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threehours-aday · 15 hours

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✨its that time of year✨

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threehours-aday · 7 days

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lovely.

Pride

Omg, you guys, it's the last one! Where did the month go!

A huge, huge thank you to @calaisreno for keeping is going the entire month, and a huge thank you to all of you for reading and writing and gushing and commenting and crying and making this more fun than it had any right to be. I'll miss this!

I did a Pride ficlet last year as a bonus ficlet because I missed two days. I had a lot of ideas for this year's, and maybe I'll post some of them as bonus ficlets through June, but for now, I say goodbye to May with John and Rosie.

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"Dad."

"Hmm?"

"Dad!"

John puts down the newspaper. Apparently this is a serious discussion. "Yes, love?"

Rosie throws herself into Sherlock's chair and contorts herself into a pretzel-like shape that can't be comfortable. "I'm...um..." It's apparent she doesn't quite know how to phrase her issue, because she's unnaturally hesitant. Sherlock's influence has made her shockingly blunt, while John's influence has made her shockingly foul-mouthed. Arguing with her is a joy. But now, very untypically, she looks confused and a bit lost.

"Ro, whatever it is, you can tell me," John says, leaning forward, a bit worried now.

"It's..." She sighs, looks down at her hands. "It's a bit personal?"

"Oh my god you're pregnant!" John blurts out, his momentary fear overriding his usually good brain-mouth-filter.

"Dad, what the actual fuck! I'm not fucking pregnant!" Rosie rolls her eyes so hard John wonders if she sprained something. "You know I'm on birth control. You went with me to get my first prescription, for fuck's sake."

"Accidents happen, my dear," John says, gesturing at his lovely daughter, who, light of his life, and joy of his world as she may be, was also very much an unplanned pregnancy.

"Fair enough," Rosie admits, deflating a bit. "Still."

"It wasn't a completely unreasonable assumption. You have a boyfriend, you're twenty, I'm assuming you're having sex."

"Please, dad!" Rosie exclaims, the tips of her ears turning red. "I really don't want to talk about my sex life."

"You think I do?"

Rosie makes a very Sherlock-like 'never mind all that nonsense now' gesture. "Anyway," she says, giving John a glare that tells him to shut up until she's finished. "It's actually kind of about Mark."

John nods, to let her know he's listening, but carefully and deliberately keeps his mouth shut, even as he's thinking, If he hurt you, I'll kill him so fucking dead so quickly he'll never know what hit him.

"It's... you know... he's... well, he's a boy," Rosie finally gets out.

John blinks a few times. Waits a bit. When it's clear Rosie won't be any more forthcoming about the issue, he dares to ask, "And?"

She looks down at her hands, studying them with unwarranted fascination. "I'm..." She sighs. "When did you know you were bisexual?"

John exhales audibly. Now he knows what this is about. In a family of mostly queer people, Rosie seems to have assumed she'd be some kind of queer as well. And if anyone knows how complicated identity can be, especially if it's weighed down by expectation, it's John. "Um. Quite honestly, I'm not sure I am."

Rosie looks up, surprised. "I mean. Mum. And Paps. Um. You know..." she makes a 'please fill in the gaps yourself' gesture.

"Look," John says, leaning forward and taking his daughter's hands. "I personally think labels are vastly overrated. If a word, or a label, or a phrase, helps you to better understand yourself, that's great. Use that label as long as it serves you, and if it doesn't anymore, use another one. As for me, I was raised in an environment where being different was bad. What kind of different you were exactly was completely beside the point. And I saw first-hand how the world treated your aunt, so I thought, best not think about it. I wasn't that attracted to men, it wasn't difficult to ignore. Until I met Paps, and you know how difficult he is to ignore."

Rosie grins. "Oh, yeah. So Paps made you bi?"

"No, you know it doesn't work like that. He made me... " John answers, smiling fondly at the memory. "Well, quite simply, he made me fall in love. He was—still is, of course—the most intriguing, gorgeous, infuriating, exasperating, fascinating person I've ever met, and I fell in love with him so hard, and so fast. But I wasn't ready, and he wasn't ready, and it took us years to get our acts together. And part of that was that we both couldn't accept a fundamental truth: The heart wants what the heart wants. Fighting against it only brings misery and destruction." He squeezes Rosie's hands. "So. Do you love Mark?"

