this charming man single

Jealous brothers - Request

Requested by anon: a sister imagine where she randomly showed up in his flat w/a companion after years of not seeing each other ‘cause she’s a genius agent of sort & the reason she’s there is to say she’s getting married & he goes on protective brother mode even getting mycroft to find out some dirt on the guy but apparently he’s perfect. In the end Sher finds out the guy keeps her right.
& anon: where their little sister is dating someone and neither of them deduce it because they think it’s impossible for her to be so grown up, but John figures it out because he understands humans. And Sherlock and Mycroft are completely shocked and get really protective of her.


**No incest**

Word count: 2.377

Warnings: Jelly Mycroft and Jelly Sherlock threatening very gory things.

A/N: Tom Hiddleston who? I wanted to write something light for the angsty stuff that’s coming this week. Also, how else would I express my undying crush on Tom HIddleston but by basing this character on him?


Originally posted by sherlock-imagine-blog

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock inquired instantly as he caught sight of the girl – woman – sitting on his chair.

“Hello, brother.” She spoke sarcastically as she stood up, “I missed you too, and you look great.”

A warm smile grew on their faces and soon they were hugging. Sherlock let out a raspy chuckle and pulled away.

“It is marvellous to see you, sister.” Sherlock spoke truthfully.

“Brother? Sister?” John asked from behind Sherlock and the woman.

“John, this is my sister (Y/N). Sister, this is my friend Doctor John Watson.” Sherlock introduced them proudly, acting for once like a regular human being.

“John Watson,” she pronounced, “if everything I heard about you is true, I should call you my brother as well.”

She hugged the doctor warmly and, although John hugged her back, he couldn’t help but to mouth a “What does she mean?” to Sherlock who, of course, gave no answer.

“Does Mycroft know you are here?” Sherlock inquired once she let go off John.

“That question is awfully stupid, Sherlock.” She snapped sassily and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

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Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: Part six. A bit more emotional building between Sam and the Reader than sexual this chapter. I am actually typing more before the finale airs tonight, and likely will after (who can sleep after a finale?!). So, the next part could very well happen by late tonight. Tomorrow at the latest. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy. :)

Also: A foal is a baby horse. In case you didn’t know the term.

@captain-princess-rose @bookishdorito @supernatural508 @faegal04

Previous parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five

Warnings: Bit of Reader x OC. Bit of murder mentions. Nothing big.

Word Count: 2846

“Hi,” You beamed at the cowboy who turned to you after the boys had introduced themselves, and you, using fake names. He had practically ignored them until they went to question another worker at the ranch about the recent victim. Leaving you two alone.

“So, you’re an intern, huh?” He’d caught that at least.

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The Smiths - This Charming Man (written by Johnny Marr and Steven Patrick Morrissey) | non-album single, Rough Trade Records, 1983 | the single sleeve features actor Jean Marais in a still from Jean Cocteau’s drama film Orphée (France, 1949)


Punctured bicycle on a hillside desolate
Will nature make a man of me yet?
When in this charming car
This charming man

Why pamper life’s complexity
When the leather runs smooth
On the passenger’s seat? 

*I would go out tonight
But I haven’t got a stitch to wear
This man said, ‘‘It’s gruesome
That someone so handsome should care’’

**Ah ! A jumped-up pantry boy
Who never knew his place
He said, ‘’return the ring’’
He knows so much about these things
He knows so much about these things

Repeat *
La, la-la, la-la, la-la, this charming man
Oh, la-la, la-la, la-la, this charming man
Repeat **

20. None of us have super powers and should not claim otherwise.

I am Captain Sexy Pants. I can charm the pants off of any woman or man with a single smile. Am I right Moony? - SB

I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about. - RL

I am the Quidditch Man. I was born with the ability to see a Quidditch move play out before the play was even called. - JP

I still don’t understand why I couldn’t be a super hero too. - PP

Not everyone can be a superhero. We need sidekicks too, Little Rat Man. - JP

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Snippet:  FF for Transfusions         Part III

Part I

Part II


He put a hand through his black hair, letting the waves and curls slide through his fingers while he watched his boyfriend put away all the food he knew he hadn’t picked out.


