30 Day OTP Challenge
OTP: Sherlock x Molly
Day Twenty Two: Side by Side, Going Into Battle
“This is it, Molly. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Because the fall of the jedi was not a good time for anyone, but Master Holmes and Master Hooper were not about to go down without a fight.
This one I’m blaming ENTIRELY on canaryblack and our trip to Earl of Sandwich.
“Have you ever considered using that mouth of yours for something more productive?”
surprise!drawing.
because I ship it and I don’t even know why.
LEXIE YOU AMAZING BEAST!
I DIDN’T SEE THIS UNTIL NOW BUT OH MY GOSH WHAT THE HELL.
I AM SO GLAD YOU SHIP THIS CAUSE THIS IS AMAZING AND BJFIEWOAJFLEKWAJFLDKSJA
i love you
Awwww…..remember when they met at Ren Faire?
(LOLZ I CANNOT EVEN)
You’re welcome, dollface.
Source: captaincuckoo
“It cannot be possible for her to fit into this.”
Poor Sherlock has trouble with Natasha’s SHIELD issued uniform.
Requested by captaincuckoo.
I posted the first part of my Superlock fic “Old Habits” (You can find it in all of the usual places). And I just HAD to share this lovely, lovely artwork Lexie did up for me of Molly Hooper as just the baddest little badass. She did the line art and I did the colouring. Ah, how much do I love you, Watson?
Also, I’m mad hot for Hunter!Molly.
Silly Holmes, you forgot to link to the story. This idea tickles me, eventhough I don’t watch SPN. The art style for this is a little more comic book ish and it was a lot of fun, so I think I shall try it again soon. Thanks, Sherlock for handling the coloring.
sweet dreams & flying machines by thefangirlhood
It is Martin Crieff’s sixth birthday.
He is given to understand, based on a picture book that one of the neighbor children lent him— well, left with him, anyway, after using it to hit him over the head— that birthdays are supposed to be magical. So far nothing magical has happened, but it hasn’t been his birthday for very many hours yet, so maybe there’s hope. After all, on Caitlin’s birthday, she got to ride a pony, and on Simon’s birthday, he got to ride a rollercoaster, and now it’s his birthday, so surely something good will happen. Surely.
He knows what he would pick, if his birthday turned out like in the picture book. In the book, a good wizard shows up on a little boy’s birthday and takes him on an adventure, and there are dinosaurs and giant frogs and a cake as big as a house.
Martin doesn’t want any of those things, though.
All Martin wants in the world is to be an aeroplane, because all Martin really wants is to fly, but even at the young age of six, he recognizes that he is unlikely to sprout wings anytime soon. This is surely for the best; school is difficult enough without the added complication of feathers.
OMG THERE IS FIC FOR THIS NOW.
“When I say ‘duck’, I don’t mean the animal.”
captaincuckoo requested Sherlock/Natasha where Tasha tends to Sherlock’s wounds.
captaincuckoo replied to your post: Sketch request time!
*cough* shertasha
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“It’s a plant, genius. You keep it alive.”
Martin and Sherlock as kids (or adults :P)fighting with Mycroft. That would be an epic sketch.
“WELCOME HOME BIG BROTHER!!!”“You’re getting fat.”“GET OFF OF ME!!!!!!!!!”
Continuing w/ the fairytale…..
Molly never thought she’d end up finding Prince Charming in an airport lounge.
It was incredible how quickly a day that had been perfectly planned down to the smallest detail could turn to utter disaster. All it took was one late cab thanks to an unforeseen traffic jam, one mixup with with checking in her bags, one delay at security caused by an in idiot who had forgotten to take the bottle of water out of his bag, and the carefully laid plans that would have allowed Molly to catch the flight that would take her on a vacation overdue by nearly three years were shattered. All that dreaming of a relaxing holiday spent in the warm sun, all the diligent research and planning to make sure she could catch the cheapest flight possible with the maximum time spent relaxing, all that hope invested in one trip for nothing. Because now instead of relaxing happily on an aeroplane preparing to depart for Verona, she was sprinting through the airport with shoes and baggage in hand and praying that she would make the gate before the doors closed.
But even as she could feel herself growing close to her goal and and the siren song of freedom that waited beyond those still-open doors, disaster struck. Well, not disaster exactly, and it didn’t exactly strike - what was much closer to the truth was that in midst of her frantic flight towards the gate she had completely missed seeing the bag someone had left momentarily in the middle of the walkway and slammed her shins painfully into a suitcase that had no right to be there. Bags and shoes went flying into the air, feet left the ground, and the ugly carpet of the airport came rushing up to meet her as the world upended itself violently and went rushing past in a violent blur that promised nothing but pain once her face became acquainted with the floor.
