She can have glass in her eyes, cracked shards from shattered ideals, false images of perfection that occluded her reflection. There is extreme pressure in Virgo to prove herself and her talents beyond all expectation. She is a perfectionist in the sense she checks the spelling twice or the date for fear of seeming ignorant. She ultimately desires to serve others, but she can become so absorbed by her own thoughts and compulsions. Nothing she ever accomplishes seems good enough for her mind, it slices through her like cutting criticism. The memory of every mistake that she’s ever made inundates her head and sounds like demons cackling. And this pursuit of perfection is ultimately altruistic, she only wants to be perfect so she can be perfect for others, so she can be recognised and praised, so she can hear something other than criticism. This relentless conditioning by her own mind causes her sensitive physical body to respond, she can become trapped in rituals and routine for which she sees no sense, it’s just like a compulsive ceremony to manage the onslaught. And it can be so sad because she has such pretty eyes. Often mercury almond with hints of green, darting like arrows shooting into a white sky. But these eyes can be inflamed and burning at the sight of things, every crack in her environment is another opening where the demons can enter and remind her of her failings. As we enter the following sign of Libra the zodiac focuses on balance. So it’s possible that before this state of equilibrium in Libra we experience the extreme detriment of inner balance in Virgo, a state of chaos and mental madness where thoughts possess the body and life becomes a routine state of self destruction. Virgo cannot nurture herself with self talk. But it’s a skill that she must activate, the compassion of the Great Mother resides in Virgo, and she needs to direct this compassion onto herself. She hears the critical thoughts even when they are absent, she fills empty spaces in her mind with the criticism she assumes to be there. The mind is her cradle of expertise and a dose of poison. It’s her captor and her healer. Virgo, being the alchemists need to recognise this contamination, this unnatural substance that inflames her body and her anxiety.
Poison dart frogs consist of the family Dendrobatidae and are native to the rainforests of South and Central America. They are known for their bright colours and toxic secretions, which have been used by indigenous cultures to create poisonous darts for hunting.
The conspicuous colorations and patterns of the frogs warns potential predators of their toxicity. It is hypothesised that the frogs gain their poisons from their diet, which can consist of ants, centipedes and mites. In captivity, frogs which are reared on diets without these alkaloid poisons have a significantly lower level of toxins.
Around 4 species are used by indigenous peoples to lace darts with deadly toxins. The frogs are carefully exposed to fire, which causes them to exude a poisonous fluid. The tips of arrows and darts are soaked in this fluid and will remain deadly for 2 years.
AU, I hope you will like it!!! tell me what you think about it…. Looking forward to hear from you!!!
Breathlessly, I open the compartment, all my belongings in my hands. I enter the warm cabin, smiling at the other traveling passengers. A wealthy man stands up, helping me with my battered suitcase. With a slight movement he stows my suitcase away over my head.
I thank him, falling exhausted in my seat. He takes the seat opposite me; tiredly I smile, watching outside. With a loud toot, the railway signals that we’re ready to leave.
My hands are still clad in my new lace gloves. Carefully I pull on the fingers of the right hand, sliding out of my right glove, doing the same with the left. Holding both gloves in one hand I place them gently on my lap; in the same movement I bend forward to remove the hairpins which are holding my hat in place. Putting the hat on my lap too, covering my gloves, I close my eyes,feeling how the heavy machine starts to move.
Just a small request, but do you think you could write a fluff fic where Yondu teaches the reader how to whistle (maybe like to teach them his native language or even to use the Yaka arrow? Idk just some thoughts XD)? Thanks! ^u^ - ashlynlikesdonuts
This was a reply to someone in this big topic about the Maya collapse. Sometimes people think that horses made the Spanish some kind of organic tank impervious to Native warfare. I wanted to inform that in many cases Natives were able to adapt, change, and continue to fight the Spanish despite the advantage a horse may have given them.
Cavalry, though, that was a game-changer in the Americas.
