Did I mention Rupert Graves? I should. One should always mention Rupert Graves. "When in doubt, mention Rupert Graves," that's my motto. Well it is now.
Posts tagged: Mystrade
All lives end.
All hearts are broken.
Caring is not an advantage.
Nice manip!
In the Cold Light of Morning by ~h-e-r-b-a-t-a
LOVELY MOMENT. Yes. This is a moment I utterly believe in. Headcanon accepted.
“I’ve been watching you.”
Yes. BUT THEN WE ALL HAVE, GREG. HAVE YOU SEEN YOUR FFAAA…. oh wait that’s right you’re immune NEVERMIND.
Tonight’s Puzzle has a difficulty of 5/5 or ‘Mycroft’ level.
The Bumper Fun Mystrade and Friends Colouring Book is brought to you by taggianto-too and mystradedoodles <3
I SOLVED IT! AND I GOT THEM ALL RIGHT! I AM READY! WHERE IS MY HOLMES?
Back when I was editing Those Things You Do I was having a major crisis over the direction of the video. I didn’t know if I wanted it to be upbeat and fun or angsty and dramatic. So basically I edited it pretty much the same way but with two different songs.
I went back and forth for several days and eventually just let my friend Carrie make the decision. I hate for things to go to waste and this was just sitting on my desktop so I figured I’d post it. I really do love the song (by the same artist) but lets be real… I probably won’t use it for another video.
So yeah… this was the alternate beginning of what later became Those Things You Do.
Ohhhhhhhh, yes. I like the things you do. Very much. Oh so very much. Thank you!
nyxe:
I need some prompts. Something I can’t turn into anything long. Because my brain is unhappy.
Mycroft and Lestrade have a bit of a domestic over who hogs the covers.
Mycroft and Greg have to be intermediaries between their respective mothers when it comes to planning the Mystrade civil partnership ceremony.
“No, that was yours.”
“Was it? Fuck. How many?”
“A dozen, at least.”
Greg sighed. “No, right, fine. I’ll talk to her.”
“Ironic, isn’t it.”
“What?”
“Talking. Weddings are always said to be about two families joining to witness a happy occasion.”
“You forget I’m a cop - lot of domestic call-outs involve shouting about things that happened at the wedding. Even twenty years later.”
“And what are we constantly doing to try to calm things? Talking to them.”
“Talk about bringing your work home with you.”
“Was that pun intentional?”
“What - oh, talk about. A ha. No.”
“So, to recap, you are going to speak to your mother about her guest list, the flowers, and her hat. I will be speaking to mine about her guest list, the flowers, and your mother’s hat, as well as Sherlock.”
“Does she not know?”
“Oh, she does know. That is in fact the problem.”
“Ah.”
nyxe:
I need some prompts. Something I can’t turn into anything long. Because my brain is unhappy.
Mycroft and Lestrade have a bit of a domestic over who hogs the covers.
“Jesus!” Greg flinched violently, practically falling out of the bed. His death-grip on the duvet was all that prevented him, and he felt Mycroft’s whole body rock with the pull.
“Yes, I thought that might wake you.”
“What the hell did you do that for?” Greg snapped, squirming back down into his puddle of warmth.
“So that you would be awake when I told you that the room temperature is currently fifty-seven degrees.”
“Wouldn’t we have burst into flames?” Greg grumbled.
“Then fourteen degrees Celsius. My feet are possibly a few degrees warmer.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not going to test that theory.”
“It’s not a theory. It is a fact. Would you like me to show you how long it will take the rest of your body to cool to that temperature?”
“Fuck off!”
“If I do, I am going to take this duvet with me.”
I need some prompts. Something I can’t turn into anything long. Because my brain is unhappy.
is it wrong to want Lestrade enamored with Mycroft’s pudge? That’s not me calling him fat, btw. I have pudge! Not that you know me…but anyway. BABY FFAAATT IDK.
nevermindignoremesobwhatamisaying
Well, I tried.
-=-=-
“I haven’t been gone that long.”
Mycroft looked away. “It hasn’t been easy.”
“I know. I’ve been watching the news.”
“Then you don’t know.”
“Oh, balls, I should have known…” Greg trailed off and ran a hand over his face. “Look. My point is, I know you’ve been getting the shit end of things, yeah? And I’ve been gone, and I missed you, and it’s my first night back, and I don’t fuckin’ care, right?”
“I know, I know…” Mycroft sighed and looked away. “I do know,” he added, softly, almost to himself.
“Okay, look. Just…whatever. Come to bed. I don’t care. Just… stop being so far away.” Mycroft gave him a half smile, his fingers reaching out to brush Greg’s on the duvet, where Greg snared his hand and pulled, gently. “Really, all I need right now is some skin. I don’t care what’s inside it, just so long as it’s you, hey?”
At Mystradedoodle’s insistence, there is now a blog for Mystrade podfics. If’n you wanna follow it, it’s over here.
