#the high-functioning sociopath who walked by himself

[khorazir]

My third (of three) 2022 @fandomtrumpshate pieces: a cover for the marvellous The High-Functioning Sociopath Who Walked by Himself by @chriscalledmesweetie

It’s also for June’s @sherlockchallenge : Move

#sherlock #sherlock fanart #johnlock #john watson #fanfic #the high-functioning sociopath who walked by himself #chriscalledmesweetie #drawing #ink #watercolour #graphics #cover art #fandom trumps hate #fth 2022 #mrs hudson #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #sherlockchallenge

[ninzied]

and that's how it works

a co-worker au. based on the prompt: kiss out of spite. ~2.4k.

Alex can’t stand him from the start.

He tries not to actively dislike any co-workers, as a general rule. It takes effort, and time, neither of which he wants to spend on this guy—unless said work has been affected, which, Alex has to admit that it hasn’t.

But there’s something about him that rubs Alex the wrong way the moment they get introduced.

He’s hard-working, Alex supposes, and the quality of the work isn’t lacking. He’s punctual, and to-the-point in his emails. None of those things are an issue. He does make a habit of helping himself to Alex’s office supplies, but a few missing staples and running out of printer paper don’t exactly justify a grudge.

The guy’s personality is, objectively, annoying. He has the worst taste in ties, which to Alex says a lot, and he can’t go more than five minutes without alluding to his pedigree in some way (Alex knows this because he and Nora have made a drinking game out of it at work functions).

Still, it doesn’t explain the weird surge of resentment he gets every time he looks at the guy. And not understanding it might be the most annoying part of all.

He just wishes he knew why.

.

Alex works in the legal department, but the coffee’s way better in HR down the hall, so most mornings he’s using their break room. Most mornings, and at lunchtime too, and in the afternoons more than once until Nora starts cutting him off, which. Fair.

Apparently he’s not the only one who’s discovered HR’s superior coffee, though, because he’s always there too, and always at the same time as Alex. Seriously, can he not? It’s bad enough that they share a cubicle. Now Alex has to suffer the insult of watching him fucking microwave his coffee like some kind of sociopath, too?

“Are you following me?” Alex demands to know one morning, a little ridiculously. He’s aware that HR is not the best place to be throwing accusations around, but he’s kind of had it with this guy. “Because—”

At that exact moment, the door is opening, and Henry Fox is walking into the room.

“Oh, hey,” says Alex.

Henry glances at him the way he always does, that is to say, a little bemused as to what Alex is doing here. But Henry had been his point person when he was hired six months ago, so he must know Alex works here, right? Besides, he’s been coming to drink their coffee every day of those past six months now, and he knows Henry knows this because their breaks usually overlap and the way Henry barely says two words to him half the time is starting to feel kind of personal.

“It’s Alex,” says Alex, because, well, just in case.

“Yes, I’m aware,” says Henry. After a beat that’s long enough to get awkward, he says, “Err. Right then.”

And then he smiles and waves at Hunter, who isn’t even supposed to be here either, and walks over to take the seat Hunter has saved him like they’re all in fucking high school.

Hunter says something smarmy about a new art gallery or what-the-fuck-ever he went to last night, using a slightly too-loud voice that’s clearly meant to be overheard. Alex grits his teeth.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to go,” says Henry. “What did you think?”

Alex scowls. Fuck, he fucking hates Hunter.

.

“So how’s the transfer going?” asks Hunter one day.

Alex jerks involuntarily and splashes hot coffee all over his hand. “Motherfucker,” he says, and then, because his filter is fully shot now anyway, he glances over at Henry. “You’re transferring? Like, jobs?”

“Oh. Um. No. Departments,” says Henry. Alex supposes that’s all he’s getting—four whole words must be some kind of record—but then Henry continues. “To editing. Starting first thing next week.”

“Oh,” says Alex. “Cool. That’s…a big move.” Literally. That’s, like, whole floors away. He opens the freezer door with his good hand, and wonders what the coffee tastes like up there in editing, if it would be weird to find out sometime. He grabs a fistful of ice.

“Yes,” Henry is saying. “It will be quite the change, and I—wait. Sorry.” He stands abruptly, and Alex stares in surprise as Henry comes over and stops right in front of him. “Please put the ice down.”

“Um,” says Alex. “O…kay?”

“You should use lukewarm water,” says Henry. “Cool, at best. For your hand.”

“Oh,” says Alex. “Right. Thanks.” He turns to the sink, feeling weirdly aware of the fact that Henry is still standing there. “It’s too bad,” Alex says before Henry can decide to sit down next to Hunter again. “Kind of a big loss for HR.”

Henry’s brows knit back together. “Is it?”

Alex shrugs. “To my knowledge, no one else personally escorts new employees to their cubicles on the first day of work. Like you did with Hunter here, for example.” He levels Henry with a grin. “I was there when you showed him around, in case you don’t remember.”

Henry’s expression is inscrutable. “I do,” he says.

Alex makes a point to not look away. “Guess that wasn’t a thing back when I started.”

“Ah,” says Henry. He’s flushing for some reason now. “No, I suppose not.”

Alex considers him. He can’t decide if Henry’s playing dumb, or if he really doesn’t remember that he’d been the one to help hire Alex. Then he decides he doesn’t care, because both options make him feel like something on the bottom of Hunter’s shoe, which he hates.

“Think I’m gonna head back.” Alex looks expectantly at Hunter, who only lifts his mug like he’s still planning on being a while. Fucking fine.

He can still see the two of them through the glass pane in the door when Nora walks by with a stack of folders.

“You okay?” she asks, in a tone that says she’s guessed the answer.

“Fucking no,” says Alex anyway. “What are they even doing? Talking?”

Nora sneaks a peek through the window. “Appears so,” she deadpans. “Talking in the break room. Unbelievable.”

“I know, right?” Alex scowls, then realizes he’s left without his coffee, which makes him scowl even harder.

Nora sighs, then slips her free arm through his. “Let’s walk.”

“Do you think Hunter likes him?” asks Alex. Because—not that he’s spent a lot of time on this—Alex thinks that Hunter does, and nothing is worse than the thought of Henry liking him back because he doesn’t know any better.

Maybe Alex should say something.

Nora is looking sideways at him. Alex isn’t sure why. “I think what Hunter likes is people with a pedigree,” she says. “Anyway, what’s not to like? Henry’s a snack.”

“What?” says Alex. Objectively, Henry looks a bit like an Adonis, but, “That is so beside the point. And just because Hunter’s like Harvard royalty or whatever doesn’t give him the right to come in here and trick people into liking him when—”

“When you were here first?” Nora supplies.

“What?” Now Nora is really missing the point. “This has nothing to do with me, or with Henry. I just meant, like, you know. In general.”

“Right,” says Nora. “I must have misunderstood.”

.

Alex keeps going back to the break room, of course. The coffee’s still better, and he can keep bothering Nora even though she’s transferring soon too (to marketing two floors down, the traitor). None of those things have changed just because Henry is no longer there every day.

The one thing that does change, Alex notices with a dark kind of satisfaction, is that Hunter does not go back to the break room. In fact, he starts bringing his own coffee each morning (Starbucks, which seems very on-brand). If anything, Alex only has more reason now to escape to HR and not spend any more time around Hunter than necessary.

About a week after Henry’s transfer, Alex realizes he’s used the last of the break room’s cinnamon. Again. Goddamn it, he thinks. He’s just spent the morning in back-to-back meetings, he’s getting his coffee hours later than usual, and now this?

He rifles through the cupboards for a second and then a third time just in case there's a rogue bottle somewhere. “Fuck me,” he mutters.

“What’s the occasion?” comes a voice from the door, and Alex turns to find Henry leaning against it. His arms are crossed, and he’s doing that chin-tilty thing that apparently means Alex has zero control over what comes out of his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Alex blurts.

Henry raises an eyebrow. “I could’ve been asking you the same thing for the past six months or so, but I haven’t.” He uncrosses his arms and comes over. “Would you believe me if I said I came here for the coffee?”

“No,” says Alex, with absolute certainty. “You don’t drink coffee.”

Henry blinks. “I could,” he argues after a moment, then straightens a little. “In fact, maybe I planned to start today.”

“Uh huh.” Alex gestures for him to have at the machine. “Do you even know how to use it?”

“Can’t be that difficult,” says Henry. He gives the machine a dubious look, and Alex doesn’t mean to but he starts to laugh.

“Here, I got it. Was about to make some for myself anyway.”

“Ah.” Henry looks abashed suddenly. Even the tips of his ears have turned pink. “Suppose you’ll be wanting this, then.” He pulls a ground cinnamon bottle from his pants pocket.

Alex shakes his head in disbelief. He could actually kiss Henry right now. “How did you—?”

“Well, you were running low last I was here,” says Henry, like that’s a totally normal thing to have noticed when Alex has never seen him touch the spice rack once. “Figured you'd be out by now, so I nicked some from the break room upstairs. No one’s been using it there anyway.”

The shock on Alex’s face makes him backtrack. “Sorry,” he says, flushing an even deeper pink now. “I—didn’t know you’d be here. You’re usually, um. Earlier. I can return it, if you’d like.” He says all this in a rush.

“No, it’s great,” Alex says emphatically. “Don’t you dare take it back.” He’s still staring a little, but that can’t be helped. Henry knows how he likes his coffee. And Henry had planned to restock the cinnamon without Alex ever knowing.

Henry clears his throat, looking around them. “You didn’t bring Hunter with you today,” he notes.

“No,” says Alex immediately. “God, no. And I don’t bring him anywhere, he just. Shows up. Honestly, I can’t stand the guy.” Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Oh, thank Christ,” Henry says, looking immensely relieved. “Now that I don’t work in HR anymore, can I just say how little I enjoy his company?”

This is way better news than when Henry had first reached out to Alex with his offer letter and starting salary. He grins. “You can. In fact, please say more.”

Henry looks rueful. “I really shouldn’t.”

“It’s just that—” Alex sobers a little. “He was the only person you seemed willing to talk to.”

“It was easier, for me.” Henry takes a breath. “I feel less shy around people whose opinion of me doesn’t matter as much.” He pauses, something meaningful in the way he looks sidelong at Alex now. “I do want to be better about it.”

Alex nods, considering this. He tries hard not to smile. Probably not hard enough. “I can work with that.”

.

“You do realize neither of you work in this department,” says Nora, pulling food from the fridge.

Henry sips the tea Alex has just made him. Coffee, turns out, had been a lost cause. They’re both leaning against the counter, elbows not-quite-touching but getting closer to it every day, by Alex’s estimation.

“Do any of us, at this point?” Henry muses.

Nora shrugs. “Fair.”

“Just don’t tell You Know Who,” says Alex.

“Who’s You Know Who?” Hunter asks from the doorway. He has a confused smile on his face as he looks from Henry to Alex back to Henry again. Normally the sight of Hunter fills Alex with the most profound irritation, but now he’s feeling kind of pleased.

That’s right, he thinks smugly at Hunter: Henry is mine.

Huh. Suddenly things make a lot more sense now.

“Hey, did you get my email about the museum opening this Friday?” Hunter asks Henry, and Alex bristles instantly. Did Hunter not get the look Alex just gave him?

“Ah,” says Henry awkwardly, and it would be endearing if he didn’t also look so deeply uncomfortable. His awkwardness now is so different from the bashful kind of awkward he used to be around Alex; honestly, Alex can’t believe he’d never been able to tell between the two until now. “Actually, I’m—”

“Going,” says Alex, “already. With me.”

Henry looks at him in happy surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” Alex says firmly. And then, because he likes how dumbstruck Hunter looks right now, and because Henry doesn’t pull away when Alex puts an arm around his shoulders and he really, really likes that too, he does the only thing left that makes sense to him, which is to lean in and kiss Henry. He kind of feels like he might die when Henry kisses him back.

Fuuuuuuck.

Henry’s eyes are still closed when Alex leans back. He’s dimly aware that Nora has shooed Hunter out and closed the door behind them. He’s more acutely aware of how Henry licks his lips, then opens his eyes with an oddly vulnerable expression and says, “Alex, please tell me you didn’t just kiss me for Hunter’s benefit.”

“What? No. I mean—not exactly.” Fuck. Why can’t he use only the words that he needs? “The answer’s still no, but I might’ve used it as an excuse if I’d kissed you like two weeks ago. But that’s not why I kissed you just now, and it’s not why I’m going to kiss you again.”

“Oh, you think you’re going to kiss me again, do you,” Henry says with a hint of a smile, lifting his chin in a kind of challenge that Alex does not intend to back away from.

“One-hundred-percent,” he says, then pauses. “Unless you plan on reporting me to HR.”

“Honestly,” says Henry, “I might have to report you if you don’t.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Alex says, very seriously, and he pulls Henry back in.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrbedit #rwrbsource #rwrb fic #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fanfic #usernuria #iuserzoe #userveronika #usersteen #chrissiewatts

[helloliriels]

Sleepless (Part 4)

Sherlock rushed out of the lab, itching with the need for a cigarette … 

.         The night air was biting. It crawled up his exposed wrist as he pulled out the lighter and flicked an amber glow to life. 

.               He could practically hear Mycroft’s chiding voice echoing between the buildings behind him … cold and aloof … 

 . “... don’t get involved, Sherlock …”

.

“Not likely to, am I?” he asked the night sky. 

It had been nearly a year and a half since he’d found out the truth about the Victor Trevor case. And with it, a renewed sense that maybe Mycroft was right …? Alone was safe. Alone protected him. 

So,

He’d added a layer of acidity to his demeanour; began calling himself a High Functioning Sociopath to all of his newest acquaintances; and found himself popping his coat collar up more often … Avoiding those around him, even when they tried to engage. 

Lestrade was the hardest to shake. He seemed to take Sherlock’s renewed efforts as a sign that he needed more companionship. Not less. 

He hoped at least that his latest efforts hadn’t offended Greg too much … ? It was almost too easy pretending to forget his given name …

And it seemed that it was working … mostly.

.

He took a long pull of his cig and watched the smoke curl upwards, the only grey in a starlit, cloudless sky ... and wrapped his coat closer against the wind. 

A walk would be good. Clear his head. 

.      At least he wasn’t the only one going sleepless tonight.

.      The thought was somehow oddly … comforting.