Not always. Remember, the Spanish did not conquer Mesoamerica by themselves. They had Native allies to do most of the fighting for them. According to Hassig (1988), cavalry only gave a slight advantage. On page 237 he writes,
It is true that cannons, guns, crossbows, steel blades, horses, and war dogs were advances on the Aztecs’ weaponry. But the advantage these gave a few hundred Spanish soldiers was not overwhelming. In any case, individual Aztec warriors were shown to be the equal of any Spanish soldier, and the Aztecs in general proved remarkably adaptable. Individual warriors are reported as having grabbed the horseman’s lances and thereby neutralized them. One conquistador recorded a case in which a warrior successfully defended himself against three or four Spanish horsemen. When they could not bring him down, one of the Spaniards threw his lance at the Indian, who caught it and fought for another hour before being shot by two archers and then stabbed.
And then Hassig continues on page 238 and 241,
Another factor favoring the Spaniards was their use of cavalry and mounted lancers. Before the Conquest, as noted earlier, the Aztecs used an open formation in their battle stance, since the denser closed formation is basically a tactic used to repel massed mounted attacks and was thus unknown to them. But open formations were ineffectual against cavalry charges. Nevertheless, the Aztecs quickly adopted strategies aimed at minimizing the effectiveness of the horse, but a major shift in tactics would have required considerable time, since it would involved retraining professional warriors. Closed formations were not adopted, apparently because while they might have cured the problem of a massed cavalry attack, they would have created a better target for Spanish gunners. Consequently, organizational changes played only a minor role in the Aztecs’ adaptation to the Spanish challenge; ineffective tactics were abandoned, but new ones were not adopted. Instead, the response was largely technological. Devices and practices were adopted that aimed directly at these novel threats.
My thoughts on the Blood, Sweat, & Tears Jpn vers. in no particular order because my brain’s weird.
- I’m 70% this mv is the result of the Jin statue kiss, he made a deal with Abraxas, him in exchange for V to go with the others to heaven, but it didn’t go the way he expected.
- The scene with JK, V, and Jimin (0:17-0:24); V is moving while everyone else is frozen. It’s also the same scene with (1:40-1:46). Sooo this could mean that V is in total control of the events able to walk away from the scene before it even happens.
-From the Taejin fight I think they are the only one’s completely aware of what’s going on. I think Jin was apologizing for what happened to V, he probably feels responsible for V spiraling out of control. (Also V doesn’t stab Jin, he’s not holding a knife. If you watch the video at 0.25 or 0.5 speed you can see there’s no knife. He’s only holding a knife in the next scene, but it’s completely clean. Probably just for shock factor and to play up the psychopath vibes his character has.)
- Suga has always been the one blocking Jimin from seeing in the BST mvs, but what I don’t get is why???? I think it’s a side story that may or may not have anything to do with the main story line.
- Paint: There are so many scenes of Jin staring into the painting. So many things are covered in paint: JK’s room. Paint. Whenever J-Hope fires an arrow. Paint. After the Taejin fight. (Explosion, shattered glass) Powdered PAint. After Jimin sees the copy of himself he is thrown, more like dragged out of the reality through, you guessed it, P-A-I-N-T PAINT. Are they in the painting? Are they the painting?
- The Jimin meets Jimin paradox: Seen enough sci-fi to know stumbling upon a future/past/parallel reality version of yourself is a huge no no, cause like you’ll break reality and shit gets weird. Tbh all of this just reminds me of when in movies a side character suddenly becomes super important to the story. For example,
accidentally stumbling upon something important and getting murdered, or being the only one that can disarm a bomb, or in this case open the right door and break reality creating a wormhole to a parallel universe in which the main character didn’t die so none of his friends did either and everything is hunky dory.
-J-Hope firing an arrow + dart at V for whatever reason, cause he knows he’s bad news bears.
- That hallway Jimin walks down looks a lot like the one Jin walks down in Awake, except Jin’s has the Abracxas wallpaper and Jimin’s is completely bare.
