My personal Sherlolly fanfic bests so far...: Updated 2016
MizJoely has recently shared a list of her favourite fics. (Thanks Miz for providing the link!) Mine has been made from a slightly different angle. So I thought it might be a nice companion. I started making this list in 2014 and updated it in 2015. The one I’m sharing with you now is the one I had in my draft box, untouched since maybe April 2016. So anything published after that are not included, not because I don’t like them. I simply didn’t have time to follow them.
There are some new additions and a couple of new categories. They are in bold. Please reblog if you like it! Many many thanks!
(The author has deleted this story on major fan fiction sites and it is not available anywhere on the web now. I’m keeping this in my list, though, because Molly in this story is so powerful and convincing. Hope the author will put it back somewhere in the future.)
A/N: Damian is such a daddy in this one, i love it also
WARNINGS: alcohol poisoning probably, drinking, extreme parental figure fluff, EXTREME cursing, fluff, slight sexual implications and actions, lots of f-wording, sober Dami
“(y/n), what the fuck. Get home. Please, I am so worried about you. Call back when you can, please.” Damian sighed, finishing what had to be like, the seventeenth voicemail since about an hour ago. He was sure that he had paced a circle into the carpet by now and he wasn’t stopping anytime soon. Once again, you didn’t pick up. A unsettling feeling laid in the pit of his stomach and for once, Damian Wayne dreamed the worst. He had already called his father twice, wondering if he had seen you somewhere on his patrol. Both phonecalls ended with a hard ’no.’ “Father please- ah okay you’ve hung up again. Great-” Dami sighs and throws his phone on the couch, ringer on high. So when the door opened, Damian hardly registered the sound. “Ahhh, Dami! You’re home!” you screamed, the ringing he had hoped to hear all night now settling in his ears. “Okay, what the fuck. Why do you, you’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” he squinted his eyes, inhaling the slightest bit. “Ding! Ding! Ding!” you grinned, twirling around your boyfriend with the biggest, most idiotic grin on your face. “Great.” Dami sighed, wishing that maybe you weren’t that drunk.
Okay I was trying that plot generator website for writing prompt ideas and they make you fill out a form and I was trying to make a sad Dirk and Todd Drabble and this is what it gave me I’m dying
“Two Fun Uncles Walking to the Beat
A Short Story
Todd Brotzman was thinking about Dirk Gently again. Dirk was a hopeful hopeful soul with pale eyes and tall arms.
Todd walked over to the window and reflected on his cozy surroundings. He had always loved messy Todd’s apartment with its short, skinny sofas. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel torn.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a hopeful figure of Dirk Gently.
Todd gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a bouncy, open, coffee drinker with lanky eyes and ginger arms. His friends saw him as an attractive, afraid angel of death. Once, he had even helped a delicious small squirrel cross the road.
But not even a bouncy person who had once helped a delicious small squirrel cross the road, was prepared for what Dirk had in store today.
The sun shone like gazing squirrels, making Todd sad. Todd grabbed a small chair that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.
As Todd stepped outside and Dirk came closer, he could see the high-pitched smile on his face.
Dirk gazed with the affection of 4670 trustworthy many mice. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want his love.”
Todd looked back, even more sad and still fingering the small chair. “Dirk, I can’t,” he replied.
They looked at each other with hopeful feelings, like two rapid, racid raccoons bounding at a very optomistic Christmas, which had indie music playing in the background and two fun uncles walking to the beat.
Todd studied Dirk’s pale eyes and tall arms. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” began Todd in apologetic tones, “but I don’t feel the same way, and I never will. I just don’t love you Dirk.”
Dirk looked earnest, his emotions raw like a mute, mashed mug.
Todd could actually hear Dirk’s emotions shatter into 4140 pieces. Then the hopeful hopeful soul hurried away into the distance.
Not even a cup of coffee would calm Todd’s nerves tonight.