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lonesilverw0lf · 21 days ago

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Jaune of Many Titles

I was reading a handful of some manga, specifically Reborn as a Slime and I’m a Spider, that gave me this idea. Obviously things are going to be shifted around a little. May have more down the line if anyone is interested, or if I stop procrastinating enough to write them. Lemme know what you think and list the references you find please!

A quick shoutout to @novankenn for always tagging me for his stories, so I hope you enjoy this one!

Team RWBYNPR awoke in an enigmatic realm after their tumble through the void. After collecting themselves and bravely marching forwards, they find themselves facing one of mankind’s oldest trials…

Yang: Didn’t we pass this rock again?! This is like 15 times now!

They’re hopelessly lost.

Weiss: We’ve been walking in circles all day! We’re getting nowhere!

Pyrrha: I must admit, I did not expect this when we woke up.

Nora: What did you expect?

Pyrrha: Certainly not this! This is like right out of a storybook!

Ruby, glancing at Blake who jumped down from a tall tree: Did you find Jaune? Or anything else worthwhile?

Blake, looking at the sun(?): No, no sign of him. Nothing special from what I can tell either. However it’s getting late, too fast. We need to at least find a safe place to rest. We have no idea what kind of creatures come out when the sun goes down. Not to mention the very high chance we’ll lose sight of each other and lose each other for good.

Before they could decide on anything else, a small figure flew between them. It had the appearance of a young girl, but she was only a couple of feet tall and floated on a pair of wings.

??: Oh hello there!

Ruby: Huh? Who are you?

??: This one is The Guide, Paimon! Paimon is pleased to meet you!

Nora: Paimon?

Paimon: This place is dangerous for newcomers. Follow Paimon and Paimon will lead you to Sanctuary.

Ren: Sanctuary?

Paimon, already leading the way: Sanctuary is the place that Master made. You all will be safe there.

Ruby: Why do you call yourself the Guide?

Paimon: Paimon gained the Title of Guide when Paimon helped guide enough people to where they wanted to go. Paimon is very proud of her Title!

Blake: Title? Is that important?

Paimon: Of course silly!

Blake: Ah yes, silly me.

After walking for a while, measured by the sun getting close to setting, the group have finally made their way to civilization!

Paimon: Paimon has guided you to Sanctuary!

Or at least an equivalent of civilization. Sanctuary was a collection of things both familiar and foreign. There were walkways, buildings, a park, a wall that stood tall against the chaotic nature beyond, yet the design, materials, and layout of the town displayed its own sense of nonsense. The town was bustling with activity, but none of the inhabitants seemed very human.

Blake: Everything is so weird here. So…alien.

A group of passing black and white bird like creatures gave her an odd look and began talking among themselves with a Mexican accent.

Creature 1: What is she talking about?

Creature 2: I don’t know, someone named Aleian.

Creature 3: I don’t know anyone named Aleian, but I know of one named Estevan.

Creature 4: She didn’t say Estevan, she said Aleian.

Creature 3: What does the name Aleian mean anyway?

Creature 1: Hey, did Ramone make it back with the chips yet?

Ren, approaching their guide: So now that we’re relatively safe now I have a question. These titles, what do they mean? Are they such a bid deal? You seemed to put some emphasis on yours back there.

Paimon: Oh, yes. Paimon forgets that newcomers don’t know these things. But then again Paimon didn’t know these things either when she was first here. In short Titles are your achievements through your life. They are stated before your name, if you are given one that is.

Ren: I see. So what are the requirements for gaining a Title? Like who is exempt from them? Are there any more… denizens that have them?

Paimon: Anyone can earn them if they try. Paimon knows of a handful. Most just aren’t strong enough to earn one.

Ren: And how do you know if you’ve earned one? Who is the judge of who is worthy of a Title? Can anyone just go around and say they’re a great baker or something?

Paimon: The World is the judge. The World watches all. No one can fool the World. The World is stern but fair. The World can not lie. The World will give you what you have earned.

Yang: So Titles aren’t just a list of bragging rights, indicating your accomplishments and capabilities, but a certain mark of status? Recognized by… some kinda god? Totally impartial? That’s kinda badass. Is there any limit?

Paimon: There is no limit but what you can achieve.

Pyrrha: Can you get a Title revoked? Can you get one retroactively?

Paimon: Paimon does not know. Titles are not Paimon’s forte.

Blake: Nora would be Destroyer of Pancakes I bet.

Pyrrha, looking at Nora grinning at the prospect: How many pancakes would she have to demolish in order to get that though? I’m guessing Titles aren’t something that easy to get.

Paimon: Paimon is unaware of such a Title, but if the World has decided Nora is worthy of it then the World will give it.

Ren: How would we know?

Paimon: You will know.

Blake: But maybe not.

Yang: How come?

Blake: We’re not from around here, so the rules might not apply here.

Ruby: Ah man.

Weiss: But can you just not?

Paimon, confused: Knot? You want me to tie a knot?

Nora: A Knot Title?

Paimon: You wish for a Title of Knots?

Ren: What would that be? The Knotted? Knotting? Knotter?

Blake: Oooh! The Naughty!~

Ruby: Hard to port! Ahead a half! Make revolutions at five knots! Set sail for Nottingham!

Pyrrha: Aye aye Captain Rose!

Weiss: Knots what? No I’m wondering if you can just not call out everyone’s Titles!

Paimon: No! I can not not!

Weiss: Not not?

Nora: Who’s there?

Weiss: Nora!

Nora: Nora who?

Weiss: Ugh…

Blake: So why can you not?

Paimon: We simply cannot!

Yang: I gotta say guys, looks like it’s all for naught!

Weiss: Yang, test me not! Oh god dammit!

Pyrrha: Hehehe, well why should we not?

Suddenly a wave of energy washed over the team. It was a similar feeling of an alpha predator entering an area.

Ruby: Wh-what-

Nora: What is this?!

Paimon, excited: Ah! Here he comes!

Pyrrha: Who?!

Blake, about ready to faint: This pressure!

Paimon: Ah, new friends! Master is the one who created Sanctuary!

Weiss: This thing is your master?!

Paimon: He is very friendly and kind! Worry not!

Nora: Are we still on this skit?

Paimon: He is The Survivor, Foul Eater, Poisoner, Arsonist, Assassin, Merciless, Executioner,

Nora: Whoa whoa whoa! What did she say?

Yang: Merciless? How can a friendly be merciless?

Paimon, still going: Deep Delver, Tomb Raider, Far Strider, Tarnished, Scourge of Heartless,

Ruby: Well with names like that, I wonder what their idea of ‘friendly’ is.

Blake: Is this some kinda opposite land?

Paimon, still going.: Flame of Destruction, Flame of Activity, Flame of Hardening, Light of Rage, Light of Fear, Light of Will, Light of-

Pyrrha: I’d feel a lot better if I had any idea what any of these mean.

Ren: Would you really?

Pyrrha: … maybe?

Paimon, still going!: Sentinel, Sunbreaker, Striker, Behemoth, Dawnblade, Gunslinger, Flamekeeper, Iron Lord,

Blake: Gah I blacked out for a second there, how many more names did she just go through?

Yang, readying her gauntlets: More than enough to not wanna take any chances here.

Ren, pulling out his guns: Better to be safe than sorry I guess.

Paimon, Still Going: World Eater, Salamander, Death Guard, Blood Angel, Night Lord,

Pyrrha: Are you kidding me?

Ruby: They’re getting worse?

Nora: And she’s still going?!

Paimon, Stilllll Going: Born of Mist, Diver of Hell, White Wolf, Stormcrown, Weapon X,

Weiss: Are we going to finish up this year?

Paimon, Still Goiiiiinnnngggg: Monster Trainer, Great Hunter, Greater Heretic, Guardian of the Grail, Stormbreaker

Ruby: Apparently not.

Paimon, Still! Going!: Trolls Bane, Giant Killer, Dragonslayer, Grave Walker, Soul Hunter, Will of D, Time Wound,

Yang: I changed my mind. I don’t think we even wanna try to fight this thing guys.

Weiss, deadpan: Are you saying that because your last name means Dragon?

Yang: Puns are the LAST thing on my mind right now!

Starling, STILL!! GOING!!: Ruler of Pride, Ruler of Wrath, Ruler of Sloth, Ruler of-

Nora: Sloth?!

Ren: Not now Nora!

Nora: I know it’s not those kind of sloths!

Pyrrha: How many more names are there?!

Blake: That’s it! We don’t have any other choice but run!

Weiss: To where?!

Blake: Anywhere but here!

Weiss: We couldn’t make it here without a guide! How are we supposed to find a place to hide in his own backyard?!

Blake: What else can we do?! Throw ourselves onto its mercy?! With how bloody its history is?! Are you nuts??!!

Ruby: Can we hide??

Yang: How can we do that even?! Everything here is loyal to him!! They’ll turn us in without question!

Nora: Is there any way we can-

Before the teams could panic even further, a loud thump drew their attention. A rabbit the size of a large horse had arrived without their noticing. While the enormous size and sudden appearance of such a creature is shocking, it was the large set of antlers on the rabbit’s head that grabbed their attention.

Pyrrha: Wait! Is that?

Ruby: A jackalope?!

Blake: It can’t be!

Nora: It really is!

An armored figure, tall and imposing yet regal, slid off the jackalope.

Weiss: The Rusted Knight? We’re saved!

Blake: Of all people, the hero of my childhood?

The figure, ignoring their cheers, walked through the commotion.

Yang: Hey! He’s going for-

??, lightly flicking the still going Paimon on the head: Oh will you knock it off? Just introduce me like I introduced myself to you. Make it easy on everyone. Jeez, there’s no need for the five hour introduction every damned time. How you all do that in one breath still kinda freaks me out.

Paimon, rubbing her forehead with crocodile tears in her eyes: B-b-but how can I not?

Weiss: Now don’t start that again!

Pyrrha: Wait a minute, Sanctuary Master and the Knight are the same person?

Yang: Are we sure it’s actually him now?

Nora, quietly stage whispering: Everyone, sneak away.

??: My name is more than enough of an introduction. Or the Lonely Knight, Rusted Knight, Lonely Wanderer, or any other if you’re so desperate. If anything all those Titles are likely to scare them off like they’re trying to sneak away right now.

Nora: Busted!

Paimon: But Paimon told them that you’re kind and gentle.

Nora: Lonely Wanderer? From the old story?

Ren: No I heard that too!

Ruby: What story?

Lonely Knight: What you tell them and what they’ll believe are two different things. Remember how I reacted back when I first landed here? Or how Lewis and Alyx were like? Or Dante?

Yang: Alyx? That kid from that Ever After story?

Blake: That old fairy tale? That’s real?

Ruby: I don’t remember a Lewis?

Blake: Did he call himself the Wanderer?

Paimon: Paimon was not here when you first appeared. Lewis and Alyx were younger than these guests are. Surely they’d understand?

LK: People are strange. Don’t bet on it.

Weiss: Dante? Why does that name seem familiar?

Ren:There were others besides us here?

LK, patting Paimons head: You did well guiding them to Sanctuary though, I’m proud of you for that.

Paimon, giggling: Paimon is a Guide after all!

LK, finally turning to face them: I’m sorry about that. I’ve been trying to teach them not to do that but it- Hm? Guys? Is it really you? I haven’t lost it again? No, it really is you!

The Knight removed his helmet to reveal the aged face of their long lost friend.

Jaune: It’s been so long! I-

Pyrrha: Jaune?!

Ren: What?!

Yang: How are you here?!

Nora: You are the Lonesome Knight?!

Ruby: Why do you have all those evil Titles?!

Blake: How did you get so-

Weiss: Mature~?

Before anyone could ask further reality suddenly distorts, drawing the attention of everyone there. A gate forming where there was once thin air, pure light pouring through the opening blinding everyone who looked into it. A being stepped through the light, closing the portal behind. The new figure, tall and wearing a form of ceremonial robes, a hood and mask covering his head and face, only his eyes to be seen, focused his attention on Jaune.

Admin: Abberant.

Jaune: Admin.

#jaune arc #rwby #pyrrha nikos #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #lie ren #nora valkyrie #crossover #my story #hope you enjoy #fantasy au #au idea

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belit0 · 26 days ago

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Could you write something about the uchihas (each one separately) reacting to a descendant of theirs who had a lot of power, perhaps the strongest of his time but he used it to protect people, he chose to live humbly, in peace and in general he was very loved by the people of his time. I think it would be the opposite of the average story of every uchiha, which is always tragic.

I love your work.mi gato te envía saludos

Well, let’s say that in this scenario, our boys are, I don’t know, ghosts? Visiting the only healthy Uchiha in the entire clan? Yeah, works for me lol.

ME PUSISTE UN MICHI TE GANASTE MI CORAZON lo amo

Indra

Indra watches, silent, unreadable. The weight of legacy is heavy, but this—this is something he never predicted. A descendant of his, powerful beyond measure, a true inheritor of his strength… choosing humility. Choosing to protect rather than conquer.

