#may 2023 prompts
Text
I owe you another ficlet, so here it is. It was written for the brekfast challenge, and I think there's a longer story in this, so maybe I'll return to this one day. Meanwhile, have a ficlet.
It’s been eleven days since Sherlock Holmes jumped off a building. Three days since the funeral. One since John stood by Sherlock’s grave and begged him not to be dead.
There’s a constant fog of unreality in John’s head. The world seems muffled, far away, slowed down. He has a difficult time telling day from night, dream from waking, truth from fiction.
The worst thing is the numbness. There’s a well of pain right inside John somewhere, but he can’t feel it. He can’t feel much of anything.
Mrs Hudson sobbed into his shoulder at Sherlock’s funeral, but John has yet to shed a single tear. He knows it’s self-protection, that something inside of himself has shut down to prevent him from breaking.
It’s not pleasant, but it keeps him alive. Barely.
He forces himself to eat when people are around, and he gets a few hours of fitful sleep, but he’s losing weight rapidly and the dark circles around his eyes are getting more pronounced. Nobody’s said anything to him yet, but he knows it’s a matter of time before he’ll get a kindly-meant intervention from Greg, Molly and Mrs Hudson.
He thinks of leaving. Just getting on a train or plane or boat and disappearing somewhere he can waste away in peace. The thought is comforting.
But he knows today will not be this day when he gets a text from Mycroft Holmes summoning him to a breakfast meeting at a coffee shop around the corner of the Diogenes club.
John knows it’s pointless to refuse.
So he goes. It’s a nice day, and he walks.
He gets there ten minutes late, but Mycroft isn’t here. He gets in line to order a coffee and a scone. If he’s here already he might as well eat.
He orders, then waits for the barista to make his coffee.
She seems vaguely familiar. Red hair, freckles, tattoos.
“John?”
He looks up. She smiles at him. Hands over his drink. Holds his eyes. “Here,” she says, winking at him. “I think this is what you asked for.”
He looks down at the cup and sees she’s put her phone number down. He smiles politely. He couldn’t be less interested if he tried.
“Don’t call right away,” she says, winking again, then turns to the next customer.
Mycroft isn’t here yet, so John decides he doesn’t want to wait and leaves.
He sips at the coffee as he wanders back to Baker Street.
The coffee has grown cold by the time he’s back in the flat. He wanders into the kitchen to throw the cup out.
That’s when he notices there’s writing under the phone number.
John
07975777666
And below that, in a handwriting he’d recognise blind, backwards and under water, two words:
Vatican Cameos
The cup hits the floor as John’s knees buckle.
The coffee seeps into the kitchen rug as John stares at the cup, at the two words. He thinks of the barista. He recognises her now. She was one of the people who held him back from Sherlock’s body when he fell.
It takes him ten minutes to realise that he’s crying, that the tears are falling freely now, that the knot of numbness and pain in his chest is finally dissolving. He’s shaking with it, with big, heaving sobs that shiver through his entire body.
Alive, alive, alive.
Mrs Hudson finds him there, sobbing and shaking on his knees, and she holds him while he cries.
She thinks it’s grief.
He knows it’s relief.
*-*
It’s midnight and he can’t stand it any longer.
He tore the flat apart looking for the Adler woman’s phone because he knows he can’t use his own. His charger wouldn’t fit, so he had to go out and buy a new one, and then let the bloody thing charge.
It’s better this way, anyway.
It’s dark and he’s sitting in Sherlock’s bedroom, on the floor next to Sherlock’s bed.
His hands shake as he dials the number.
Maybe he’s delusional.
Maybe the barista just wanted to mess with him.
Maybe nobody will answer.
It rings. He’s nauseous with nerves, shaking with anticipation.
If this isn’t real…. He can’t even think about it.
The line picks up.
A voice he’d recognise anywhere. Uncharacteristically hesitant. “John?”
John’s breath hitches and he lets out a laugh that’s mostly a sob. “Oh, you unbelievable bastard.”
There’s a small smile in the voice as it answers. “You asked me for another miracle. How am I doing so far?”
John smiles through the tears that are running down his face unchecked and unheeded. “Pretty well.”
“I just wanted to let you know…. I heard you,” Sherlock says, quiet and gentle, in a tone of voice that makes John's heart hurt. “I heard you.”