Such an odd thing to think and then…then not so odd in the least. Standing there in his apartment, his own space, he wasn’t uneasy at all with a predator like Joa.  A predator and yet still a man.  A man.  Dylan’s mind simply had to point out that single fact at every turn.  A protective and charming man who loved him.  Actually loved him.  Deep down, when one swam through the ever-present insecurities that lay between the surface and Dylan’s gooey soul, there was no doubt that Joa loved him.  There was also no doubt that he loved Joa in return.

So why, after that was said and done and everything seemed so right with the world—with Dylan’s world—did Joa feel the need to lie to him?

He didn’t want to be paranoid.  That wasn’t part of his instinct.  He’d admitted himself that self-preservation wasn’t his strong suit and was not paranoia part of such an instinct?  He was reading into things too much, he was looking at things too closely.  Where were those rose-colored glasses he’d been wearing this far?

He couldn’t ignore this.

“Joa?” he asked as the vampire pulled out a skillet and started preparations to make him dinner.


“Was it a Rolex?”

Distracted, Joa replied, “Was what a Rolex?”  He immediately realized his mistake and whirled around with a spatula in his hand, straight up toward the sky.  “The watch?” His mouth was turned down at the sides and his handsome face twisted with guilt.  He could have been a great liar to a stranger, but to Dylan he was terribly transparent.  Even when he’d been trying to recount his encounter with the old woman, he’d been lacking in his typical flippant story-telling manner that was rife with personal interjections.

Dylan crossed his arms again, feeling a prickly emotion that warmed his face and put a pit in his chest.  “There wasn’t a watch, Joa.”

The vampire grew stiff, his hand tight around the handle of the spatula. His eyes were wide and his mouth a tight line across his face.

“I’m not mad.  I’d just like to know if it’s something I should be worried about.  Was it…that guy?”

One red brow popped upward and then recognition flashed in Joa’s eyes. “My sire?!  No!  My god, no!  It was…just…”

Dylan found himself leaning forward for the explanation that he knew would come.  The redheaded blood-sucker was a born story-teller and he could simply tell from his mere expressions that he was dying to spill every secret.  He wanted to tell someone.

Joa gave a great sigh and his hand holding the spatula fell to his side with a whoosh of air.  “I smelled something.”

A puzzling statement that made a number of possibilities float to the surface of Dylan’s imagination.  Smelled something.  For a vampire, that could mean all sorts of interesting things.  The scent of blood was the first thing that Dylan thought of when it came to Joa’s uniqueness.  Perhaps a particularly good strain of blood that was irresistible?  Different from the rest?  Similar to his own?  He was overly curious but didn’t wish to make it obvious so he nodded just slightly and straightened his posture.

“You smelled something?  Like…blood?”

“No,” Joa was looking at the floor.  “Like…perfume.  And…Dylan…not just any perfume but the kind that…the kind that…she wears.”

“She?” Confused, Dylan took a step forward, uncrossing his arms, purposefully trying to seem less defensive.

Joa appeared pained.  “Jess.”  He shook his head, his red hair fanning in front of his eyes.  “Dylan, it’s stupid.  I know it is. She’s twenty years older and lord knows where she is but I smelled this perfume and I just…I got lost.”  He turned around and abruptly started to make Dylan’s dinner again.  There was a short span of time in which Joa did not say anything and simply chopped vegetables while Dylan stood like a stick the mud in the middle of the tiny kitchen.  When he spoke again, Dylan’s human ears had to strain to hear him.  “I apologize for being late.”

It was perhaps all that he would be able to get.  He shuffled into the other room and set up his laptop with a movie.  When Joa had finished making his dinner and had presented it to him, settling with him on the couch, the two of them under a blanket, Dylan relaxed.

Half way through Blade Runner, he yawned and moved to put his head against Joa’s shoulder, finding himself welcomed and a kind hand buried in his hair, petting and soothing him as if it were completely natural for a vampire to do so to a human. A sudden and inescapable urge overtook him and he spoke in a murmur.

“I’m sorry about Jess.”

Joa buried his nose is Dylan’s hair and took in a long breath before he whispered, “Don’t be.  Someday I’ll get lost and all I’ll think of is you.”

