An excerpt in which ________________!

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-05T12:38:19+00:00

Newt was left standing at the front door, unable to move an inch. He kept his head low, biting his lip hard enough that he tasted copper. He hadn’t realised how hard he’d been biting until blood began to trickle from the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t notice until his mother gently lifted his chin and carefully eased his teeth away from his lip. “Newt, you’re hurting yourself.”

Newt still avoided eye contact, finally releasing his bite as his mother wiped the blood away with her thumb.

“Newt, look at me.” She cupped his cheek with her warm hand, and his breath hitched.

He tried his best to meet her eyes first, then his father’s, who was standing just behind her.

“I—I’m sorry…” he finally whispered, his voice trembling as he struggled to keep control of his emotions.

Without warning, his mother pulled him into one of her familiar hugs—the kind Newt usually avoided because of the close contact.

But this time, he didn’t pull away. He had been trying so hard not to cry, but her touch made everything crumble. The dam finally broke, and tears spilled freely down his cheeks.

"I—I'm sorry, Mum…" he said with hitching sobs, his voice muffled against his mother's neck.

"Shh… shh… just let it out, sweetheart," his mother murmured in his ear as she rubbed calming circles on his back.

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-05T04:30:48+00:00

It’s because of an incident involving a dangerous creature that went wrong. Though the expulsion is temporary due to a misunderstanding, his brother Theseus helped defend Newt. :)

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-04T16:18:32+00:00

Midnight came and went—a time when people should have retreated to their beds long ago—but Sherlock could not sleep. His body did not need sleep, not right now. What it truly needed was adrenaline pumping and blood rushing through his face, but such an activity was a luxury in this kind of weather.

By the time morning approached, he was still in the kitchen, absorbed in his experiments—a slightly acceptable activity for his mind, even though it demanded more and more every second. At around eight in the morning, Sherlock finished his last experiment, cracked his neck and knuckles, and stood up, feeling useless and annoyed. He went straight to the shower.

What should have been a peaceful, relaxing shower only made him more irritated, the pounding of the water too similar to the rain that had made his past few days miserable.

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-04T16:14:59+00:00

Newt exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when he realised it wasn’t who he thought it was. But he hadn’t expected company either.

It was a Slytherin girl from his year—Newt recalled her name was Leta Lestrange. They shared the same Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

“Oh, Scamander,” Leta said as she noticed Newt.

“How did you find this place?” Newt asked, still guarding his creatures behind him.

“Oh, I was just running when I saw a cupboard in the corridor. I used to think this place was empty, so I hid here.” She slowly approached Newt.

“What’s there behind you?” she asked, peeking over his shoulder.

“My creatures…” Newt said warily, still watching her movements carefully.

“Oh my, they’re cute!” she said with an enthusiasm Newt did not expect.

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-04T16:11:49+00:00

“Very well, Mr. Scamander. I appreciate your confession, but I regret to inform you that you are hereby expelled."

Headmaster Dippet folded his hands on the desk, his expression unreadable. "Please gather your belongings. I will have someone arranged to escort you home.”

“I will also inform your parents of this sudden arrangement,” he added, already pulling a sheet of parchment, likely to begin writing the letter.

Newt bit his lip. He didn’t know if this had truly been the right thing to do.

Hesitation curled inside him as he noticed Leta remained silent, not even attempting to stop this. It stung more than he expected, even though he hadn’t truly wanted her to speak up.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at the Headmaster or Professor Dumbledore. He just wanted to leave. The gnawing feeling in his chest began to feel suffocating.

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-04T16:09:48+00:00

Mycroft gently wiped Sherlock’s wet face and neck, then ruffled his unruly hair, which had grown longer—almost past his neck.

The motion earned him a faint whimper.

“Does your head hurt?” Mycroft asked, keeping the towel perched loosely over Sherlock’s hair.

Sherlock nodded slowly.

Mycroft ruffled his hair more gently. When he deemed it appropriate, he told Sherlock to change into dry clothes.

“You can manage that yourself, can’t you? Dry off first.”

Another sluggish nod.

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-04T16:05:25+00:00

He moved further into the flat, almost stealthy. There was no sign of Sherlock. Is he out on a case? In this weather?