“Sherlock-”
“I have to go. But I’ll come for you soon. Wait for me.”
The line goes dead.
John stares at the phone for a long time. Wondering if any of this is real.
Finally, he nods at himself. I believe in Sherlock Holmes, he thinks. He always has, and he always will.
In the meantime, he will wait.
That makes 31 ficlets, making my collection complete. This was so much fun, thank you all for reading and liking my ficlets, I've had such lovely responses.
Tagging a few people.
@calaisreno @discordantwords @keirgreeneyes @jrow @peanitbear @lisbeth-kk @shiplocks-of-love @iamjustreading @the-reading-lemon @thetimemoves @fluffbyday-smutbynight @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @catlock-holmes @7-percent @khorazir
294 notes
·
View notes
Text
Trying It Out
May 20 Prompt: Experiment
“What are you wearing?” Sherlock looks up from his experiment, distracted. Something John is doing has broken the order of his disciplined mind.
John frowns. “Erm, clothes?”
Sherlock stands, approaches John like a specimen. He sniffs. “You’re wearing cologne.”
“Yes. Occasionally I do wear fragrance.”
This is a new one. It’s lighter, fresher. Not the rubbish he ordinarily wears when he’s—
“You have a date.”
“Oh, yes. I might, that is. Going out in a bit.”
“But I thought— you broke up with… the last one. The one with the hair.”
John laughs. “They all have hair, Sherlock. I don’t recall dating any bald—”
“The one with the Hair. Big Hair. Uncontrollably Big Hair.”
“You mean Sylvia. It wasn’t that big, you berk. Just a bit retro, with the teasing.”
“Teasing?”
“What people do when they want their hair to look bigger. You take a comb, and you—”
“What have you done with your hair?”
“My hair?” John is blushing, a clue that things are not as they should be. “I just… had it highlighted. A bit. I mean, why not? Women don’t have a monopoly on—”
Gently, he lays his hand on John’s head. “Product. You never use product.”
John looks annoyed now. “If you’re done examining the crime scene, I’m going out.”
Alone, Sherlock contemplates what sort of woman could make John put product in his hair. And wear a fragrance that doesn’t smell like something his father would wear. He can draw no conclusions.
He continues his investigation, undeterred by his lack of success. John Watson is a tough case, but he has no doubt that he will solve him.
John hasn’t worn a jumper in days. He’s grown a small goatee, and then shaved it off. He’s joined a gym, lost five pounds.
At this moment, he’s wearing a pink shirt. Nothing bright, just a dusty pink, touchable-looking shirt, well-fitted to his torso.
“Nice shirt,” he ventures.
“Thanks.” John blushes again, almost as pink as his shirt. He’s disturbed, perhaps, because if Sherlock ever says anything about what John is wearing, it’s to suggest that he burn whatever jumper he’s wearing.
Who is this man, and what has he done with John Watson? Sherlock’s flatmate dresses like an old man: check shirts, cuddly jumpers, trousers that sag a bit in the bum. Always in colours like beige, tan, brown, grey, and occasionally blue or green. He never wears pink.
“It’s a good colour on you.”
John smiles awkwardly and walks away. The seat of his jeans is not sagging. John has a rather nice arse, he thinks.
Several evenings each week John goes out, always around nine. He looks a bit different each time. Once he spiked his hair. He’s worn different colognes, shirts that have miraculously appeared from somewhere. Certainly not the usual shops where John buys new khakis and ugly jumpers whenever Sherlock has spilled acid on the old ones or used them in an experiment. These shirts and trousers are more expensive, much nicer than anything he normally wears.
And Sherlock deduces: John is dating a man.
The realisation socks him in the gut, takes all the air out of his lungs, and makes his heart sink.
Once, many months ago, John tried to flirt with Sherlock. Across a table at Angelo’s, he asked if Sherlock had a boyfriend. And he said he was unattached. Sherlock’s reaction to this was half-panic, half-disdain. Sherlock Holmes was married to his work. He didn’t have what other people have— girlfriends, boyfriends, people he went places with.
He had John, who dated women. John, who wore lumpy jumpers and trousers that sagged, and walked like that. John, who could never get a woman to go out with him more than twice. John, who would never leave Sherlock.