“Hey, sunshine!” John peeked in the doorway to find his daughter blinking and stretching the next morning … and smiled at the sight.

“Ready to get up and have some pancakes, kiddo?”

Rosie couldn’t get out of bed fast enough! 

Her squeals of delight echoing down the stairs and around the flat as she chased him down the hall and around the kitchen. Floppy bunny dragging and bouncing behind …

“Molly! Have you seen my-”

Sherlock burst into the laboratory with more than his usual sense of urgency …

He was wearing the look of a man who had obtained little-to-no sleep, and Molly doubted if he had stopped moving since his departure the night before. There were telltale rings below his eyes and a harried expression she couldn't quite pinpoint, hiding in them.

Not that sleeplessness was that unusual … for Sherlock … 

.         …But the unmistakable smell of cigarettes that trailed behind him, however … was … 

.

“This?” She asked, “Sherlock? You left it on the table.” She lifted the object in question over her head.

Sherlock swirled around, took it without comment, and rushed immediately, to leave … 

.

“Oh!” she added, halting him mid-stride, on his way out, “I also finished up your report? You uh … you left a few things unfinished, last night? and I know how you like the details …? So I-”

Her cheerful smile made him stop and scowl in response, before the mask fell away. He hadn't expected that. “Yes …” Sherlock replied, stepping forward. He took the pages, his mind still clearly somewhere else … as he ducked and gave her a hurried peck on the cheek, "thank you, Molly.” he whispered.

Contrite.

It was an apology for something?

.

.              … the next second he was swooshing away, again, and Molly tried to get back to her work, thinking he was gone.

.

It surprised her then,

When he was still there, a moment later … 

.           Halted in the doorway. Hand at this pocket.

She saw a flutter of pages as he pulled them out - and couldn't quite read the expression on his face at this angle …

.          As he slowly crumpled one up … and tossed it into the bin with a catch of his breath.

Then he tucked her report back in his pocket, and was gone.

Before she could say a word …

.

.                       He had missed the bin.

.

(fic continues below cut) Part 3 | Part 2 | Part 1 | AO3 Subscribe

Molly wandered over to pick whatever it was up from the floor … 

Her radio playing quietly in the corner.

The familiar jingle teasing recent episodes of 'Your Feelings and You':

. “Steadfast in Belfast” … the voice announced, followed by a sound clip of the frustrated caller

. ... “I feel like the more faithful I am … the more he cheats-? ” …

. “Cancelled in Cardiff” …

. “our whole honeymoon was a nightmare!” …

. “Manchester Doppelganger”

. … “he dated me for my sister!”

. … and … “Sleepless in London” …

. “John? What was so special about your wife?" ...

. "Oh ..." *sigh* ... "well ... It was a million tiny little things, that…  Somehow, just meant we fit together? … And I knew ... the very first time we touched … Like finding a missing puzzle piece, you didn't know you had lost ..."

.

As she stooped to pick up the crumpled piece of lined paper from the ground ... she couldn't help the hopeful pulse beating in her chest ... 

These were drafts of some sort ... ? Maybe ... a letter?

Her hand covered her mouth in surprise, as it dawned on her, exactly what she was reading:

.

.           Dear John,

.           To little Rosie,

.           Dear Dr. John Watson (and Little Watson),

.           I know we're supposed to write 'Sleepless and Daughter' or some such nonsense under a misguided attempt at anonymity, however the attempt seemed feeble, if not futile. You will see my return address on this correspondence, and I find no reason to avoid transparency.

.           Also, do not be alarmed as your name was simple to deduce. Ruling out the other seven that begin with Wat including Waterhouse and Waterman (more commonly to be found in America these days) and the Asian forms of Watanabe or Wattana (seeing as you yourself are not Asian); That left only a few choices, and your accent bore hints of Scottish descent. It was not a guess.

.           I should say first, that I have never written a letter like this before in my life, and am unlikely to do so ever again (yes, everyone begins a letter to a stranger this way. I realise the irony of such an idiotic statement). And as you are no doubt getting inundated with piles of letters, you are tired of seeing this already.

.           I do not listen to the radio. 

.           I was forced to overhear your brief and fascinating conversation the other night by a coworker.

.           I wanted to ask you

.           My only regret in listening, is  I regret that the radio host interrupted you, before you could tell us what invalided you out of the military prematurely? And how you ended up as a London GP. Which you are. You are also an excellent marksman, despite your humility in that regard, and no doubt have many hidden talents to be uncovered. Although your true talent is being wasted. You are clearly a storyteller and should be writing.

.           No, I have not looked up your records. Although it would be an incredibly simple to do so. Seeing as how my brother practically runs the British Government. Nor will I make any attempts to search your profile online. I doubt you have an internet presence, under the circumstances, and something tells me it would not tell the whole story of who you are, even if you did. Again, to the writing. If you do not journal or keep even a private blog, I would be incredibly surprised.

.           All of this to say ... 

.           *If* you are still reading this AND 

.           *If* you are still single this time next year (which I doubt) … 

.

.           I would invite you to try an experiment with me:

.           I will be waiting at the top of Big Ben at midnight, New Year's Eve with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. As I can tell you're a hopeless romantic and I doubt you've seen the view from up there (there are few who have).

.           At the very least I can promise a memorable night for you - even if you decide I am not, ultimately your type, or even your preferred sexual orientation. And no, I do not expect anything of you but your company and a toast to ring in the new year (just so we're clear). 

.           Do give brave little Watson my best regards. I have no doubt she will grow up to be a game changer in whatever field of study she pursues. Not unlike her father. in whatever path she chooses in life.

.           And please inform her (if you haven't already) that being single is not the worst crime. Not living your life to the fullest however, might be.

.           Do take care, John.

.

.           Sincerely,

.           Sherlock Holmes

.           P.S. If you do not reply, I will assume you have torn this letter up. And I could hardly blame you. I would have. And might still. 

“Oh, my … g-” 

She snuck a glance again at the door, to verify that Sherlock had not returned-? And caught her reading? … The colour rising to her cheeks at the mere thought!

.

Her hand hovered over the bin …

.               … but she just couldn't bring herself to toss it.

.

Sherlock had written this-? Had agonized over it for hours-?

And then … just … binned it?!

.

She tucked it in her own pocket for a while … muddling over the problem.

Sherlock being gay shouldn't have come as a surprise. It seemed like all the guys she was falling for were ... that guy in IT last month had seemed the most promising …

Maybe Sherlock had caught onto it sooner, because of his own orientation? 

.

As the radio played on and on, and John and Rosie's voices made an appearance throughout her evening … it kept drawing her thoughts back to the letter burning a hole in her pocket. 

Perhaps she should give it back to him? Encourage him to send it?

She texted Mike, asking if he knew when Sherlock might be coming back by?

A text reply pinged almost immediately:

.

.            Caught a plane to Italy? Didn't he?

.            Said something about being gone a few weeks.

.

Molly blinked. No wonder he had been in a rush!

Even so, a decision was softly forming in her mind.

She opened up a new doc and began typing up a finished draft of the letter for Sherlock ... softening some of its edges ... and hit print. 

She had seen a glimpse of something different ...

.          Something Sherlock wanted ...

.                The real Sherlock.

Not the armour plated one he presented.

.                 And re-reading the letter as she typed it ... she realized ...

 .                             He would never have really allowed himself to try:

'I will assume you have torn this letter up. And I could hardly blame you. I would have. I might still.'

.

He had built himself too many outs.

She decided to include the original draft in the envelope, along with the finished letter. For its honesty. Determined to post it to the Radio program without a chance to second-guess her actions:

.      Attn: Dr. Irene Adler

.      Radio KKRX The Heart of London

.      35A Leicester Square, Suite 6

.      Covent Garden, London WC2H 7LA

Then took a deep breath as she stuck a little love heart on it to seal the envelope,

and made her way to the post.

.

Hoping … Sherlock wouldn't hate her forever, if he found out.

(let me know if you want tagged or removed anytime!) @johnlocky @fluffbyday-smutbynight @chinike @rhasima @whatnext2020 @mydogwatson @peageetibbs @peanitbear @eplapourdissant @lovelenivy @gremlininthemachine @daltongraham @t-dalo @kabubsmagga @holmesianlove @cupidford @janiesprings @amyreadsandstresses @calaisreno @khorazir @bluebellofbakerstreet @kettykika78 @topsyturvy-turtely @masterofhounds @loki-lock @pocketwatchofmycroft @myriath @raina-at @missdeliadili @safedistancefrombeingsmart @totallysilvergirl @purplevatican @midgemao @ileenhaddockhawkins @storytellingdreamer @a-clithridiate-in-my-heart @copperplatebeech @chriscalledmesweetie @simplyclockwork @discordantwords @sarahthecoat @inevitably-johnlocked @swissmissing @shelleysprometheus @7-percent

#sleepless in london #helloliriels #johnlock fan fic #johnlock #bbc sherlock #au #sleepless in seattle #crossover #cause this is happening #i am sherlocked #and so is everything else #or it will be #*cracks knuckles* #I'll fix links later! sorry!

[jokatsuya]

Hello Lovely! I was wondering if you could write a Sherlock x reader, only if you want to of course. Where Sherlock kisses the reader’s cheek without thinking as he's rushing out the door to a crime scene. John and reader are surprised bc Reader and Sherl aren't dating just yet?

A fraction of a moment

Sherlock x reader / Sherlock x G/n reader

Wordcount: 1321

Warnings: actually none as long as you are not a high functioning sociopath (if you are: Watch out! A little bit of fluff.)

Summary: Check out the sweet request by @lovely-lady-lumps

A/n: The writing was really funny and the ending offers something for the future, so you can stay excited. Hopefully I could fulfill the wishes and expectations. Hope you like it as much as I do, so have fun reading. Yours JoKatsuya

There he stands, the tall handsome man, who daily provides for the fascination of my side. In my opinion, I will probably never be able to fully understand his thought processes, be it said that I do not even want it. I mean, where's the magic, the allure of being enchanted again day after day by him, his talents,...his looks, to be honest, if you understood the tricks? But this is Sherlock Holmes, known for not understanding emotions according to his own words, let alone wanting to feel them.

In such conversations, he then often begins to allude to the limbic system, which for me, in the precision of the explanations, no longer gives a clear context after a few moments. And should he notice in his monologues that I was no longer mentally present, he had made it his own a while ago to occasionally draw my attention back to his words through, sometimes also uncharming ways. Something that never really surprised me until John had brought it up once. Besides, he also said that I would be something special for Sherlock, but this seems to me very absurd, since Sherlock describes himself as a sociopath; someone who has an abnormal relationship to the community. Specifically, it's people with little empathy and a lack of guilt who promote their own pleasure by taking advantage of those around them, but to be honest, Sherlock is so much more than that.

He can be funny when he wants to be, he can listen when he wants to listen, he thinks about the welfare of his fellow man far more often than some of the rest of us. God, I'm starting to sound like one of those love-struck teenagers from the old familiar romances.

Partly embarrassed, partly slightly disturbed at my own thought processes, I shake my head slightly. Sherlock still seems to be talking to Greg on the phone, which visibly annoys him. In the meantime, he is pacing up and down the living room, while he keeps glancing into the kitchen at his latest experiment.

At the moment I understood at least to some extent his absurd request, which he had to make me at half past three in the night. The whole had brought me additionally not only around my well-deserved and urgently necessary sleep, but also around one of my coffee cups, in which something swam, that belonged probably once to a living organism. I will definitely get a replacement from him.

The great consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, was an amazingly chaotic roommate, as well as dramatic contemporary, taking any drama he could. A grin flashes across my lips, whereupon Sherlock holds a hand in front of his cell phone and hisses somewhat annoyed almost silently: >>Stop it.<<

Confused, I eye him, but then finally turn my attention back to my book, to which I have once again paid far too little attention for far too long in Sherlock's presence, only to stare at the man in front of me in detail and far too conspicuously.

>>That's great!...Why shouldn't I be happy?<<, his delighted tones of his pleasantly deeper voice come forth.

Just as I finally get through another page and am about to start the next one, John walks into the apartment and greets me with a raised hand and a friendly smile before walking quickly towards me.

John is Sherlock's best friend even if the curly-haired man doesn't like to admit it to himself, everyone knows it and I think he does too. And whoosh, we're back on the same topic as before.

>>Want a cup of tea?<<, I turn to John, with a delayed glance that lingers on Sherlock for a second too long. Jesus, that's one of your closest friends right there (y/n), get a grip. You're definitely not going to risk that friendship over something like that. This friendship and the trust of both parties is hard earned and should not be threatened by such inanity.

>>Yes, gladly. But don't go to any trouble.<<, John answers with his well-known good manners and grabs the current newspaper at the same moment. Well, supposedly good manners would probably be a better formulation.

I get up with a swing and make my way to the kitchen, careful not to contaminate Sherlock's experiment or make it completely unusable by any other wrong moves. I overhear the two men talking to each other, but I can't quite make out what they're talking about because the water is starting to boil. After a few more moments, I return to the other two with two cups of tea and hand John his cup, which he accepts with thanks. But just as Watson joyfully accepts his, two long arms appear in my field of vision, which literally snatch my cup from my hand. I immediately stare into Sherlock's blue-grey eyes, hoping to have just seen a supposed hint of a smile! Such impudence.

John, however, seems to have been so pulled out of his coordination with the cup that some of the still-hot delicious-smelling contents spill onto his shirt, causing him to hiss and directly rebuke his friend for finally learning some manners. I give Sherlock a withering look. He seems to have noticed this out of the corner of his eye and lets his head dart briefly to me before he apparently realizes what I'm trying to signal to him and turns his head directly back to me, still slightly confused.

John doesn't seem to care much about our exchange of glances, so he stands up and disappears in the direction of the bathroom.

A bit angry that he had just taken my tea, I try to snatch the cup from his hands again, but in vain. Each time I struggle to make another attempt at reclaiming it, he lifts the small container out of my reach, turns away in dance-like movements, or makes any of his just-about-to-be-epic remarks, about my inefficient approach.

When I finally admit defeat, he cheekily places the empty cup in front of me and heads towards the coat rack to throw on his coat at a pace that would make you think he's done nothing else all his life. Admittedly a relatively rewarding sight...No, I haven't forgiven him for what he did just now!

>>John? Come on!<<, Sherlock calls into the apartment, just straightening his scarf as the doctor re-enters.

