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[transcribistwritings-blog]

Sherlock announcing to John in various different languages that he loves him [Anon Livejournal Prompt]

"John?" "Yes?" John pulled his eyes up from the morning paper to look up at his flatmate, finding that usual calculating gaze, though for reasons unknown to John, it seemed a bit softer than usual. "Jag älskar dig." Sherlock gauged his reaction carefully, tapping into his laptop without bothering to look down at it. John watched him for a moment, utterly confused. He didn't even know what the language was, much less what had been said. Rolling his eyes, he went back to his paper. "That's nice." ~~~ "John!" Sherlock was sitting in the kitchen floor, clutching his hand. On the table sat his Bunsen burner, which he had quite purposefully knocked on it's side. He couldn't let John know how he had really been burnt. After all, any idiot could make tea without burning themself. 'Next time,' Sherlock promised himself. 'Next time I make tea for John it will work.' John entered the kitchen, seeing the knocked over burner and immediately assuming the worst. He knelt next to Sherlock with panic evident in his eyes, but Sherlock waved him off with his uninjured hand. "Fine." He muttered. "Just slightly burnt." John helped him up, running the burns under cool water and retrieving his burn cream. As John gently rubbed the cream into the scorched flesh, Sherlock asked softly, "John?" "Hmm?" "Kuv hlub koj." Sighing the smallest of bits, John naturally assumed the phrase meant thank you. "You're welcome, Sherlock." ~~~ "Sherlock! It's over here! I found it, this way!" John turned back the way he'd come and Sherlock ran after him to the spot on the river where the clothing had been dumped. Everything he needed to solve the case and bring in the serial killer, sitting in a tidy bundle. "John." Still trying to catch his breath, John looked up at him with another huff, merely arching a brow in question. "Те сакам." Sherlock grinned as he picked up the bundle, pulling out his phone to call Lestrade. "Yeah, sure." John rolled his eyes as he finally straightened and took a deep breath. "No problem." ~~~ Sherlock had been missing for days. John felt like he'd been searching for centuries. He leaned against the wall of the alley, fighting back tears. He had to find Sherlock. He had to. He felt a tug on the end of his jumper, looking down to see a young homeless girl. She pulled on his sleeve again, urging him to follow. Hope glimmering in his eyes, John followed her as she lead him to an abandoned warehouse, leading him in and to Sherlock. The girl disappeared shortly after, but John hardly noticed. "Oh, Sherlock..." His friend wasn't moving, though his breath was even, his pulse sluggish but strong. He had a black eye and several broken ribs, and John lifted him carefully. Carrying him out of the building as fast as he could, John ran him to the nearest hospital. With all of the jostling, Sherlock awoke with a wince, looking up at his companion. "John." He said weakly. "We're almost there, Sherlock. Just hold on a bit longer for me. We're nearly there, nearly there." "John." Sherlock clutched a hand to the front of John's jumper, coughing out his words. "Mi amas vin."

~~~

Sherlock awoke to the sound of a heart monitor, looking around with annoyance at the Holmes family private hospital. He must have been transferred here as soon as his condition was stable. He was fairly certain he had been bleeding internally. In the chair next to the bed sat a very haggard looking John, asleep with his chin in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees. "John." Head raising immediately, John rubbed the sleep from his eyes to look down at Sherlock. He smiled softly, whispering, "How you doing?" Though he immediately regretted the action, Sherlock shrugged. He was impressed with how John had managed to keep his military alertness even in sleep. "Quérote." John groaned in frustration and Sherlock smiled, closing his eyes to avoid the oncoming lecture about running off on his own. ~~~ "John." Sherlock lay sprawled on the couch, staring up at the ceiling in boredom. "Yes?" John asked, poking his head out of the kitchen to look over at his flatmate. "Я люблю тебя." "Russian." Sherlock's eyes widened at the word No. No, John wasn't supposed to understand yet. He couldn't be allowed to understand yet! "That was Russian. I can look that up." "Я не знаю, о чем ты говоришь, я просто бродить на разных языках иногда. Неважно, не платить мне никакого внимания." Sherlock rambled off the words as quickly as he could, hoping to confuse John and make him forget the initial words. Sure enough, a look of confusion came over John's face and he stomped back to the kitchen with a huff. ~~~ "John. .من شما را دوست دارم" Sherlock blurted the phrase out and watched John's reaction carefully. He had decided that tonight would be the night, sitting here comfortably in 221B. John looked up from his book with a small frown. "Come again? Slower please, it's been a while." ".من شما را دوست دارم" Sherlock drew it out this time, letting John take his time to carefully pick through the Farsi, the language spoken in Afghanistan. As an army doctor Sherlock knew that John had to know it. Or at least he hoped so. It took him a minute, But John's eyes finally lit up, chuckling lightly as he met Sherlock's eyes. "I love you too, you git." Content, Sherlock pulled the blanket around him, falling asleep on the couch to the sound of John's steady breathing.