- The wormhole/vortex/black hole thing. I don’t know much, but I’ve seen enough sci-fi films to know wormholes almost always lead to a different dimension. And that quote from BST-K reminds me of it: “One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.” It’s not a quote that can/should be interpreted literally, but the painting in the void could = chaos, and the wormhole to the parallel univers could = “a dancing star”?
- When Jin meets Rapmon at the gas station, Rapmon doesn’t seem that surprised to see him. Like if your dead friend was suddenly right in front of you I’m 10000% sure “Oh Jin-hyung!” wouldn’t be his response, so I doubt Jin is dead in this reality. He more responds as a friend would if one of your friends showed up at your place of work unexpectedly. Jin could also be saying “long time no see” ironically/sarcastically, but that part is widely up to interpretation.
- I think Jin is either in this new reality to fix things, because in the BST Jpn version it’s still very clear he still feels guilty for everything that happened to his friends, or…. This is a reality in which all of the unfortunate events that lead to this story never happened, which is much more likely.
Upon the debut of ‘Landmark’ I was given the divine privilege of writing the boys a biography. A sort of literary companion to the new Hippo Campus album. Relaying the journey, as I see it, has been one of the best prompts I have ever been given. You can find the bio on the inside back cover of the ltd edition blue Vinyl at Electric Fetus. You can also find it below.
The beginning is as intimate as yesterday and as distant as the details that get lost in a dream. Even in this moment I ache to remember when they became one another, with one another. For the Minnesota fort is held down with the heavy weight of incalculable moments, and these moments have become the life blood in the body of the boys. It began in the dead of winter. Their memories shrouded in a fresh layer of snow. In the beginning, the trees were bare and the horizon was stencil-like and silent. Sounds made in the middle of the night billowed up into the sky like smoke: a signal amidst the Earth’s silence. The boys tripped over their feet to meet at the top of the stairs, and I watched them gather on the roof like this. Balancing tentatively on the ledge overlooking the city, hollering collectively into the void, watching the sound bounce from building to building, until everything fell silent. And in the midst of this vast expanse, all that could be heard was an echo: as if something elsewhere was answering back in the shape of a sound. Staring down at their hands, I watched them gaze at their own boyish grasp on mortality. I watched them try and wrap their fingers around it. But their hands were too small for the idea that life was not eternal. So they lived in the wake of this, for you cannot unsee a dream.
Walking along a winding street, I crossed paths with a house, and a dim light in a basement window. Here, the sky held the illusion of tent canvas, muffling the footsteps of passersby. Encompassed in what felt like a secret corner of the universe, I strained my eyes to see the moon in the midst of them. And so the spot on the map was spoken into existence. A landmark. A house with a light on. A light they would spend eternity looking for again. But until then, the nights with the boys were exuberant! I watched them run, run, run the length of the grass. Squeals and unabashed sounds of excitement filled the night as they darted like arrows into the dark again and again. The end was never clear, and the path appeared wide and vast and void of obstacles. Solely was the land and the boys, reaching back to grab one another by the hand and pull each other forward. Sometimes I wondered what they were running towards, but most nights I simply stood back and watched them wander into oblivion with one another. Wiling away the hours, collectively funneling the happenings of their lives into the simplest and often the most profound. I felt them ache to remember when one another, became one another, with one another. Their grasps on mortality unhinged. Memories becoming subtly fragmented in the midst of their sprint, and so their grasps tightened. Eyes fixed on the moments that made them. Sometimes they would be gone for a very long time. Emerging in different colors themselves, or with one another. All the while clutching to the boys they had been on a roof, or in a basement.