Incredibly, inexplicably, that meeting never occurred. For the second time in less than ten seconds, the world around her violently changed direction, halting its rapid journey just as quickly as it had begun. But this time it was not a violent blow to the legs arresting her movement but instead a pair of arms catching her mere moments before she collided with the ground, encircling her deftly and holding her tight as she gasped for breath. Molly blinked upwards in shock and confusion, unable to understand what on earth had happened to have her suddenly staring up at the ceiling instead of lying face down on the ground in shame. A concerned face swam into view, a shock of red hair nearly blinding in its intensity falling over brows that were knitted with concern and nearly as much surprise as she was feeling.
“My god, are you alright?”
She still had not caught her breath even as those arms were lifting her back upright, setting her gently on her feet with infinite care and delicacy. When she finally was able to clear her head enough to take in her unexpected savior, she saw that her knight was in fact a pilot, his armor not silver but deep blue and gilded with the wings of his station. “I - thank you” she gasped, unable to think of anything else to say to this mysterious man who had saved her.
A flush to match her own spread over his face at her breathless words, and a sheepish smile bloomed brilliant and fleeting. “It was, um, nothing” he said quietly, looking quickly down at the floor. “Here, let’s get your things back together.”
He moved with surprising quickness and efficiency, gathering up her upended bag and the possessions that had flown out of it as she bent over slowly to pick up the shoe that she had dropped immediately in front of her. But even as she sat down on a nearby chair to calm her frazzled nerves and put her shoe back in its rightful place, she realized that its mate had managed to disappear entirely when it flew headlong from her hand. She cast about for the missing shoe frantically, frustration and despair springing to life once more as she felt her flight and her vacation and her peace of mind slipping helplessly away from her. And then, a miracle. The pilot, the wonderful, mysterious stranger who had saved her from slamming her face into the floor reappeared like a miracle once more, shoe in hand and a smile on his lips. “Is this yours?” he asked teasingly, kneeling down and holding out the shoe like a gift. Molly smiled, barely able to believe that this absurdity was happening and yet praying that it would never end.
Apparently, Prince Charming did exist. And she had found him in the middle of an airport.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
FIC!!! FROM BBRI!!!!!
FOR THIS DRAWING!!!!!!
Baby, how are you so talented? I mean, really?
The day started off really awfully and this is the best way to end it.
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.
for captaincuckoo, who wrote a little fic for me about my new crack!ship. (go and tell her how much you love it!)
Pairings: Sherlock/Natasha
Rated: T
Drabble for Lexie.
DISCLAIMER: I have not seen the end of Sherlock, therefore most of this is conjecture. I apologize for anything that is wrong in advance and I will rewrite this as soon as I can.
Natasha wasn’t in Britain too often. She had an apartment, funded by S.H.I.E.L.D., but she didn’t visit too much anymore. When she did it was for business, never for pleasure. She missed London often, and being in New York all the time reminded her of it.
Her mission ended a day early giving her a day off to relax. She was glad for it too, she needed the rest. Maybe she could walk around London, visit a friend.
Her disposable phone buzzed on the coffee table as if it had read her mind. No one had that number except S.H.I.E.L.D., and they only called her. She picked it up looking at the illuminated screen.
Read more
Molly never thought she’d end up finding Prince Charming in an airport lounge.
It was incredible how quickly a day that had been perfectly planned down to the smallest detail could turn to utter disaster. All it took was one late cab thanks to an unforeseen traffic jam, one mixup with with checking in her bags, one delay at security caused by an in idiot who had forgotten to take the bottle of water out of his bag, and the carefully laid plans that would have allowed Molly to catch the flight that would take her on a vacation overdue by nearly three years were shattered. All that dreaming of a relaxing holiday spent in the warm sun, all the diligent research and planning to make sure she could catch the cheapest flight possible with the maximum time spent relaxing, all that hope invested in one trip for nothing. Because now instead of relaxing happily on an aeroplane preparing to depart for Verona, she was sprinting through the airport with shoes and baggage in hand and praying that she would make the gate before the doors closed.