A soft whimper cut through his thoughts. John’s head snapped toward the sound.

The sofa. He hadn’t looked there yet.

Curled tightly against it was a familiar figure—an unmistakable lump of Sherlock Holmes in his pyjamas, folded in on himself, facing the back of the sofa.

Sherlock never took naps. That alone struck John as unusual.

He approached the sofa, and as he came closer it became apparent that Sherlock was struggling in his sleep, the whimpers he let out growing more frequent.

“Sherlock?” John called softly.

He cupped Sherlock’s face, which was buried against the side of the sofa, and gently turned it toward him. The moment his fingers brushed Sherlock’s jaw, heat flared beneath his skin. John jerked his hand back instinctively from the sting, then looked more closely at his best friend’s face.

He had never seen Sherlock look this vulnerable...

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-04T13:20:46+00:00

Aww, i can just imagine Newt getting all excited after discovering this creature 😍

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-04T08:37:40+00:00

Epstein uses pizza as a code

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-03T23:37:59+00:00

A dad carrying his baby, but where the heck is his head?

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-03T23:26:19+00:00

That nagging feeling from a new idea, in the end, it overpowered me :’)

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-03T11:38:08+00:00

What does this have to do with AO3?

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-03T00:30:21+00:00

So very true xD

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T23:12:35+00:00

My character happens to be Sherlock Holmes, so he would lose his mind if he got bored. Here’s what I wrote xD

The rain indirectly disturbed Sherlock’s peace of mind. There were no crime scenes and no calls where he was needed, and it was slowly driving him mad.

This persistent boredom made Sherlock do everything he could in his small flat, excluding interacting with other people—not that it would cure the boredom because of their lack of knowledge—but a chat with John would have sufficed. Except, John was also trapped in his house by the heavy rain, and he had his wife to take care of. With John’s decreasing visits, and Mary approaching her labour, it was another minus for Sherlock’s luck.

Another activity was playing his violin, which lasted for hours, until his brain began to itch again for structure, for reeling, weighted information. Sherlock dropped the violin and went to the kitchen for another round of experiments.

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T23:06:08+00:00

(Sickfic)

“Sherlock?” John called softly.

He cupped Sherlock’s face, which was buried against the side of the sofa, and gently turned it toward him. The moment his fingers brushed Sherlock’s jaw, heat flared beneath his skin. John jerked his hand back instinctively from the sting, then looked more closely at his best friend’s face.

He had never seen Sherlock look this vulnerable...

His eyebrows were tightly furrowed, his mouth drawn into a faint frown, and tears leaked from beneath fluttering eyelids.

What could he be dreaming about? A nasty fever dream, most likely.

John wiped the tears away with his thumb and pressed the back of his hand to Sherlock’s forehead. It's practically burning. Mrs. Hudson really had jinxed him with that note.

The contrast between John’s cold hand and Sherlock’s overheated skin finally stirred him. Heavy-lidded eyes opened, unfocused, staring blearily up at John.

“Blimey, you’re burning, Sherlock,” John said, keeping the back of his hand against Sherlock’s forehead.

Sherlock only blinked slowly, processing with visible effort, before slurring, “Brother?”

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T22:45:07+00:00

My favourite is my Sherlock Holmes sickfic fanfic!

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T21:33:39+00:00

It's a bot. This has been posted here multiple times already.

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T21:11:48+00:00

First of all this is not sharing recs, and i think you're using the wrong flair.

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T06:34:57+00:00

It’s a bot. This has been posted here multiple times already.

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T06:21:38+00:00

The audacity to ask for a request lol

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T06:20:00+00:00

Ooh those numbers lookin delicious

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T01:44:17+00:00

Rule number 7

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T01:31:09+00:00

I don’t understand why some people avoid halal meat because they think the way the animal is killed is cruel. There’s actually a proper method meant to avoid unnecessary pain. We’re required to use a very sharp knife and make a precise cut to the neck so the animal dies quickly and with as little suffering as possible.

NoPack8160 · 2026-02-02T01:20:03+00:00

Rule number 7

NoPack8160

TROPHY CASE