And now? John might have a boyfriend. And it’s not Sherlock, as it should have been.
Lestrade looks like he’s itching for a cigarette. Anderson looks bored. Donovan is smirking at John, who is— checking out Lestrade’s arse?
Before Sherlock can process this, John is turning to the other cop on the scene, the one who found the body. He’s tall, darkly handsome, and obviously flirting with John.
And John is not frowning. He’s smiling, giving him that charming look he often gives Sherlock when he’s done something unusually brilliant. That look is for Sherlock, and John’s giving it to this tall, handsome idiot!
“Come along, John,” he says, swirling his coat impatiently and raising his hand for a cab.
John comes along.
It’s ten in the evening, about the time when John usually starts yawning and washing the tea mugs, making sounds like he’s going to bed.
Not tonight. John is wearing a fitted black shirt and a pair of jeans that show off a number of things that Sherlock is dying to see without that layer of denim. His highlighted hair is carefully tousled, making Sherlock’s fingers itch to touch it.
“Where are you off to?” The fact that Sherlock hardly ever asks where John is going off to means that he’s giving John an awfully big clue that he cares where John goes off to late in the evening, returning in the wee hours smelling of other mens’s cologne.
“Just meeting some friends,” John says.
It’s true. John has friends— unlike Sherlock, who has just one.
“Wanna come with me?”
Sherlock looks up, startled. John has never invited Sherlock along for pub night, or watching the footy with the blokes, or meeting up with old army buddies.
“Me?”
John smiles. “Sure. I’d like you to meet my friends.”
It’s a gay bar, as Sherlock suspected, a rather nice, upscale place. He’s actually been here before, for a case.
“John!” The man who is calling out and motioning them over to a table is the very man of Sherlock’s nightmares. Tall and handsome, he has dark, curly hair and blue eyes. He’s grinning at John and as soon as they’re within an arm’s length, he pulls John into a hug.
He has a companion as well, a man who is shorter, with reddish-blond hair.
“Sherlock, meet Alex and Dustin.”
“Finally!” the taller one exclaims. “We’ve been dying to meet the boyfriend!”
Instead of declaring that he’s not gay, and that Sherlock is not his boyfriend, John smiles sheepishly at Sherlock. “Alex works in retail, men’s clothing. I met him when I decided to upgrade my wardrobe. Dustin is his boyfriend.”
And instead of denying that John is his boyfriend, Sherlock slips an arm around him. Smiling at Alex, he says, “You’ve worked an absolute miracle on his man. Thanks to you, I no longer have to resort to spilling acid on his ugly jumpers.”
John laughs. “Oi! You leave my ugly jumpers alone, you git!”
“A pleasant evening.” Sherlock studies John’s face as they walk home. “So.”
John ducks his head, smiling. “So.”
“An experiment?”
He huffs, shaking his head. “I haven’t been totally clear with you. I’m not gay. I’m bi, and I decided it was time to explore that side of me, learn to live with it. I told Alex I wanted to impress you, the poshest man on the planet, so he picked out things for me to try.”
Sherlock stops walking, takes John in his arms. “And you told him… I’m your boyfriend?”
“Well, I’d like to be. Maybe we could consider it an experiment?”
“Hm. It might be good to collect some data.” He leans down, kisses John. “I’m fairly sure, though, that I can predict the results.”
“Me, too,” John says, rising up for another kiss.
Flash Fiction / 1264 words
@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear
264 notes
·
View notes
Text
Introducing MAYbe I’ll Make This, the easiest month of prompts you’ve ever participated in happening this May 2023.
It’s a chance to share all those ideas you’ve been toying with that you might draw or write someday with no pressure to actually commit to finishing anything!
Participation can be as little as sharing a few words or a single sentence or as involved as a sketch or plot summary, it’s up to you!
What’s the point?
To fill our fandom tags with fun new ideas and stimuli to get everyone’s creative juices flowing. For fan creators ourselves, it gives us a chance to talk about our ideas with no pressure to deliver. And who knows, hopefully seeing people excited about our ideas might give us extra inspiration and motivation to maybe even work on them someday!