There’s no bitterness in him, no anger—only quiet contemplation. He sees the echoes of his own potential, the road he never walked, the hand he never extended.

But more than that—he sees a challenge.

-Do you believe kindness will save you from the weight of your own strength?- he murmurs, gaze sharp.

The boy—his descendant—only smiles. -I believe strength means nothing if it isn't used for others.-

Indra scoffs. Foolish. Naïve. But in the depths of his ancient soul, something stirs.

Something like curiosity.

Madara

Madara should be livid. Should be offended.

A descendant of his, the strongest of his time, living humbly? Protecting instead of ruling? Being loved?

Ridiculous. Unthinkable.

And yet—when he watches, when he sees the effortless grace, the ease with which this descendant moves among the people, never demanding their loyalty but receiving it all the same—

Madara laughs.

A low, amused chuckle, dark eyes gleaming. -Hah. So that’s how you won, is it?-

The people do not fear this Uchiha—they cherish him. And Madara, for all his sharp edges, understands.

-Foolish,- he mutters—but there’s no real venom in it.

After all, if power bends to him so naturally, if the world chooses him willingly… perhaps, just perhaps—he has won after all.

Izuna

At first, Izuna thinks it’s a joke. A descendant of his—his blood—choosing peace? Choosing to protect instead of dominate?

But then, he sees it. The raw, overwhelming strength barely held back, the devastating potential lurking beneath kind eyes.

And Izuna… laughs.

-So, you’re strong enough to destroy everything, but you choose not to? Gods, you’re insane.-

And yet—there’s admiration in his voice. Genuine admiration. Because to Izuna, restraint is not weakness. It is the ultimate proof of control.

-You’re a better man than I ever was,- he admits, running his hands through his hair with some exasperation. -Don’t waste it, alright?-

Obito

Obito watches the way the people love him. The way they trust him. The way his descendant walks among them, without masks, without fear.

And his heart aches.

Because—this?

This is what he wanted.

-You…- Obito swallows, his voice quieter than he wants it to be. -You really did it, huh?-

His descendant tilts his head. -Did what?-

-Lived without regrets.-

Obito smiles—watery, but real. -I think…I think I’m proud of you.-

Shisui

Shisui grins, arms crossed, watching his descendant with undisguised amusement.

-Damn, kid. You’re like me—if I actually figured my life out.-

Because Shisui sees it—the effortless charm, the way people gravitate towards him, the way he could command armies with a single glance but instead chooses to stand among them, not above them.

-You know,- he muses, -everyone in our clan usually ends up dead, vengeful, or miserable. You really broke the cycle, huh?-

His descendant only shrugs, smiling. -Guess I had good instincts.-

Shisui laughs, patting him on the shoulder. -Yeah. Must be the genes.-

Itachi

Itachi is silent.

He watches the way the people adore his descendant. How they speak his name with reverence, not fear. How his power is unquestionable—how he is feared, yes, but more than that—he is loved.

And Itachi… exhales.

-You have done what I could not,- he murmurs. -You carried our strength… without being consumed by it.-

There is no envy in his voice. Only relief.

And, for the first time, he's proud of his blood.

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live-laugh-legolas · 9 months ago

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hiya hope you’re having a good day! Imma send you a writing request (no pressure ofc!)

Reader being best friends/close friends with the members of the fellowship

I’m a little more inclined towards platonic x readers so that’s why I’m requesting this!

have a nice day!

Absolutely! I don’t know if this is how you wanted this written or the context of the friendship (like on the journey or in general what they are like as friends so I kinda did both and it’s really pretty disorganized) so I apologize if it isn’t what you were hoping for

The Fellowship as reader’s BFF

Aragorn:

-Loyal friend that you don’t see much but always pick up where you left off

-Being a ranger kinda calls for that

-Unless you are friends from ranger work then I imagine you would go with him whether he liked it or not

-Probably gets frustrated at you for being reckless but it’s only because he can’t handle the idea of you getting hurt

-Doesn’t want you to join the fellowship, but if you do he would be secretly a glad to have a familiar face with him

Legolas:

-Cheeky bastard, can totally be flirty but it is totally platonic and just for fun

-Lives to sneak up on you and scare you

-Friendly banter, people can’t tell if you hate each other or love each other, but you guys are bffs and love that people are confused

-Would be glad to have you join the fellowship as he doesn’t really know anyone else yet

-Might be a little jealous if you make friends with the others, but you reassure him he is still your best friend and won’t lose that title

-Power trio with Gimli

Gimli:

-Sheep in a wolfs clothes

-A rabid and deadly sheep, but a sheep, but only you know this

-Competition for everything

-Very proud of his friendship and takes it very seriously

-He isn’t concerned if you join the fellowship because you can totally hand yourself

-Talks smack about elves to you, but he is fully aware Legolas can hear him

Boromir:

-Such a loyal friend

-I know he is outgoing and everything, but for some reason I don’t imagine him having many friends

-Or lots of friends, but not many that are actually people he will open up to

-So he holds your friendship so close to his heart

-Definitely asks your advice on how to talk to girls (doesn’t matter your gender)

-Big brother energy even if you are older than him

Frodo:

-The friend that you never ever get sick of

-He always matches your energy or at least understands where you are at mentally

-Like if you are having an off day and are a moody he totally understands and won’t be offended

-Will do his best to cheer you up but also understands sometimes you just need a day to brood

-Nervous if you join the fellowship but also relieved to have you there along with the other hobbits

Sam, Merry, & Pippin:

-I am grouping these guys together as I think their relationship with you would be very much like it is with Frodo

-Loyal beyond measure and always have your back

-Definitely will make jokes at your expense but it’s out of love

-Will call your bullshit and are brutally honest, Sam maybe less because he is scared to be mean

I’m sorry this really kinda sucks but I wasn’t really sure of what to write, but I wanted to get it out as I was so excited to have a request so thank you! I may update it if I get inspired for something to add :)

#boromir #aragorn #legolas #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fellowship #frodo baggins #gimli son of gloin #lotr preferences #merry and pippin #samwise gamgee #the lord of the rings #lotr headcanons #lotr x y/n

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salty-croissants · 1 year ago

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m a y b e a bullfrog (or ray I don’t mind) with a FtM partner ? :3

Thank you for the request !

I gotta say I was a bit nervous about this one , this is the first ever FtM reader I’ve ever written … I really hope I got it right :,I

Details : use of FtM reader ( he/him pronouns are used ) ;

established relationships ;

no warnings needed

Bullfrog 💚

Okay , so three words : supportive frog boyfriend .

Bullfrog is the biggest sweetheart and he is going to support any decision you make regarding your identity .

He is going to love you no matter what , nothing is ever going to change that ❤️

If your hair ever gets too long for your comfort , Bullfrog will be more than happy to help you with it since I think he’d be pretty good at those aesthetic related things …

Plus it’s just very relaxing to feel his gentle touch on your head as he takes care of you …

< Thanks sweetie, I really appreciate it ~

I would’ve cut it myself , but you remember how it went last time , haha … >

< No need to thank me mon amour : you can always count on me . >

He definitely takes your preferences with pronouns and names very seriously , and if someone were to make you uncomfortable by not respecting them or saying something bad to you in general Bullfrog will definitely react accordingly : he may not be in favor of vengeance , but he won’t allow anyone to make his beloved upset , and he can be very …

Persuasive .

< Alright sir … I need you to listen to me , because I will not repeat myself .

Unless you start treating my y/n with the respect he deserves I’m afraid I can’t let you be near him . >

< Hah , and why would I be scared of … of …

Is that a … knife … ? >

< Oui , and I assure you it would be quite a shame to … go down this path .

I hope I’ve made myself clear . >

< Haha , yep ! Yeah , we’re clear , crystal clear !! >

Rayman 🧡

Rayman is just so proud of you for finding an identity that fits with who you want to be , and much like Bullfrog he is incredibly supportive of any choice you make .

I also believe that since he spent his whole life being cast out for who he was and what he looked like , he would definitely shower you with love and compliments to let you know that he accepts and loves the person that you’ve become .

< y/n … ? Have I told you how beautiful you are today ? >

< Hehe , you did , three times I think … but I won’t mind if you tell me again ~ >

< I just can’t help it , darling … when I look at you , I just can’t believe I got so lucky , y’know ? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me … I really mean that . >

< Aw Ray … I love you so much ~ >

If you need to use binders ? Rayman is going to make sure that you have the most comfortable ones he can find , discussing all the details with you to get something that works the best for you :

he just can’t stand the idea of his y/n hurting in any way , shape or form , and he wants to do his best to actively help you somehow .

< You okay honey ? Does it feel alright ? >

< Mhm , yeah ! Thanks again for helping me pick it Ray , this one fits so well ! >

Despite his very friendly and cheerful demeanor around other people , if somebody ever were to say something mean spirited about you …

Boy , he’s going to be pissed .

< Uh , excuse me … ? What was that about my partner ?

How about you leave him the hell alone ? >

Rayman is definitely very protective of you , and he’ll do anything to keep you safe , even if it means risking to damage his reputation as Eden’s voice …

You’re far more important to him than any of those things after all .

Ramon 🖤

Remember what I said about Rayman being protective of you ?

Well , now this man will go absolutely feral if anyone dares to even remotely touch you or say something bad to you .

You’re precious to him beyond any measure or logic , and this means that Ramon will often be quite careless about himself if it means keeping you safe …

< Ram , what was that ?? Those guys could’ve killed you ! >

< It’s fine … I’m … okay . >

< No you aren’t , you’re bleeding .

I can handle those kinds of comments , I’ve dealt with them before , you know that …

I don’t want you to throw yourself at dangerous situations for me , isn’t that what you always tell me not to do ? >

< That’s different … hiss - >

< Careful , don’t move around too much … that’s a deep cut , we need to patch it up right away . >

< … thanks y/n … sorry about that . I just - when I heard them call you those terrible names , I couldn’t just … >

< It’s okay sweetie , just take it easy … I’ll take care of you , now and always . >

Sometimes you like to surprise Ramon by wearing his clothes ( even though they’re often a bit small ) , especially his coat , and the way he smiles while staring at you never fails to make your heart skip a beat …

You really are the only reason for happiness he has left .

< Heh … what are you doing ? >

< Well it was getting a bit cold , and your coat was right there , soo … I thought I’d try it on for a little while ~

I can take it off if you want though - >

< No no , you can keep it … looks good on you , love ~ >

Overall , Ramon will do all he can to make you see how much he cares about you and that he really can’t live without you in his life :

expect lots of physical affection , which also includes gentle caresses and kisses on your scars ( only if you’re okay with it of course ) … anything he can do to make you feel appreciated ? He’ll do it .

< God , you’re so pretty , y/n … I wish we could stay like this forever … >

#captain laserhawk #x reader #bullfrog x reader #rayman x reader #bullfrog captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk bullfrog #captain lazerhawk rayman #captain lazerhawk bullfrog #rayman #ftm reader

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lisbeth-kk · 2 years ago

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Sherlock fandom. John wants to buy Mrs. Hudson a present, and Sherlock is quite willing to help.

Expedition at nighttime

“Have you ever been to a mall before, Sherlock?” John asks one evening.

Sherlock who’s been sprawled on the sofa, sits up at this unconventional question.

“A mall, John? Whatever for? And besides, I don’t care for your assault on the English language by using American substitutes,” Sherlock scoffs.

“Oh, excuse me, Your Highness, but mall is quite a bit easier to say than shopping centre. Now, will you answer my question or not?” John proceeds unperturbed.

Sherlock sighs dramatically and adds an impressive eyeroll for good measure before he answers.

“Mummy used to take us to Harrod’s to see the Christmas decorations, but it’s been decades. Why on earth do you ask? You’re not exactly a fan of shopping. Last time you went to Tesco I believe you had a row with a chip and…”

“Yes, enough of reminding me of that, thank you very much,” John states briskly and flushes adoringly.

Sherlock just cocks an eyebrow at him encouraging John to answer properly.

“Fine. It’s just…I thought we could buy Mrs. Hudson something nice for her birthday next week,” John sighs and rubs his neck.

“Ah, yes! Tesco won’t suffice, I take it,” Sherlock muses.

“Sherlock!”

“I was teasing you, John. Calm down. Well, perhaps I can be of assistance. The owner of Selfridges owes me…”

“Let me guess – a favour?” John chuckles.

Sherlock just waves a dismissive hand at him, retrieves his phone from his trouser pocket and sends a text.

***

John gets Sherlock’s text at his lunch break, and almost chokes on his BLT-sandwich.

We’re going to Selfridges tonight at 11.30. SH

They’re closed at that hour, Sherlock.

As expected, John gets no answer to his text.

Sherlock’s out when John gets home from the surgery, but there’s a note underneath the skull.

Be ready at 11 pm. SH

“So, I take it you won’t need dinner then,” John mutters under his breath.

Despite his exasperation with his best friend, he can’t help the tingling sensation in his body when he thinks about their nightly excursion.

True to his word, Sherlock arrives in a cab at 11pm, and John’s standing at the pavement in front of 221 Baker Street and waits eagerly.