>>What is it?<<, he replies, but obviously not yet over what happened just now.

>>You come with me.<<

>>Where?<<

>>A double murder on the Thames and you know what's even better...<<, Sherlock euphorically starts to answer before he is immediately interrupted by John, who runs his hands over his temples.

>>I just got here. Can't you give me some peace and quiet?<<

Suddenly Sherlock flits past me while he replies indignantly: >>You want it too<< And before he lets his friend answer, he flits past me again. My breath catches in my throat.

As if in slow motion, he presses a gentle kiss on my cheek before he runs down the stairs without elaborating and calls out, sounding almost rushed: >>John, come on now!<<

Completely perplexed I stare blinking at John, who can grasp just as little as I what has just happened. My skin seems to literally burn: >>What just happened?<<

>>Are you two...<<, John starts a question, just as confused and overwhelmed by the situation as I seem.

>>No.<<, I hastily take the answer out of his mouth and sink down on the couch.

Had Sherlock actually just...kissed me? No, or had he? My emotions seem to be on a roller coaster right now. I have so many questions. My head is spinning. All the emotions that come out of this situation are mixed up and make me feel strange inside. Can I perhaps allow deeper feelings for this man who is otherwise so distant from others and would he perhaps...reciprocate them? That fraction of a moment was indescribable.

Strictly do not: copy, claim or translate those stories of mine anywhere else

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #sherlock x y/n #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch x reader #bbc #sherlock fic #john watson #dr watson #greg lestrad #inspector lestrade #sherlock fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch fic #benedict cumberbatch fanfiction #221b #221b baker street #sherlock holmes #sherlock

[iamsherlocked1479]

Chapter 8

The smell of gunpowder was sharp and sour, its scent filled your nostrils as you opened your tightened eyes to see you were still alive. Your shoes slipped in the gooey ruby red blood trailing ever so close to surrounding your chair, you followed the stream with your eyes eventually locking on the open cold eyes of your captor’s dead smile still gleaming at you. You took a moment before looking at Sherlock, his shoulders rising with every breath he took.

“Y/n it’s okay you're safe now.” John stepped over the body and began un-tying your wrists. You didn’t say anything, you were trying to make sense of what the hell just happened, he found you.

You watched him stare at the body, you hadn’t seen this side of Sherlock, he was confused and almost looked scared.

“I don’t understand, why would he kill himself?” he said, pushing the body with his foot.

“That doesn’t matter now, I called the police. They should be here to meet us any second, let's just focus on getter y/n out of here, she’s got a pretty nasty mark on her head.” John helped you out of your seat and the pair led you outside where Greg and an army of police and medics were waiting for you outside.

You were ushered to an ambulance and wrapped in a blanket, the medic spent time fussing over your head, but at this point you didn’t notice it.

“He didn’t save me.” you muttered to yourself. As strange as it was, the only person you should be thanking is Moriarty, he was the one who dealt the final blow.

“Can you give me a detailed description of what happened?” Sherlock stood over you, his eyes locked on your own. He needed answers, he needed them now.

“Leave her alone, she’s in shock.” Greg pulled Sherlock away but his lecture was interrupted by a cautiously approaching detective.

“Sir” he paused

“Go on, spit it out!” Sherlock interrupted, the detective looked at Greg confused.

“Ignore him, what's the problem?” he sighed

“It’s gone.”

“What's gone?” Greg stood perplexed

“The body sir, it's gone.”

“I don't understand, you said he shot himself?” Greg turned to Sherlock who lit up 

“Yes! I knew it, he wouldn’t just kill himself like that.” he clapped his hands together in delight

“So all that was for nothing, to confuse you for twenty minutes?” you added stopping Sherlocks celebration

“You’re mad at me?” 

“Of course I am, you could have just shot him. But you didn't, what the hell! Is everyone I know a psychopath?”

“Actually it's high functioning sociopath, but yes one way or another.”

“I don’t believe you. Can someone just take me home?” You stand up leaving the blanket on the pavement.

“Y/n wait, you’re in shock clearly.” Sherlock followed behind trying to place the blanket around your shoulders, you turn and stop him in his tracks with a harsh slap across his face. His hand covered the flaming area as he watched you walk away looking for a ride home. “Maybe I deserved that.” he muttered to himself.

……………………………………………………………

John helped you find a way home, accompanying you in a police car and making you a cup of tea while you listened to your aunt's cries on how much she missed you.

“He doesn’t mean to upset you.” John sat besides you refilling your cup.

“Doesn’t always seem that way.” you say rolling your eyes to Mary who sat across from you.

“What John is trying to say is, Sherlock doesn't understand the way he feels about you. And we all know how much he enjoys his cases.” 

“What do you mean the way he feels about me, he doesn't care about anyone.”

“Y/n we saw the video of you two, he has to have some form of emotion towards you, even Irene Adler couldn’t accomplish that.” John added

“Irene Adler had to flee the country, I'm sure she would have. And the video, that reminds me.” you got up dragging a chair behind you. You placed the chair down and used it to pull the camera down from the ceiling. 

“What a creep.” Mary stated

“Believe me it gets worse.” you went around the apartment removing all the cameras Moriarty managed to hide from you. It felt good finally doing something about the situation, his body was gone which meant he would absolutely come after you again, to flirt or to finish the job. You didn’t want either of those things.

 Finally you made it to your room, everything was the same apart from your laptop. “Shit shit shit!” your laptop was destroyed in the explosion, your writing, your work are all gone. Then you remembered university, the paper was due yesterday. Surely the fact that you were kidnapped was a good enough excuse and now it was the end of term,you had two weeks of waiting before you could find out if you were still somehow able to go. But after both drugs incidents you didn’t think the university board liked you very much. You stared at your room. It was exactly the same, Mycroft had left it for a change. You saw the tip of your bridesmaid dress poking through the gap of your closet, the wedding was in twelve days and you’d barely prepared yourself to put the outfit together, the dress was chosen for you but everything else? Well that was a mystery. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Y/n can I come in?” Sherlocks deep voice rattled your ears, he knocked he never usually did.

“I don’t want to be around you right now, I don’t need the sarcasm.” you spat back

“What sarcasm?” he asked confused

“Go away sherlock.”

“Nevermind, I'm not going. If you wont open the door i’ll just say it” Sherlock stood behind the door his face close to the door ensuring every word could be heard, he shuffled at his feet clutching the portion of chips he bought close to his chest. He was nervous, he couldn’t explain the feeling it was new to him, his stomach was knotted and his brow was sweaty. “I don’t have girlfriends and I certainly don't have physical relationships with people. I think the very idea of committing to a person's mind, body and if it exists soul, i don’t like the fact someone is constantly relying on you or wanting to be around you, the very thought of it repulses me. But then I met you and I agree yes at first that opinion still stood. I failed to connect the logic of a relationship to the reason, until I met you. I would say this goes against all my morals but I have very few of them, but to me if I had a relationship with someone I’d consider it a crime almost. It was the one thing me and my gastly brother could agree on, but then I never thought about a relationship with you, it's a crime I know but it’s my favourite crime” his mouth was dry he gulped waiting for your reply but nothing, he bowed his head and sighed heavily “I’m sorry for what I did, maybe I- maybe I was wrong. I should’ve protected you when I had the chance too” The door handle clicked as it turned and opened slowly revealing your warm glossy eyes staring at his how, you were sure but you might have even seen tears beginning to form at the corners of his.

“Do you really mean it?” you smile

“Every word.” those words where all you needed to hear your eyes moved from his to his lips, you moved in closer but he just grabbed you and pulled you in for a desperate kiss. 

His hands ran through your hair, dropping the chips he had bought for you. It was at this moment you felt safe, you had imagined it so many times in your head but it never felt like this. And that's when it ended, his arms no longer felt safe, they felt dangerous, caring for him had already cost so much, your education, your future and nearly your life. You pulled away breaking his grasp,

“What's wrong?” he asked his pupils dilated at the sight of your fear

“I can’t do this.” you say gripping your arm

“Do what? What's wrong?” he came closer trying to hold you again but you stepped away

“Think logically Sherlock, this isn’t safe. Look at who you are and look at your enemies, people get hurt not just me but what if it was John or Mrs Hudson. Moriarty knows he can get into your head. I know it's selfish but us being together is dangerous for you and for the people we love.” Sherlock went quiet for a moment, he was deducing his options, he had to make human decisions,

“I can stop him, I’ll find him.” 

“You were looking for him for over a year, Moriarty can only be found when he wants to be. We both know that.”

“You’re right, this an irrational decision, Mycroft is right I can't deal with these kinds of emotions. I’m too smart, here.” he handed you the chips, brushing off his jacket and headed downstairs.

The rest of the night was quiet, only filled with the sounds of Sherlocks soft tune, he played for hours, thinking. Mycroft is right, ordinary people make stupid decisions and Sherlock wasn’t ordinary. He was a high functioning sociopath, and he liked it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: horray fnally past the parts i was struggling with uploads should be a bit more frequant now! really hope you're enjoyng ths as much as i do! as always enjoy and luv you all <3

#bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader masterlist #sherlock x fem!reader #dr john watson #benedict cumberbatch #y/n x sherlock #Spotify

[jaehaerysiitargaryen]

The High-functioning Sociopath

Because of the way Jaehaerys Targaryen was raised and who had a hand in raising him. Jaehearys was educated by the best maesters and septons. Alicent worked hard to keep her hooks in Jaehaerys to keep him from becoming like his father. While his father had hands in what haunts Jaehaerys the most.

Note: Liberties taken so it's not fully 1 to 1

Superior Intelligence: Jaehaerys is very smart, it's quiet intelligence. He's good with numbers, figures, and battle plans. Jaehaerys learned a lot about war from his uncles and he learned even more from the actual battle himself. He and Aemond were effective in their burning of the Riverlands because of plans drawn up by Jaehaerys. Jaehaerys protected King's Landing during Aemond's regency while his own father healed. The last year of the war and the first year of the new seven kingdoms.

Jaehaerys is good at socializing and making deals.. There is something to be said about his talent with people from Essos.

Calculating Behaviors: Jaehaerys is extremely driven, determined, and his ambitions or endless. He knows what he wants and how to get it. He is purposeful in his actions. Rarely can one say Jaehaerys doesn't know what he's doing or saying. There's a chance he's practiced this conversation before having it.

Lack of empathy: The clearest depiction of Jaehearys' lack of empathy is his feelings about his actions in the war. He does not understand the emotions of other people and therefore has no appreciation for the consequences of his actions. He doesn't feel a sense of guilt or shame for the war. He believes the war is war and now it's over. The fact he has slaves working on building projects means even less. Jaehaerys doesn't think about the fallout from what he plans to do next, he just does.

High impulsivity: Jaehaerys isn't highly impulsive, not as much as when he was younger. The impulsivity is still there, he will so do and think later. Some times this results in things like carrying out sentences in Flea Bottom to him deciding to leave for Essos in the night.

Relationships

Jaehaerys' wife was sheltered, causing her to be attached to him.. And then she had Aenar who she focused on during Jaehaerys' time in the Starry Sept.

His son, Aenar Targaryen, was important to him even if Jaehaerys had a hard time understanding the boy. When he died, it was a painful experience he has pushed away. He doesn't speak about him and often ignores when others bring him up.

Jaehaerys loves his family. He loves them greatly. Until he doesn't.

Love

Completely incapable of love. The affection or love he holds for family is something he is supposed to feel, so he does. His love is conditional, which love should not be. There is a difference between setting limits and boundaries versus condition. Jaehaerys can stop loving you. And if he feels that you're tempting his control, he will play on your insecurities. Are you afraid of being alone? Jaehaerys will take every opportunity to remind you that without him you are alone. Are you afraid of death? The stranger will haunt your every day.

Awareness

Jaehaerys has a self-awareness that something isn't right, it feeds into a very present paranoia that leads him to think maybe he's wrong. Maybe everything is wrong. Then why does he feel himself crumble and why does he see himself as a boy if nothing is wrong? Why is it when he walks through the Red Keep he feels himself in a pit of deep despair? Why does he hear the laughter from the dead?

Final Note: Jaehaerys POV

"The conflict of the Dance of Dragons was inherited from mothers, grandmothers, grandsires, and fathers. Uncles and sycophants. It was simple. Surrender your false claim or go to war. And we all kitted up for war and in the end you all won. You gained your freedoms and independence and in that freedom and independence, you align yourselves in the light of green or black. It is a farce. Truly. The dragons are dead. Carry on. Move around. Jog on. Or don't. Move through me, give it your best shot. Otherwise, you are a woman sat in knitting circles drinking wine and eating cake as you decry your misfortune. Pity me, they say as they run through the streets with roasted chickens under their arms, for I have no bread."

#Let no man think that the fire of the Targaryens did not burn in his veins; studies of the dragon

[i-want-a-bagel]

Fandom Trumps Hate works

Hello friends ! 

I have completed and posted some of the FTH translations EN-FR I was working on (yayy!!!) 

1. Du rouge, du vert et du brillant

Which is a translation of the funny and sweet textfic "Something red, something green, something sparkly" by @totallysilvergirl

2. Si l’amour égal n’est pas possible

Which is a translation of the beautiful 5+1 fic "If Equal Affection Cannot Be" by @chriscalledmesweetie 

3. Le Sociopathe de Haut Niveau qui Marchait Seul

Which is a translation of the unique and simply amazing fic "The High-Functioning Sociopath Who Walked By Himself", also by @chriscalledmesweetie, which is inspired by Rudyard Kipling's The Cat That Walked By Himself.

4. Interview

Which is a translation of @bluebellofbakerstreet 's AMAZING punklock Interview, full of fanart of the characters in a punk band! You learn about these AU characters through the Interview and it's a brilliant mix of different while stile having all of them be true to their canon.

If you’ve ever wanted to practice your French, now’s the chance! 

I am still working on the final touches on my two other translations, and I’m on my first draft for my Office-inspired original fic. 

Give these fics a read, in whichever language you prefer, because they are definitely worth it! I am so thankful for everyone who donated and to the writers who gave me the opportunity to work with such amazing texts and stories! 

