there are the memories—ghosts of a past self, of laughter and life and fun, of mysteries and excitement. It isn't like that now. John rarely helps with cases anymore. Celebratory takeaway and crap TV are long gone. It's good when John and Rose visit, but they always leave again. The silence swallowing him. 

Sherlock isn't a loner. Ever since his time away, working to single-handedly bring down Moriarty, he's needed company. He might not talk for days on end, but he needs life around him so that he can feel tethered to reality, to know that his sacrifice was worth it, that everyone was saved. 

To know he's home and safe. 

But home is no longer 221b. 

For @calaisreno's May Prompt Challenge.

#that's so sad #we are all masochists aren't why #love the writing