When they reach the large building on Oxford Street, an impeccably dressed man greets Sherlock vigorously. John is actually quite proud of Sherlock for not insulting the man with an embarrassing deduction, but instead puts on a smile, everyone close to Sherlock would know is a fake.

“Mr. Holmes, it’s a pleasure to finally get to help you out,” the man says, still shaking Sherlock’s hand.

“Well, yes, Mr. Dougherty. I’m glad you are amenable to my peculiar request,” Sherlock replies, and succeeds to withdraw his hand from the other man’s grip.

“This is, Jo…”

“Come in, Mr. Holmes,” Mr. Dougherty says with admiration seeping out of every pore, totally ignoring John.

Sherlock stiffens immediately and a cold look in his eyes, tells John that Sherlock’s beyond annoyed. Mr. Dougherty’s clearly oblivious to the change in Sherlock’s demeanour and chats about trivialities neither John nor Sherlock comment on.

“I’ll call at your office when we’re finished,” Sherlock says and swirls around, heading to the escalators. “Come on, John.”

Mr. Dougherty gapes like a fish on land, and John can’t help but smirk. Flirting with Sherlock Holmes is one thing, disregarding John when Sherlock’s tried to introduce him, is a thing Mr. Dougherty might live to regret.

***

Being alone in this grand building with the lights dimmed, adds something mysterious to the whole experience. John feels like he’s in a movie, and he finds the shadows a bit eerie, but a glance over at Sherlock makes him grin, and he’s determined to enjoy this ridiculous ride.

Avoiding Christmas and birthdays himself, should’ve made Sherlock uninterested in buying gifts, but what John’s about to experience, is that he’s a rather skilled shopper.

Sherlock’s obviously memorised the map showing the different shops, and heads confident to the food department, scans the items for a few seconds, before he grabs a glass of vanilla honey and a gift set of different teas. He shows them to John for approval.

“What do you think, John? Will she like these?” he asks, his eyes glow in the dim light.

“You know she will,” John says and takes the offered gifts while Sherlock turns to the escalators.

“Glove department, next,” Sherlock tells John.

John shakes his head in amusement. Sherlock acts like a child being set free at Hamley’s.

***

Sherlock’s delicate fingers stroke over smooth leather, and John must swallow hard at the sight. He’s placed the other items at a nearby counter and leans closer to look at the different gloves Sherlock’s picked out. The proximity and Sherlock’s unique scent, makes John’s head dizzy. Without thinking he moves closer and steadies himself with a hand on the small of Sherlock’s back. Sherlock inhales sharply and closes his eyes briefly.

“John,” he breathes, his deep voice stirring something in John. Something that’s lingered in the bottom of his heart for what feels like decades.

“Come here,” John murmurs and lifts his other hand to Sherlock’s jaw, cupping it gently.

A moan escapes Sherlock and his eyes opens slowly to gaze into John’s. He forgets all about gloves and pulls John to him with a tenderness John didn’t think Sherlock was capable of. He licks his lips and brushes his thumb over the perfect mouth above him. Sherlock’s tongue darts out and licks quickly before retreating.

“Tease,” John whispers, before Sherlock closes the gap between them and kisses him.

I just walked by the building last week, and it seemed only natural to let the boys have an unusual excursion to the posh establishment.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely @blogstandbygo

#sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #flashfiction #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #johnlock

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gallabitch73 · 2 years ago

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Nothing Beats That Crimson Love

People just simply don’t understand how much Ian loves Mickey. They see how much Mickey has gone through to be with Ian, but they don’t realize Ian’s journey to be with Mickey. Ian has loved Mickey from the very beginning. He loved him so much, that Mickey was actually the catalyst for Ian’s first bipolar episode. No, I’m not saying that Ian never would have been bipolar had he and Mickey’s relationship not have gone south in Season Three. What I am saying both as a therapist and someone with bipolar disorder is that there may be subtle symptoms before the first episode, but the first major bipolar episode is generally triggered by a stressful situation. That situation for Ian was Mickey marrying Svetlana.

Ian knew there were risks attached to being with Mickey. He knew Terry would not give them any peace. He wanted to be with Mickey anyway. He wanted them to be out. He was always proud of what they had. He simply wanted to love the person he loved on their own terms. Fast forward to Season 7. Ian had a stable relationship with Trevor, a good job, loving family. What does he do? He leaves it all behind to run away with Mickey. No, he ultimately didn’t go all the way to Mexico, but I think he really wanted to. Some might say his better judgment won out in the end, I think it was fear. The fact that he went with Mickey for as long as he did proved that he loved him beyond measure in my book. He and Trevor were never the same after that. The Caleb thing was D.O.A. Ian never fit with anyone the way he fit with Mickey, and he knew it.

Hell, in Season 10, Ian wants to throw his freaking parole so he can stay in prison with Mickey, but Mickey won’t let him. Ian threatened to kill his own brother if he hit Mickey again, and he totally meant that sh!t. Ian loves Mickey with his whole entire heart. And he has ever since he looked just like this.

That is why we get this face at the wedding. He can't believe that he finally gets to call Mickey his. Forever. Without all the interference. Without all the drama. Out. Proud. Forever. Ian LOVES him some Mickey. You bet your *ss he does.

#gallavich #gallavichlove #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #mickey and ian #shameless us

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jashasedai · 2 months ago

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Dobrilo Comes Home

Belgrad

The big car was very nice. The seats were wide, and the material they were made of was very soft. Dobrilo had been running his hand over and over it when he noticed they were not driving past any familiar buildings anymore. “Excuse me, this is not the way to my home,” He piped up.

“Oh? Didn’t I tell you? Your parents aren’t at your house. We are taking you to them,” Said his father’s friend. He had been nice enough to pick Dobrilo up, in the fancy car he came to see father in. They liked to go for rides in the back of it, but it was the first time Dobrilo had been inside it. It reminded him of a limousine, but not all stretched out.

“Where are they?” Dobrilo asked. He realized he had seen some of these buildings before, on trips out to the country. “The airport?”

“How do you know this is where the airport is?” The man asked.

“The planes fly this way. And I have seen more of them as we have driven,” He answered, watching another plane swoop by, lower than normal, barely visible height. He could see it’s outline clearly.

He looked back from the window to the man. He had blond, wavey hair, blue eyes, and a bulging nose, but his smile was kind. He looked a lot like the man who drove the car, but the driver was much thinner.

His smile also seemed sad.

Dobrilo clutched his hands around his school bag. Kidnappers were men in masks who popped out of alleys, or scary, ugly men who tried to lure you into vans by hissing, “Do you want some candy?” Never taking rides with strangers didn’t count when the person was your father’s friend. His father had taken rides with Keke LOTS of times and never been kidnapped!

The texture of his school bag was rougher than the texture of the seat. He could feel his pencil pouch inside and beyond that..

His paints!

He could paint a picture of this man. Leave it in the car, and the police would find it. They would know Dobrilo had painted it and been taken away.

He wasn’t allowed to paint in cars. There was nowhere to set the paints. He could draw, though. The drawing wouldn’t be as vivid without blues and yellows and purples, but a pencil would do just fine.

Trying not to make any noise, he opened the top of his bag and draw his drawing pad steadily out of the bag. He put his hands inside the bag and opened the pencil pouch, taking out one pencil.

He paged past the drawing of his mother sweeping, and his father on the phone, past the pictures of his schoolmates and the sketch of his teacher falling asleep while the headmaster talked, during one of the school assemblies. That one made him especially proud, because he’d had to draw it like this, sneaky, so no one would see.

The man didn’t say anything, and Dobrilo started to outline a face. He sneaked looks at the man, to measure his nose and his mouth, to compare how wide his eyes were in the whole of his face. To make the picture measure like the man’s face measured. So it looked real.

After a long time, driving very slow in the traffic, they pulled into the parking lot at the airport. They drove around, not to the big, fancy building, but to some low, sheet metal buildings that looked like upside down U shapes.

There was a plane sitting in front and it was smaller than Dobrilo had imagined planes were.

The car stopped. Dobrilo gasped. He was not done with his drawing! There was some hair and a good shape, and the basic eyes and nose looked right, but he hadn’t been able to get the mouth.

“That’s a pretty good drawing,” The man smiled. Then his mouth turned down. “Is that me?” He stared at it.

Dobrilo clutched it to his chest. “No!” He lifted his knees up to his chest. The man looked sad. Then he sighed. “Give me that.” He reached out and grabbed Dobrilo’s arm in one hand and wrenched the drawing pad out of his grip with the other. The paper cut his skin and Dobrilo yelped.

The man flinched. “I’m sorry.” Then he grunted, and started getting out of the car, dragging Dobrilo with him.

Dobrilo decided to brace himself on the inside of the door. The man’s grip would slip and Dobrilo would close the door and lock it. Then he would honk the horn until someone came, or even drive the car away.

His grip on the doorframe was pulled loose without the man even noticing the 6-year old had been trying to stop him.

He was dragged into the U shaped building where there was a plastic box laying on the floor, just big enough for Dobrilo to lie down in. He was pushed into the box and the man’s driver held his arms and legs down. The driver made a sad, strange noise, and would not make eye contact with him. His face was very, very sad.

He looked exactly like Keke, except a little thinner. Dobrilo gaped.

Then Keke put a plastic mask over Dobrilo’s face and Dobrilo fell asleep.

Keke removed the mask and looked up at Ukkonen. There was no point in avoiding the stallion’s eyes. He could feel everything. There were no real walls between them anymore.

[This is a human,] Ukkonen said. [We stole a HUMAN child.] He pointed again and again at the drawing pad. [He could see your face. He could make it. He could recognize the shapes. He speaks. He has some sort of connections, but I tested them, he cannot USE them. He never looked at any of the cars I drove past. He was ot interested in the planes. He did not react to the speed. There is NOTHING Racing Driver in this child. He never would have come to us. He never would have known. What have we done this for??]

Keke agreed, with all of that. He was just as afraid as Ukkonen, for themselves and for this little half-Racing Driver’s future. [I do not know. Maybe they want him to work for the human part of the company.]

Ukkonen stabbed a finger down at the Racing Driver travelling crate. [He will have no papers if we take him like this. Humans must have papers. There is no life as a human for him after this, if we take him like this.]

[We take him or someone else takes Nico and Prince,] Keke answered.

Ukkonen stared at him.

[I hate this.] He reached down and grabbed the handle of the crate.

Keke stopped him and wrapped his arms around him. He fought back tears. ‘I hate this, too.’

Jash- This next part is a little distant. Is it too extrapolation-y and too distant, or does it feel the right amount of blocked off?

He’d asked for a nightlight.

There were no power outlets in the room.

He was too scared to sleep.

It was cold. The tiles were always cold.

He got so cold when he sat on them, but he got so tired when he was standing.

He’d worked out how to crouch, with his arms around his knees, elbow just barely touching the wall, so he could rest.

They kept telling him he was allowed to go into the creepy cabinet.

He vowed he would NEVER go in there intentionally.

He HATED it when they locked him in there in the dark every night.

It was too narrow to crouch, to sit, or lie down.

He had learned to brace his knees against the door and his back against the rear wall. If he crammed himself into the corner like that, he sometimes found himself falling asleep.

He woke up when the burning pain in his legs and his back made him change positions.

He got tired enough that he could sleep curled sitting up in a corner of the freezing, greasy, tiled room.

Sometimes, in the hours when Dobrilo was alone, he tried to squeeze out of the helmet that had been strapped and locked over his head. He had told himself he would try until it came off or his head came off, but he was never brave enough.

When it hurt he stopped trying.

He realized he hadn’t felt like crying, when the human came and brought him the thick, vegetable juice tasting meal. He couldn’t take his helmet off, but he could lift the visor and drink the meal through the long straw.

The human had never helped him.

Had pretended not to understand him, even when Dobrilo spoke in the French he had heard the man using. Dobrilo only remembered a few words of French, learned from the housekeeper who had watched him before he was old enough to go to school. He couldn’t speak it well, but he could speak it.

Humans didn’t care, he thought.

The Trainer cared. He assured Dobrilo that when he had been helped, he would be able to feel the other Racing Drivers, and know they cared about him, too. The herd cared about all the foals.

The door opened. Dobrilo rolled to his feet, pretending he had been a good Racing Driver, standing like he should.

It wasn’t the handler, bringing his meal. It was the Trainer. His helmet was covering his face, and Dobrilo couldn’t tell anything from his stance, like his match said he ought to, when he translated for the Trainer.

The Trainer signed, and Dobrilo pretended he could understand it, that the Trainer was telling him that there had been a big mistake, and Dobrilo wasn’t a foal, after all, he didn’t belong to the stable, that his parents had come and made everything right, and now he could go home with them. He was concentrating so hard, he was certain he was right. He was certain he could FEEL the rightness of his understanding of the gestures, like the Trainer had promised he would.

“Wonderful news, Dobrilo,” The Trainer’s human said.

You are going home.

“We are ready to take you to the medical center. We’re going to open your connections today, so you can share your thoughts, just as you are supposed to.” The man smiled. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, like his stallion was.

