Life has been hectic, but here at last is a ficlet for the May @fluffbruary prompt “Eclipse.” We’re just going to pretend it’s still May 14, okay? If Fluffbruary can be year-round, it’s only fair that the fourteenth of the month can take place at any time. ;)
The park is full of people, a disparate crowd come together to witness the eclipse. They’ve been waiting some time for the culmination of the strange, natural phenomenon presently underway… and now, at last, their patience is rewarded. Eerie yet beautiful shadow bands undulate across the ground, rippling lines of darkness and light dancing together.
Near the pond where even the ducks have gone quiet, on a bench somehow left unclaimed by the earlier arrivals to the park, somewhat less ephemeral versions of mingling darkness and light lean close to each other, hands interlocked and faces turned upwards.
There they sit, sharing in the six-thousand-year-old awe of the humans surrounding them as the shadow of the moon hurtles into position to temporarily block the sun. The park is all but silent, the entirety of the gathering seemingly holding its breath into the climax of the event.
Once, eclipses such as this one were thought to be indicative of an impending apocalypse. This pair, having seen the true end of the world come and then change its mind, knows the difference.
“It is rather a shame,” Aziraphale says under his breath, soft enough not to disturb the scene, “that this will be over so quickly.”
“Hm?” Crowley acknowledges with a questioning grunt.
“They never do last very long. This one is supposed to be just over three minutes, I believe I read?”
“That’s what they said on the radio,” Crowley confirms.
“Ah, well,” Aziraphale sighs. “I suppose we will just have to appreciate it while it lasts, then. Live in the moment, as they say.”
“The moment.” There’s a thoughtful edge in Crowley’s voice. “Hm. Yeah. I guess so.”
A lingering pause, the space of a heartbeat or two. Then, from the left side of the bench, there is a soft sound as of fingers snapping.
I really hope you enjoy reading it. If you like it, or if you just want to say ‘hi’, please leave me a comment. As every fic writer, I’m living on those. It’s the fuel that makes us write more.
The fluffiest month of the year is here and we start with Anya reading a bedtime story with her Papa! Loid wants her to improve her reading skills so everynight they read two books: one by Anya and other by Loid ~~
As you may know, february 14th is Valentine’s day, so we the discord server guys (I gonna call ourselves “The Forger Pillars” lol) threw together this prompt, for a whole month full of TwiYor fluffiness! Fanfics, fanarts, it’s up to you, let your creativity flow to feed this wholesome fandom, whenever you post use the #Fluffbruary so we can see your wonderful creations!
I’m posting 2 months before so you guys can have time to write, sketch and organize your ideas. Please have fun and I see you guys in February!
24. Surprise // a 442B Johnlock Ficlet for @fluffbruary2022
The audience bursts into applause. There’s the cheerful clinking of toasting flutes; there’s some hollering; Lestrade lets out a loud whistle. Mrs Hudson is a bawling mess.
“Well, fuck,” John whispers as he parts his lips from Sherlock’s, “how the hell am I supposed to impress them after a speech like that?Should have read mine first.”
A reluctant - and very flushed - Sherlock lets him go, smoothing down his jacket. John turns to the guests and raises a hand up: “Quiet, quiet! You’ll get one more kiss in a short while!“
"More than one, likely.” Sherlock chuckles, and John laughs too.
“Ok, here I go.” He retrieves his notes from his chest pocket, and the guests fall silent.
“William Sherlock Scott Holmes - well, Watson-Holmes… as if you didn’t have enough names already.” He grins wickedly.
“Had anyone told me that one day I’d be here, I’d have them scheduled for a psych evaluation. No sodding way the most-” he takes a deep breath “extraordinary, brilliant, amazing, gorgeous man… would want someone like me.But, alas! By some strange way of fate, our paths crossed. Granted: sometimes fate has a name, a surname, and spectacles.”
Mike, seated on his left, gloats; John squeezes his shoulder.
“So, imagine my surprise when you waltzed into my life, with your dramatic coat, your impossible attitude, and your… cheekbones. You swept me off my feet, struck me like a lightning bolt, turned my world upside down. Oh, sure: we took our sweet time to get around to it! I’ve been told the MET had a betting pool on us.“
"It’s true!!” Greg shouts, and general hilarity ensues.
“But,” John reprises, turning serious now, “against all odds, we did it. We went through hell - each on our own, and together - and came back. And day after day, I stand surprised again and again: not only by your exceptional brain but, most of all, by your compassionate heart. Yes, you of all people seem to forget about it, from time to time: Sherlock Holmes’ most notable feature is his kindness. His selflessness. His boundless love. What better partner could a man hope for?”
Sherlock’s on the brink of crying, John can see it; better wrap this up. He raises his glass to him:
“I was so alone, Sherlock, and I owe you so much.”
Amidst the roar of applause, as promised, they kiss again.
But they can’t hear a thing; time has frozen for them, the Earth’s revolving has stopped. Transfixed in this new, momentous beginning, they’re their own and each other’s universe.
And with the unfaltering certainty they’ll forever be side by side, the future looks bright.
[tags under the cut; let me know if you’d like to be added/removed]