Here’s how it works:
Throughout May, post anything from a few words to a snippet from an idea you’ve been kicking around that you MAY draw or write someday and tag the related fandoms, if any. (Ideas that you've started, have actively in progress or have even started but abandoned are also welcome!) A few sentences about a fic you might write, a sketch you’re still figuring out, or even a long infodump about the AU of your heart, share as much or as little as you want!. It’s not a commitment to make anything, just a fun excuse to talk about your ideas.
Don’t have any ideas of your own? No problem! You can still participate by boosting the ideas that others post, asking questions and expressing your excitement about the ideas that appeal to you.
Anyone from any fandom is welcome to participate as well as original writers so please spread the word!
We’ve got 30 days worth of prompts to get you started that you can interpret anyway you like… or ignore entirely and do your own thing. Do all 30, pick and choose, do them out of order, whatever you want! The point is just to have fun and share your ideas!
That’s it! Just a super chill, low effort way for us all to celebrate those ideas taking up space in our brains that we aren’t quite ready to commit to making yet (or maybe ever).
Notes
Participants retain all rights to their ideas and first dibs on the writing / drawing of them.
Want feedback on your ideas? Encourage brainstorming? Happy to let someone else take your idea and write it themselves? Add a note to that effect to your post so people know what kind of interactions are welcome.
Please be supportive of others' ideas and keep overly negative opinions to yourself (especially if they did not ask for feedback). If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all!
You’re welcome to tag your posts with “MAYbe I’ll Make This” or link back to this post to explain the challenge but your host (me) won’t be sharing every post related to this challenge. This is just something I wanted to do for my own purposes to share all the ideas I may never get a chance to write but I’m opening the prompts list to anyone who might like to do the same.
Questions? Drop me an ask!
May 2023 Prompts
No Plot Just Vibes
Lives In My Head Rent Free
Sometimes One Must Torture The Blorbos For Enrichment
Completely Self Indulgent
I Just Want Them To Be Happy 😭
Canon Divergent
Inspired By A Movie
Galaxy Brain Of Me, Honestly
No One Wants This But Me
All The Tropes!
Where We’re Going, We Don’t Need Canon
Idea Fueled By Spite
Shameless Excuse For Hurt / Comfort
Inspired By A TV Show
Slaps Idea: This Baby Can Fit So Much Projection!
Yes, I’m Cringe But I’m Free
One! More! Time!
Totally OOC But Hear Me Out…
Role Swap
Inspired By Someone Else’s Au
I Hurt Myself With This Idea
Old Tropes, New Tricks
Pretend I’m Good Enough To Pull This Off
It’s Really Just All About This One Scene…
Crack Treated Seriously
Seriousness Treated Like Crack
I’ve Actually Started Working On This
Yes It’s Been Done But Not By Me So
More Of What You’d Call A Character Study
Casually Slides in My OC
Inspired By A Book
#fandom event#may 2023 prompts#prompts#writing prompt#art prompt#spop#the owl house#stranger things#rwby#marvel#star wars#star trek#supernatural#miraculous ladybug#amphibia#tmnt#atla#legend of korra#loz#lotr#batman#ted lasso#Succession#btvs#the hunger games#dracula#motu#shera#heman#mlp
86 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Happy International Tuba Day!! 🎺
Today’s prompt is the song How You Get The Girl by Taylor Swift. It was sent to us by @stvrlvghtwrites! Thank you so much lovely :)) I can already feel that all the microfics about this song will be just perfect!! What else can you expect with a Taylor Swift song?
Listen | Lyrics
Happy writing!!
The Microfic Mods ✨📜
#drarry#drarrymicrofic#drarry microfic#drarry fic#drarry fanfic#drarry fanfiction#may 2023#may 2023 prompts#song: how you get the girl
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Undertale Month Day 30: The End/Surface/Respite
The coloring and everything are a bit messy, but I wanted to finish off the month with something nice. :) Undertale is a game that is so important to me. Not only did it encourage me to draw more things outside my comfort zone, but it's also been a huge comfort for me ever since I first played it. I feel like I would be a completely different person if I hadn't stumbled upon it a little over six years ago. All this to say, I don't think I'll ever stop caring about this silly little game, and I'm really glad it exists. :)
#aka stuff that may have been better to say on the actual anniversary but I think this is a good way to close out Undertale month#it's been fun 🎉 I'll probably still do the rest of the prompts i didn't get to later even though the month's over.#because. i have the completionist mindset curse. and i just want to.#utmonth2023#my art#undertale#safeutdr#chara dreemurr#frisk dreemurr#flowey#chara#frisk#flowey undertale#undertale flowey#chara undertale#undertale chara#frisk undertale#undertale frisk#undertale month#ut month 2023#🌼
989 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reactions to... getting kissed
"Oh."