The stallion held a hand out to Dobrilo.

If I go, Dobrilo thought, and I learn to share, then I can make myself understood. I can explain to them that I want to go back and live with my human parents. I might not have been very good at being a boy, but I want to do it again. I will be better. I do not want to live here and be a Racing Driver anymore.

He took the Trainer’s hand and followed him out of the room.

‘STOP!’ Dobrilo slapped both hands onto the back of his head and screamed the feeling into the loud chatter of the crowd. There was a sudden ripple of quiet, but it disappeared just as fast as real ripples moved away from their starting point. ‘Too loud.’ He threw himself onto the floor. The grease and grit stuck to his mouth but he didn’t care. He wanted the sound to stop. He wanted to stretch his fingers into his brain and scour the awful connection out.

They’d drilled a hole in his head and let everything in. The crowd, talking and laughing and screaming. Living and feeling and leaving everything inside him.

He rocked back and forth, facedown on the floor.

The minds were not only loud. They hurt. Like a rasp over and open wound. They were grinding the drilled open hole wider. Like tearing his skull apart. His eyes rolled back.

He started to seize.

[Clear, wake up. Clear as Water, it is time to drive.]

Clear shook his head.

Puddle of Water nudged him, again. She was a Grey mare, now. They took another step forward. They were at the front of the line for karts, now, watching the two foals ahead of them strapped.

[I was not asleep.] He had gone inside himself. The garage in his mind never looked how the Trainer had said it was supposed to look. It looked like the garage where he had been trapped as a child. With the humans, who did not want him to be happy, and with his own kind.

He wondered when being a part of this herd was going to start making him happy.

[Were you thinking about colors coming out of your fingertips again?] Puddle teased. That sounded like the Orange filly.

Clear shrugged. He hadn’t thought about that in a long time. Not for years. He wasn’t sure it hadn’t been some sort of dream, or a lie his human parents had taught him. To keep him content. To make him believe he could make beautiful pictures.

He had just been inside his head, working on an idea.

[I was thinking about glass,] He told his best friend. He watched her face change as her mind searched for the right overlay of wiring, until she was the Grey mare again. [Glass,] He repeated, since she had probably missed that part, [I want to make a window.]

[A piece of glass in a wall?] She asked, examining the concept of a window as he presented it.

[I made a piece of glass, inside my mind, and I want to put it in the wall of my mind, and make a way to look out of my mind and see what is happening, without opening my mind to contact others,] He explained.

She felt baffled. [To share is...to share...There is no other way to do it. You cannot take, because in order to take something from someone else’s mind you must go into their mind with them, and they would be able to go into your mind. You cannot know what is happening in the place between minds without going there.]

[Have you seen a window?] He asked.

[No.]

He tried to explain, but the same confusion remained. [When we are done practicing,] He said, [Come into my mind. I will show you what I mean.]

[Would you like me to wait for you?] She asked, as they took their turn and went to their karts.

[No. You do not have to. I am sure I will be...too long…] He frowned.

She looked at him and put a hand on his arm, and felt his shame with him for a moment, but it did not disperse, and she was obliged to step away and move to the karts. He wasn’t sure he could ever expend his shame in his poor, poor ability in driving.

Some days he felt like he didn’t even know what he was doing. He had had to watch the other foals carefully to absorb their driving technique, their mastery over the controls of their karts. He had improved greatly the day he grasped the finesse of lifting off the throttle pedal as he changed gears. He could manage without the kart lurching to a halt, now.

He was uncertain he would ever advance to master more difficult skills, like finding an apex.

He had finally learned how to stay out of the other foals’ way on track. That had improved his popularity. Now they didn’t screech at him in rage as they passed, and he didn’t swerve into their intended path, trying to predict their terrifyingly late braking habits.

He now only had to spend the last twenty of his assigned number of laps, driving alone, when the slowest of the other foals had finished.

When he was alone he liked it best, because the handlers grew inattentive, and he could take the corners at his own pace. Sometimes, if he took long enough, they grew impatient and ended his session early.

There was nothing he liked so much as the feeling of being unstrapped and getting out of a go-kart.

Unless it was taking his helmet off.

Even the lukewarm group showers were a delight, because he was allowed to take the hot, suffocating helmet off.

The Trainer assured him that he would recover from the unkind treatment the humans he’d lived with had put him through, pushing him to lie down when he slept, and forcing him to walk around with his face stripped of protection.

Even they despaired of his ever overcoming his fear of speed.

They were kind and tolerant about it.

The other foals didn’t cringe away from him anymore. It was so nice being part of a family who shared all one another’s feelings and minds. They loved him so much, to be able to overlook his condition.

He was so grateful.

When he’d thought he was human, no one had been willing to do what was necessary to make him strong. No one had told him he must stand to sleep. No one had provided him a kart, to push his own boundaries of fear and his slow, slow reflexes. No one had prevented him from sitting or lying down and thus, becoming lazy.

The handlers told him all of this.

The herd might have overlooked his laziness, but they were too kind.

It was good the handlers were here. Or they might all have become lazy. And eaten until their bellies felt full, which would have made them too heavy for the karts, and they would all be as slow as Clear.

He gripped his hand around the steering wheel until his fingers went numb, and waited for the green light.

—

‘What is a match like?’

‘Like a human as powerful as a handler, who also loves you.’

—

[The days will start turning warmer,] Warrior said. [Yesterday was longer than the day before.]

[We still will not be allowed outside for practice,] Destruction said.

[Come and speak with us,] Sawblade waved over the colt watching them.

The three stallions sitting cross legged were big. Tall and broad shouldered, too muscular for the karts to carry swiftly, but they had quick reactions and could lift and run. There was a foal curled, asleep, with his leg on Destruction’s thigh.

The colt who approached them was thin and scrawny, wearing his coverall zipped down to his waist with the arms tied to keep them from hanging loose.

He came and sat with them. [I was born on the shortest night,] He said. [The humans I lived with said I was a pleasant thing for them to have at the beginning of a new season.]

The older stallions murmured appreciatively at these loving words he’d been given, and remarked on the desirability of a dam’s kindness. Clear liked them. They had been chosen for a different sort of training, and had paid with their ability to drive well. They drove almost as slowly as he did, and he liked the idea that there was something to be proud of other than driving. He had tried to make his body as much like theirs as he could, but the handlers prevented him from going too far.

Clear wasn’t going to be a hunter.

He was special, they said. He could do something few others could, and he was needed for something very important.

The leader of all the Racing Driver had died.

A new leader was needed.

That leader would need a Racing Driver.

The hunters stilled. The littlest one woke up and sat up, grinding and lugging. Destruction pulled Falcon close to his side. The hunters all stared past Clear, towards the door.

The Trainer was standing in the doorway, with his man beside him. [Now, Clear As Water.]

Clear unfolded, spun on his heel and followed.

A hand reached out and touched his wrist. The mare lounged against the door studied him through her helmet. He nodded his head to her. Silence After the Riot had looked after him when he had first arrived, along with her own son, the little White and Blue Bitone leaning beside her. She had treated Clear as Water like he was brothers with Shining In Darkness.

Shine nodded at him. [Put your coverall up,] He sent his shocking bright, sharp edged humor.

Clear nodded and covered his shoulders, zipping his coverall up to his neck.

[See you when you come back, Stallion,] Shine nodded.

—

The handlers grabbed him as he entered the room. Fear spiked through him. As always his muscles tensed so hard they cramped and sent shocks of pain through him.

They dragged him to his knees. He wanted to stay standing, to stand face to face with the best friend who was going to be brought to him.

Just let me stand equal to him, he thought at them, without sending.

He rocked from side to side against their grips.

I want him to know I am strong, I am his equal.

He braced his foot against the floor and tried to rise, pulling them with him.

I am worth respecting!

They dragged him forward and down and he banged back to his knees. A small 12 year old was no match for big men.

The door opened.

Clear’s new human best friend came into the room, looking back over his shoulder at something in the hallway outside. The human was making a laughing noise. He turned, smile still on his face and became serious when he saw Clear pinned to the floor. He reached out for Clear’s helmet.

Without direction, Clear’s muscles moved his head away from the man’s grasp.

The man kneed Clear in the chest. It drove the breath from the little Racing Driver, and in his moment of pain, his helmet was stripped off his head, leaving his face exposed.

The human made a loud noise like a kart that wouldn’t start.

Clear gathered himself and looked up, into the man’s brown eyes. ‘My friend,’ He thought, ‘My match,’ He thought all the things he had been told to think and his native abilities took care of the rest. ‘You will be smart enough to think as fast as I do. You will have a heart big enough to feel as hard as I do. You will understand what is in my heart. You will know me better than I know myself.’

But as he thought these things, he couldn’t help himself from noticing. The man’s willingness to hurt Clear to make things easier for himself. As he enhanced the man’s ability to express emotion along their connection, it was contempt and impatience that came through. The quicker the man thought, the faster the plans for dominance and profit. The man started noticing things about Clear that Clear had never noticed about himself, and the man filed them away in a drawer of Clear’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities.

As Clear sealed their bond with the thing he wanted to be the heart of their relationship, ‘You will be my best friend, and I will do anything you ask,’ A promise he was forging himself into, that he could never break, he heard the man’s promise come back to him.

‘You will make me a lot of money.’

Clear gasped. He tried to claw back into the bond, to put some last moment protection in for himself, but it was too late. He had changed his own neurology, and the man’s, and he had none of the matching energy left to fix the mistake.

Flavien Rene turned his back on Clear. He walked out of the room and closed the door.

The handlers stood, looking at each other, making no noises. Then one of them said something, and he grabbed Clear’s arm and dragged him into the hallway where Flavien had gone. There was no man in sight.

Clear could feel him moving up a stairwell ahead of them.

The handler pulled Clear into a room across the corridor, where a man sat at a table. He spoke with the handler.

Clear washed his hands one over the other.

Flavien had left without asking his name. How would Flavien know who he was, without asking?

The man behind the desk waved to get Clear’s attention. [Your man wants you to have the same name the Racing Driver lead stallions have always had. He wants your name to be Summertime.]

“L’ete?” Clear asked, in nearly forgotten French. “No...my name is Dobrilo.”

L’été trotted behind his long legged match, jogging every other step in an attempt to catch up. Every time he got near enough to reach for his match’s hand, Flavien whisked it away and sped up.

They were nearly running by the time they reached the end of the hall.

They stopped and L’ete drew his hand back from Flavien after a seering glance from the man.

“Now, we are going to go into this room, and you will put the glaze onto the two stallions inside. This is very important. Their masters are becoming stable owners today. You treat them to the very best.” He straightened his waistcoat and reached out like he was going to straighten L’ete’s, too, but stopped himself, shook his hands, and put them at his sides. “Make yourself tidy.”

L’ete squared his shoulders and smoothed the waistcoat. He looked up, smiling, to receive Flavien’s approval, but the man was already looking away towards the door. Where the two strongest minds he’d ever met waited.

Flavien opened the door. It was a room for paperwork. Two stallions were standing in it, dressed in simple stable clothes, grubby with use and wear, clean, but neither as bright as the colors ought to have been, like they were still dirty. One, tall and thin, puff of curly hair uncovered, and yellow clothes. The other was only barely taller than L’ete, and fat, dressed in black and green, with strange orange hair and spatters of orange stained onto his face.

A second look told him the bitone wasn’t fat, he was like the hunters, much more heavily muscled than would be allowed for a stallion on a team. Strange, since he clearly carried enough wins to obscure the championships of the Yellow.

Both of them had bare feet and chains running between their ankles and wrists.

“Do it,” Flavien said.

L’ete stepped forward and touched the short stallion’s head. He closed his eyes and crossed onto the concrete of the stallion’s public mind. The stallion’s image of himself was standing in front of the garage door. Instead of retreating inside himself and closing the door to keep L’ete out, he stood and watched while L’ete walked right into his mind.

The garage that contained him was very strange. It wasn’t a kart garage, like most of the board members’. It wasn’t an open wheel garage like most of the stable owners, or even a stock car garage. It wasn’t neat, perfectly sanitized metal sheeting and shining work surfaces.

It’s walls were made of wood, and the single, wide bench along the back wall was a thick wooden block, with a shelf beneath, holding large, heavy tools. There was a pegboard, and the floor was raw concrete, stained with the oils that had dripped from real work, over the course of years.

There was no car in the middle of the floor. There were no monitors. There was a two wheeled...scaffold, with a crossbar and a padded back.

It was a thing stripped down to only what was absolutely necessary, in order to do its job.

It made him afraid.

There was no aerodynamic bodywork for making passage through opposition easier, no wide tyres to ground, no cockpit to protect what was inside.

He turned his attention to the image of Ratchet watching L’ete inspect his mind.

The image was just a Racing Driver’s way of interacting.

This machine was Ratchet. His essence.

‘What are you?’ L’ete wondered.

Ratchet sighed impatiently and looked away. ‘Do what you came here to do.’

L’ete felt desperate to be seen by this stallion. He wanted to be taken seriously by this mind. Who only acknowledged the most important things and rejected the rest. ‘They want to hurt you,’ He warned Ratchet. ‘They are making me do this so they can hurt you.’