#fth #fandom trumps hate #fth 2021 #fandom trumps hate 2021 #fic writer #fic writers #fic #fics #translation #translations #french #sherlock #sherlock tv #sherlock fics #sherlock fanfics #fanfics #ao3 #ao3 writer #fireandhoney #silvergirl #totallysilvergirl #chriscalledmesweetie #me #mine #interview #bluebellofbakerstreet

[mellowchen0813]

Choices (Beelzebub X Qin Shi Huang)

Record of Ragnarök

Beelzebub X Qin Shi Huang

Title: Choices (Part 12 / ??)

Written by: Hastings_Lex (Twitter: @ hastings_lex)

Translated by: Mellow (Twitter: @ mellowchen0813)

Word count: 3363 words

“This post is written before Qin make his official appearance in Chapter 55”

Warning: Slight Heteromorphic Play

(Since one of them is a Demon aka Lord of the Flies)

OOC | Bugs | parasitic description | some bloody scene | some misconceptions

Lex Hastings and I came to an agreement that interested parties who would like to read the NSFW chapters in the future have to "Support to Unlock" because even the Chinese readers did not get to preview the NSFW chapters from her side. I will upload the future NSFW chapters on my ko-fi, which I will provide the link when I have reached those NSFW chapters.

That's right, NSFW Chapters. There is more than 1 chapter of NSFW.

Viewer’s Description is Advised

Setting:

I added some sociopath related symptoms into both Beelzebub and Qin’s characteristics. Since Qin hasn’t made his formal appearance in the manga, most of his character was built according to Chinese History.

And in conclusion, as a sociopath myself, I can reasonably suspect that Qin is a crazy man.

If you are interested in finding out what is “High-Functioning Sociopath” is, feel free to do a small research on it, people with this illness couldn’t live long.

Beelzebub was known as the “Lord of the Flies” or “Prince of Demons”,

So, flies, maggots and diseases should be his Legend Noumenon.

(No wonder he appeared as a crazy researcher)

Flies are one of the largest groups of insects and have a huge variety of characteristics. Nonetheless, flies are very sensitive to the scent around them, which is a good tool to find a suitable food source that can be miles away from them.

To make sure the partner is pregnant with his child ONLY, the male fly will put a plug in the female’s body after sexual intercourse, so that no other competitors would be able to breed and pregnant the female fly.

Do you know some of the flies have rather big sperms??

So…hehe

If you are fine with the setting above, enjoy~

Tragedies and disasters originally come from Love or Hope.

After Ying Zheng returned to hell, the first thing to do was to drag Beelzebub back to their room. He smiled all the way. The passing demons were thrilled by that smile because when the emperor smiled like this, that meant someone is going to either suffer or die. When those demons were still worried about it, they saw their once Demon King had a gloomy expression, walking behind the emperor, and the low pressure around him compared with the emperor were like two poles of a magnet. The demons sighed in relief.

Throughout these hundreds of years of education, they all are aware that the human being who was trained and educated by their Demon King was better than the Demon himself. They were too fragile to withstand the emperor's toss, but the Demon King did not have this problem. After all, whenever the emperor created trouble, Beelzebub was the one who handed over the knife to the emperor, but this time round, the knife seemed to stab himself. No one was expecting that to happen, but it is something to feel gratified about. Beelzebub noticed the stares and glares his getting from those demons. He turned his emotionless face and looked slowly at the demons and showed a ferocious smile.

All the demons felt that oppressing fear at the same time. That isn’t the eyes to look at their kind but the eyes to look at corpses. Now, although they had left heaven for a long time, they all missed the beauty of their hometown.

Back in the room, the intrigued emperor sat on the bed and looked at the Demon standing in front of him, smiled and pulled him closer. He put his hands around the Demon’s waist, leaned his head against his belly, raised his head and looked up at Beelzebub, who was looking down on him. Ying Zheng saw that his eyes were gradually showing a sign of thirst but uneasiness, but probably people were a little cheap. The more the Demon showed resistance, the more the emperor wanted to bully him.

His hands, with sharp finger-cots worn, intentionally or unintentionally rubbed up the Demon's tail vertebrae, then pressed him hard against himself, opened his mouth and bit Beelzebub’s tummy through his's clothes. Beelzebub was surprised by the sudden stimulation and gasped. The tummy of all creatures is sensitive and soft, even the Demon has a sensitive tummy too. The emperor provocatively looked at the Demon who was gradually controlled by Desire, pulled him back and let Beelzebub press on himself. He felt the Demon's cold lips sliding around his neck, and his body began to send out a special cold fragrance that brought him to excitement.

He opened his thighs and wrapped them around Beelzebub's waist and felt the Demon's weight completely pressed on his body. His cold and rough tongue licked along his exposed neck, extending from the adam's apple to his lower jaw to his lips. Ying Zheng opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, gently licked the tip of the Demon’s tongue, and soon was entangled. The smell of fishy yet sweet quickly burst into his mouth. He pressed the back of the Demon’s head, rubbed his fluffy black curls with the tips of his finger-cots, and made their kisses more deeply intertwined.

As the Demon squinted his eyes and enjoyed the warmth and seduction of the emperor, suddenly, Ying Zheng's legs clamped fiercely between the Demon’s waist and give it a hard twist-and-turn. The position between the emperor and the Demon was reversed. The Demon now lay under the emperor. Ying Zheng sat with his legs wide open between the Demon's waist and continue to hug and kiss him. Since he sat on Beelzebub, he could feel it more clearly: The naughty little Demon and the emperor’s gradually harden dick rubbed against each other between thin clothes.

He licked the Demon’s lips, raised his head to end this long, deep kiss. Ying Zheng pinched Beelzebub’s neck and pressed him on the bed. He straightened his waist and looked down at the Demon with a smile. The devil unconsciously gulped for such a sight, and the sliding of Adam's apple rubbed past Ying Zheng's palm. The emperor was a little excited and stroked it with his thumb, then he leaned down and rubbed the Demon’s cheek, biting his ear tip and asked,

"Have you ever kissed other humans or demons like this?"

He didn't forget the purpose of their return. Some things were a disaster if they didn't make it clear. Too many relationships failed because they thought too much.

The Demon narrowed his eyes for this inexplicable question, touched Ying Zheng's waist with both hands, and some sharp claws appeared uncontrollably. The sharp fingertips gently slid across the emperor's spine, bringing a few threads of itchiness and scratches, and then stopped on the thin cloth that was around the human’s neck.

"I don't waste time on things that aren't worth it"

He fiercely cut the fine cloth, and the clothes that lost support fell off from Ying Zheng’s neck, revealing his bare chest full of traces and marks. The Demon’s cold hands were pasted on the emperor's back neck, and his sharp claws gently stroked against the sensitive skin, bringing out some traces of slight bleeding. The cold and greasy touch and weakness were controlled and threatened by the oppression, which aroused Ying Zheng to shudder. The Demon seemed to feel offended by such questions.

"But I did…" Back in the days when he was free and unfettered in his harem, "… many times…" for the sake of offspring or pure sexual desire, the emperor looked sideways at the Demon and stared at his eyes. The anger in his eyes seemed to be ignited by himself along with the Desire. A dangerous excitement stimulated Ying Zheng to nibble at the Demon’s exquisite jaw.

"… until I choose to follow you to hell…" Ying Zheng felt that the strength on his back neck was tightened even more, and even the claws on his back pressed himself down against his tail vertebra. The emperor obediently collapsed and rubbed the Demon under him, giving out a few tiny moans. He let go of Beelzebub’s neck, put one hand close to the Demon’s face, and the other slid down his chest.

Ying Zheng lay his forehead onto Beelzebub’s, looked directly at the pair of abysses and continued to say, "… I'm willing to open my legs for you…." his hand with hard finger-cots rubbed against the excited and swollen lower body of the Demon. The Demon was startled and scratched the emperor's back, leaving a little blood. "… I trade my heart with you..." Beelzebub stared at the human, with a few threads of panic and apology in his eyes, but Ying Zheng seemed to have been unaware of this pain, but just continued to look at him attentively,

"… so, what are you afraid of? Those pasts are nothing."

People like them always think of themselves first. No matter what they do, it will be related to themselves until they also divide each other into their respective scope, so those hidden things are either related to each other or themselves...

The heat and confession in Ying Zheng's eyes almost made the Demon at a loss. Beelzebub was almost afraid for a split second. The emperor looked at the rising fear in the Demon’s eyes, narrowed his eyes and smiled and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss with a bit of encouragement and comfort. Beelzebub closed his eyes with some resignation under the operation of cruelty and tenderness for a while, taking back his claws and hugging the emperor who was sitting on his body and sitting up. Ying Zheng has his arms hooked around the Demon’s neck and looked down at him. The Demon took a deep breath,

"Demon's emotions aren’t like human beings," Beelzebub said it slowly as he lowered his head on the emperor's shoulder. At the same time, he tightened his hands around Ying Zheng’s waist to make the temperature in his arms closer to himself.

"Wow, did you mention the word ‘emotion’? Tell me more." Ying Zheng took off his fingertips and threw them aside, stroking the back of the Demon’s head, letting his soft black curls wrap around his fingers, and smelled the sweet scent like honey coming from the Demon.

"We might eat those that attract us…." the Demon felt those fingers curling his hair paused for a few seconds. His mouth was close to the emperor's beautiful and slender side neck, allowing his teeth to gently brush across the fine skin, causing the human on his body to shudder. "… you could die because of this."

Demons feed on what they desire. When they have uncontrollable feelings for a specific person or thing, Appetite will come along and grow. Whether is it the person's soul or blood, tears, internal organs, or bones, to them, it all smell very sweet and even begin to find other food tasteless. The Creator changed their Love into Appetite, so demons have no Love. Most demons will eat it up or let them leave before the Desire deteriorates. After all, no one can accept the painful truth that they will eventually eat their beloved.

Now everything can be explained. When the Demon looked at himself, his expression was full of hunger and thirst, and those violent bites and bruises. After a long pause of silence, Ying Zheng asked,

"Have you ever wanted to eat anyone before?"

"As extreme as this? Never."

The Demon buried his face on the emperor's shoulder and replied stiffly. He seemed quite distressed and with a bit of vulnerability. Suddenly, he felt a gentle caress on his head. The emperor's hands slid from the top of his head to his spine with just the right strength. It seemed to calm his insecurity and anxiety down, the emperor's head also nestled on Beelzebub's shoulder and smelled the sweet cold fragrance that’s peculiar to the Demon.

"Very well."

Then he fiercely twisted the Demon’s side neck, opened his mouth, and bit it. Beelzebub widened his eyes due to the sudden pain. The sense of emergency alarmed after his weakness was bitten made the Demon subconsciously open his mouth and bite the human being sitting on his body. Sweet blood slid into his throat. Beelzebub began to suck up Ying Zheng’s blood uncontrollably until a strand of flesh and skin was almost torn, then he regained his consciousness.

Ying Zheng raises his head and grabs the back of the Demon’s head to make him look at himself. "I'm the emperor…" Ying Zheng's mouth is dripping the Demon's black blood, "… I always bring death to other people’s doorstep, Beelzebub..." then he stick out some blackened tongue and licked his bloody lips as if he was tasting some beautiful wine.

"… and unfortunately, I recently found that you taste rather delicious too." He pulled the Demon’s curly hair and tilted his head to one side, exposing the wounds that had not healed after being bitten by himself. It was disgusting on the first bite, but now, what he taste now is a sweet smell like honey.

"... how is this possible?" Beelzebub looked suspiciously at the human buried in his neck. His weakness was bitten and licked by the emperor’s tongue. The Demon secretly aroused some morbid excitement. The smell of the emperor's stench, sweet blood still filled in his mouth, but the sense of hunger seemed to go down by the sudden sense of emergency and excitement

"Contracts always goes two-way."

The kiss with a black fishy smell fell on the Demon’s lips, and the emperor tasted his blood. Combined with the Demon’s smell in his mouth, it was like sweet wine mixed with blood. After the fishy smell was spread to the extreme, a sweet smell came in, which made them entangle tighter with each other. The Demon’s sharp fangs cut the emperor's lips, and Ying Zheng bit the tip of Beelzebub's tongue, which was his mouth, the emperor opened his mouth wide and let the Demon’s bloody tongue lick his tongue and slide deep into his throat. He held the Demon’s head close to each other and allowed Beelzebub’s cold tongue to go deep into his throat as if he wanted to eat the Demon up.

The base of the tongue is a little sore, but the human being still holds his tongue tight. The Demon looks at the human being excitedly and provocatively. His pupils are so clear, but in those pupils, there is a deep abyss. The abyss of hell is hot and crazy, like the lava at the bottom of hell that can burn everything, just like a demon. The Demon looks into the eyes of the emperor clearly, no wonder Ying Zheng’s eyes gave him a sense of familiarity: It was the eyes that the demons would show when they looked at the prey, and it was also the eyes that he looked at Ying Zheng, but now the prey showed its fangs to the former hunter. After he receives Ying Zheng's love, the human also receives Beelzebub’s Desire.

That isn’t bad. At least now their positions are equal, but Beelzebub’s mood is still slightly depressed. He clasped the back of the emperor's head and pulled him away, then intimately licked the corners of the emperor's blood-stained mouth and the wounds bitten by himself, then leaned against Ying Zheng and hugged him and said, "But I'm still stronger than you." This is an insurmountable racial gap that cannot be overstepped.

Beelzebub listened to the emperor's pulse quietly, waiting for the response of the person in his arms. The sweet aroma poured into the tip of his nose, making him want to bite through his heart and swallow it up.

But the emperor just patted the Demon on the back, and a blood-light flashed through the emperor's eyes out of the Demon's sight. Ying Zheng was quite crazy when he paid his feelings, but it was also extremely pure and unchallengeable. It was a king who opened his diamond-hard case and took out the rest of his beautiful and fresh heart that’s still beating, so when he decided to pay his feelings, He also paid off his soul, his bone and blood, his past, his present and future.

"Maybe, it's not that bad to die under your mouth." You brought me up and let me know how the world works; You taught me how to kill and told me how to survive; You put me on the throne and told me to know the weight and fun of authority. You gave me company so that I didn't have to face such an absurd world alone.

"You gave me my life and goal, my whole life is related to you…" Ying Zheng raised the Demon’s face, smiled and rubbed his forehead, looking at the eyes of the abyss slowly filled with ripples of waves. "… you shaped me to who I am today, so if I die by your side…" Let my life follow you from beginning to end. "… it may be a happy way for me to die."