But even as she could feel herself growing close to her goal and and the siren song of freedom that waited beyond those still-open doors, disaster struck. Well, not disaster exactly, and it didn’t exactly strike - what was much closer to the truth was that in midst of her frantic flight towards the gate she had completely missed seeing the bag someone had left momentarily in the middle of the walkway and slammed her shins painfully into a suitcase that had no right to be there. Bags and shoes went flying into the air, feet left the ground, and the ugly carpet of the airport came rushing up to meet her as the world upended itself violently and went rushing past in a violent blur that promised nothing but pain once her face became acquainted with the floor.
Incredibly, inexplicably, that meeting never occurred. For the second time in less than ten seconds, the world around her violently changed direction, halting its rapid journey just as quickly as it had begun. But this time it was not a violent blow to the legs arresting her movement but instead a pair of arms catching her mere moments before she collided with the ground, encircling her deftly and holding her tight as she gasped for breath. Molly blinked upwards in shock and confusion, unable to understand what on earth had happened to have her suddenly staring up at the ceiling instead of lying face down on the ground in shame. A concerned face swam into view, a shock of red hair nearly blinding in its intensity falling over brows that were knitted with concern and nearly as much surprise as she was feeling.
“My god, are you alright?”
She still had not caught her breath even as those arms were lifting her back upright, setting her gently on her feet with infinite care and delicacy. When she finally was able to clear her head enough to take in her unexpected savior, she saw that her knight was in fact a pilot, his armor not silver but deep blue and gilded with the wings of his station. “I - thank you” she gasped, unable to think of anything else to say to this mysterious man who had saved her.
A flush to match her own spread over his face at her breathless words, and a sheepish smile bloomed brilliant and fleeting. “It was, um, nothing” he said quietly, looking quickly down at the floor. “Here, let’s get your things back together.”
He moved with surprising quickness and efficiency, gathering up her upended bag and the possessions that had flown out of it as she bent over slowly to pick up the shoe that she had dropped immediately in front of her. But even as she sat down on a nearby chair to calm her frazzled nerves and put her shoe back in its rightful place, she realized that its mate had managed to disappear entirely when it flew headlong from her hand. She cast about for the missing shoe frantically, frustration and despair springing to life once more as she felt her flight and her vacation and her peace of mind slipping helplessly away from her. And then, a miracle. The pilot, the wonderful, mysterious stranger who had saved her from slamming her face into the floor reappeared like a miracle once more, shoe in hand and a smile on his lips. “Is this yours?” he asked teasingly, kneeling down and holding out the shoe like a gift. Molly smiled, barely able to believe that this absurdity was happening and yet praying that it would never end.
Apparently, Prince Charming did exist. And she had found him in the middle of an airport.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
FIC!!! FROM BBRI!!!!!
FOR THIS DRAWING!!!!!!
Baby, how are you so talented? I mean, really?
The day started off really awfully and this is the best way to end it.
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.
Source: artbylexie
for captaincuckoo, who wrote a little fic for me about my new crack!ship. (go and tell her how much you love it!)
Pairings: Sherlock/Natasha
Rated: T
Drabble for Lexie.
DISCLAIMER: I have not seen the end of Sherlock, therefore most of this is conjecture. I apologize for anything that is wrong in advance and I will rewrite this as soon as I can.
Natasha wasn’t in Britain too often. She had an apartment, funded by S.H.I.E.L.D., but she didn’t visit too much anymore. When she did it was for business, never for pleasure. She missed London often, and being in New York all the time reminded her of it.
Her mission ended a day early giving her a day off to relax. She was glad for it too, she needed the rest. Maybe she could walk around London, visit a friend.
Her disposable phone buzzed on the coffee table as if it had read her mind. No one had that number except S.H.I.E.L.D., and they only called her. She picked it up looking at the illuminated screen.
Read more
“Have you ever considered using that mouth of yours for something more productive?”
surprise!drawing.
because I ship it and I don’t even know why.
LEXIE YOU AMAZING BEAST!
I DIDN’T SEE THIS UNTIL NOW BUT OH MY GOSH WHAT THE HELL.
I AM SO GLAD YOU SHIP THIS CAUSE THIS IS AMAZING AND BJFIEWOAJFLEKWAJFLDKSJA
i love you
Awwww…..remember when they met at Ren Faire?
(LOLZ I CANNOT EVEN)
You’re welcome, dollface.
Sketch Series - ENCLOSED: Martin and Molly
“Does anyone still make phone calls from these?”
“I don’t think so. Everyone’s got a mobile now.”
“So what are they used for?”
“Well…I can think of something.”
So it’s not THAT tight of a space….but during the tour of London that Molly was giving Martin, they stopped in front of a phone box…
A repository for my art: mostly drawings and sketches, and the occasional fic. Also random acts of graphics and photography.