Ratchet did look back at him, then. ‘What is new?’ He felt annoyed. ‘Did you not know? Everything they have done to the boy they stole was to make you weak so you would bend to them.’ His mind reached back into L’ete’s and L’ete could sense Ratchet examining everything in his garage. The town car centered in the human style garage. ‘Do you not know they sent you so doing this to us you would be hurt as well? Speak to me when you have something to say.’

He left L’ete’s mind empty, and did not acknowledge L’ete again.

L’ete passed his touch over Ratchet’s essence, and where he touched, a layer of glass sealed the surface. As he worked, the part of Ratchet that was essential, deeper and more personal than his knowledge and abilities as housed in the garage, were isolated. Ratchet’s presence faded and then vanished as L’ete sealed him inside the glass.

Like a window, Ratchet knew the rest of his mind was there, but could not touch or interact with it. He was reduced to the barest consciousness and unable to connect to himself or anything around him.

When this was done, L’ete returned to his mind in his own garage, and surfaced into his body. He stepped away from the catatonic Ratchet and moved to touch the side of the Yellow’s head.

The stallion grabbed his wrist and snarled.

The human handler beside him brought his truncheon down on the Yellow’s knuckles and he gasped in shock, flooded with pain. When his hand dropped, L’ete touched his head and approached his mind.

This stallion closed L’ete out.

His walls were as thick and strong as any Trainer’s.

They flexed when L’ete pushed.

He didn’t bother to break them. It would be like trying to break the ground. He changed his own perspective.

They weren’t really walls.

They were disinclination to discuss the things the stallion didn’t want L’ete to know about him. These walls existed to keep Racing Drivers from prying. To make them disinclined to try.

Humans didn’t care about Racing Driver boundaries.

And Dobrilo had been a human.

It didn’t matter to him if this stallion didn’t want Dobrilo to explore his secrets. So for him, the walls didn’t exist.

He passed through them.

The stallion was shocked by this.

As Dobrilo came into his mind, the Yellow began to launch attacks, pelting shame, crushing sorrow.

But humans weren’t vulnerable to Racing Driver emotions.

The Yellow couldn’t reach back into Dobrilo’s garage and use what he found there against him.

No Racing Driver could step into the mind of a human they were not bonded to.

He panicked and raged around his own mind, trying everything he could to chase Dobrilo away.

Dobrilo ignored him and knelt beside his bike. This garage was like the Formula 1 garages he was used to, with more stainless steel, almost like a medical center, and he could tell the stallion was a medical Trainer. The bike was a motorcycle, but dressed in smooth, decorative farings. This stallion was social, and had arranged his mind to provide the least resistance to opposition. He would cut through opposition.

Doctor’s knife, the sharpest thing.

Rasoio.

Dobrilo was impressed, but this stallion fell under the glass just as easily as the disturbing stallion, who hadn’t resisted. Who had only whispered quiet surety that Dobrilo could feel taking root and souring in his heart.

He was glad when both of the Racing Riders were sealed away.

“Wait here,” Flavien snarled, pointing at a chair.

L’ete unbuttoned his tailored jacket and threw himself down on the blue upholstered chair and stretched his long legs out to the lacquered coffee table. He crossed his feet and examined his polished dress shoes for scuffs. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Flavien oscillate. The man was a bundle of nervous energy.

It repulsed L’ete on a few different levels.

He made a show of glancing at the IWC quartz watch on his wrist. It was entirely pretence, he had never been able to fathom the information the needley little hands represented, and Flavien wasn’t looking to see the gesture of impatience, anyway. L’ete wouldn’t have actually made the gesture if he’d thought Flavien was looking.

The hotel lobby had tall ceilings and there was a breeze blowing through from outside that smelled of Paris street. There were dozens of workers carrying bags, and humans in well draped clothing, and the hum of an elevator that L’ete found himself somewhat compelled by.

He liked elevators.

There were a handful of straight backed humans behind the stone countertop, handing out the wrong sort of keys- the uninteresting sort for doors- and speaking in pert words to the humans arriving to stay in the hotel.

Flavien ran his hand through his hair, disrupting the smooth line and causing a little wing of dark wisps to stand up on the right side of his head. His trousers were the same ones he had worn yesterday. They had wrinkles in the backs of the legs.

His agitation made L’ete pinch his lips and narrow his eyes.

He ran through options for strategies that might calm his match, reduce his nervous grinding, and delay the startlights that were going to release his temper.

Soothing was out of the question. Getting up from where he’d been placed would be the quickest way to wave the green flag. Even quicker than being seen to be unhappy with the boredom of waiting.

L’ete’s eyes widened and his feet dropped off the coffee table when a man with a boxy shirt and ill-fitting linen pants approached Flavien. He was holding a book of maps.

No! L’ete thought. Inside his mind, he cursed the man with rust and rough roads.

“Pear-donny mwah,” The man said.

Flavien’s lips curled as he turned his head to regard the man.

Ask someone else! L’ete thought.

“Oh est la colonnade la grand armay?” The man said each incorrect syllable slowly and loudly.

Flavien put his hand to his chest and stepped away, confusion and fear on his face, like the man had demanded his wallet.

“Oh est Franswaz?” The man asked.

“What?” Flavien murmured. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” He took another little step back, drawing his feet together, knees bent like he might need to run.

L’ete leaned forward in his chair like he was going to stand up, but Flavien’s eyes flicked to him and the moment of demonic rage that crossed his face kept L’ete pinned.

“Colonnade la grand Armay?” The tourist man asked again.

“I don’t know what you are asking,” Flavien told him, shaking his head and putting his hands out to make space between himself and the foreign man. “I don’t know. Ask the hotelier.”

“Hotel rits pariss,” The man smiled and nodded. He pointed to himself and said, louder again, “Colonnade la grand Armay.” Then he put his hands out to his sides palms up and looked back and forth, clearly indicating he wanted directions. He jabbed his map book forward at Flavien, who sneered at it.

“No English,” Flavien said loudly back, but he pronounced the word in the French way, and the tourist didn’t look deterred.

What was he looking for?

L’ete ran the American pronunciation through his head and came up with a match. Colonne de la Grand Armee. The big blue tarnished bronze column in the center of the very square the Hotel Ritz was facing.

The lights holding back Flavien’s disgust and anger were in danger of going out.

L’ete gritted his teeth and cracked open their connection, blinking against the fetid burning hatred that sloshed through, and waded into Flavien’s mind.

‘He means the column outside,’ L’ete breathed the realization, softly into Flavien’s mind.

The corruption hadn’t yet allowed Flavien to recognize L’ete’s presence, and especially it wouldn’t allow the man to acknowledge that L’ete might be able to impart any kind of understanding. So Flavien took the thought as his own recognition of the tourist’s words. L’ete slipped back into his own mind, feeling soiled.

“Do you mean the Colonne de la Grand Armee?” Flavien sneered. He waved a hand expansively towards the big glass doors at the front of the hotel. “It is there.”

L’ete mentally showered Flavien’s hatred off himself by making himself feel compassion for the confused human who had encountered, of all people, Flavien Rene, when seeking help.

The tourist did see the rudeness with which he’d been addressed and he sneered back at Flavien. He muttered something as he walked away, and L’ete didn’t speak English, but he had to assume it was something to mean, “You didn’t have to be rude about it.”

Flavien sneered after him. “Why do they come here without even the decency to learn to speak the language?” He muttered to himself.

L’ete watched the fear at being misunderstood subsume into the hatred that was Flavien’s armor against the world.

Flavien began to turn with typical human slowness and L’ete was looking away by the time his match caught sight of him, again, and had a placid, attentive expression on his face when he responded to Flavien’s glance.

[Yes, sir?] L’ete asked helpfully. His hands should have caught fire rather than convey Flavien’s constructed gesture, sir, see the innocent air. It was not a concept any Racer ever would have had, or ever thought the need to convey.

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oh-my-hubris · 7 months ago

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Loyalty Of Angels 3: A Job Offer

Jhonny gets a job adjacent to Law Enforcment. We are all very proud of him.

1322

“Jhonny?” Petra rapped on his door with her knuckles. “Do you have a minute?”

“I’m even wearing pants,” Jhonny called as he rolled to sitting, setting the book he was reading to the side. “It’s open.”

Petra was holding herself straighter than usual when she stepped into the room. Usually she grinned at him, but right now her expression couldn’t be called anything kinder than a smirk. Jhonny discreetly slid his hand under his pillow to the hidden knife while he raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’re not Petra.”

‘Petra’ chuckled and began to shimmer, eventually growing taller and more beautiful, her blonde pigtails melting into Countess Anise’s long red hair. “Very good,” The Countess said, amused. “I’m more convinced than ever that you should join the Shining Blade.”

Jhonny took his hand off his knife but didn’t get off the bed. It was very strange to be casually conversing with the Queen's personal bodyguard in his bedroom. He didn't feel awed or overwhelmed, he was just a little bit confused. “You might have to fight Thackeray for that, he saw me first.”

Anise chuckled. “Precisely. I want to offer you a job.”

Jhonny pursed his lips. “I tell you you're going to have to take it up with Thackeray and you immediately offer me a job,” he said in disbelief. “What sort of job?”

“Officially? Logan needs a secretary. A second set of hands. Someone to keep him on schedule and assist him in more mundane areas of command with the Seraph.” Countess Anise smiled at him. “For the most part, the higher ups within the Seraph already adore you—you saved their lives and their reputations several times now—and so you would quickly be accepted. Your record, while not clean, demonstrates your loyalty to Kryta and to Queen Jennah beyond almost any doubt.”

“Uh-huh,” Jhonny said skeptically. “And my actual job?” He wouldn't have believed she wanted him to be a paper-pusher anyway, but Anise had started the description with ‘officially’.

Her smile turned fond and almost teasing. “Bodyguard.”

“For Logan.”

“Yes.”

“You’re telling me that Logan Thackeray, Captain of the Seraph, the fucking Lion of Kryta, needs a bodyguard?” Jhonny snorted a laugh. “Why?”

“You saw yourself that he’s, in some ways, as much of a target as Queen Jennah herself. Her enemies wouldn’t hesitate to use him against her and Kryta is stronger with him around.”

Jhonny nodded. “Makes sense. Will he know what I’m doing?”

“No one’s going to tell him.” Countess Anise sighed and flipped her hair back. “He’s stubborn and ludicrously prideful. He’d never accept a bodyguard.”

This was probably true. Logan had an air of impenetrability around him, didn't fail well, and didn't like people noticing.

Jhonny could relate

“You’re… unassuming,” Anise said, something Jhonny normally wouldn’t have taken as an insult but the insult was somewhat implied. “He’d never guess, and neither would anyone else.”

. “That’s such a ridiculous idea that I have to say yes.” He shook his head. “If I’m doing this though, you should know what my priorities will be.”

She lifted her eyebrows in surprise.

“My first duty will have to be to Logan. Not to his life, but to his ideals. That means that Her Majesty will have to come first in almost everything, but also that I’ll put his safety above his happiness and above er… sensible actions. Following that, my loyalties are to Kryta. I work for the throne, not for you and not for the Shining Blade.”

“Your parents were Shining Blade,” she pointed out.

“I'm not them. And if I'm putting myself in the position of getting stabbed for somebody else, I don't want someone else telling me how to do it.”

“But you'll take orders from Queen Jennah?”

“Paycheck's gotta come from somewhere.”

Queen Anise nodded thoughtfully, taking him in. “And if it comes down to a choice between Logan and Queen Jennah?”

He felt weighed. Measured. He lifted his chin and met her gaze. If he was going to play in this arena, he couldn't let them cow him.

Not being cowed, luckily, was almost second nature.

“If you’re doing your job, it shouldn’t. If it does, I’ll pick her because I'm like 90% Logan doesn't want the country plunged into chaos.”

The Countess extended her hand and gave Jhonny a business-like shake. “Agreed. In two days you’ll be invited to the Court so Her Majesty can reward your efforts for Kryta. Ask her for a job when she offers you a boon.”

“Her Majesty’s in on this?”

“It was her idea.” Countess Anise’s disguise shimmered back into place. “See you then, hero.”

Jhonny stared at the door long after it closed. Legitimacy was knocking on his door. It had never been something he wanted, but here it was.

And he liked Logan, much as he’d tried not to. Logan was funny, Logan was charming. Logan was… an idiot in some ways but only in ways that made him more endearing.

So Jhonny’d do it, because there was little enough in this world that he felt needed to be protected more than one good man.

His only friend.

The small picture.

****

The actual ceremony was held in private after Jhonny had spoken to Countess Anise—and therefore Queen Jennah—about assurance. He was only human and not a well put together human at that. He froze a lot, he had anxiety.

He needed to be certain that when Logan was in danger he would act.

He hadn’t had any real thoughts on how to do this, but after bringing the problem forward—by showing up near the palace and hassling people until he got a word with Anise—Queen Jennah had suggested a geas. A magical compulsion.