Onlookers tried to crane their necks to see the end of the clearing: running a few paces forward, or scaling a tree to see if something was impending. But as much as I or others tried, there was no use in losing moonlight. The ground was where the pine and the Juniper grew up from, so the four boys ran with their feet keeping time with floor: feeling the snow, and the leaves, and the tall grass on the bottoms of their feet. They kept matchsticks and notebooks and cigarettes in their backpacks, taking supplies out at their leisure. Collared shirts and missing buttons. Belt loops and black jeans. Over time, their faces morphed into a collective mask of manhood. Tripping over their own feet in a flurry of boots and laces, I saw the boys approach a precipice. That which they could not see over the edge of, except for a warm glow: a yellow making its way out of the grey. And they knew that this was neither the end, nor another beginning: just a vast and open space to speak their dreams into. I watched them rear their heads to the South. Staring back at the light still looming from the basement window; nostalgia tugging the human water from their faces. And with a collective breath, they crept towards the edge. Cupping their hands to their mouths and hollering collectively into the void until everything fell silent. Looking back, I could not quite make out what they said. But what I heard was an echo. As if something elsewhere was answering back in the shape of a sound. And it was most beautiful.
Prompt: Lexa and Clarke (unbeknownst to each other’s feelings) somehow stranded in a cabin in the middle of a snowstorm and just that cheesy trope of taking care of each other, maybe needing to retain heat *ahem*
Despite sending a suspicious squint their way, Lance conceded, “Alright…”
Keith inched away from the other boy, moving to sit by Hunk. Pidge removed her goggles from her head and dropped them on the couch. Hunk decided to bring everyone back to their original topic, “Lance, you said something about other survivors. Are they staying here, too, or camping nearby?”
• “ You volunteered? Why?! ”
• “ What do you think the arena will be this year? ”
• “ I scored a(n) [INSERT NUMBER BETWEEN 0 AND 12]. ”
• “ Teaming up with the Careers? Great! I’ll arrange your damn funeral. ”
• “ Is that parachute for you? ”
• “ I’m so thirsty/hungry… ”
• “ MUTTS! ”
• “ Do those birds look familiar to you? ”
• “ Don’t. Move. A muscle. ”
• “ How many tributes have you killed? ”
• “ I’m out of arrows/darts! ”
• “ You know… There’s rumours of an uprising in some of the districts. ”
• “ Are you out of your mind?! Keep that stuff to yourself! They’ll have you shot if you win this thing. ”
• “ Did you bring in a token from home? ”
• “ You have any family? ”
• “ All those victors. You don’t think about being one, you just think about… the odds. ”
• “ I miss the food. ”
• “ What did they make you wear for the March/interview? ”
• “ I’m not sorry. There can only be one winner!
• ” Why the hell did you save me?! “
• ” Beats me; maybe you’re growing on me. “
• ” You killed him/her with a parachute. “
• ” Where is he? Where’d he go?! “
• ” I’m not here to save you. “
• ” I love you! “
• ” Did you get anything from them? From the Capitol? “
• ” Let’s set up camp here. We can hunt for food in the morning, but not now. It’s too dark. “
• ” I’m… I’m dying… Aren’t I? “
• ” No, no, no, you’re fine, you’ll be fine. “
• ” WAKE UP! Wake up, you selfish bastard! Don’t you dare leave me here alone! KEEP YOUR EYES ON ME! “
• ” You got someone back home? A beau, as good ol’ Flickerman would say? “
• ” You can’t leave me up here! DAMN YOU! Get your ass back and let me down! “
• ” Let’s make a pact. Don’t let them kill me. You hear? Don’t let the Careers do it. You gotta promise me you’ll do it if it comes to that. And make it quick. “
• ” I’m pregnant! 25 tributes, huh? “
• ” My mother thinks you’ll win. “
• ” Stop talking about winning. We both know we’re not walking out of this alive. “
• ” Think about your district. Tell me about your district. “
• ” Don’t move! There’s a trackerjacker nest above you! “
• ” You moron! Lemme go! “
• ” You’re my ticket to the top. Don’t worry. You’ll be dead once I find your partner. “
• ” I can’t kill you! “
• ” Win for both of us! “
• ” My mentor is probably too high or too drunk to give a shit about my survival. “
• ” My escort wants me to get tattoos on my butt if I survive. I… I really don’t know if I have it in me to survive if that’s what’s waiting for me. “
• ” It’s gonna be okay. You’ll win, I know it. And one day you’ll tell your kids and your grandkids about me. Right? That’s reward enough. Tell ‘em about the girl/boy who almost won your heart. “
• ” No. I’ll tell them about the girl/boy who already won it. “
Very Rare Viking Elfshot Amulet, 9th-12th Century AD
This silver-gilt and banded stone pendant was worn as a magic amulet to protect against ‘elfshot’, which was thought to be an arrow or dart attack perpetrated by elves. These elf attacks were believed to be responsible for many painful human and animal maladies, the causes of which were still of course unknown at that time in history.