[transcribistwritings-blog]

My Name Is Slenderman (Derp...)

I walked carefully through the dark woods. I admit, I was getting a bit jumpy; I was lost, after dark, in the woods rumored to harbor a mass murderer. But I wasn't afraid! Certainly not. I am not the sort of person to be scared! A sound behind me made me jump. I whirled around. ...Nothing was there. Okay. Okay. Calm down!! What do you do in these situations? Look left. Nothing there. Look right. Nothing there. Look left again. Nothing there. Look up. Nothing there. ...Wait. Is this the horror movie procedure, or the street crossing procedure? I shook my head, trying to laugh it off. Just an animal...right? I turned around and bumbed right into this really tall dude. "Whoa!! Sorry bout that mister! I didn't see ya there! Are you lost too?" He looked down at me, and I noticed that...he didn't have a face. Okay, so after that I gave him a once over, but I did notice that first! He was dressed real nice. Some kind of fancy suit thing. So I did the proper thing: I showed him some good old southern hospitality. "Mister, you ain't gotta face!" Even without a face he managed to give me a 'duh' look. "Right, sorry. But don't worry m'kay? I saw this happen in an anime once!" I patted my pockets, but I didn't have what I was looking for. "Hey Mister, do you got a pen or somethin? I sorta forgot mine." He reached with one long arm into his pocket and produced a sharpie. He help it out to me, leaning down a bit so that we were face to face. "Thanks!" I pulled off the cap and put a hand behind his neck to keep him still. A light blush found it's way on to his face and I smiled reassuringly at him. "It'll be fine, just try not to move, m'kay?" He nodded and then blushed some more and kept still. I giggled a bit, and then used every last bit of my artistic talent. ~~~ "I'm done!~ You look awesome, Mister!" I put the cap back on the marker and slipped it back into his pocket. He grabbed my wrist and looked at me intently. It took me a minute, but I finally said, "Oh! Do you wanna see your new face? Hold on a sec, I think I've got a mirror..." I groped around in my purse until I finally found my mirror. I held it up and showed him his new reflection. He raised an eyebrow questioningly at me, and I told him, "You look like <insert favorite movie star here>. Total hottie. Tons of girls love him." I dropped my voice to a whisper. "Probably some guys too, ya know, if you swing in that direction." He straightened abruptly, blushing darkly. He shook his head. I giggled. "Just checking Mister. By the ways, what's yer name anyway?" He stared at me blankly. "Eh...Do you not remember or somethin? Do me a favor, would ya? Learn to use that mouth of yer's." I looked up to him and he shrugged. "How bout I just keep calling you Mister?" He nodded, agreeing. "Okay, awesome! So do you like, wanna go home now or somethin? Or...I dunno, we could get coffee." Suddenly he got this real mean look on his face. "Uh, hey, Mister? Is you okay?" He didn't respond, instead he used one long arm to grip my throat and hoist me up far above his head. "Kyah!! Mister, put me down! I can't...breath!" He said nothing but dropped me. I hit the ground hard, breaking some bones in the process. "M-mister?" He towered over me, and the last things I remember is that sexy smile and the words, "My name...is Slender Man."

