alternative ending to Thor, The Dark World. 'No. I have said what needs to be said, done what had to be done. This is it; I am gone. No more. Alas, there was more. My body temperature rose, and I could feel the fire on my tongue and the ash in my lungs, but I was fading. Foggy, distant, I ran my fingers over the sand and fell into oblivion (again).'

" No space between them now. John dug his nails into Sherlock's back while the younger man bit, hard, into John's neck; he could already feel the bruise forming. " short, dark sherlock.

from prompt: "stay a while, & listen" "His name was William, but I called him Will." there are feels.

' This year, it snowed in October, and I think that's what finally pushed S over the edge. ' short story. (and i mean short). sad. sorry.

'That first night, when I found him at 5:46 a.m. in the bathroom, almost-sunrise bleeding through the windows and onto his skin, I thought he was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen- and he was the most broken, too.' trigger warning. really short- might continue, i don't know.

'Black curls thrown backwards- eyes wide. I wonder if he could feel the rush of wind in the back of his throat. ' warning: not happy.

'It's sunset, and he hasn't spoken all day. I wonder what his voice is buried beneath; the morbid bodies or his own musings. Thoughts loom over his head like a hatchet. ' my take on some PTSD. short, almost-sweet, sort of johnlock.

'There was something silent about him, but it wasn't his lack of words. Instead the quiet nestled itself in between his fingers as he tapped on his knee, or how he worked his jaw while he gazed as the passing city.' there will be feels and johnlock in the end. yay me. i don't know about this. reviews would be nice. (this is kind of dark, will be a sad read.)

he hates winter, and she wants to have dinner. more chapters to come. rated T because of mention of drinking.

he knew; he always knew– and god dammit Sherlock needed him and he knew that, too.

'It hit him like a kick in the head that Mycroft could die– not just die, but be murdered, and all because Sherlock wasn't quick enough. '

'Sherlock can feel the storm in his aching limbs.' here are some cuddles and stuff.

is it a thing to write johnlock poems? i hope so. i'll probably turn this into a story later on.

Sherlock is drunk– John's had a bad day.

'It could have been weeks, since he's been admitted, or it could have been years; he's stopped trying to pull himself from the numb haze of the psychiatric drugs.' Will Graham broke out of Baltimore State Hospital– or did he? (rating it k just to be safe.)

'He breathed, hot and broken, into her hair– she would never admit to anyone how much that both pained her and completed her. ' sorry that I'm so bad at summaries. enjoy. (one shot turned multi-chapter.)

a case pushes Will too far; in fact, they push him down a flight of stairs. may be more that 1 chapter if you guys like it.

Hannibal sighs, reaches back, and firmly slaps Will across the face. The effect is immediate; Will's eyes snap open and he jumps about a foot in the air, his back catching the corner of Hannibal's sink. He gasped, the walls wavering as he tries to recall where he was. Gently, Hannibal places a hand on Will's face, right where he slapped him. (first fanfic, ever. yay)