Elfshot was described as a sudden shooting pain, like the pain one would experience with rheumatism, arthritis or muscle cramps. Belief in elfshot persisted into the 20th century in rural areas, and as proof, country folk would sometimes find small arrowheads (the remains of Neolithic or Mesolithic flints, or naturally-occurring spear-shaped stones) that were believed to be the magical weapons that caused the afflictions. The belief in elfshot begins in the Pagan Germanic period and this amulet is a very early and rare example.
Written for @leiascully‘s XF Writing Challenge Prompt: Hair. And for @baronessblixen who wanted it to be fluffy. I’m not sure it qualifies as that fluffy but it was fun to write.
She heard his voice, muffled and thick.
look good with bangs, I really think you’d look good with bangs.”
The air in her mouth tasted like the worst
autopsy she’d ever done. Her face was stuck to the pillow. Was it a pillow? She
The Bureau credit card was certainly a
generous host. The drinks were fuller, tasted smoother, offered a better burn.
The hotel bar afforded them a cosy nook with luxurious padded seats and a
mahogany table so shiny she could see her own reflection.
“Did I tell you
how handsome you look tonight, Mulder?”
but I’m always happy to be indulged.”
“Well, let me tell
you again. You look so sharp that all the vixens will be after you, Fox-y.”
“Are you a vixen,
The casino was a wild ride. She couldn’t
lose. Mulder just stood with his arms folded wearing a lazy smirk.
I said naughty, I didn’t mean fleecing punters, Scully,” he said, whispering
into the point of her neck where it met her shoulders. Who does that?
did you have in mind, then?” She linked her arm through his. “Lead on, MacFox.”
the most daring thing you’ve ever done, Scully?”
night air was humid, a warm wind drifting over them. He pulled her close and
she pondered the question.
could say that it was taking the assignment to spy on you, Mulder.”
turned out to be the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. I think the most
daring thing we could ever do is doing something entirely for somebody else.”
stopped and pulled her into an embrace. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and
she could feel his pulse against her cheek as she lay against his chest. “Let’s do something daring.”
She knew she was being outrageously flirty
but she couldn’t seem to muster up enough fucks to give. He was lapping it up.
He’d managed to shift himself closer to her so that their legs were pressed
hard together. His hand rested on her thigh, sliding the fabric of her dress up
and down in a maddeningly suggestive rhythm. She let the Champagne
bubbles pop and fizz on her tongue. When was the last time she’d drunk the real
your hair is this amazing burnished copper colour tonight, I mean, it’s like
the fire inside of you is emanating from within and bursting out of your head
to light up your aura.”
the fuck, Mulder? Is that supposed to be a come on?”
pouted. And for an awkward moment she was mortified. Like was he actually
serious? Was that Mulder hitting on her? She didn’t know whether to laugh or
She really shouldn’t have had that last
glass of brandy. Not after she’d already had the other two that were going to
be the last glass of brandy. But crazy people can be very persuasive. She knew
that. And he smiled at her when he loosened his tie. He was draped across the
crimson velvet upholstery of the booth, swirling the fiery liquid in his glass.