When a person like them chooses to love someone, they will accept everything about that person, including any potentially fatal defects, as long as the other person is worth it for them to do so.

Perhaps Love has a kind of magic, which can make rational people crazy, make cowards brave, make human beings become monsters, and make monsters become human beings. The Demon sensed a new Desire began to form in his body and gradually erode it. That strange Appetite turned into something else, something he had been very familiar with and very evil.

Beelzebub widen his eyes and looked at Ying Zheng with some disbelief. The decadent heart in his chest seemed to jump again because of these words: The mood in the Demon’s eyes gradually changed from hunger, chaos, desire, surprise and joy to other special kinds of stuff. He vaguely remembered that a long time ago, there seemed to be a very unique passion called Hope, and that is the origin of all desires.

He remembered that when he had only known the emperor for a short while, back then, he was only a teenager in his teens. Sitting on the throne, he had a young and seemingly kind and gentle face, with bright eyes and charm that can make people surrender, but he also knew how to hide his spearhead at the right time and play a good child who was obedient and easy to teach. He remembered that he once asked him, "Why do you cover your eyes? Is it because you fear that others will read your mind?" But Ying Zheng just smiled silently and didn't answer, and the Demon didn't investigate further.

But sometimes he could see from his glance that the child looked at him as if he was looking at the world as if he would be conquered by the emperor.

The Demon got up with the emperor in his arms, put him to bed and let him half sit against the soft pillows at the bedside. Then, in Ying Zheng's confused eyes, he half knelt on the bed, took his hand, kissed it gently on the back of the emperor’s hand, and touched his forehead with that hand. It was like a special ceremony.

He looked up at the confused emperor and smiled and thought, I don't like to lose "You won…", but you proved that you are qualified to make me surrender, so I am willing to lose to you. From now on, "…my emperor.", you are my faith.

It felt like those legendary knights finally found a monarch they could be loyal to, and believers without faith finally found their God.

Ying Zheng picked up his eyebrows, pulled back his hand, took off his black gloves and looked at the back of his hand kissed by the Demon, but he couldn't see anything. The emperor was half lying on the bed, leaning against the pillow and holding his head with his hand. He looked lazily at Beelzebub, who was still half-kneeling in front of him. He felt that the Demon's originally irritable mood seemed to be calmed, along with the sharp Hunger that resonated with him also subsided a lot, but he didn't know what was going on, but it seemed to be a good thing.

He half sat up with a smile, pulled up the kneeling Demon in front of him to his eyes, circled Beelzebub between his legs, brought himself close to his neck and took a deep breath as if he was trying to assure something. The sweet, greasy, and fishy smell with blood still tickled his throat, but he didn't have such a strong impulse to eat. It seems that the Demon is the same.

But he has other motives.

The emperor kissed the Demon’s mouth with a little appreciation, put it close to his lips, and let every word he said wipe past the Demon’s cold but soft lip peak with the arc of opening and closing his lips. "Are you done with your little temper?"

Beelzebub looked at the emperor's lustful eyes and said, "I think so." He felt that Ying Zheng's palm was moving close to his chest, opened the gap between his clothes and caressed his body. A sticky heat source swam on him with the emperor's hands. The temperature difference made the evil Demon’s senses more sensitive. It seemed that the heat was transmitted to his spine, so his lower body was tight.

"Good, because if you haven't handled it well…" Ying Zheng opened the obstacles that blocked his progress and began to touch Beelzebub’s strong waist and abdomen against his cold skin. The smell from the Demon seemed to be stronger. He narrowed his eyes, leaned in a cheerful tone against the Demon’s ear and said provocatively, "… I'll consider finding someone else to settle it."

#ror qin shi huang #ror #shuumatsu no walkure #snv #record of ragnarok #ror beelzebub #snv beelzebub #snv qin shi huang #shuumatsu no valkyrie

[skipps-writes-for-gojo-satoru]

Someone made an incredible animation of the scene in hidden inventory where Gojo gets screamed at by teen girls fawning over him, and it's beautiful ✨

https://youtu.be/5l9_O51-YYs

Also, it highlights my previous point that when Gojo's confronted by women flirting with him, he doesn't really do... Anything. He's just chill about it. And the little °^° face he makes and the little confused "hm?" from the manga panel in the beginning could indicate that Gojo might not be hit on by girls as often as we think- Jujutsu sorcerers are busy and have even their time off interrupted on the regular. Other than being mildly amused, we don't see Gojo actively bask or pursue attention from women (other than Utahime ofc, which could be because she's as straight-laced as Nanami).

The little content smile he gives at the end basically says it all: Gojo enjoys the attention, but most likely isn't interested in pursuing anything more than that, including sexual relations (with more reasons from my previous posts).

I could see Gojo being the type to allow himself to appreciate just a bit of affection from random women he encounters on missions and then casually walking off with a lazy wave of his hand- just like he did with Miwa.

The man's on a mission (literally) with the goal to change the world. Virgin Gojo is very possible seeing how unaffected he is by women throwing themselves at him- or at least, he allows himself a moment to enjoy the attention but is quick to dismiss the thought from his mind to focus on his duty.

Honestly, non virgin Gojo is still possible, but unless we see Gojo actually show interest or actively flirt with someone (which seems unlikely), we may never know. To me, analyzing Gojo with his interactions with other characters (not his antics) makes me think it's more likely Gojo is a virgin than not, simply bc the argument for Gojo being a non virgin is his looks and immaturity (or his act of immaturity, we know Gojo thinks in a much more complex way than he lets on) which I'd argue is not an accurate description of his character, because that's only a part of it, and is in fact only what Gojo shows on the surface. And there's plenty of reasons why his lifestyle would make such getaways difficult. Also, Gojo's lack of enthusiasm for it. Gojo allows girls to fawn over him, but he hardly stokes the fire more than just taking off his glasses when they asked him to.

If Gojo was more like Osamu Dazai from Bungou Stray Dogs who flirts with every women he sees, I would have an easier time believing he would not be a virgin, but his lifestyle, behavior, and even his Six Eyes and his goal makes me think he wouldn't choose to constantly go on small getaways like that. Personally, I'd say Gojo spends more of his time plotting and maximizing his efforts on recreating Jujutsu Society.

Really, when Gege said he couldn't see Gojo being faithful to a woman could be because he's already committed to his job. Not because he's out womanizing, but even because the type of woman he'd commit to is so rare. And even if he did find a woman he'd commit to, being the ENTP he is means he's incapable of immediately recognizing and acting on his emotions- not because he doesn't have them, but because they're not really his forté. He'd rather rationalize his behavior than attempt to understand his own feelings. It'll take time and patience, but Gojo committing is still a possibility.

Honestly, I'd like to hear why people would think Gojo's a cheater/womanizer to begin with? Besides him teasing Utahime, Gojo's been pretty respectful to Shoko and Mei Mei. He even complimented and recognized Mei Mei's strength as a sorcerer. He didn't flirt once with the hoard of girls fawning over him. In fact, he was quick to focus on his mission despite the attention. I don't think Gojo's ever even teased Shoko about anything (other than commenting on her terrible way of explaining things, which is more of a fact than teasing). Though, correct me if I'm wrong.

Also, I haven't mentioned Riko much in previous posts and idrk why lol. But while Gojo is dominated by logical thinking, he's emotionally inept enough to notice Riko's mood. He may seem cold in how he comforted her by saying he'd leave her behind, but it's more of his ENTP personality that has him expressing his emotions in a more objective manner- even if it hurts, it's the truth, and that's fine isn't it? (Typical ENTP way of thinking).

Also slight tangent I read that one long meta about Gojo's interaction with Riko someone linked, and I'm completely appalled that they would think Gojo is only "pretending" to have emotions, "mimicking" them even! That he's incapable of truly feeling when in fact it's inherently characteristic of any ENTP to express themselves in a way that, to others, would be considered "cold" and unempathetic. It just goes to show just how misunderstood ENTPs are. They only make up 3% of the world so are often confused for socios/narcs/psychos which is understandable-

But I wanna make one thing clear: all sociopaths could be considered ENTPs. But not all ENTPs are sociopaths. (Switch Socio with psycho/narc/etc and it still works). Why?

Purpose.

Arrogance, boastfulness, unrefined emotional sensitivity, recklessness, impulsiveness- all of those fall below the importance of Purpose. Regardless of how Gojo "acts," it's been expressed time and time again- Gojo acts for the sake of the next generation. Sociopaths/Antisocial Personality Disorder/Psychopaths have one most common defining starting point: "it all starts with cruelty to animals and lack of response to their own actions, or actions of other people."

Let's make it more simple: regardless of whatever end of the spectrum sociopathy can be- high functioning, low functioning- antisocial personality disorder, in it's most simple terms, along with psychopathy and narcissism, condensed into one common trait is very clear: Their actions, while easily blendible into society, are for the sole purpose of pleasuring themselves.

Why don't people notice those with these disorders? Because their *behavior* is so similar to not just the typical ENTP, but also the ISTP AND ESTP. They can easily be mistaken for common members of society, but again: their sole purpose is the pursuit of pleasure themselves, while acting with complete disregard for the consequences of not just their own actions but others'. Staying in one job for extended periods of time is especially rare for a sociopath in particular, and this is one very clear difference between Gojo and a sociopath.

Gojo is willing to spend the rest of his life as a Jujutsu Sorcerer for the sake of others. This sentence alone defies any inclination that he could be a sociopath regardless of any other symptoms commonly associated with sociopathy, such as emotional insensitivity, hostility, risk taking behavior, lack of restraint, and impulsivity- there's a reason such people blend in with society, and that's because such symptoms are common with *any* person, regardless of personality type. Other than with the higher ups, Gojo hardly shows the anger, irritability, or general discontent that a sociopath is most commonly is associated with as their established mood - and even if he did, would being easily irritatable while in the position of the Strongest, the one who carries the burden of establishing a new future of Jujutsu Society on his shoulders alone be so unrealistic? That is why Purpose is so important.

If Gojo truly was a Sociopath, he would have dipped long before Jujutsu Kaisen had even started.

And I apologize for yet another tangent! Someone said Gojo sees his students as weapons or tools to be used in furthering his agenda. While that is not necessarily untrue, the implication is hardly close to reality. Like someone else commented, Gojo goes far and beyond for his students. While he is undoubtedly lacking in his ability to show affection in the most traditional of ways, it's clear that Gojo cares for his students-and others- deeply, whether that be when he went to see Yuta on his business trip to ensure Yuji would be safely taken care of in his absence, when he goes out of his way to personally supervise his students, when he willingly spends a whole day with Nanami just to ask him to mentor Yuji for him (in the Light Novel) regardless of Nanami's disdain, when he turned his Infinity off to allow Yaga to punish him (Gege made it clear in the manga that Gojo had done so to be a good role model for his students and that he recognizes his behavior deserves punishment), and when Gojo commented that he didn't want to think any of his students would be the traitor. Gojo does not express himself as most people do- he's only one of the most misunderstood personality types (on record, along with a few other personalites if you've researched them) and to say people have misinterpreted his character is much more plausible when even in real life, people who behave like Gojo are statistically reported to be misapprehended more often than more populated personality types. When inspected closely, there are so many ways Gojo himself expresses his care for other people, only hidden thinly behind the surface of his lofty attitude and uncaring demeanor. It only takes a few looks at his behavior, not his mouth, to recognize how much he goes out of his way for his students, doing he things that don't necessarily help further his agenda simply because he wants to, not because he has to. Changing the world isn't even something the average person would strive to do, yet Gojo makes it his life goal to accomplish. How could a heartless, emotion mimicking person possibly endure the strife necessary to accomplish such a task? It's appalling.

Gojo is more charitable than most people on the earth, simply because of the perseverance and diligence he takes to withstand the stress and hardships of Jujutsu Society for others. Remember that he chose to become the Strongest, it didn't happen overnight, and in becoming the Strongest, he carries the heaviest burden.

That's without mentioning that even though Gojo is the Strongest, and while to most he seems to proudly state so, it's clear that despite Gojo's antics, he recognizes his weaknesses as a sorcerer and is able to rely on others to make up for them. He had asked Nanami to mentor Yuji because he acknowledged his own flaws as a teacher and that Nanami would have a better capacity than him in that area (in Light Novel). He travelled to see Yuta to ask him to care for Yuji in case something happened to him- and Gojo knows that it's possible that he could be defeated somehow, someway. He's not so deluded to think he's untouchable, even despite his playfulnesses. He is always thinking ahead, calculating his next move while understanding his own shortcomings, acting prudently to ensure a better future.

He is a much deeper and complex character if one only takes the time to look past his antics and analyze his behavior- Something many people in real life seem to miss, and that is the true reason why Gojo struggles to commit.

Sorry for the long tangent and repetitiveness in the beginning lol! Back to the main issue!

Tl;dr there's more evidence of Gojo being a virgin who's more focused on work than pleasure. There's plenty of handsome men who don't seek out sex for reprieve but seek mental stimulation instead for relief. It's totally normal. Gojo could even spend his free time playing video games. He did admit to spending long hours beating 99 years of Momotarou Dentetsu to Geto. He's a gamer, and we know how gamers are commonly known for being virgins lol. Gojo could even be asexual for all we know. He could even be demisexual- someone who doesn't pursue sexual pleasure unless he's made an emotional connection with then. He doesn't necessarily have to even be straight or bi. Therefore, Gojo is very likely to be 28 year old virgin, and there's nothing wrong or strange about that.