It was a hard pill to swallow. He'd always been fiercely independent, he'd had no choice. This would be a chain.

But it was one he was choosing and that helped. He liked Logan and they were friends despite everything.

This was how he could serve Kryta without it chafing too hard.

And, perhaps most of all, he didn't want to fail Logan the way he had failed Quinn.

In a darkened room, Queen Jennah blazing before him like the sun, Jhonny knelt and submitted to being placed under a geas, guaranteeing that he would put Logan’s life ahead of all else. That he wouldn’t freeze or fail.

I offer my life and ask the burden of choice be removed. I am willing, Majesty, but I am human, given to fear and doubt and indecision. I lay my intentions bare: As a shield might splinter and spare its bearer, let my body break and spare his. As a torch expires but guides through dark places, let me expire if it sees him through.

The magic looped around him, heavy as it locked into place. He watched the semitransparent chains pass into him to bind his heart, leaving only a tattoo-like mark about his left breast. A closed chain link, evidence that he was bound.

He felt different with the geas. It felt heavy, grounding. He'd expected want to rail against it but, there was actually a comfort in knowing where his priorities were and that he wasn't going to fuck them up.

He wouldn't fail Logan the way he failed Quinn. He would be better.

He could do this.

****

He didn’t own “nice” clothes. The best Jhonny could manage was “something clean and without holes in it”. Andrew and Petra were both surprised and admittedly worried when a herald showed up to summon him to court.

Jhonny assured them it was fine and probably related to the way he'd been assisting the Seraph recently.

Which was still weird, but he and Logan had continued to get along well.

Reaching the noble quarter he was immediately out of place, and he more or less scurried towards the palace where he waited around as Queen Jennah went through what he assumed were the usual motions of running a royal court.

It occurred to him while he was standing there that he was going to have to figure this whole system out. He was good at spotting threats (at least to himself), but this was a whole different arena.

Honestly probably a less ethical arena, but he had to keep that to himself. A couple of nobles and at least two ministers shot him dirty looks as his name was announced and he proceeded up the aisle.

Queen Jennah was seated on the throne, Logan on her right and Countess Anise on her left. He'd never seen her in light before, at least not from this close. She was young, which made sense, her expression was clear, and she was barefoot.

Honestly? He'd kind of assumed the barefoot thing was hyperbole or metaphor, even if he couldn't figure out what that would have been a metaphor for.

But, nope, there were her little brown toes poking out from under her white dress. She smiled brightly and he redirected his attention to her face. “Jhonnen Jackson, I’ve come to understand that your assistance to the Seraph has continued unabated.” She looked to Logan and then stood. With one hand she gestured for Jhonny to approach the throne. “You’ve done more for Kryta than most. Is there anything I can offer you in return?”

He was acutely aware of all the eyes on him, Countess Anise’s keenest of all. He didn’t just have to fool Logan, he had to fool the entire court. This was a test.

Could he sell this?

Jhonny had spent his whole life being underestimated. He was good at it. And here he had all the advantages. He was a nobody, a shabbily dressed teenager surrounded by opulence. He stood out, but only as something less.

He took a breath and turned his gaze up to the Queen’s. It wasn’t hard to look taken with her, she was beautiful and she was, by all accounts, kind. Logan certainly adored her. He’d come to respect Logan, even like him. He respected Logan’s opinion about a number of things, and Queen Jennah was at least one of those.

“There is one thing, your majesty,” he swallowed again and dropped his eyes to the floor. “A job.”

“A… job?” Queen Jennah repeated, there was a twist of confused bemusement.

She was an excellent liar, he noted. Probably a useful skill in her position.

Jhonny nodded. “I’ve learned that my parents were members of the Shining Blade before they were killed and I got dropped at Queen’s Heart. I would like to carry on their legacy.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t have the… uh… temperament for military service, but I would happily swear my life to Kryta and to you.” He cocked his head up and gave her a lopsided smile. “I can play hero for the rest of my life, but it doesn’t really pay the bills.”

Queen Jennah laughed, looking entirely charmed. She shook her head and, beaming, turned to look at Logan. “You were complaining that you needed someone to help you stay organized and on schedule, were you not, Captain?”

“I—” Logan looked down at Jhonny.

Jhonny looked up at Logan and smiled. The smile was easy, because he liked the man, but he could swear that he could feel a pull in his chest.

It might have been the geas. And it might have been thinking too much about the geas.

“And you said just today that you thought our hero would make a valuable Lieutenant.”

“Yes but—”

Jennah turned back to Jhonny, cutting Logan off almost comically, and indicated that he should stand. “Consider yourself hired, I’ll let you and Captain Thackeray work out the details.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Jhonny dropped into a low bow and backed out of the hall to wait for court to finish and his “interview” to begin. He leaned against the wall and drew in a deep breath.

Legitimacy, more or less.

Court ended, signified by Logan entering the Seraph headquarters and bee-lining for where Jhonny was standing by the door of his office.

Logan’s hand clapped onto Jhonny’s shoulder and drove him into the office. “What deal did you and Anise work out?” He launched immediately into the question, no prelude of niceties, nothing. Jhonny met his gaze levelly.

“Lieutenant’s pay without having to go on patrol or become a proper Seraph,” Jhonny answered evenly. “Everything I told her Majesty was true. I want to work for her, for Kryta and I’d rather work for you than The Countess. She offered me a place in the Shining Blades and we agreed that I’d be more useful here.” He gave a small huff. “Probably because I don't particularly like her and would chafe taking her orders. That was mostly subtext.”

“Doing paperwork.” Logan said skeptically.

“And scheduling. And a knife when you need one. Think of me as your extra ears, eyes and hands, even a proxy when you’re too pissed off to deal with the Ministry.” Jhonny smiled. “A slightly more useful, if considerably smaller, shadow.”

“And in return?”

“Like I said, Lieutenant’s pay and I get to tag along with one of my boyhood heroes. Everybody wins.”

“I am not one of your boyhood heroes,” Logan said flatly.

“True. All my boyhood heroes were dead. I was an avid student of history.”

Seemingly despite himself, Logan smiled. He nodded and laughed, dipping his head and shaking it lightly. Lifting his chin again he looked down at Jhonny and gave a small sigh. “Well, I suppose I owe you that much.”

“Glad to hear it. I won’t let you down, Sir.” He winked when he said sir. “Seems to me like you need all the help and all the allies you can get. It’s my privilege to be part of it.”

“I've known you for months, Jhonny,” Logan said. “Dressing up your language makes you sound very dishonest.”

“I am dishonest,” Jhonny reminded him. “I'm just dishonest and working for you now.” He gave a flourished bow. “My dishonesty is at your service.”

****

Jhonny spent the rest of the day at Seraph HQ, getting to know more of the people and moving. Logan's office, he learned, wasn't actually used that often unless he was actively fighting with paperwork or meeting with people who had sensitive information. Mostly, Logan shared the large L shaped desk at the back of the main office with Lieutenant Francis. Plans were made to get Jhonny a small desk nearby for managing scheduling and paperwork.

He hung out, getting a feel for the place and trying hard to not show that he was marveling that life had led him here.

Returning home in the evening he felt good. He leaned against the bar and smiled at Andrew. “I’m afraid I have to quit my job as bar back and bouncer but, if you’ll let me, I’d like to actually rent out the room I’m in.”

Andrew gave him a surprised look. “What’s happened?”

“I’ve fallen in with a bad crowd,” Jhonny said with a shrug. “And joined up with the biggest gang in town.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

Jhonny laughed. “I’m talking about the Seraph. I just got hired. I'm handling paperwork for Captain Thackeray on account of my more recent trend of thrilling heroics.”

Andrew cuffed him upside the back of the head for the brief scare and Jhonny laughed. “I have a hard time picturing you in uniform, Jhonny.”

“It’s not like I'm going to be in armor, but yeah, same. Still, I’m just going to be doing paperwork. Might be boring, but the pay’s good.”

It wasn't going to be boring, he'd be spending a lot of time looking for assassins. Which would be interesting at the very least.

#gw2 fanfic #gw2 oc #countess anise #OC: Jhonny #logan thackeray

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dailyaudiobiblechronological · 2 years ago

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5/26/2023 DAB Chronological Transcription

Psalm 131, 138-139, 143-145

Welcome to Daily Audio Bible Chronological. Today is the 26th day of May. I'm Jill and it is so good to be here with you all today as we're winding this week down together in the Word, life is busy and it's full y'all. And so I am so glad that you have set aside this time to really just make space for God to be present, be a part of your day, an intentional part of your day, and to allow his word to speak to you, wash over you, and hide it in our hearts so that we may not sin against Him. Today we're reading in the Psalm and we're going to jump around a little bit. We'll begin with Psalm 131 and then we'll jump over and read Psalm 138, 139, and then we'll jump further back to Psalm 143, 144 and 145. This week we've been reading in The Voice translation, Psalm 131.

Commentary:

Today, if you would let me expound on why. O Eternal One, my heart is not occupied with proud thoughts. My eyes do not look down on others. I don't even begin to get involved in matters too big, matters of faith, state business, or the many things that defy my ability to understand them. Here it is. Of one thing I am certain my soul has become calm, quiet and contented in you, like a weaned child resting upon his mother. I am quiet. My soul is like this weaned child. Is your soul really calm, quiet and contented in God? It's not a question filled with shame. It's just a question. For much of my life, my soul was not calm, it was not quiet, and it was not contented in God. It was chaos. My soul was chaos. My learned response to almost everything was react, chaos, spin out of control. And I'm laughing because I think back to the ridiculousness of just pure intensity. Everything was a reaction. Rather than taking a moment to consider, to pause, to gain my thoughts, to invite the Holy Spirit, and to just learn to be content. Now, not everything and everybody is quiet. The world we live in is loud and noisy. And I think sometimes we think we have to raise our voice above the noise. We've got to be louder. The church has to have a voice and make a stand that's louder. And I learned this really beautiful technique in parenting, but I learned it really late in life. The trick is if you want your child to listen to you in the chatter and the chaos and the intensity, if you lower your voice, if you lower your voice, you will actually command them to meet you where you are. If you gain control of your emotions, of your thoughts, they'll mimic that. They will model that well, that has to spill over beyond our kids. If we can learn to be calm and we have to learn it, it can't just happen. We can pray and god can supernaturally just calm us. But we also have to learn it. And we learn it by practicing. I heard this fascinating new piece of research the other day just in mental health awareness and I just want to go on the record. I am not a mental health professional, but as someone who has struggled with anxiety and depression over the years, I'm fascinated in very holistic ways to take preventative measures before we're over the edge or before I'm over the edge. And a new study showed that if we take 20 minutes a day to just sit with our thoughts, they didn't even go on the record to call it prayer and they didn't even go on the record to call it meditation. Simply sit with your thoughts for 20 minutes and they recommend you do it twice a day. But most people won't do it once because they don't know how to manage all of the thoughts that they sit with because people do not sit for 20 minutes. So the intentionality of it without ever doing it before leaves people overwhelmed and so they just stay busy and not sit with those thoughts. What if we could start practicing? Practicing intentional calm and quiet and our focus being content in God, learning to quiet our soul, learning calmness and stillness. Practicing it so that we are modeling it not to just our children, but to a world that is frantic, that is chaotic, that is spinning out of control because we are grabbing towards anything that will soothe us, anything that will calm us, anything that will comfort us instead of gravitating that gravitational pull. As a believer to the comforter, to the Holy Spirit whose characteristic is that of calming and soothing and nurturing and man isn't that just a really good place of rest to be grounded in? The one who is stable, the one who is able, the one who calmed the seas, the one who said, Peace, be still. The one who is the prince of all peace and the one whose peace passes all understanding.

Prayer:

Father, thank you for this word today that grounds me thinking that when I have begun to involve myself in matters too big the many things that defy my ability to understand them that I can come to you and you calm and quiet my soul. You are a place of contentment for every single one of us. Father, I pray that those whose life feels like it is a jumble mess of chaos would you come and be their peace? Would you come and show them what peace and stillness and calm and rest that may feel completely out of the ordinary to them? Would you come like a flood with peace and like a stillness after the storm? God, would you calm the raging storm of strife inside of them and show them your peace so that it can be felt, so that it can be attained, so that it can be practiced, it can be achieved and then we can model this to a world in need. Thank you for your Holy Spirit that comforts us, that calms us, that soothes us, that nurtures us, that mothers us and may we rise above the noise, above the chaos, above reacting and be people of great peace. Pray this now in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Announcements:

Daily Audio Bible. That's home base. Check it out, if you have not. Take a look around. That's the website and it's free. If you'd like to partner with us, thank you so much for your partnership. We could not do this without you. We're so grateful that we do not have to. If you're giving by mail DAB PO Box 1996, Spring Hill I was about to wrap but I stopped myself. PO Box 1996, Spring Hill, Tennessee 37174 or you can hit the Give icon up at the top right hand corner of your mobile device. And lastly look for the Give icon on the website. If you would like to pray for someone that's previously called in or if you yourself need prayer several different ways for you to do so 800-583-2164 or once again utilizing that mobile app, hit the red circle button up at the top right hand corner of your mobile device. You have two minutes on the prayer line. Please speak clearly and concisely into your mobile device and then at the end of your prayer hit send. Turn that little wheel over to chronological. We've got our own little place in the world and that's it. And speaking of that's it. That's it for me today. We'll turn the page together tomorrow. Oh how I love you. Until tomorrow. Love one another.