She watched his lips as he sipped the drink. The way his upper eyelashes
brushed his lower eyelashes. His fingers, so elegant, clasped around the
crystal-cut. What was that Eagles lyric? He was brutally handsome. Was she
terminally pretty? Maybe.
“Want to do
something naughty, Scully?”
Life in the fast
They fused, they sparked, they flamed. She
watched his chest as it shone and rippled below her. He held his breath but he
kept his eyes on her and she loved him so hard in that moment that her lungs
compressed and her heart stopped.
she fell beside him. His eyes were wide, glistening. His lips cherry-red
stained. His smile lazy and sated.
He blushed and she held her breath. “I’ve
never been any good at this stuff, Scully. I just…I’ve always…what I mean is…”
picked up his hand and pressed her lips to the soft skin on the back. “Just say
love your hair, Scully. I always have. It’s the most beautiful shade of red and
the way it frames your face is perfection.” His voice was breathy.
licked her lips. “I like your hair, too, Mulder.” What the hell?
had the decency to chuckle. “Remember when I had bangs?”
cute little floppy fringe that wouldn’t behave? Of course, I do. I always
wanted to brush out of your face.”
now I don’t have a fringe for you to brush away. Does that make you sad,
no reason to live now, Mulder.” She waited a beat before she collapsed into
giggles, falling into him.
The place he chose was weirdly cold, dank
in places, fluoro-bright in others. She should have turned right back round and
walked out onto the warm and welcoming street. But he wore that expression of
his, the one that burned with desire and an intensity so powerful that she shuddered
with the urge to shed her G-woman soul and
step into that sultry, daring spirit-being she kept pushing away.
“I like this one,”
“So do I.”
“What will you be
you,” she said, winking.
She kissed the Malin arrow that darted across
his pectoral. “Why did you pick this one?”
story goes that you have to face setbacks before you can move on.”
kissed him again, deeper and deeper. His fingers clutched at her neck and
gently, slowly he rolled her on to her back. He brushed the fringe away from
her forehead and she pulled him forward.
Mulder. I’m sorry!” She pushed him back and watched as he looked down at his
When he grinned,
she straddled him. “Let’s move on, Mulder.”
I never got around to writing up my sparse notes on last week’s chapters but today I found an audiobook version on youtube that conveniently has the entire book in one huge “video” so I don’t have to keep opening new chapters. I went ahead and listened from the beginning as I was sewing, so I heard again Watson’s description of Mary Morstan as she arrives in 221B. He talks about her as having a firm step, outward composure, dressed in perfect taste, but plainness and simplicity, her face isn’t “regular of feature”, ie, conventionally beautiful, but her amiable and sympathetic expression made her attractive to him, and indicated her refined and sensitive nature.
This immediately struck me as sounding very similar to how Watson has described Holmes, he has “ a quiet primness of dress” (I forget which story that’s from atm), his face has a lot of character, but his enthusiasm is infectious, he blushes when Watson praises him, his “hawk like features” show his concentration and attention. Clearly Watson also finds Holmes very attractive even if he isn’t conventionally handsome.
OK so how else are they alike? both are smart, she’s 27, same age as Holmes was when he and Watson met, her voice has “deep rich tones”, and she turns out to be an asset in an investigation, knowing what sort of evidence to hang onto. To Holmes she is “a unit, a factor, nothing more”, which begins to sound a lot like a mirror character, a stand-in for Holmes himself. Through the character of Mary Morstan, Watson can more safely express his rapid and strong attraction, his protective feelings, and also his insecurity about their unequal finances.