"Finally."
"Did not expect that."
"Don't blush. I liked it."
"Mmh, you taste so good."
"No, please... I can't."
"You don't know how long I waited for that."
"Sorry, the world stopped for a second."
"Happy to have you back as well."
"Not here please. Not right now."
"Woah. Where did that come from?"
"Oh, how did I earn that?"
"You normally don't like PDA*."
"That's exactly what I needed right now."
"Still the best kisser in the world."
"Feeling a little needy today?"
"You're good at this."
"Where did you learn that?"
"This always feels like coming home."
"Our target left, we can stop pretending now."
*Public display of affection
If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
day 28: sparkle
#my art#fanart#illustration#inktober#inktober 2023#artists on tumblr#pokemon#pokemon fanart#trainer may#pokemon oras#lotad#hoenn#pkmn#dedicating this prompt to my very first shiny#miss u cucumber
157 notes
·
View notes
Text
a holy war
minvember prompt 1: prayer
#babylon 5#minvember 2023#neroon#branmer#dukhat#valen#minbari#i may have gone overboard on this one lol#anyway yes fINALLY posting my fill for the first prompt#i still want to finish the rest too but WE'LL SEE
148 notes
·
View notes
Text
Happy Free Day of Narumitsu Week 2023!
Maybe this is their wedding? A friends wedding? A generic party? Either way I wanted to draw them dancing under tea lights and being married.
#happy narumitsu week!#had a lot of fun pushing myself for lighting#I may post another#I realize this could fit with the formal prompt but I’m inpatient#nmweek23#narumitsu#nrmt#narumitsu week#narumitsu week 2023#mitsunaru#miles edgeworth#phoenix wright#ace attorney#edgewright#wrightworth#naruhodo ryuichi#reiji mitsurugi#ryuichi naruhodo#mitsurugi reiji#squeaky potat art
476 notes
·
View notes
Text
"SLEEP"
FRANS-MONTHLY (MAY PROMPT (2023))
Undertale AU: Tales From Above
@frans-monthly
Hhhhhh I miss drawing them- 😭❤️
BUY ME A KO-FI?
#ut#undertale#ut frans#frans#undertale fandom#undertale frans#ut frisk#ut sans#ut papyrus#ut fanart#ut au#frans monthly#frans monthly may prompt 2023#adult frisk#sans x frisk#sans the skeleton#frisk dreemurr#frisk the human#undertale tales from above#ut tales from above#tales from above au#tales from above#digi art#marimingming#my art#frans monthly sleep prompt#papyrus the skeleton#may prompt: sleep#undertale papyrus#fransmonthly
677 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pride
I owe you two ficlets, to make the 31 complete. Here's the first, to mark the beginning of Pride Month.
John realises he’s bisexual around the time Harry comes out to her parents. But their reaction scares him so much he crawls back into the closet and nails the door shut.
It’s fine. He’s bi, after all. He’s fine with girls. Girls are wonderful. No reason to ever open that door again, no need to make a fuss.
He’s fine for years. He dates a few lovely women at Uni and in medical school, he has flings and relationships and everything in between. He doesn’t think about the door at all, mostly. If there’s a chap who catches his eye occasionally, he shrugs it off. No harm in a bit of a look.
He falls in love with a man in Afghanistan. But Sholto is as unattainable as he is magnetic. The difference in rank alone would be enough to make any relationship between them impossible. But if John’s sexuality is a door he nailed shut, Sholto’s is a titanium safe buried at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. They kiss once, when they’re both very, very, very drunk, and they never speak of it again.
It’s fine. Well, to be honest, it hurts like fuck, but it’s fine. It can’t be, for many reasons, and in a way, John is almost relieved. He doesn’t have to make a decision. He doesn’t have to open that door. It hurts, but it's safe.