Sources: ENTP articles, statistics on mbti rarity, other mbti articles, some quick Google searches, articles on sociopathy, psychopathy, narcissism, and antisocial disorders, etc, the manga, light novels, other metas in threads I remember reading, the anime, graphic organizers

Thanks for reading! 🙏

- 🤔

AHHHH CAN I JUST SAY THE ANIMATION IS DAMN GOOD 🔥🔥🔥 this scene in the manga is absolutely iconic prepare yourselves for season 2 😤 I literally had to stop the video and stare at him...I think one of the reasons Gojo behaved that way is becuz during childhood he probably didn't go out and be around people hence his confused reaction with the screaming teens. I mean everyone enjoys being complimented and getting attention from time to time and gojo is not an exception to this. Yes I definitely agree that when Gege said that he probably meant he's too busy for a relationship. The way it was translated made alot of people confused hence the player/cheater gojo was born. But then also the remember the comment he made when Gojo won the popularity poll? "Pick Nanami instead" ahhh hilarious

MY GAWD 🤔 ANON CAN I JUST SAY THAT YOU'RE AMAZING?! You explained in a way that easy to understand and you made statements backing it up with evidence. I learned from your ask than I ever did in university 😂 wow its truly fascinating though I never knew much personality types especially ENTPs I DON'T BELIEVE FOR ONE SEC GOJO IS A SOCIOPATH OR PSYCHOPATH fight me if you do. Exactly exactly just as anon said "He is a much deeper and complex character if one only takes the time to look past his antics and analyze his behavior." I COULDN'T AGREE MORE 😤 thank you so much for once again educating the community I'm a fan of you 🤔 anon ❤

#gojo discussions #virgin or not? #gojou satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #skipps chat

[musical-broken-heart]

Mental Breakdowns and Hair Cuts

Ships: Henry/Patrick side Reddie and Stenbrough

Age: Bowers=16 Losers=13

TW: Slurs, Panic Attacks, Self Harm, Mental Breakdowns, Abuse

Clenching his fists he fell to the floor sobbing. Holding himself he curled up next to the bathtub slowly his hands found his hair and he tried pulling it out of his scalp. 

He needed to die! All he did was hurt people but he couldn't help himself. He needed to get his anger out and he didn't want to talk about it nor did he want to hurt his friends the only people who cared about him. 

The past few weeks he had the same nightmare of Patrick going into the sewer and being eaten alive by a monster made of fear itself. That same monster possessed him in his dreams and made him kill Oscar and his friends. He hated his father but he would never think of killing him. He may have been abusive but he was all Henry had after his mother just left. He normally woke up screaming drenched in sweat the vivid image of his friends in the car their necks slit their blood on his hands and Patrick decaying next to him still haunting him. 

He was weak. He was a faggot. He needed to die! Death scared him. Thats why he never cut deep. Thats why he mended his own wounds before he could bleed out. Standing up he looked in the mirror seeing his bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face. Grabbing the scissors he started cutting off his mullet. Once he cleaned his new hair cut to look like a professional had done it he looked in the mirror again hoping to see someone new only finding a broken boy staring back at him. 

"Henry get up! Get your ass to school!" Oscar yelled. Henry didn't think twice before putting the sweater on and throwing the hood over his head. Running out of the house he walked to Vic's house as normal both waiting for Belch to come to get them. 

"I remember watching you cut the hoods off all your sweaters," Victor said not moving his eyes from Henry and the black sweater. "That sweater looks a few sizes too big for you are you sure it's yours?" he asked his blond hair falling over his eye. "Why do you care? I found it in my roo- house!" Henry growled. Victor was a smart kid who could figure anything out if given enough time. 

"It's Patricks isn't it?" he asked causing Henry to go red. "Yea he left it at my house I was cold and all my sweaters are cut up so I just borrowed his jacket! Shut up!" Victor smiled and hummed nodding his head. "He may be a sociopath but once he realizes that's his jacket he's gonna get a boner." Vic laughed as Henry started coughing. "Why the fuck would you say that?!" Henry asked leaning over trying to get a breath. 

"Get in assholes!" Patrick yelled as Belch drove up. "Where'd you get the jacket?" Belch asked getting the middle finger from Henry. Victor giggled and leaned over whispering like a little girl at a sleepover. Belch smiled and smirked at Henry who blushed harder. Thankfully Patrick ignored the situation. But Belch had to say something. "Hey, Pat what happened to your jacket?" Henry glared at him. "I think I left it at Henry's," Patrick said not bothering to look at his friend. Henry sighed and slouched down in relief. 

Patrick looked over realizing Henry was wearing the jacket. It was too big for him causing him to look like a child. Patrick blushed and started to laugh so Victor wouldn't notice. "You look like a drug dealer in my jacket Puppy!" Henry rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Whatever Hockstetter!" 

Pulling into school the four walked only for Henry to get pulled aside by a teacher. "No hoods in school Henry!" 

Groaning Henry took the hood down but refused to meet anyone eyes. "Whoa, your old man finally get sick of the mullet?" Victor joked pulling his friend close patting his back. "Shut up!" Henry growled pushing his friend away. "Hey, Bowers finally cut that fucking mullet? About time!" Richie shouted getting Eddie to shush him. "Shut up faggot! You should really listen to your faggot friends and keep that stupid mouth shut!" Henry yelled. Stan stepped forward and pulled his friend back. "What's your problem asshole?!" Henry chuckled and grabbed Bill. "Your faggot boyfriend and his stupid stutter is my problem! Along with all your faces!" he said pushing Bill ontop of Stan. 

Belch and Vic chuckled ready to grab one of the Losers but Henry stopped them going to their lockers. "Where'd Patrick go?'' he asked leaning against his locker. "Don't know he rushed off when you took the hood off. Said he had some school work." Belch said getting Henry and Vic to look at him. "What? OH!" he said realizing what he said. "I'm gonna go look for him," Henry mumbled starting to walk away. 

Looking around the hallway someone covered his mouth and pulled him into the bathroom. "Why did you do it? Do you like to torture me Puppy?" Henry sighed and shook the boy off him. "I don't know what you're talking about!" he hissed. Patrick grabbed Henry's wrist and pulled him close curling his fingers under the smaller boys chin lifting his face up. With his other arm, he wrapped it securely around Henry's waist keeping him close. "Don't you seeHoney? I love you!" he whispered bringing their lips together. Henry's eyes widened and tried to pull away but only ended up being pushed against the wall with no hope of escape. 

Patrick slowly pulled away and arm still wrapped around Henry to other on the wall next to Henry's head. "Patrick get off of me." Henry tried to yell but ended up sounding defeated. Patrick smiled and started attacking the boy's neck causing him to moan. "You look so hot with short hair," Patrick said starting to run his hand under the sweater causing the leader to squirm and whimper. "Patrick! Stop! You-you, don't know what love is! You're fucking psychotic!" Henry growled once again trying to push his friend off him. 

Patrick pulled away looking hurt grabbing Henry's wrists and pinning them above his head. "I'm not a psychopath! I'm a high functioning sociopath. Honey, you should know this." Henry shivered and tried to move his legs but Patrick caught on and pressed his knees against the boy's legs. "I know enough about love to know that the first time I saw you standing with Victor under that pine tree and my heart tried to leave my chest I would die for you. Kill for you!" Patrick whispered in Henry's ear. 

Henry bit his lip and looked at the floor. "Pat. You might know what love is but I don't." Patrick sighed and brought his lips to Henry's again this time he stopped. "I don't want to rush you Puppy," he said softly. Henry smiled and connected their lips this time the kiss was sweet and soft. "Should I grow out a mullet?" Henry asked. "Don't! You look like a sweetheart with short hair. You also look really hot in my sweater!" Patrick said getting a chuckle from Henry. "Thanks for forgetting it, Pine Tree. My dad would have killed me. Probably wouldn't compare to last night." Henry said going for another kiss but Patrick pulled away. 

"What do you mean compare to last night?" Henry realized his mistake and laughed. "D-did I say that? I meant um. Compare to the abuse some kids get definitely not me?" Henry said quickly. Patrick growled and pulled away from Henry who pulled him back kissing him. "Honey I have to go kill your father. I can't have someone hurting you." Patrick said between kisses. Henry moaned into the kiss his arms around Patrick's neck. "Pat! I can't have him die!" Henry said as Patrick slowly grabbed his legs lifting him up. "Why not Honey? He's hurting you." Patrick said. 

"I've had dreams," Henry whispered as Patrick moved to his neck again leaving marks. "Tell me about them," Patrick said. Henry moaned in delight his head falling back. "You die. By a creature made out of fear. It possesses me a-and I kill Vic and Belch and my old man." Henry said. Patrick stopped kissing the boy and held him closely. "Puppy look at me. It's okay. I'm not dead I'm right here." Patrick said holding Henry closely as the leader shook. "You alright honey?" he asked lifting the boys head. 

"Pat. What are we?" Henry asked looking to the side. "If you want we could be boyfriends?" Patrick said getting a small nod from Henry. "God I love you!" Patrick said starting to kiss the boy again. Running his hands on his waist he slowly moved down to his thighs getting a small yelp from Henry. "You started cutting again," Patrick said. "I-I never stopped. It helps me get passed, my dads beatings." Henry whimpered. "Puppy promise me you'll stop." 

Henry nodded and kissed Patrick again. "Pine Tree I have to get to class!" Henry said pulling away. Patrick grabbed him and wrapped his arms around the boy. "I have to go, darling!" Henry whined kissing him. "Miss one day of classes for me!" Patrick said getting a sigh from the boy. "I can get Belch's keys to the car." Henry groaned. 

Patricks POV

A few weeks ago I left my sweater at Henry's. I knew it was in his living room so I went over while his father was out to find the house empty. Walking into Henry's room I found him sleeping and not wanting him to wake up finding me staring at him I looked in his closet quickly. Sighing I turned back to the bed finding his arms wrapped around a blanket. Chuckling I went to leave before looking back seeing it was my jacket I forgot. Blushing I turned around and quickly left. 

Getting outside I stood on the porch and ran my hands through my hair. Goddamnit, he was hot! I went home but I couldn't get him out of my mind. Groaning I fell onto my bed burying my face in my pillow. Maybe if I try hard enough I can convince my parents to move. 

The next few weeks went by and Henry wore my sweater. It was too big for him causing him to look like a drug dealer. "Whatever Hockstetter!" he growled his face red. Turning my focus back to the window I smiled. 

A teacher told him to take off the hood and I didn't think twice about it. Glancing at him I quickly looked at him again. He no longer had a mullet and damnit he was hot! "Uh I-I think I have s-some school work to um to work on." I stammered out to Belch only getting a nod from him as Henry started yelling at Richie and the other Losers. 

Quickly walking to the bathroom and leaned against the sink looking in the mirror. My face was a bright shade of red and my eyes dilated. Groaning shook my head trying to get Herny off my mind. He hates fags and finding out his friend was gay for him! 

I walked out and saw him looking for me. Grabbing him I pulled him into the bathroom. I don't know what came over me but I confessed. I kissed him! He didn't get mad. "Patrick stop! You-You, don't know what love is! Your fucking psychotic!" he said. I stopped and looked at him. It hurt hearing him say that. Shaking my head he was wrong! I might have been crazy but I still knew that I loved him. I saw tears in his eyes but I couldn't tell if he was sad angry or happy. "You might know what love is. But I don't," he said softly looking to the side. 

I don't want to rush him. He's gone through a lot. He smiled softly and kissed me. Starting to make out he chuckled thanking me for leaving the jacket. I knew about his father being cruel but I thought he had stopped the abuse. "I'm going to kill him!" I growled out loud. Henry's eyes widened and he shook his head. "N-no! I need him! You can't kill him!" he said quickly surprising me. I nodded and held him close. "Please Pat!" he said tears starting to roll down his face. 

Dreams. He explained how he had nightmares about me dying. A monster eating me in the seers then making him a puppet killing the others. Kissing him I went to lift his legs and he let out a painful groan. "Puppy you started cutting again?" he shook his head. "I-I never stopped," he said looking ashamed. Trying to get to class I stopped him. "Skip one day. For me?" I said kissing his neck. "I can try and get the car keys from Belch." 

In the car, he sat on top of me kissing my bare chest while I kept my arms tightly wrapped around his naked torso running my fingers through his now short hair. "You like to bite don't you puppy?" he rolled his eyes and started for my neck leaving more marks. "Mmm stop moving so much!" he mumbled starting to kiss my lips. 

Getting a tighter grip on him I like his lips asking for him to open which he did instantly letting me have dominance. "Something wrong Puppy?" I asked. "Just tired," he replied kissing me again. I hummed in response exploring his mouth again with my tongue. Moaning into the kiss I sat up causing him to almost fall off the seat. 

"You two better not have had sex in my car!" we heard someone say. Breaking from the kiss Henry whined in protest and glared at Belch who just laughed. "Does this mean I get to sit in front?!" Victor asked joy in his voice. Henry let go of me and grabbed the sweater putting it on and jumped in front. "Keep dreaming Vic!" he said only getting an annoyed groan from the boy. 

"You misses the entire day of school and you're saying you didn't have sex?!" Belch asked getting a nod from Henry. Driving to his house he got out and started walking to his door. "Wait! Don't leave just yet." I said watching Henry walk in and close the door. "Pat I'm sure your new boyfriend is fine." Belch said glaring at me. "I'm gonna go get my sweater back anyway," I said getting out of the car walking to the house. 

Henry stood still in the entrance of the house shaking visibly. Oscar was walking around shaking his head breathing heavily. "Hey, Pat the door locked?!" Victor yelled I only shook my head getting him and Belch to run over. 

"Why the fuck are you like this?! You are a damn mistake and I think it's about time I got rid of you!" Butch yelled slapping his son across the face. "You gotta lot of nerve coming home wearing a faggots sweater! Coming home your hair like that! You are a failer!" he yelled again. 

Victor had covered his mouth his eyes wide and Belch looked ready to kill the man. "I thought Henry said the beating stopped?!" Victor whispered. "He lied. He told me they just weren't as bad." I replied trying to figure out how to get in without him getting hurt more by my presents. "Clearly they aren't as good! They seem to be worse! What are you doing just standing out here?! You are his boyfriend!" Belch said also in a quiet tone knowing the gravity of the situation. Opening my mouth I stopped hearing Butch speak again. 

"I never should have stopped you from killing yourself!" he growled causing me to snap. I opened the door and ran to Henry grabbing him and pushing him over to Victor who held him. He looked between all of us confused but didn't fight back. "Oh so now the faggot needs some protection, does he?! I'll shoot him right here and not give a shit what happens!" he yelled pulling out a gun pointing it at Henry. 

"Butch your drunk!" Belch yelled trying not to start a fight. Glaring he pulled the trigger and Henry let out a scream of pain falling to the floor holding his side which was now bleeding. "You asshole! You shot your own son!" I yelled swinging at him. Stumbling back he held his face and pointed the gun at me and Belch but Victor grabbed it from him pointing it at him. Vic's hands were shaking but he tried to steady them. Butch growled and lifted his hands ready to hit one of us but he didn't. 

