#crxwncd

[strngrmdst-a]

@crxwncd

“I want to start...d-doing, more.” It wasn’t in his nature to talk back to his brother- not like this, not make demands and be so direct. His immediate impulse after the words was to apologize. Or run away. Instead, he fiddled with the pen in his hands, jittery. Thirsty. He wet his lips. Looked around the room, then back to his brother. Dropped the pen on the counter and picked it up. “I think- I could meet. With your clients. F-for you.”

[rwtsn-arc]

rosie  knew  that  it  was  risky  ,  leading  an  almost  double  life  right  under  her  dad  and  sherlock’s  nose.  fingers  laced  through  her  blonde  locks  ,  one  leg  folded  over  the  other.  her  fingers  tapping  against  her  knee’s.  a  suck  of  air  into  her  lungs  before  she  exhaled. 

“look  ,  you  NEED  to  explain  it  once  more  because  i’m  really  not  sure  i’m 100%  SURE what  you  are  on  about.”rosie  admitted  as  she  placed  her  hand’s  on  her  knee  ,  trying  to  relax  a  bit  more.  nerves  were  never  a  good thing. 

  @crxwncd    /   SC.

[fangsforhire]

‘ don’t you know you’re playing with fire tonight ?? ’

GLORY DAYS SENTENCE STARTERS

‘Oh darling, isn’t that the very point? The reason we perseverethrough the dull drone of life because occasionallythey’ll be those things that make us tick? That willburn through us and leave us smouldering?’

{ Feather-light fingertips dared to CARESS what shouldnot be handled. Flesh hot underneath his hands; tracingsoft lips with a pout. ( Oh, he was aware he was playingwith poison. That Moriarty could snap at any given moment.  Send him spiralling. ) Yet it was exhilarating and he was enthralled. Plus he had a tendency to push buttons. }

‘What about you? Can youfeel the heat?’

{ Drawing back rather SHAMELESSLY; he swallowed; head tilting to the side, admiring the shade of his eyes. ( Not as dark as he had assumed but piercing mocha. ) Flawless to advanced senses. }

‘Cause I’m not the only oneplaying with fire.’

[pyschtm-blog]

@crxwncd liked your post:me :  follows  sher.lock  blogs.  dark demon in my...

i need so little motivation to remake him dont do this to me

[itsusxallysubtext]

“Oh, stop playing victim. You had this coming.”

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 !

   Maybe that wasn´t something he could really argue with. Because if you tempered with someone like HIM you were bound to go down, one way or another. It was as simple as that.

   And as complicated. 

   John, with his back to the wall, bit back a sigh, shaking his head. “I never said I was a VICTIM,” he then counters. “But you´re not exactly making it easy to not BLAME you for this either,”

[governmentofficial]

☠

Send ☠ to see my muse kill somebody.

It was common knowledge that handguns were illegal in the United Kingdom. However, was it really surprising that some of those within the secret service had access to such things anyway? Of course not - and Mycroft was certainly one of those people.

He was supposed to be meeting with Moriarty to exchange information. The two had been in discussions for a while and they had finally decided upon a deal that they both found acceptable. However, somehow somebody seemed to have decided that this was the opportune chance to strike. They were just about to shake hands when a stranger burst into the room.

Who he was, Mycroft didn’t know - but he reacted instantly. His hand automatically reached to draw his gun from his holster and, before the attacker could use his own weapon, pulled the trigger. The bullet hit its mark and the stranger collapsed to the ground, silence falling upon the room after the thud of the body hitting the floor.

Weapon still drawn - now pointed at Moriarty - the elder Holmes’ eyes darted over the dead man. He wasn’t one of his own gone rogue, nor did the visual clues he was seeing suggest that he was one of Moriarty’s. A third party, then? Hm. How interesting. But who did that mean the target was? Perhaps both of them.

It was with displeasure that he then noted that a speck of blood had found its way onto his shirt. Mycroft frowned down at it. How irritating.

“It seems that somebody did not like the idea of us talking,” Mycroft eventually said, breaking the silence as he slid the gun back into the holster. His tone and expression were both cool and unaffected by what he had just done because, well, he was. He had killed before, and this was not somebody important; why should he care about them?

[guaranteeofinnovation]

open hold the door open for them.

Q holds their laptop case close against them, studying the building they were brought to. The man who has picked them up has gone ahead, nearly SKIPPING with -- excitement? It looks like excitement.

It would be one thing if they had been kidnapped, forced into a car – or else if they were threatened – or if they had been blackmailed, because then, at least, they would be able to say they did not choose this. But they did. This is what MI6 does not necessarily understand: sometimes, one cannot hold one’s ground. Ensuring national security sometimes means that the BAD GUYS get what they want. After all, what they want is sometimes better by far that what they will do if they cannot get it. 

“ Shit, ” he says, softly, and hugs his laptop to his chest. His new associate is leaning against the door, waiting. The building’s grey façade rises above him, windows staring like eyes in all directions. 

Taking a breath, Q pulls out their phone. He checks the time, then tucks it back into his pocket. They agreed this would take an hour -- the program he has agreed to write should take half that. That is all. Just an hour. Q lifts their chin and walks forward, towards the open door, where the man is waiting.

nonverbal starters. accepting. @crxwncd.

[strngrmdst-a]

‘ Insane isn’t really black or white, is it? ‘

✧    NBC’S    HANNIBAL    PROMPTS   !  

When they were little, Richard used to think Jim was the smartest person in the world. He could get adults to do almost exactly what he wanted. Almost. Sometimes. He knew how to read their father’s moods plain as a book, knew the best hiding places, and could speak without getting the sounds caught up on his tongue. He would make a plan and tell Richard what to do and, if Richard did exactly what he was told, more than half the time it ended with them having sweets, or little knick knacks, or one memorable time a whole cake right from the counter of a bakery. 

Looking back on it, Richard can see some of the signs. Lying, stealing, manipulation, lack of remorse. There are TEDtalks about how to recognize psychopaths. Specials on TV that played up the drama of it all. Richard just thought he was being taken care of. Sometimes, when their father was passed out pissed by midday, they only ate because of Jim’s schemes. 

‘ Insane isn’t really black or white, is it? ‘

He rolled his eyes. “D-dramatic,” he accused, which they both knew was not an answer to the question.