Community Prayer Line:

Hello, DABC family. This is Mary from Prairie Grove, Arkansas. I am calling to ask for prayer for my son Caleb. Caleb is 18 and he is on the autism spectrum and earlier this week he had a mental health crisis. We've been struggling he's been struggling with some mental health issues but we could not get him to go anywhere to get assessment and assistance and he wasn't on any medication but only by circumstances the Lord can bring about. We were able to get Caleb into an inpatient patient facility earlier this week and he will be there for a couple of weeks. But I have a couple of prayer requests for Caleb. First of all, Caleb prayed to receive Christ at a young age and he has walked away from that. And I pray that this time of being away from distractions, electronics and social media will be an opportunity for his mind to clear and God will speak to him through the power of the Holy Spirit. I also pray for the breaking of social media addiction in his life. Social media addiction is a real thing and he needs to be delivered from that bondage and we as his parents and we are his legal guardians, need to do better at helping him monitor that. The third thing is that he said he's bored there and there's not a lot to do. And I pray for a Christian friend, I pray for a Christian therapist, a Christian doctor, someone that would befriend Caleb even there, and share Christ with him and love on him and encourage him. And we just pray for mental healing for Caleb. Thank you so much.

Hello, DABC family. This is Diana from Florida. Oh, wow. I am so enamored by this praise report from Blessed Assurance and also by the commentary that the Burning Bush that will not be devoured shared because it's true. We take for granted these little little things. We take for granted the fact that maybe in some parts of the country of the world there's rain and other parts there's droughts. We take for granted the fact that there is even birds flying and chirping and migrating through our locations and how that's a sign of peace. And what the burning bush was saying was that during war, there are no birds, the animals flee. And that is something that really touched me, that really touched me and moved me to realize how much I take all of that for granted myself. I don't even recognize how much of a blessing that is sometimes. And so I just want to thank God for both of you. Thank God for you giving praise reports and highlighting how special and amazing of a miracle it is that I can see the birds flying around me and chirping and I can feel the rain here in Florida. It's not raining currently, but it has been yesterday it rained a whole lot, and today it's a very sunny May rain later today. But even all that, all of it is a blessing. And so praise God. Praise God. I praise the Lord with you both. And I thank God for this community that constantly is challenging me to really press deeper in my faith.

Hi, China. My name is Eva. I really like listening to the Daily Audio Bible Kids. And what I want to say is that I like it when you do the Daily Audio Bible Kids. It makes me happy and it also makes me feel like it's in my heart making that I learn about new things and how God created the world. You talk about all kinds of things. Bye.

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specialagentartemis · 11 months ago

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And tbh this os why I don’t usually get super worked up about modern Greek myth retellings getting mythic figures’ personalities “wrong.” In Homer, Menelaus was generally noble, if sometimes ineffective; to the Athenian playwrights, he was portrayed as everything wrong with Sparta. This even extends to the gods: In Homer, Apollo is honorable and just; in The Kindly Ones by Aeschylus, Apollo is inflexible in his idea of justice; in Andromache by Euripides, Apollo is vengeful and kind of petty.

This is especially true when it comes to Odysseus. To Homer, Odysseus was a wily liar but also a hero, clever but over-proud, good at coming up with clever solutions to problems but also putting himself in those problems because he thinks he can solve them, sometimes a mediator and sometimes egging people on, ruthless in his goals except when he decides to lie and make things more difficult than they have to be; a polytropos man for sure. In Ajax he is calm, measured, sympathetic, trying to mediate rather than escalate conflict, and unwilling to mock his friend-turned-enemy laid low; in Philoctetes he is much more selfish and scheming; in Iphigenia is Aulis he is the architect of the sacrifice-Iphigenia plan, and riles up the troops to make it happen so they can all sail off to war; in other sources he doesn’t want to go to war at all. In Cyclops, as it’s a satyr play, Odysseus is the well-meaning noble “straight man” of the play who fully intended to deal honestly with Polyphemus, not steal from him; in Roman literature, Odysseus was portrayed negatively as an underhanded and untrustworthy schemer because tricks and lies didn’t befit Roman military honor. Different writers chose different elements of Odysseus that fit their cultural context and the story they wanted to tell.

So, retelling Greek mythological stories to highlight stories and aspects and character traits relevant to your current cultural mores and narrative desires is a very, very long-standing tradition. “Changing” characters’ personalities to fit the story you want to tell is a narrative choice that goes back 2400 years. I don’t think it’s inherently wrong or disrespectful or dishonest to do so. It’s about the aspects of these stories that resonate with you, what stories you want to tell with them.

That said, I absolutely think that Greek myth retellings can be lazy, uninspired, sexist, reductive, weirdly demeaning to the characters’ mothers in order to prop up the hot boy love interest, uninterested in the cultural context of the Bronze Age Mediterranean, annoyingly smug, or just cliché. I’m certainly not saying that Greek myth retellings are beyond reproach. Certainly there are some that I think are pointless! But criticisms about mischaracterization or disrespect for the gods just feels like missing the point to me when authors have been doing exactly that for longer than the English language has existed.

I do think it’s funny how consistently Menelaus is portrayed in Greek tragedy as just, a total asshole. Rude and cruel and just the fucking worst.

This is because Menelaus was the mythic king of Sparta, and Sophocles and Euripides who were writing these plays were Athenian, and more to the point, Athenian living during the Peloponnesian War against Sparta. It’s literally just the ancient version of making all the antagonists in every American movie in the 80s and 90s Russian. Writers going, You know the guys we’re at war with? They SUCK

#tagamemnon

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aarcanechaoss · 2 years ago

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Hey❤

Can you do a fic for BSD characters with a pregnant s/o.The characters can be be Chuuya,Ranpo,Atsushi.

I can indeederoo you didn’t give me much detail but I’ll just go for it ~~~ I aged Atsushi up imagine he’s 25 or smth

Chuuya Nakahara

You announced the pregnancy in a pretty cute way, you bought a little suit and naw it was just adorable because your Husband had just come home from work and was feeling a little brain dead

Chuuya stared at you for a solid ten minutes after he figured out that meant your were pregnant but as soon as he processed it he pulled you in for the biggest hug ever ~ this stays a secret for as long as you both can keep it such

The first person he does tell is Koyo

Throughout the pregnancy he’s there as often as he can for the highs and lows and scares and joys even when he has to work- the baby kicked? Suddenly he’s got the day off absolutely fuck the PM

You get a food craving? He’ll get it but if it’s too weird he may make himself busy so he doesn’t have to be asked to try it lmao

He feels super proud, excited and scared to become a father. He doesn’t want his kid to have his abilities- if you have some he hopes they have yours otherwise an ability free baby sounds alright to him. He doesn’t want to feel afraid but he’s scared that somehow his time before the sheep will come and take you away - it won’t he won’t let that happen

And when the time comes for you to give birth regardless of where he is he’s there. No missions during the due month nothing at all so he can be there and hold his child with you.

He’d make a pretty good dad especially since when he held them the first time he just knew he’d do absolutely anything for them

Ranpo Edogawa

You the audience may think he already know but no… no this man is so blind to it that you have to just tell him, don’t bother with cute clues he won’t get it

He’s very cute about it though, he’s not really ready to be a dad but he’s super excited about it because he genuinely thinks he’ll be the best dad ever

The first person he tells is obviously Fukuzawa before about a month later (at your pleading) telling the others in the office who are all very excited for you and your snack loving partner

This man will eat your food cravings with you, no matter how strange it could end up being or even if it’s just some toast with butter on it he’s willing to eat them with you - and if you are a cook? Bro your dinners are gonna be the best

When it begins to really hit him that hey his partner is having an actual child he gets worried for a little while, he knows he himself can act like one at times but he’s fully prepared to be there for you

And you know that little moment parents get when they see their child for the first time? Yeah he gets that and while he might go overboard sometimes he’s a really good dad with a really sweet baby

Atsushi Nakajima

Please give him a tiger plush that just says it straight up. He may be in his 20’s now but he’s still just a big softie

Though he does panic immediately after being told. It’s not that he doesn’t want kids with you he does, he wants to be the best fiancé ever but it’s a little stunning is all. He’s over the moon, joyous beyond measure but scared because he doesn’t want to end up like the Headmaster

The first person he tells is obviously Kyoka his little sister but he also tells Yosano because hey she’s a doctor and maybe she can help with the whole morning sickness thing because he gets queasy every time you get it

He’s such an incredible partner (it’s why you agreed to marry him) he’s giving you back rubs, foot rubs, food runs everything possible because his anxiety is through the roof and he wants to be the best fiancé I’m existence to you.

He is so scared he’ll miss milestones too but slowly he gets into his own groove of it and realises he isn’t missing anything and is just over the moon every time he sees your round belly and he’s just like I have a little kitten in there (or something else sickeningly cute)

Like Ranpo though he gets that immediately click with his baby and he doesn’t want to take his eyes off them (you hope the baby has his eyes at that)

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd fluff #Bungou stray dogs fluff #chuuya nakahara #ranpo edogawa #atsushi nakajima

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scarofthewind · 4 years ago

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How do you think the slashers would react to their wife’s body changing during pregnancy?

A/N: This is amazing and I love it so much. I am also very tired so if this sucks, I’m so sorry. I hope you enjoy though!

Warnings: Some sexual themes, fluff, small lactation kink (Michael)

word count: 626 Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Would love your breasts more than anything:

Brahms Heelshire: He’s a boob man through and through and it only grows in infatuation when you become pregnant. The way your mounds fill practically make his mouth water. If ever you complain about them hurting, he’s there in a jiffy, holding them gently and massaging them to your liking.

Michael Myers: He’s more of an ass man but the minute your breasts start to grow, he’s all over them. Will do whatever it takes to get a mouthful of tit first thing in the morning and last thing before bed. Wants to know what your breast milk tastes like so be prepared to feed two if he ends up enjoying it.

Vincent Sinclair: He will hold your breasts eighty percent of the day. Vincent will stand/sit behind you and just hold them to relieve pressure or pain you’re feeling in them. He loves watching throughout the pregnancy as they grow, knowing that they will help feed the child inside you. It amazes him that a woman can fully take care of a child on their own.

Would enjoy shopping for maternity clothes with you:

Norman Bates: Other than buying over a hundred baby clothes, he loves to take you out to find whatever clothes you need for the pregnancy. Since your body is changing throughout the stages of motherhood, you often have to get the next size in something which doesn’t bother him at all. He will make sure the maternity clothes he buy’s are exactly what you need to be comfortable, no matter the price.

Charles Lee Ray: He doesn’t really care for shopping, but he does love showing you off, especially now that you’re with his child. Charles will take you to every maternity store in town and let you pick out whatever you need for yourself and the baby. If someone asks about how far you are or what the gender is, he swoops in and takes over the conversation with a proud dad enthusiasm you have never seen.

Bubba Sawyer: He doesn’t have riches but he has plenty of fabrics he uses to sew you perfectly sized clothes. The only thing you really have to buy is undergarments' and pants if you want them because he only knows how to make dresses and shirts. You don’t complain though; they are comfortable and nice to wear when the day is hot. He gets very giddy when giving you a new piece, showing you the fabric he used and telling you why he chose that one.

Would love watching your stomach grow:

Jason Voorhees: Knowing that a living thing is growing inside you, amazes him beyond belief. He’s such a proud father, even if the child isn’t his, he’ll still raise it to be the kindest being on the planet. He has a small journal where he writes down your measurements every week during the pregnancy.

Bo Sinclair: Even though he acts tough and mean, he’s a big softie when it comes to the baby. He will constantly have his hands on your stomach, feeling around and massaging the skin there when the baby gets bigger to help lighten the weight you have to carry. Knowing that it’s his child that’s making you grow, makes him the happiest man alive.

Thomas Hewitt: Another one who is very touchy when your stomach starts to grow. He absolutely adores the stretch marks there so don’t think for a second that they bother him. He never thought he’d have a kid, nevertheless one with you, so he does his best to protect you and the baby at all times. Thomas always keeps a hand on your stomach when you’re sleeping because he’s certain the child knows his dad already.

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luimagines · 4 years ago

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Hi! I have a request, but first i wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! The length + amount of time you put into these prompts is insanely good. Now! Onto the request, how would the boys react to a reader from a more modern era? Maybe a more modernized hyrule or our current point in time?

Masterlist

Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm happy to see the response even if this blog is still relatively new.

I hope I do your prompt justice.

I probably could have done a headcanon list but I was hit with inspiration.

I also might have given Reader some backstory.

Scenario below the cut! It’s long, take caution.

It was a cool night, but you didn't mind. Your bed was warm, the WiFi was fast and even if it was three AM on a school night, you managed to keep yourself giggling with cat videos and blursed memes until the words and colors merged.