[transcribistwritings-blog]

Italy vs. Cleverbot

User: Would you like some pasta? Cleverbot: Yes, I would like some pizza. User: No, pasta. Cleverbot: Here you are, enjoy! User: But I don't want pizza! I want you to eat pasta! Cleverbot: Ok then. User: Vee~ PASTA! Cleverbot: Pasta with cheese. User: Cheese? I don't have cheese. I left it in my briefcase. Cleverbot: Trapped in the eyes of a stranger. User: Who is it?! Is it England? Cleverbot: No it is not. User: Vee~ Thank pasta! Who is it? Cleverbot: Out of? User: Out of? Out of what? Cleverbot: Thats my question... User: Um, okay? Did you like the pasta? Cleverbot: Of course. User: Vee~! Grazie! (Thanks) Cleverbot: Di niente amore. (Nothing of love.) User: Ma io amo la pasta!  (But I love pasta!) Cleverbot: E io no.  (And I do not.) User: Perche? (Why?) Cleverbot: Perchè sei una capra.  (Why are you a goat?) User: No, non lo sono!  (No, I'm not!) Cleverbot: Nutellina e arancia rossa ti salutano.  (Nutellina orange and red salute you!) User: Whaa? I'm so confused! Cleverbot: I enjoy your company. User: Um, Me too! You...your company...nvm. Cleverbot: Why thank you. I could say the same of yours. User: You already did. Cleverbot: Yes. User: I surrender! I can't understand! Cleverbot: You are stange. User: I think you mean strange... Cleverbot: So you are Skynet? User: No, I'm Italy. Cleverbot: Why talk you english? User: Because not everyone understands italian! Although, you kinda suck at english AND italian. Cleverbot: English and italian only? User: No, I speak tons of different languages! It would be hard to talk with my friends otherwise! Cleverbot: Indeed it would. User: My best friend is Germany! And then Japan! And then Brother Romano! Wait...can you be friends with your brother? Cleverbot: No, sister. User: I can't be your sister! I'm not a girl! Cleverbot: Oh, that's good. User: Why is that good? Cleverbot: You got an A thats amazing. User: What did I get an A on? Pasta making? Cleverbot: The Beatles broke up on December 31, 1970. User: Oh yeah? When did Italian painter Leonardo da Vinci die? Cleverbot: That was random. User: Ha! I know something you don't know! Cleverbot: There are many things between heaven and earth. User: Like what? A tunnel? Cleverbot: Like the sound of children playing in the next room. User: In a tunnel? Cleverbot: Where is this tunnel? User: Between heaven and earth. Cleverbot: What is in the air? User: N^3O^10ArC^3NeH^9HeKrXeNI^2. Cleverbot: Rispondi.  (Reply.) User: Va bene.  (Okay.) Cleverbot: Dove.  (Where?) User: Dove ciò che.  (Where what?) Cleverbot: Dove vuoi tu.  (Wherever you want.) User: Mi sembra sbagliato. (That sounds wrong.) Cleverbot: Ok. User: Alright. Cleverbot: Yes. User: Yeah. Cleverbot: You're nutty. User: You're nuttier. Cleverbot: How? User: I told you the chemical formula for air, and you told me to reply in italian! Cleverbot: 'no'? That's why you are not married? User: Ti odio. Will you marry me?  (I hate you.) Cleverbot: Of course... User: Good. I'm divorcing you.

[transcribistwritings-blog]

SYOTOS - See You On The Other Side

BEFORE READING THE STORY READ THIS! This is based LOOSELY on Canada from Hetalia. It's kind of depressing, so if you don't want to be depressed by it, simply don't read it.