Then he meets Sherlock Holmes and he’s completely, totally fucked. The door is in shambles, and there’s his heart, bursting out of his chest and into Sherlock’s hands before the ink is dry on the lease agreement.
The thing about Sherlock is, he isn’t safe. At all. Not even a little bit. Sherlock wouldn’t be safe if John was completely comfortable with his sexuality (which he obviously isn’t). Sherlock is explosive, and unpredictable, and magnetic, and gorgeous, and John loves him, loves him, loves him.
But there’s two problems. One is that John is never, ever sure of Sherlock. Ever. And that’s part of the charm, of course, but if the person holding your heart in his hands can’t be relied on not to quash it into mush, it makes going any further very difficult. The second is that John isn’t sure of himself. He’s not sure he has the courage to be out of that comfortable closet he built for himself. There would be questions. And he’s not sure he’s ready for that.
But they have time. He can learn to trust Sherlock with his heart, and he can learn to trust himself.
Then Sherlock jumps, and John wants to die, too.
If John is honest, the next few years are a bit of a blur, and he feels like he spends them in a half-trance of unreality. He suddenly snaps back to reality when he’s standing at an altar and marrying a woman he barely knows with Sherlock watching with an expression in his eyes that hurts.
Things go to absolute shit afterwards, which is truly impressive, given how bad things were before. The next two years are an absolute horrorshow, and John would like to erase that whole awful time from his harddrive.
He comes out of the ashes his life has turned to with two things still standing: His daughter, who is delightful, and Sherlock, who proved once and for all that for better or worse is a promise he can make and keep. And he feels the strong urge to be a better man, for both of them.
So when he finally feels like the ground under his feet has stopped constantly shifting, he goes back to that closet door. He removes the boards he used to nail it shut, and he opens it. He has a good, hard look at what he wants and who he is, and finds that actually, he’s good enough. Maybe he even deserves to be loved.
He finds his heart at the bottom of that closet. It’s battered and beaten, but still strong. He dusts it off and hands it back to Sherlock Holmes, who takes it with gentle hands and smiles.
And that’s when John realises that he had Sherlock’s heart in the palm of his hand the whole time. It’s as battered and beaten as John’s, but as strong. A lot of its wounds are self-inflicted, like John’s, and a lot of the blows they dealt to each other. This stops now, John thinks. I’ll guard your heart and you’ll guard mine. And that fucking door stays open.
He’s 43 when he gets married to a man, their proud daughter at their side.
There are questions. And looks. And people with opinions.
But John knows now that people’s hate can’t hurt him if he doesn’t hate himself, and that anybody who doesn’t want him to be happy isn’t worth his time. And he knows he has to show this to his daughter every day, so she won’t end up feeling like she has to nail shut a part of herself to fit in.
So he paints the door in rainbow colours and leaves it wide open, and he lives his life.
And he’s happy.
Happy Pride, everyone.
Tags under the cut as usual.
@calaisreno @iamjustreading @discordantwords @hotshoeagain @totallysilvergirl @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @keirgreeneyes @thetimemoves @the-reading-lemon @7-percent @catlock-holmes @macgyvershe @jrow @shiplocks-of-love @mydogwatson @fluffbyday-smutbynight @khorazir
294 notes
·
View notes
Text
Double Date
Prompt: Date
Sherlock glares at himself in the mirror. His hair looks acceptable, he decides, but he’s not happy about the grey that is encroaching. Or the little crinkles in the corners of his eyes.
“I have more grey hair than you,” John says, reading his mind. “Most of them have appeared since meeting you. Coincidence?”
“The universe is rarely so lazy. Grey hair is mostly genetics.”
“Could be worse. Look at your brother, who’s lost most of his.”
“Whose idea was this, anyway?” Now he glares at John, who is standing right in front of him, using the mirror to fix his tie. “Honestly, John. You do not need to wear a tie.”
“It’s our first double-date,” he replies calmly. “We should try to look our best. That may be easy for you, Mr Posh, but—”
“You look fine, John. Nobody expects you to look posh. I’m questioning the wisdom of this event, not your appearance or mine.”
“It’s just a date, love. We’ve had those quite often over the years.”
“When we go out to dinner, it’s not really a date, as I see it. We’re not getting acquainted. We’re already married. It’s just something we do. I do not object to dates. A double date is something else, though. I don’t like it.”