Sisters in arms

I’ve been wrestling with the depiction of Mary Morstan in Sherlock S3, and my brain has whiplash.  And somewhere in the confusion, I keep coming back to the character River Song from Doctor Who.  I have a suspicion (fear?) that River’s treatment/trajectory may tell us something about how we, the audience, are meant to perceive Mary. 

For one thing, Moffatt (and possibly Gatiss?) seem fascinated with this idea of the “sexy psycho."  The creators of Sherlock are self-avowed "fanboys”–of both ACD and later Sherlock adaptations and Doctor Who.  They are fans who have been given the reigns of canon.  And I get a similar vibe from the main characters of both shows (the Doctor and Sherlock)–they’re larger-than-life, smartest, fastest, coolest,  totally enviable figures.  Even their tragedies are the most tragic, their challenges the most challenging, their sacrifices more sacrificial.  This has become really pronounced in DW since Moffatt became showrunner.

When Moffatt wanted to imagine what sort of woman could match the Doctor, he had to create someone really over-the-top–River Song.  She travels in time, but she does it “backwards,” she can fly the TARDIS better than the Doctor, she’s just as quick as he is AND she’s a crack shot, she’s the love of his life AND a murderous brain-washed assassin, she's totally devoted but totally frisky.  She’s a straight nerd’s fantasy woman with a big dash of danger to spice things up.  To be fair, I quite like her, especially in her early appearances (people much smarter than me have discussed the problematic development of her character in later series.)  What’s more, we (the audience) are clearly meant to like her.  The potentially dark things in her character (her violence, her supposed mental disorder, her lying) are clearly meant to be titillating, not complicating.  And the Doctor, our hero, also finds her intoxicating.  As he tells the Mother Superious is this year’s Christmas special, River was a psychopath and he “totally married her."  That line was played for "hell yeahs,” but my response was more “uh oh." 

Because it brought me back to Sherlock and my fear that someone intimately involved in the creation of that show (not naming names, *cough*Moffat*cough*) really has no idea how to make a proper psychological diagnosis.  It has bothered me for a long, long time that Sherlock repeatedly refers to himself as a "high-functioning sociopath."  I made my peace with it by saying that’s just his persona–it’s his sword and shield.  He can get away with being a complete dick and disregarding emotions (including his own) by embracing this supposed diagnosis.  I even toy with the angsty little headcanon that a therapist might have once given him this label as a child, and it stuck with him.  But no one who watches the show and has had any contact with someone with an actual personality disorder would ever mistake Sherlock for a sociopath.  

But now we have Mary Watson nee A.G.RA.  For my money, she’s the most accurate depiction of a psychopath I’ve seen in some time.  She’s funny, charming, and has a magnetic personality.  I liked her from her first appearance on-screen.  As we learn in HLV, she’s also a remorseless liar, master manipulator, and capable killer.  She started off as a spy, but went free-lance, not because she was abducted as a child and brainwashed (like River) but for reasons of her own (money, willingness, violent tendencies, who knows.)  She’s definitely emotionally abusive to John.  She tacitly agrees when Sherlock calls her a psychopath.

So in River and Mary we have two love-interests that are labeled as psychopaths.  They actually share a lot of other features too (they’re both quippy, funny, charming, capable, violent, and supposedly single-mindedly devoted to one man.)  In isolation, I don’t like or trust Mary.  But then I remember River–River who is "tamed” and “redeemed” by her love for the Doctor, who becomes the ur-mate, protecting her husband beyond the boundaries of time or even corporeality.  River was a psychopath (questionable diagnosis, but that’s what we’re told,) who literally reforms herself because of the love of a good man.  Incidentally, this is a common feature in women we/the Doctor find sexy, like both Clara and the Mother Superious who are Daleks (at certain points), but overcome their programming to save the Doctor. 

And I fear that we’re meant to read Mary the same way.  From interviews with Moffatt and Gatiss (like the Empire Sherlock Series 3 spoiler podcast,) it sounds more and more like Mary is River-redux: John and Sherlock are so extreme and bizarre, they’ll get along great with an equally messed-up woman! she can really hang with them because she’s not normal! isn’t her twist so cool??  Rather than alienating the viewer and making us suspect Mary, I think the big reveal that she’s a super-assassin with better aim than John who actually killed Sherlock (albeit temporarily) is supposed to make us love her even more.   She’s a sexy psycho! 