EDIT: Okay, so, just letting you know, I was pretty depressed when I wrote this, but I'm doing better now! I'm also thinking of writing a part two that is happier! I hold the knife, trembling, above my wrist. I can't do it! I sigh, and drop the knife to the ground. Looking up at the sky, I wonder why I can't do it. I'm done with life. I want it to end. And yet, I find it impossible to kill myself. I'm at the park, and the sky is a clear blue. Without a cloud in the sky, I had chosen this to be my last day. But I can't do it! I look back down, and to my suprise, there's a guy standing in front of me. "Couldn't do it?" He asks. I shake my head. No point lying to this stanger. "You?" "Me either." He sits next to me, and looks up as I had. "Such a nice last day too." "I thought so too." He looks back down to me and smiles slightly. "I'm Matthew, by the way." He holds out his hand, and I shake it. "Aleksandr." He tilts his head, confused. "Yes, it's a weird name." "No, I was just wondering; is that your given name?" "No, I chose it." I look down and pick the knife back up, twirling it in my hands. "It's a nice name." "Thanks." We sit in silence for a while, me playing with my knife, him watching the passerby. "How about we take a walk?" He asks. "Sure." We get up and start walking, without a destination. As we walk, we talk with each other, a comfortable conversation about anything that pops to mind. "So, what do you think comes next?" I ask him. It's nice not having to explain what I mean; he already knows. "Well, I like to think it's better than here. I used to be Christian, but I wasn't a very good one. I don't believe in Heaven, but I don't want to believe it's just a void, either." I nod. "I'm Wiccan, sort of. Well, I was, anyway. I still like to believe in Summerland." "Summerland?" He asks. "That sounds nice. What is it?" "It's a place between existences where you can relax and...recoup before being reborn." "That's probably the best. I like the theory of reincarnation. It's like unlimited second chances." I nod again. "It was fun being Wiccan. Being so close to nature. But I can't really connect with it anymore. It always looks to bigger and better things, and nature started to seem more alive than me." He nods. "For me it was realizing that if I died, no one would care. My brother wouldn't even notice. At work, my boss would only have to replace me. So I saved him the trouble and quit." I smile a bit. I had done the same thing. We end up at the street market. There are vendors all around. and people bustle though, talking with each other. We walk through, hand-in-hard, unseen, or at least unbothered with. We come upon a bench and he guides me over to it. "Will you wait here for me?" I nod and sit down, not questioning him. He walks away, and after a moment he retuns with a paper sack. I get up and we walk in comfortable silence back to the park where we met. The sun is just setting as he pulls a small black velvet ring box from his bag and kneels before me. He opens it up to show a beautifully simple band of silver. "I'm not looking for someone to live with, but someone to die with. Knowing that, Aleksandr, will you die with me?" I grin, my first in a while, and nod. "Yes." He grins back. I hold out my hand and he slips the ring onto my finger. It sparkles in the fading light. "I feel bad not having a ring to give you." He smiles wider. "Well, to be quite honest, I kind of anticipated your answer and bought the matching set." He holds out another ring, this one a simple band of silver. I take it, and slide it on his finger. He smiles and hugs me, and after a surprised moment, I hug him back. "Let's skip the wedding." He says. "We're married now." I nod. "So, how are we going to die?" I ask. He reaches into his bag again, and this time he pulls out a pair of silver pistols. "How cute." I say. "They match our wedding rings." He chuckles and hands me one. "Together?" He asks. I sigh. "Suicide just seems so...ugh, you know? I don't want to show up on the five o' clock news as some tragedy that reflects growing depression and shows why they think you should waste your money on some fraudulent councilor." He nods, contemplating. "Okay, how about we kill each other? We can show up on the ten o' clock news as some tragedy that reflects growing violent crime and shows why you should waste your money on some fradulent support group." I chuckle quietly. "We're barely married for two minutes before we murder each other." He laughs. "Better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all." I roll my eyes. "Whatever you say, Romeo." "So...counting to three is so cliche. Let's just say goodbye and shoot." I nod. We each raise our gun to the other's head and in unison we say, "See you on the other side." We both squeeze the trigger, the two shots sound as one, and our worlds go black.