John turns to face him. “Be nice, husband.”
His tie is still crooked; Sherlock fixes it.
“I’m always nice. And we don’t have to impress them.”
John rolls his eyes. “Fine. You want to stay home? Let them get acquainted by themselves?”
“Dads!”
Together they turn and face their daughter, standing at the door of their bedroom. She looks beautiful, Sherlock thinks.
Even so, he frowns. “You’re not wearing that, are you?”
She rolls her eyes in precisely the way John does. “Yes, I am. No, it isn’t too short. And yes, I am wearing makeup. This isn’t 1895, you know.”
John smiles. “You look lovely, Rosie.”
“Where did you meet this ‘Ben’?” Sherlock gives her a severe look.
“He’s my lab partner in chemistry. Does it matter? Are chemistry boys a bad lot? Do they have questionable motives?”
“All boys have questionable motives.”
“Including the two of you?”
Sherlock frowns; John snorts a laugh.
“So, tell me,” she continues. “Dads. Which of you made the first move? Initiated the first kiss?”
They reply simultaneously. “I did.” Frown at each other.
She laughs. “No wonder it took you so long to realise. Anyway, I already talked to Uncle Myc about Ben—”
“No,” Sherlock says. “Absolutely not. Under no circumstances should you take dating advice from your uncle.”
John shakes his head. “I’m afraid he’s right, Rosie. Your Uncle Mycroft certainly would like us all to think he knows everything, but sentiment is definitely not his area.”
“I mean, I had him run a background check. I knew he’d do it anyway, and it would make you feel better to know Ben’s not a sociopath or something. Uncle Greg said he seems like a nice young man. And he’s a policeman, so he would know.”
“Your Uncle Greg has met him?”
“Yeah, I took Ben down to Scotland Yard to meet him.”
“But— we haven’t met him yet, and we’re your fathers!”
“I know, but Ben is actually quite nervous about meeting you. I thought if he met Greg first, he’d be more relaxed when he meets you two. And Greg can handle Uncle Myc.”
“Will he meet us at the restaurant?” John asks.
“Yes, the Uncles are bringing him. I’ve called a cab for us.” She listens. “It should be here by now— hurry up, Dads. You both look beautiful.”
When she’s gone to check on the cab, Sherlock turns to John. “The Uncles? She’s invited the Uncles? This must be serious.”
John nods. “I think you’re right. She’s dated lots of boys, but this is a first.”
“He won’t like me,” Sherlock says. “People don’t, as a rule. Like me, that is.”
John puts his arms around him. “The first time I met you, didn’t I describe you as charming?”
“I think you said oddly charming. And that was you, John. I was really trying to make you like me, you know.”
“You succeeded. And if Ben can tolerate your brother, he will certainly like you. And he’s reading chemistry, so you’ll have a lot to talk about.”
“We’re not going to talk about the periodic table, discuss our favourite elements.” Sherlock frowns. “What will we talk about? The last murder we solved?”
“Just be yourself.” He kisses Sherlock. “We’ll be ourselves.”
“Dads! Cab’s here!”
Sherlock doesn’t let go of John. “This could change everything.”
John rises up on his toes and gives him another kiss. “She’s not a little girl anymore. I think we always knew this would happen.”
“I’m not ready.”
“I know. Neither am I.”
“What will we do, John?”
“We’ll love him because she does. She’s living her life, and that’s what we’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”
Sherlock sighs, gives himself a final look in the mirror. “I’m going to deduce him over dinner, you know. You can’t stop me from doing that.”
“I know. Just don’t scare him too much.”
“Dads! Stop snogging, or whatever you’re doing! Cab’s here.”
John smiles at him. “Ready?”
He takes John’s hand, kisses it. “I hope… I hope she’ll be as lucky in love as I’ve been.”
“Dads!”
“Let’s go,” he says. “We need to rescue him from my brother.”
905 words / Flash Fiction
See? This is fluffier than yesterday's! 💕
@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear @gregorovitchworld @7-percent @shiplocks-of-love @khorazir @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes @the-reading-lemon @inevitably-johnlocked @discordantwords
121 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ready Set Go
Warnings: restraints, torture, suffocation
Whumpee’s chest was heaving. They were sweating and shaking. And they were too tired to try and break free from the restraints.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Whumper smiled as they waved the plastic bag they’d been using to suffocate Whumpee. “You lasted a whole minute and a half this time. What do you see we make it to two this time?”