A night well spent.

But it led to questionable decisions.

Even if the shredded cheese in the fridge was beginning to seem a more and more enticing snack, your body was tempted to succumb to slumber.

Until a large purple light encompassed the entirety of your window.

Something was in your backyard.

Aliens. Your tired brain supplies and you sprint to the glass and push away the curtains. Is this it? Is this where I'm kidnapped and never seen or heard from again?

You pull out your phone and open up the camera.

"Pics or it didn't happen." You remind yourself and snap a few before showing your face.

What you see isn't what you're expecting. Instead of a flying saucer in the sky beaming down a laser or a weird pear shaped space craft on top of the grass, there's a single panel of glowing light, swirling with black accents that creeps in a circular motion.

"Cheese and crackers...." You gasp and begin to blatantly stare at it with no regard to whether something may be coming out of it.

You wait and nothing happens.

You wait some more and nothing happens.

You spend an hour watching this portal that has appeared out of nowhere, waiting for something to happen, willing for something to happen. But you get nothing.

The unknown stares right back at you, unblinking and unchanged.

Go through it. A voice tells you. What if there's something on the other side?

"I'm going to die." You gulp and take a deep breath.

Who else gets a chance like this? The voice talks again. This could be a grand step towards a more modern society. A whole new world could be on the other side, waiting, reaching out, calling to humanity!

You think you a see a shadow move behind the portal and out of sight but it’s gone before you can even process it.

"Should I call the police?" You step away from the window, ignoring the thoughts, the voice- you're too tired to know if it's your own any more. What's the plan? How does one go about something like this?

Where’s your sense of adventure? Pack a bag and go! What if it goes away?

That last thought seems to get through to your tired brain and for a reason beyond your understanding, it latches onto it.

Now you’re excited.

You run to the closet and take out your old backpack. It used to be for school but it was fancier since it was the only one you could get. The bag had a replaceable water bag with a plastic straw connected through the back of it and the straps have just worn down enough to where they’re actually comfortable. It doubled as a hiking backpack and came with its own insulated lunch box that clasped on the back of it.

It’ll finally serve its purpose.

You quickly roll up your favorite blanket and strap it in tightly beneath the lunch box. You’re quick to take out two extra outfits and pack them as well as change out of your pajamas.

Ok. What would you need? You don’t know where you’d be going so this has to a catch all kind of deal.

You pack away your swiss army knife first for good measure. A solar powered charger for your phone and an extra pair of socks follow suit even after you’ve picked out the extra clothes.

You take out the water bag and run to fill it all the way to max capacity as you think of any other necessities.

You’d need food. You have a small jar of peanut butter and granola bars that can fit in the lunch box. You can bring your extra water bottle and put in the side pockets of the backpack, and maybe bring some of those powered flavor packets your brother loves so much. You think he has lemonade and some green tea ones.

Those would be great. He won’t mind, hopefully.

You let the bag overfill momentarily before running back to shove it in your bag. with the lid screwed tight.

Next you run to the kitchen, grabbing the first things that you thought of already and begin to look around for more.

You grab an unopened pack of beef jerky, a bag of veggie sticks and a half eaten bag of dried mangos.

During your search you grab the water bottle and fill that too.

You return to your room with your bounty and begin to carefully put everything in the box. With some more deliberation, you run back to the kitchen and make yourself a quick sandwich, eat it, make another one and pack that as well.

You look out side the window and the portal is still there.

The sun is beginning to rise now so you’re trying to go as fast as you can, unless you want to neighbors to think something is going on.

Even if it is.

You’re about to leave but in a stroke of brilliance, you run to pack sunscreen and bug spray as well. You see a small first aid pack that was bought recently for when you would take your family vacation but you reason that it might one of the most important things you’d have if you got hurt.

Into the bag it goes.

You grab your hoodie before you leave the door, wrap it around your waist and pocket your phone, your headphones and your wallet.

You feel immediately under packed when you step outside and see the portal up close.

It’s weirdly triangle shaped, you think and step closer.

You reach your hand out and try to touch it. It feels as if you put your hand through a humidifier but it’s not wet. It’s misty and cold but not necessarily unpleasant.

An idea hits you right before you take your first step through.

You pull up one of the earlier photo’s you took and send it to your friend’s group chat. It showed up in my backyard. I decided to make a bad late night decision and I’m going through. If you never hear from me again, I want you all to fight over my electronics. Winner takes all. Godspeed.

And you step through.

You had first assumed that it would merely take you tot he other side but very quickly realize that you have to walk through it.

The first part still had a little light but with time, it got darker. So dark that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

You kept walking.

As fast as the light disappeared, it came back and you stepped into the light of an open field, right in front of one, two, three, four, nine males that had appeared to be traveling towards you or rather, towards the portal.

The portal disappears in the process.

“Oh so we didn’t have to go through it! We had to gain another member!” One of them yells. “Would have been nice to know before we packed everything up!”

“Ho boy, where am I?” You ask and tighten your grip on your backpack. Why didn’t I bring a weapon?

They all had long tunics and swords on their backs. Old fashioned leather boots and hand bracers were the norm in this group and you realized very quickly that your jeans and t-shirt had wildly missed the memo.

“Dang, I didn’t think I’d walk into a LARP group. Sorry about that.” You sheepishly smile. “I had no idea where the portal was going to take me. But if you would be so kind-”

“Wait, what’s LARP?” One of them speaks up. He was a dirty blond and somewhere in the middle of the group height wise. He wore a white cape like thing with blue designs on the back but you didn’t recognize the symbol.

“Live Action Role Play?” You tilt your head. “It’s why you’re all dressed like that? Right?”

“This is just our clothes.” What appears to be the youngest bounces up to you. “What are you wearing?”

“First I could grab in my closet.” You admit and look down on it. It’s one of your comfiest shirts and best looking pants. You’re a little proud of yourself for finding those in the dark.

“Weird.”

“We’re heroes. We’re all named Link.” Cape guy speaks up again. “Is it safe to assume that you’re in the same boat?”

“Heroes?” Your eyebrows furrow together. “I’m not a hero and my name’s not Link.”

You’re quick to tell them your name and you watch as the confusion covers their faces. “My brother’s name is Link though if that helps anything.”

“Oh we needed him!” The youngest groans and it instantly irks you.

“What would you need with a five year old?” You deadpan and cross your arms.

The information stuns the group.

“The portal showed up in the middle of the night and I’m the one that went through it. I’m pretty sure I was the only awake to even see it. Are you telling me that it was for my little brother?” You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little pissed. “My baby brother was supposed to go through it? He was asleep! He’s five. What kind of logic is that?!”

“Well...” The biggest and oldest of them runs a hand over his face. You think he has some cool tattoos and sick scar going across his eye but he looks about as angry as you feel, so you don’t say anything. “It appears the gods truly do not care for the hero’s maturity, only his existence.”

“Ok...What’s with all this hero talk?” You bite back. “What did... Where am I?”

“Hyrule.” The second with cool face tattoos speaks up. He’s got a large fur pelt around his shoulders and you have to tighten your grip against your backpack again to keep from reaching out to touch it.

Even so you feel yourself deadpan even more. “Hyrule? Like the ancient empire? The one that collapsed more than two thousand years ago? That Hyrule?”

You’re inclined to not believe them and write all of them off as crazy... but you also walked through a portal. And your grandma did say that magic existed in the strangest forms.

They all share looks of concern and some begin to murmur quietly amongst themselves but you’re too far gone to even notice.

“Did I time travel?” The idea hits you like a bus and you feel your eyes widen as you stare beyond the group. You quickly take our your phone and unlock it.

No signal.

“Is that a type of Sheikah slate?” Someone asks you.

“I don’t know what that is.” You reply automatically. “Wait, hold on, what year is it?”

“Why don’t you tell us what year you’re from and we can start from there?” The darkest brunette of the group speaks up.

“202x PC” You say robotically, not really processing the world around you anymore.

“That’s...” The blond with a long blue scarf speaks up with a slight hiss. “...Beyond any of our timelines. You see, we all come from different worlds and eras of Hyrule’s history.”

“I don’t think you’re the farthest down anymore, Wild.”

“This would then make them my successor, right?”

“It would make their brother your successor.” Someone amends. “I think they just jumped in his place.”

“Leave my brother alone.” You snap back into the present, pocketing your [hone again. “Ok, you know what, screw it. I don’t know what you’d want my brother for but I’m here now. I’d gladly take his place if it means he gets to stay home!”

“Hey.” A boy with pink hair stalks up to you looking a little more serious than you’d like.

“Nice hair dude, way to defy the gender norms.” You smirk a little before genuinely grinning, hoping to quell the tension. “What product do you use? It looks like Artic Fox but not every place sells their brand.”

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about but what happened to Ganon in your world? How have you been handling it?” He snaps and places his hands on his hips.

“Ganon? Like my old principle? That’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.” You’re confused again. “Last I heard he joined the police force only to be reassigned out of state. I don’t know what’s happening with him. Kinda hope he gets fired though. He’s not a bad guy but he’s not someone you’d want in that kind of position of power, you know.”

“Police force?”

You blinked and look them all over. They look very medieval. “Oh... You don’t have that...”

You begin to think about your history lessons and what they might be familiar with if they’re telling the truth about being from Hyrule.

“Ya’ll got knights?”

Many, almost all of them nod, a few with face of despair already on them before you finish speaking.

“It’s kind of like that. Mixed with a towns guard position... kinda. They enforce laws... at least they’re supposed to but the whole system is flawed and racist and really needs to be dismantled for the abuse of power that they have-”

“Abuse? Of power?” You have their attention again.

“It’s stupid and it won’t really make any sense if I try to explain because I doubt you have anything similar but it’s basically a group of people given the right to treat the public in anyway they like for their own benefit because they have no one telling them that they can’t.” You groan and slowly begin to feel your lack of sleep catch up to you.

You slowly reach to behind you and sit down on the dirt, looking at all of them. “Mr. Dragmire wasn’t like...Demise or anything but he was a huge jerk. No one liked him. He liked me though. I remember that. I was the envy of the whole school because I somehow got on his good side while everyone else wants to strangle him. I think he was transferred for some misdemeanor or something like that... like he might have been throwing hands with someone he wasn’t supposed to. I never heard all the details. I didn’t really care for it when it happened either. I’m pretty sure he lost that fight though. The dude looked like a blast of wind could have knocked him over let alone someone’s knuckle sandwich.”

“I would love to hear more about this.” The youngest sits next to you with a large grin on his face. His eyes are bright and his body language reminds you of your cousin Zelda. You instantly think they’d get along like a house on fire. “What are your monsters like?”

“Monsters?” You tilt your head. “Be a little more specific bud, it depends on where you’re from.”

“You have that many?!”

“It depends on if you believe they’re real or not.”

“Speaking of monsters, can you fight?” The shortest walks up to you. You like that his tunic is stitched up with multiple colors and designs. It gives it personality, you think. “Do you have a weapon you’re more comfortable with?”

The question throws you off your rhythm and you don’t fight your wince. “What would happen if I say that I do not, in fact, have any sort of weapon on me?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.” Pink guy speaks up again. “That pack is huge, there has to be something in there.”

“It’s food, water and extra clothes my guy.” You lean back against said backpack since it won’t let you lay down with it still on. “Not a lot of space for anything else. I’m pretty good at hand to hand combat though. Karate’s a good way to fight out stress.”

“Your bag’s not magic?”

“Why the hell would it be magic? ...Are you trying to tell me magic actually exists?” You raise an eyebrow as your eyes begin to close against your will. “I know my grandma said it does but I thought she meant like fairies and shadow demons.. and bigfoot. Can’t forget him, he’s the real MVP... You know...Children’s bedtime stories and stuff like that, it’s not real. But like magic magic? Magic items and the like? Find me Tinkerbell and I’ll show you Neverland, that’s what I say.”

“Are you serious?”

“Second star to the right, straight on till morning.” You respond.

There’s a moment of silence as the group in front of you processes your words. It’s hard to tell their reaction since you’re not looking at them but you no longer have the energy to do anything else.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” It’s the one they called Wild.

“I...” You try to open your eyes. They don’t budge. “I haven’t slept in nearly 20 hours... I think. I might have past 24 hours a while ago actually. Portal showed up at like four in the morning... I had to get up at six and I didn’t sleep at all before then.”

More silence.

“Great another one.” Someone scoffs.

You snort.

“Why did we pack up camp again?”

“No one kill me.” You say right before you lose consciousness. “Please and thank you.”

“They’re doomed.”

“Have some faith Vet. They stepped in for their little brother. That has to mean something?”

“They’re in for a rude awakening, and that’s all I have to say about it.”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #is this readers origin story #maybe?#i got a little carried away with this one #had to stop myself before i went even further beyond #i don't know if I want to continue with this as a story or just throw out some headcanons with modern reader #i like to think that everything i write takes place in a separate universe #especially the ones where they catch feelings #might throw out what they think of reader #might not #depends on you guys!#let me know what you think!

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