Henry had his arms wrapped around his father as if trying to stop him, tears rolling down his face. "Please." he sobbed quietly as his father looked at him stunned. "Please no more pain! Just one day without any violence. Please father. I don't want this life anymore so please stop!" he begged his voice only full of sincerity. Butch sighed and turned around to fully face his son who was still bleeding out. "Sometimes. You can be so much like your mother. Which is why I stopped you from killing yourself. You don't have the heart of a killer. Victor!" He said getting the boy to jump. 

"Give me my gun! Get the first aid kit in the kitchen. Huggins, Hockstetter! Start getting Henry's things. First thing tomorrow you're moving out." Henry's eyes widened and he smiled hugging his father who stepped back and hesitantly hugged back. "I might as well be a good father once in my life!" he mumbled pulling away and leaving. Victor grabbed henry and pulled off the sweater and shirt and started mending at the gunshot. 

"I think I might need to see a doctor," he mumbled glaring at his side. I walked over to him and sighed in relief seeing him smile a little. "Your sweater kinda got a little bloody. Sorry." he laughed. I shrugged and hugged him. "HEY! Stop moving! Patrick! I'm trying to mend his wound and you aren't gonna become a Disney princess and sing away the blood!" Vic hissed getting me to hold my hands up in surrender. 

"Henry! What do you want me to pack?!" Belch yelled form the boy's room. Henry looked over his shoulder and slapped Victor away getting a glare from him. "I'm not done patching you up!" he growled getting a shrug from Henry. "NO! I'm going to mean you up then you can walk around then you can sit in a hospital bed!" Victor said grabbing the leader. "Okay mom!" he said rolling his eyes. 

"Okay there!" Victor said after a few minutes. Henry shot up and ran to his room. "I NEVER SAID YOU COULD FUCKING RUN AROUND!" Victor yelled after him knowing his friend would ignore him. "You better listen to Victor before he hurts you more," I said holding Henry close to me. "Pine Tree can I stay with you?" he asked kissing my neck. "Yea I suppose you could spend a few nights over at my house." I joked getting him to chuckle a little. 

"Thanks, Pine Tree." he smiled. I rolled my eyes and kissed his forehead. "Whatever Puppy."

#it incorrect quotes #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #henry x patrick #patrick x henry #bowersgang #henrybowers #bill denbrough #losers club #henpat #my own work

[khorazir]

Lineart for my third (of three) @fandomtrumpshate pieces: a cover for the marvellous The High-Functioning Sociopath Who Walked by Himself by @chriscalledmesweetie. When finished, it’ll also be for this month’s @sherlockchallenge. I hope to finish it this week.

#sherlock #sherlock fanart #johnlock #john watson #mrs hudson #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #fanfic #chriscalledmesweetie #the high-functioning sociopath who walked by himself #drawing #ink #wip #fandom trumps hate #fth 2022 #sherlockchallenge

[redjaybathood]

hey, judas pt 8

After the fight with Steph, Tim decides to reconsider his approach to the case

It’s night when I come out of Barbara’s apartment building. Steph is nowhere in sight. I call her but it goes to voicemail. I feel uncomfortable of the thought that because of our fight she decided to walk home alone. Even me, a boy, doesn’t necessarily want to do it on his own. I text her to let me know when she’s home safe.

I don’t get a reply until hours later, when I’m already in bed, making notes on the information she uncovered and presented today.

“Thx but it would take something worse than a bus ride to take me down”. I smile despite myself. Then Barbara’s words float in the foreground of my mind again. Not about Bruce Wayne — I do hold him accountable for some of it, but not to the extent Barbara apparently does.

About how we have different points of view, different angles. It chills me, a thought that something like that could happen to Steph. She knows karate, but who doesn’t, in this city.

“sorry”, I shoot back. “i was an asshole. Make it up for you tomorrow during lunch?”

I hope she agrees. I hope she will respond with something, “it’s a date!”. But she just sends ‘OK’ emoji.

I go back to my notes. Reading back a bit, I guess I can see my angle. The “why” of Jason Todd. Was he born that way? Did the constant example of Gotham vigilantism right before his eyes make him think it’s acceptable to take law into his own hands? No, I reply to Barbara in my thoughts, I don’t think Bruce Wayne is responsible. Batman, on the other hand…

And it kills me, a little, because Batman is my hero, second-favorite, after Nightwing. It’s not like I think what they do is wrong. So, by all accounts, Jason Todd has to be born this way, or damaged irreparably before he got out of circumstances that cheapen the life of others. I just don’t quite see it yet. Nothing makes sense. I try to make it make sense. Here’s my thought process.

If Jason was all that bad, why would Bruce Wayne adopt him? Ok, because he helped Batman. Was that a setup by Todd, specifically, to get into his eyes? But you got to be some kind of high-functioning sociopath, to pull off this level of manipulation.

If he had some degree of sociopathic disorder, why nobody saw it? Well, his classmates were disturbed by his lies. Barbara saw ‘darkness’ in him. He broke a guy’s nose, without even trying, that one time when he allowed himself to react on instinct. But Bruce Wayne? Did he not see it in Jason, or was he willfully blind, or was he neglective?

Did or did he not know Gloria Stanson for real? Her parents testified that he didn’t. This was the police’s opinion as well, that he just stalked her on social media, grew obsessed, and when she died — the obsession erupted. But Bruce Wayne said otherwise. The lawyer lady mentioned that Bruce contacted the Commissioner. They wouldn’t lie about something so easily verified? Easily for the police, at least. But who knows where Jason found out that Gloria might have been in trouble. She didn’t press charges, Jim Gordon didn’t speak to her personally — not even Bruce Wayne. It wouldn’t be that hard for Jason to find out from other sources than Gloria herself, with his resources. If that really happened at all.

Stephanie and Barbara seem sure it did. Something that cannot be verified in any case, now: her parents didn’t know anything and now are dead, under mysterious circumstances. Her agent was fired, and agency declines any comments. Just PR strategy? Or were they involved in any way? We really, really need to find the agent. If only Steph spent more time on it and less on the interviews with Jason’s classmates.

Two completely opposite points of view on Jason. Knight in the shinning armor, or a freak. Freaks kill people much more often than knights, so excuse me for not quite believing Rena’s testimony. She feels sorry for Jason, she may even feel guilty. Shane is uninterested party. But at least in this case, rape can be verified. Find the girlfriend, find out what happened at the party.

That’s what I broach up to Stephanie at lunch the next day, in lieu of apology. Two avenues of further investigation: Stanson-Garzonas angle, finding the agent, and the Greg Capullo’s party.

“What would you prefer?” I ask.

“I think that we need to pursue the lead about Garzonas together,” Stephanie says. “Here, look.”

She shows me a webpage. It’s in Spanish, which I have B+ for. I understand enough. Disgraced Diplomat Dies During a Drug Deal. Only without alliteration. The date is recent.

“He had ties with cartels,” Stephanie says. “Could put out on hit at Stansons and make it look like a burglary gone wrong.”

“Would he, though? Not exactly cartels’ MO.”

She shrugs.

“I just thought that we could use backup, if we would be looking into Garzonas’s past. But if you don’t want to do it together…”

“No, I do.”

I don’t, actually. Cartels aren’t exactly doing anything to prove or disprove my theory. But Stephanie pursues something else. Truth, maybe. I hope she will tell me when she finds whatever it is.

#take a sad song and make it worse #tim drake #stephanie brown #my writing #jason todd

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Foolishly Intelligent

Based on this request:  I love your imagines! I would like to request a Sherlock imagine if that’s alright? Something along the line of the reader being Mycroft’s and Sherlock’s far younger sister. She tries to connect with her brothers but often feels left out. She started in her teens by Learning everything about murders, investigation and politics in order to find common ground with her brothers. Ad an adult this leads to her being part of Scotland Yard and always giving Greg an heart attack due to jumping into dangerous situations. He’s had enough and decides after one close call too many to involve her big brothers to chew her out.

Here you are! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Warnings: Angst, arguing, Caring big brothers that pretend not to care because one is a high-functioning sociopath and the other is Mycroft XD, mentions of possible crush??

Pairings/Characters: fem!reader, brother!Sherlock Holmes, brother!Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Greg Lestrade had had it. You were a wonderful detective, that much was true, but you had a bad habit. You liked to put yourself in dangerous situations ALL. THE. TIME! You would often quite literally throw yourself into harm's way to get the job done or to protect others. Greg normally wouldn't say anything even though it gave him a near heart attack every time. But since learning of Sherlock's fake death, it had become worse.

         The man could sort of understand where you were coming from. You had big shoes to fill with your brothers being who they were. Even as a child, you'd had trouble connecting with them. You had gone out of your way to learn and do things to help your relationship. And it wasn't that they didn't love you or respect you. It was that they could often have full conversations just through a look or that they would play their little deduction games and you would feel left out.

         You'd told Greg, after having a few drinks one night, that you had been trying since your teens to connect with Sherlock and Mycroft. You were just as intelligent as they were so you began learning about murder, investigations, and even politics from an early age. Still, nothing seemed to help you connect with them. You'd even joined the Yard to spend more time with Sherlock.

         But this last time was one too many for Greg. You had nearly died and the DI had a soft spot for you. In fact, you were the only Holmes the man could stand being around for more than a few minutes at a time. He didn't think he could take it if you kept running head-on into danger, but he knew you wouldn't listen to him. So, as he sat there next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up, he contemplated who you would listen to. There were only two people that popped into his head.

         With a soft sigh, Greg stood and left your room to make a call. "Hello, Gavin. Has there been a murder?" Greg pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't lose his temper now. "No, Sherlock." Sherlock scoffed on the other end of the line. "Boring. If you've nothing interesting to offer me, I'll say goodbye now."

         "WAIT!" Greg shouted, then a little more softly added, "Your sister's in hospital." For a moment, there was only silence. Then Sherlock spoke again, "Watson, call Mycroft. St. Bart's?" Greg confirmed and was promptly hung up on. You were going to hate him when you woke, but at least your brothers might be able to talk some sense into you.  

         Sherlock burst through the doors a little while later, with Mycroft sauntering in a few moments after. "Would someone care to explain why I have been dragged from an important meeting?" Mycroft asked, prompting Greg and John to glare at the younger Holmes brother. "You didn't tell him?!" Greg hissed before turning to Mycroft, "Long story short, your sister's here. She decided to go into a hostage situation, alone, with no sidearm." Mycroft's brows furrowed briefly before a look of pure rage came over his features for a moment.

         "And you didn't stop her?" Greg opened his mouth, but it was Sherlock who answered, "Oh please, Mycroft. Y/N would never listen if the lives of others are in danger. Not to Gordon anyway." Greg once again rolled his eyes. Would that man ever call him by his actual name?

         "He's right. She doesn't listen. She's always throwing herself into situations like this. I thought, when she wakes up, the two men she looks up to the most could talk some bloody sense into her. Maybe then she'll listen." Both Holmes brothers merely stared at the DI, causing him to huff and walk away with John at his heels. He couldn't deal with them any longer for the moment. He needed to return to your side.

         Just his luck, you were already awake when he pushed the door open. "Inspector," you greeted tersely. You had seen John behind him so you knew Sherlock wasn't far behind. "Don't look at me like that, Detective." You scoffed. "Like what? Like you betrayed my trust by calling them in? I know they're here. Might as well bring them in so I can hear all about how disappointed Mummy will be." Greg's brows furrowed in confusion. "Y/N…I just want you to be safe. Your brothers do too."

         "Oh? Which brothers? The one who chucks himself off a building and pretends to be dead for 2 years? Or the one who knows about it and says nothing? Or the ones who refuse to let me into their lives, no matter how hard I try? I know I'm not brilliant like they are, but I try, dammit. And this is the only time I ever seen them away from home. When I'm in hospital."

         "Fine," Greg soothed, "Fine. Don't talk to them. I don't care. But you have to stop being so reckless and stupid, Y/N. For my sake." Greg gaze your hand a little squeeze before leaving the room and allowing your brothers to walk in. For a moment, you said nothing, watching the space Greg had just been occupying. You were trying not to cry. Your brothers didn't do well with hysterics.

         "Sherlock. Mycroft," you said. "Look at me, Y/N." You sighed softly. You knew you weren't exactly acting like an adult at the moment. That would get you nowhere with them. You swung your (e/c) eyes over to them. Sherlock stood with his hands in the pockets of his coat while Mycroft stared intently at you. They were both trying to deduce something about you. "Stop it," you ordered sharply, "Stop trying to deduce me and just ask me the question you want to ask." They exchanged a glance before turning back to you.

         "Inspector Lestrade informed us that you threw yourself in harm's way yet again." You shrugged a bit. "I would again too. There were children in there. The elderly." Sherlock let out a scoff. "And that makes it okay for you to be so monumentally stupid?"

         "I'm NOT stupid! Just because I'm not as callous as you are doesn't mean I'm an idiot, Sherlock! God, now I see the problem. It was never my fault we never connected. It was yours. You never tried." Your brothers stared at you in surprise. You had never spoken to them that way before. You rolled your eyes and groaned when your head began to hurt again.

         "Just go. Both of you. You can tell John and Inspector Lestrade that they are welcome here. I don't want to see you two again for a while." You turned your head away from them both, indicating that you were done with the conversation. You heard them open the door to leave. "Oh, and don't you dare call Mummy. I'll tell her myself when I know I'm alright." Neither of them said anything, but left the room.

         When you heard the door close behind them, you let a few tears finally fall. You hadn't wanted to blow up at them and you'd mostly likely end up apologizing later, but for now you were upset. You didn't have long to stew in your anger though before the door opened again. You turned to look and sighed. "I thought I told you to go."

         "And we did. You failed to specify just how long you consider to be a 'while'. We listened to what you said and now it is your turn to listen to us. Despite what you may think, you are no closer to 'connecting' with Mycroft or myself by running head-long into danger." You arched a brow at him. "Oh, you mean like you do?" Sherlock didn't look impressed, but you could see Mycroft trying not to smirk.

         "The point, little sister, is that, in spite of everything, your welfare is important to us. We need to know that you are safe. The career you've chosen lessens that likelihood, but deliberately putting yourself in situations where you could die destroys our hope for it completely."