She nods, her eyes shining with the truth of it.

"Is he good to you? Good for you?"

She nods again.

"Then who the fuck cares about anything else?"

Rosie's silent for a bit, apparently mulling over his words, still holding on to his hands. "So," she finally says, looking up from her joint hands with a smile. "You'll love me even if I'm straight?"

"Well, love, I suppose I can overlook this glaring character flaw. Also, you might meet a stunning lesbian when you're forty and she'll rock your entire world and turn everything you thought you knew about yourself upside down. And I want you to remember," he says, leaning in a bit more, looking deeply into her eyes, "I'm fine with everything, as long as you give me some grandkids first."

Rosie laughs and pushes him away. "Fuck off."

John gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. "So, sexual identity crisis over? You want to have some tea now?"

"Of course I want tea. But what you're saying, if I understand you correctly, is not to assume I'm straight just because I fell in love with a man?"

"I'm saying," John says, flicking the kettle on, "is that it doesn't matter, love. Gay, straight, pan, bi, ace, all these labels are useful if they help you understand yourself. But if you feel boxed in by a label, don't use it. Use another one. Use none at all. Let nothing ever keep you from knowing and understanding your own heart. That's the only thing that matters. I might be bi, who knows. The important thing is that I love Sherlock with all my heart, and that I made a commitment to him. Everything else is just noise."

Rosie is quiet for a bit, looking thoughtfully at the fire crackling cherrily in the hearth of 221B. "You're getting soft in your old age, Dad," she finally says, with a grateful smile.

John hands her a mug, drops a kiss on her head. "Love you too, dear," he says, smiling into her hair.

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Don't forget that I'm collecting these ficlets here on AO3, and don't forget to check out the wonderful collection of May prompt ficlets as well. I know I'm already looking forward to reading all of them again.

Tags under the cut as usual.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

#bbc sherlock #johnlock #may prompts 2024 #parentlock #pride

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threehours-aday · 9 days

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holmesc*st fic. no incest tag. uses mycroft holmes & sherlock holmes tag instead of mycroft holmes/sherlock holmes. excuse me but that was just horrible.

people of ao3, please please please:

USE THE RIGHT TAG!!!!

a slash (/) and an ampersand (&) are different. it's already the fifteenth-or-something time i search a tag and then find exactly what i DON'T need. if you don't know which tag to use, ASK OTHERS. there will always be someone to help. please please please ask away.

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threehours-aday · 9 days

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people of ao3, please please please:

USE THE RIGHT TAG!!!!

a slash (/) and an ampersand (&) are different. it's already the fifteenth-or-something time i search a tag and then find exactly what i DON'T need. if you don't know which tag to use, ASK OTHERS. there will always be someone to help. please please please ask away.

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 tags #tags #tagging #be thorough when you tag #it might not save lives but it'll save happiness

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threehours-aday · 12 days

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the crape myrtles are in bloom. the phoenix blossoms now paint the sky crimson. the air is hot and humid, buzzing with a sort of anticipation i can't quite place.

summer is careening in.

we graduate today.

it's gonna be the last time i watch this view from my seat as a student. it's gonna be the last time i sit in this desk as a student. and it's today. today. it's over.

i'm not the sentimental type, i swear. i just—

i just hate growing up.

#graduation #high school #last day of school #from the backdoor of my classroom #allie rambles

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threehours-aday · 13 days

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boba eyed fella

buy me a coffee!!