“Please,” Whumpee rasped. They definitely could not make it to two. “Please,” they begged once more.
“Big breath,” Whumper coaxed as they pulled the bag over Whumpee’s head, cutting off all access to air.
Whumpee’s lungs burned immediately, dark spots encroaching on their vision. They struggled against Whumper until it became too much and the darkness took over.
And blessed, delicious air was suddenly filling their lungs. Whumpee took gulping breaths as they blinked through their tears. “You didn’t even make to a minute fifteen,” Whumper pouted. “You got to do better next time.”
“Please,” Whumpee sobbed. “No more.”
“You gotta make it to at least a minute thirty this time.” Whumper didn’t wait for Whumpee to take a breath this time. They just pulled the bag over and held it tight over Whumpee’s head.
#serickswrites#whump#whumpblr#whump writing#whump community#tw restraints#tw torture#tw suffocation#themerrywhumpofmay#merry whump of may 2023#day 11#ready set go#prompt: plastic bag#queue
408 notes
·
View notes
Text
Have some sword dancing 🗡️
Description under the cut:
[ID: Mollymauk Teafleaf from Critical Role. Mollymauk is a purple skinned tiefling, wearing a heavily embroidered red and teal coat around his waist as a skirt, patterned leggings and a long teal scarf around his chest, trailing it's ends over his arms. He is facing away from the viewer, standing in a spotlight up on his toes on one foot, throwing a sword in the air while holding another behind him. End ID]
#mollymauk week 2023#mollymaukweek2023#critical role#cr c2#mollymauk tealeaf#cr mollymauk#i havent posted art in a loooooong while but its my blorbos week so im BACK BABYYYYY#yes i know im late but in my defense i forgot#i am SO not going to be able to do all the days but i've been wanting to draw molly sword dancing for FOREVER#ive had the idea of his coat doubling as dance skirt for awhile#also i would Kill for a bolt of the fabric that lines it. iridescent moons??? gimmeeeeee#edit: WHAT DO M E A N CARNIVAL ISNT EVEN A DAY. folks i may be stupid. i saw carnival somewhere said IM DOING IT and I didnt even check#should i check the damn blog to see what the day prompts are? NAH i saw ONE PERSON do carnival so it MUST BE CARNIVAL#whatever XD
308 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Happy Lost Sock Memorial Day!! 🧦
To all the socks we have lost over the years, you will be missed… Let’s remember our beloved socks with today’s prompt dew. It was sent to us by the amazing @tackytigerfic! Thank you so much :))
Happy writing!!
The Microfic Mods ✨📜
#drarry#drarrymicrofic#drarry microfic#drarry fic#drarry fanfic#drarry fanfiction#may 2023#may 2023 prompts#dew
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chara Week Day 5: Ghost
Every time I see that machine in the True Lab, I wonder if it could possibly be Chara's soul in there? Probably unlikely, but not impossible... It's interesting to think about what the implications of that would be.
A version with no text and then a version with just the machine, because I think it looks pretty cool and ominous alone as well.....
#chara week#chara week 2023#undertale#safeutdr#chara dreemurr#my art#chara#undertale chara#chara undertale#true lab#I'm just thinking that. while it's possible that their soul shattered when they and Asriel died. we don't actually KNOW what happened#and human souls persist for a little while after death..... idk I'm bad at coming up with theories but I'm Thinking about it#and I will continue thinking about it even though it's probably not significant at all#ANYWAY it gave me a cool art idea so here you go. and hrm. yes technically I got that line from the Stay Calm fnaf fansong. specifically.#i don't like fnaf but the song is cool........... I'm pretty sure it gave me the idea for this drawing when i sketched it last may#btw yeah that's why i did this drawing specifically for this prompt. i had the sketch lying around and thought it would be fun to finish#ALSO I'm realizing that the dark ominous backgrounds of the True Lab are soooo fun to draw. especially with red glowy effects#AUGH oh no....... my habit of rambling excessively in the tags is returning........ I'll stop now lol
2K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