If so, this is where I part ways with the writers in S3, because unlike River, who was a victim of brainwashing and essentially child-abuse, Mary apparently comes by her psychopathy honestly.  And I’m not going to say it’s “sending a bad message,” but it’s frankly unbelievable that she could be cured of a personality disorder by the love of a good man (or men).  I have no reason to go along with that, because the tamed-sexy-psycho is not my fantasy woman.  I don’t find it titillating; I find it internally inconsistent to the logic and character of Sherlock.  Knowing what I know of River, I’m leery of reading too much nuance into S3’s depiction of Mary (not knocking Amanda’s portrayal, which is great btw, maybe better than the role deserves.)  I want Sherlock and John to be playing a long game to out her as a dangerous criminal, or something to that effect–something that acknowledges just how terrible and dangerous she’s actually is and how selfish her actions have been.  That would be giving the character the credit and respect she deserves.  But I’m afraid her problematic choices are really just credentials to prove she’s bad enough to hang with the cool kids. 

I hope S4 will prove me wrong.  Anyone else getting the River Song vibe from Mary?


Time Machine Video of the Week

The Smiths - This Charming Man (1983)

The Smiths were an English indie rock band from Manchester. The band consisted of vocalist Morrissey, guitarist Johnny Marr, bassist Andy Rourke and drummer Mike Joyce. This Charming Man was the bands second single, released on 31st October 1983. 

Punctured bicycle
on a hillside desolate
will Nature make a man of me yet?

When in this charming car
this charming man

Why pamper life’s complexities
when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat?

I would go out tonight
but I haven’t got a stitch to wear
this man said “It’s gruesome
that someone so handsome should care”

A jumped-up pantry boy
who never knew his place
he said “return the rings”
he knows so much about these things
he knows so much about these things

I would go out tonight
but I haven’t got a stitch to wear
this man said “It’s gruesome
that someone so handsome should care”

This charming man
this charming man

A jumped-up pantry boy
who never knew his place
he said “return the ring”
he knows so much about these things
he knows so much about these things
he knows so much about these things

Below is a live version @ Manchester’s Hacienda Club, Nov 24th, 1983

Chapter 5: We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes (UPDATED)

We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

AU: Oliver Queen is a world-renowned psychiatrist. Used to dealing with countless crazies, he wasn’t accustomed to finding a patient that thoroughly stumped him, until he met Felicity Smoak. She had murdered a man in cold blood and hadn’t been the same ever since. There was no apparent cause, no history of mental illness, nothing. Oliver Queen intends to find out why she is so “mad”.

(cover creds goes to @author123456)

Chapter 5

“We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.” 

― André Berthiaume

He felt like a detective—a shoddy and inexperienced one at that. It was about 4:45 pm and Diggle and him sat across the street from a barber shop in Diggle’s humid Pontiac. The radio played softly under the cacophony outside. People were starting to go home, some finished with work meandering by, chatting about this and that, happy and unassuming whilst two men waited for any sign of the unusual. 

Oliver whispered, “So when does he—”

“Shh!” Diggle interrupted. 

“But how about we—”


“We are in a car, I don’t think Ray can hear us.”

Diggle laughed. “Yeah I know man, but I Will Survive is on the radio. I love me some Gloria Gaynor.” Diggle noticed the tension emanating off Oliver. “You okay?”

Oliver clenched his fist in his lap. “Just anxious. Ray seems inexplicably tied to every thing’s that’s happened in Felicity’s life in the past two to three years. He’s suspicious, and we need to evaluate him.”

“Man, you’ve been a psychiatrist for years. Why all of a sudden are you questioning a patient and the sickness that they have contracted?”

Oliver looked Diggle very seriously in the eye. “I don’t think she’s crazy, Dig. Other than some PTSD and some suppressed memories, she seems completely sane. Of course, I can’t diagnose her as such because they’ll send her to jail. It’s better that she’s in an institution rather than prison, trust me. There’s more to her case than just a simple murder. Too many questions. I need to unlock the memories hidden in the deep recesses of her mind and find out exactly what Mr. Palmer’s role is in all of this.”

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