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threehours-aday · 14 days

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and while i'm at it, let's talk about lisa cuddy.

she is, in more than one way, similar to mycroft. she's a figure of authority. she's a firm enactor of rules. she's always keeping an eye on house. she disapproves of most things house does, and more often than not she knows she has to put house in his place.

she lets him do as he wishes, still.

she didn't fire him for a bum leg. she didn't fire him for his vicodin issue. she didn't fire him for medical malpractice. she didn't fire him for breaking in other people's houses, including hers. she didn't turn him in to the police, despite everything he'd done and would certainly continue to do. because it's undeniable that she trusts house's ability to make the right choice when needed to, and she understands that his skills, his dedication and his intellect are all valuable assets to her hospital. she also loves him, but that's nearly irrelevant in this discussion. what brought them together and bound them for years is trust, although a bit blind and sometimes unwise.

and that, my friends, means she's a reluctant enabler too.

i found this on pinterest, so credit to whoever the original poster is

i firmly believe mycroft is an enabler. an unhappy one no doubt, but he would bend if sherlock insist.

here, it's about the punch.

he's the clever one. he's the british government. a man like him doesn't simply get what he got by being all brainy and no precaution. i refuse to accept that he had no idea what was in the punch; if anything, he had too good an idea of the whole ordeal. but because it was sherlock who initiated the thing, he deliberately drank the punch.

"your loss would break my heart", more like "promise me you would make it back alive". sherlock wanted mycroft out of his scheme. mycroft allowed it, but there was a condition. stay alive. mycroft couldn't say it out loud, yet the indication was clear as day.

mycroft holmes is an enabler. mycroft holmes is also a brother. he wants his baby boy safe, and he also wants to give in to the boy's demands. i don't think people talk about that enough.

#house md #greg house #lisa cuddy #lisa edelstein #hugh laurie #allie rambles

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threehours-aday · 14 days

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i found this on pinterest, so credit to whoever the original poster is

i firmly believe mycroft is an enabler. an unhappy one no doubt, but he would bend if sherlock insist.

here, it's about the punch.

he's the clever one. he's the british government. a man like him doesn't simply get what he got by being all brainy and no precaution. i refuse to accept that he had no idea what was in the punch; if anything, he had too good an idea of the whole ordeal. but because it was sherlock who initiated the thing, he deliberately drank the punch.

"your loss would break my heart", more like "promise me you would make it back alive". sherlock wanted mycroft out of his scheme. mycroft allowed it, but there was a condition. stay alive. mycroft couldn't say it out loud, yet the indication was clear as day.

mycroft holmes is an enabler. mycroft holmes is also a brother. he wants his baby boy safe, and he also wants to give in to the boy's demands. i don't think people talk about that enough.

#bbc sherlock #mycroft holmes #sherlock holmes #mark gatiss #benedict cumberbatch #holmes brothers #allie rambles

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threehours-aday · 15 days

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Potterlock : The Sorting Hat is never wrong - (2024)

The Sorting Hat is never wrong and Mycroft should mind his own business...

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threehours-aday · 16 days

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apparently i've been here longer than i can remember

#2 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone

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threehours-aday · 18 days

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sleep (or lack thereof)

by this point i am proud to declare that i've survived the last 35 hours on just 1.5 hours of sleep, and i've got a few things to say.

the good things that happened:

i actually finished two of my assignments, which will both be turned in this thursday before lunch.

i watched four episodes of house.

i wrote 500 words for a new fic.

i submitted my application for uni on time.

the bad things that happened:

my intermittent tremors are back. couldn't even hold my chopsticks properly at dinner.

my legs feels funny.

my chronic cramps dialled itself up a few levels. i don't know how much longer i can prop myself up without alerting my parents.

my eyes are as dry as the sahara, and my eyesight has gotten impossibly worse.

frequent lapses of concentration is making it hard to... well, focus.

i've crashed into a wall/furniture thrice.

the conclusion:

go to bed, people. especially at night. or you're gonna get dried, pimple-ridden skin and a hungry belly. all-nighters tend to do just that.

don't stay up longer than 24 hours at once. don't abuse caffeine to force yourself awake. don't drink over 500 ml of cafe/black tea in one sitting (3-5 hours).

the burst of creativity comes at around hour 4, which is when your caffeine (if you take any) start to work. it will stay for no more than four hours. which means after eight hours, you're just a zombie. and if your timing's bad (like mine), you'll probably mess up your day too.

and that's it!

p/s: really don't recommend this. i simply wanted to experiment so i can project on my characters, it's not healthy and certainly not productive at all.

#stay up late #stay up all night #all nighter #burn the midnight oil is gonna burn you out #be careful #don't rush things #stop when you need to #experimental

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threehours-aday · 22 days

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