         "Oh gee, Mycroft, you do care," you replied sarcastically. You let out another sigh, "Look, I'm sorry. I know you're right. Just…please. Please stop letting this be the only reason you even check in with me. I know I'm not like you two. I never have been, but stop shutting me out. Okay? If you can promise me that, then I will promise to try and be more careful. For Mother and Father's sake. And for Greg's." You tried not to let your face show any emotion. Nothing to give away anything.

         "Who?" You laughed lightly while Mycroft arched a brow. "We will discuss that topic at another time. I suppose I can agree to your terms. Sherlock?" Sherlock's blue eyes met yours and he nodded. You smiled; a genuine smile for the first time since they walked in the room. "Good. Now could you please leave? I'd really like to sleep now that I've been yelled at by both my brothers and my boss."

         They opened the door again and you sat up. "Oh, and seriously. Don't tell Mummy." With a chuckle, your brothers left and you laid back to get a little more rest. Mycroft and Sherlock nodded at Greg when they exited the room, knowing he'd heard everything anyway. Greg breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully things would get better now. Greg looked in at you and smiled when you gave him a tiny wave.

(a/n: I hope this does your request justice!)

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #x reader #holmes sister reader

[jokatsuya]

Heyy

I was wondering if you could do something like sherlock having trouble solving a case and (y/n) just constantly talks about nonsense to him (to annoy him) but accidentally helps him to get on the right path to solve the case.

Thank youuuu<3

Bohemian Rhapsody without mercy

Sherlock x reader / Sherlock x G/n reader

Wordcount: 1008

Warnings: Mention of murder, actually none others as long as you are not a high functioning sociopath (if you are: Watch out! A little bit of fluff.)

Summary: Check out the lovely request by @helpmepleaseew

A/n: I read the request and immediately thought of Bohemian Rhapsody. Whenever I think of the song I see Sherlock in front of me and now I have the chance to bring both together in such a 'sweet' way. Hope you like it as much as I do. Yours JoKatsuya

>>Stop warbling, (y/n). I need to focus, or do you think the case will solve itself?<<, Sherlock asks in a playfully delighted tone as he crouches down while briefly flipping his coat back. An admittedly very attractive sequence of movements that, fortunately for me, is part of his almost daily routine.

With a smooth movement, he pulls his Eschenbach loupe out of his coat pocket and bends over some stain, which is most likely dried blood. My gaze wanders through the chaotically cluttered room, which also emits a very unpleasant smell. However, I try to block it out as best I can and do my hardest to remember the wonderful, lulling, tangy smell of Sherlock.

>>No escape from reality, open your eyes...<<, I hum to myself in a better mood and amusedly notice how Sherlock rolls his eyes in the old manner.

>>Look up to the skies and see...<<, I continue to sing to myself unconcernedly and start looking for some clues myself. Even if I'm not as good as John, I always do my best. And if I'm only there to stop Sherlock from behaving badly, socially speaking, toward others, it's worth it. And quite possibly I'll take the opportunity with pleasure to extensively eye my boyfriend, but really only quite possibly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice how the tall man at the other end of the room stands up again and moves to the window with a wrinkled face. The soft light of the small lamp and the dim light of the moon flatter him immensely, whereupon I can't deny myself a longer languishing look.

>>Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low...<<, I continue euphorically, walking back in Sherlock's direction to point out to him something in the corner I just came from. As I'm finishing with this part of the song, the curly-haired man looks up and down to match the beat, which causes me to grin.

Apparently, though, the whole thing is so trivial with my pound that he replies, unnerved, >>I don't care how much I like you, (y/n), but I can't help this catchy song, so don't take it out on me.<<. Now he opens the window and leans out, rather repeating his inspection, only more precisely.

>>But how...?<<, Sherlock quietly asks himself the question after a few moments and seems to be completely in his element again.

In the end, I decide to go searching myself again, while singing the next lines: >>Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter...<<

I've never really been able to stay still when I have a real earworm like this. Without wanting to offend anyone who disagrees, but who can stay still with this masterpiece of a song? Additionally, I'm pretty sure Sherlock likes it too, and that he can approximate the lyrics as well. The Solar System is one thing, but Bohemian Rhapsody? Everybody must know that!

>>Wait! What did you just say?<<, the detective wants to know hastily, as he leans back into the room and approaches me.

>> Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter?<<, I answer him, slightly confused, and brush some lint off his coat, which he must have picked up when he inspected the blood stain.

With a quick jerk, he puts his big warm hands on my cheeks and pulls me into a quick but tender kiss. Slightly perplexed, I raise my eyebrows and try to understand why this happens so suddenly. At the same moment, however, I question this line of questioning, since I'm quite aware that Sherlock does such actions all the time.

>>Exactly that! That's brilliant!<<, he says enthusiastically and turns away from me again before he runs out of the door, seemingly having forgotten all about me. Hastily I hurry him outside and accidentally let the door slam, which was only opened a few minutes ago by a lockpick, so that now everyone in this house probably knows that we are here, or rather that we were. But that is irrelevant now.

In the middle of the street, I come to a halt behind Sherlock, who continues to look around with his chin raised and his face serious. In the hope to be able to follow his trains of thought I look around in vain. Next to the quiet hustle and bustle of this side street, there are almost only the muffled sounds of early morning traffic. Emphasis on early morning. It's half past four, an inhuman time to pull myself out of the warm bed next to him, but what won't one do for the opportunity to force Sherlock to a social event without argument? A promise that's hard to refuse. God, I'd do a lot for that man if he asked me to do something with his puppy eyes.

>>That's it!<<, he says enthusiastically and, seemingly completely out of reflex, puts an arm around my waist as a shiver caused by the cool morning air runs down my spine. His warmth literally lulls me, whereupon I press closer to him and let one of my hands slide into his coat pocket. The still illuminated street lamps give the whole thing an alarming touch of romance, considering that we, or rather probably only he, are just uncovering a murder.

>>What?<<, I ask quietly, still enjoying the moment.

>>I know how Howard Leichester was murdered.<<, he answers proudly, pressing a kiss to my hairline.

>>Perhaps your...warbling...<<, he begins in a casual tone that sounds like that of a little boy who has just done something wrong, but doesn't quite want to admit it yet, so he glosses over it before continuing, >>Perhaps it helped with the case. Just don't think you can do that all the time now!<< His played innocent gaze meanwhile is on everything but me.

I can no longer hold back a giggle and pull his face, which has been turned away from me until now, towards me and before I kiss him I whisper softly, >>Bohemian Rhapsody without mercy and the case is solved.<<

Strictly do not: copy, claim or translate those stories of mine anywhere else

#sherlock holmes x reader #Sherlock fic #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #Benedict Cumberbatch x y/n #Benedict Cumberbatch x reader #bohemian raphsody #queen #bbc #sherlock fanfiction

[chriscalledmesweetie]

Mrs. Hudson Casts Her Spell

I just finished listening to a fabulous segment on the most recent episode of the @threepatchpodcast​ in which @alexxphoenix42​ @vulgarweed​ and @amythe3lder discussed writing wiccan characters. It got me thinking about the fact that I’ve often written Mrs. Hudson as a witch, wise woman, or other practitioner of magic and spell-craft. Here is a sampling for you:

She Changes Everything She Touches (221 words, rated G) How many landladies does it take to change a light bulb? One, if the landlady is Mrs. Hudson. And she's going to be changing much more than that in her quest to bring Sherlock and John together.

Sherlock, Sherlock, Let Down Your Scarf (2952 words, teen) When John discovers Sherlock shut away in a tower, he vows to rescue the young man. But does Sherlock want to be rescued?

The Elves and the Brew-Maker (1661 words, rated G) Mrs. Hudson is determined to bring Sherlock and John together - with a little help from some ugly Christmas jumpers and a wee bit of magic.

Midnight Becomes You (1564 words, rated G) Cindersherlock longs to dance with Prince John at the Valentine’s Ball. But what will happen when Mrs. Hudson’s magic wears off at midnight?

The High-Functioning Sociopath Who Walked by Himself (837 words, rated G) Hear this tale, O my Best Beloved, of when the High-Functioning Sociopath was Wild — as wild as wild could be — and he walked through Wet Wild London by his wild lone.  Many men were wild and lonely, of course, but the wildest and loneliest of all was Sherlock Holmes.  He walked by himself, and all men were alike to him, which is to say all men were idiots.  Until he met John Watson…

#sherlock fic #johnlock fic #mrs. hudson #threepatchpodcast #three patch podcast #wicca #my fic

[lumi-klovstad-games]

Fallout 4: the case for Father being a damn liar telling Damn Lies who is NOT who he claims to be

Oddly, I find that people seem very keen to take the Director of the freaking Institute at his word that he’s actually Shaun for some reason.

This is a man with all the motive and opportunity to lie about that in the world.

At no point does he actually offer any sort of hard evidence, and his attempts at “affection” are cold, distant, and unconvincing. While his remarks about “until today, I have had no love to share” could plausibly explain that, his interactions with the Sole Survivor are overwhelmingly manipulative and he definitely sees you more as an asset (and possible successor) than as family; his behavior in general is detached and similar to a high functioning sociopath, which also as a bonus explains why he treats Synths the way he does. To some extent, genuine humans are no different to him than Synths: everything and everyone is merely an asset to secure the Institute’s future dominance in the Commonwealth. He says what he needs to say to provoke the reaction he wants out of people and doesn’t necessarily stand behind a word of it.

So, I don’t think Father is actually Shaun. Of course he can claim this all he wants, but the Sole Survivor has no way of independently verifying this: Father has a vested interest in remaining an unreliable narrator, and also literally controls all paths to the truth that don’t involve going to the Brotherhood of Steel (who likewise can’t be trusted to give an honest answer if that honestly has potential to interfere with their mission).

From what we see of the Commonwealth, paternity tests are VERY DIFFICULT to pull off. Likely, the Brotherhood could do one. The Institute sure as hell could do one, but Father’s goal is manipulating the Sole Survivor into replacing Kellogg, and eventually, himself. It’d be like asking Stalin to conduct an ethics investigation on himself. OF COURSE HE’S GONNA SAY WHAT HE’S GONNA SAY.

But consider the actual evidence. What happens in this lead up to meeting Father at all?

Why, quite a lot, and if Father’s “plan” as described was actually a plan, he’d have to be a goddamn prophet.

He’d have to know that you wouldn’t get mauled to death by Yao Guais and Deathclaws, eaten by Feral Ghouls, killed by raiders, or any of the other fun and exciting means of death that the Wasteland has on offer, and then meet EXACTLY the right people who point you in EXACTLY the right direction about a half dozen times, that you’d somehow kill Kellogg (who has a well earned reputation as a One Man Army the mere mention of which makes some of the most hardened mercs in the Commonwealth shit themselves with fear) and THEN have access to the tech to use his brain as a film reel to poke through his memories to find out that the Institute uses teleportation to get in and out.

He also has absolutely no guarantee that you wouldn’t just mini-nuke Kelogg in the fight and that there’d be anything left to salvage.

Then he has to be able to predict that you can track down Virgil, kill a Courser, DECRYPT THE COURSER’S BRAINCHIP SOMEHOW, build a fucking teleporter INTERCEPTOR out of scraps, and come meet him in the first place.

How could ANYONE have reasonably predicted all that in advance?

There are simply way WAY too many points of not even possible but MOST GODDAMN LIKELY catastrophic failure in that plan. Had even a single thing happened slightly differently, had the Sole Survivor been 0.001% less lucky, the whole thing would have been shot to hell just like America was about two minutes after the bombs fell.

Maybe the Sole Survivor takes one too many bullets. Maybe Kellog’s Hippocampus doesn’t survive his death. Maybe Skinny Malone decides to finally trash Nick Valentine once and for all instead of locking him up. Maybe Dogmeat gets killed by literally ANYTHING in the Commonwealth that could kill a German Shepard (which realistically means everything – the place is somehow more hostile than all of Australia’s wildlife put together). Maybe Glory errs on the side of pragmatism and blows you away with her minigun when you first meet the Railroad.

Tons of stuff could have gone wrong that nobody could have predicted, but Father acts as though you followed his plans to the letter. That all that was meant to engineer a meeting with you. There would have been a ton of ways to do that in a simpler manner with a much lower risk of failure, starting by beaming a Courser right outside Vault 111 to say “Looking for your son? Come with me. We have a bit of explaining to do, but you can see him right now if you like.”

So either Father is either a future-seeing prophet with a magic mirror or something, or he’s actually even more shocked than you are that you actually made it to the Institute and is just trying to cover it up by saying “Sure yeah I’m your son and psssht yeah of course I totally meant to do all that.”

The alternative to that particular Occam’s Razor is that he’s simply so addicted to complexity that he’d get dizzy if you asked him to walk in a straight line.

He’s (probably) not Shaun.

It’s just a lie he told that grew bigger and bigger with each telling as he grew convinced that the Sole Survivor was so dangerous that they had to be harnessed by the Institute instead of someone else (or worse, being allowed to remain a free agent), and, preferably, molded into his replacement.

At least, that’s my read on the situation.

If he is Shaun, the game does a TERRIBLE job of convincing me, since we know that Father is a man of “rather flexible morality” depending on how he can justify things, meaning he can reasonably break any of his own rules and claim he didn’t actually break those rules.

Added to that, Doctors Sun and Crocker (independent medical authorities with no known ties to any faction) both confirm that surgery can change eye color, skin color, skeletal construction and musculature in the Fallout universe and is therefore not just a gameplay feature, meaning Father’s physical resemblance to the Sole Survivor means less than nothing in and of itself as the Institute is likely to have even more advanced capacities for surgery (they literally BUILD wholesale human beings on a factory floor, I mean c’mon). Deacon also supports the notion that surgery can change literally everything about a person’s appearance, but, admittedly, he’s…. Deacon and his word isn’t worth much unless it’s confirmed by independent authorities in the field… like Crocker and Sun would have already done by the time you meet Deacon.

Everything Father sets up can actually be knocked down by something else you’ve encountered in the lore of the game, so this leaves his ultimate parentage ambiguous at best. He might be Shaun. He might not be. It’s up to the player, ultimately, to decide (at least unless Fallout 5 somehow addresses it, which would cement things in canon) whether he is or not.

And I remain unconvinced that he is.

#father #fallout 4 #the institute #sole survivor #vault 111 #shaun #BIG SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT PLAYED THE GAME