Then I started noticing all kinds of mirroring, in all the side characters! I’m still pretty new at this, but here is what stuck out to me:
Thaddeus Sholto=Holmes; bohemian lifestyle, smoking the hookah (dope?), bit of an oddball, but basically a good heart, generous, wants to do the right thing. He’s worried about his HEART though, and asks Watson to LISTEN to it… His fearful demeanor, worried that he’ll be mistaken for the murderer… maybe Holmes has some hidden fears? (and I couldn’t help remembering Sherlock’s line in ASIP about “by the way I’m not the murderer”)
Bartholomew Sholto=Holmes; chemist, attic with a hidden treasure, (=Holmes’ brain-attic full of knowledge) but dead/murdered (=in love/heartbroken) by a DART (=cupid’s arrow) in a locked room (=heart that was closed off)
Tonga=Watson, “able and efficient ally”, his dart killed B. Sholto, oops = Watson, oops, made Holmes fall in love with him. Tonga came in through the attic=Watson came into Holmes’ heart via his mind, the work.
Watson taking Mary home and coming back with Toby the dog= putting the romance aside and concentrating on the work/case. During this bit, Watson worries again about their disparate finances. He doesn’t think he’s an attractive prospect to someone with a substantially larger income than his own.
Mr. SHERman=Holmes again, another peculiar fellow who is good & helpful, and in particular, good with all sorts of animals. In fairy tales, the person all the animals want to help, is a Good Person. (see also, don’t date someone your dog doesn’t like)
Toby the dog=Watson. he’s a cross between a spaniel & a lurcher, like Watson is both a doctor and a soldier. His “peculiar waddling gait” suggests Watson’s intermittent limp. He starts out on the right trail, but is misled when it’s crossed by a stronger one… like Watson starts out zipped onto Holmes, but gets distracted by Mary, the socially conventional choice. But brought back to the point where he got mixed up, he does get back on the right track. :)
Jonathan Small=Watson, in a cautionary there-but-for-fortune way. he was also in the army, also got a leg injury and invalided out, and his second career also got ruined. But he fell in with murderers instead of a crime-solver. Still, Small proved loyal to his gang. And if murdering=making someone fall in love with you, then he’s maybe mirroring “three continents Watson” a little bit.
This last one is kind of “out there” cos it’s really a crossover mirror between ACD and BBC, but the way Watson writes Athelney Jones as a pompous a-hole, dismissing and belittling everyone, is just a bit like BBC Mycroft, in his patronizing, sneering mode when he’s belittling Sherlock’s intellect. So it gave me a little chuckle when it was SHERLOCK’s name that “literally opens doors” twice in this story, both at Pondicherry Lodge, when McMurdo won’t let Thaddeus Sholto vouch for his friends, but he will let Holmes do so, and at Mr Sherman’s when Watson goes to collect Toby the dog.
YOOOOO This was just an idea I had sooooooo without further rambling here you go:
I looked around the crowded bar room, it wasn’t different from the last few I had passed through in my journey. I sighed heavily as I walked through the crowd looking for a place to sit down and rest for once. I found a table in one of the corners of the room and placed my bag on one of the open chairs, I then sat down on the other open chair and observed everyone that was surrounding me. Usually people would feel scared, helpless, and frankly very out-of-place around all of these criminals but I can’t help but feel I belong here after being on the run for so long. I ran my fingers through my hair as I looked down at my map planning was getting harder and harder as more people began looking for me. Eventually my name got around and people began recognizing me quicker. So, I opted for more intimidating hideouts to avoid any unnecessary contact or run-ins. I opened my bag and looked down at one of the devices I had managed to snag from raccoon when I was with the guardians, recently they had been the only people to successfully capture me but I managed to get away after stealing some of their things. I looked down at the bounty with my name on it and the price underneath my name. I heard someone laugh behind me and I looked to the side of me, “Damn girl, with a price like that you better be glad I don’t turn you in.” I heard the voice say and I turned around to see where the voice was coming from, or rather who. I looked up at the blue man in front of me, “Others have tried I suppose.” I said looking up at him and he smirked. “The name’s Yondu.” He said moving my bag from the chair and taking a seat. “Nice to meet you, the name is Abigail.” I said staring at him and he nodded, “I know exactly who you are, everyone here does.” He said with a pointed smile. “Yeah, word tends to spread fast apparently.” I said as I put the device back into my bag and set it on the ground near my feet. “What exactly is a girl like you doing alone in this place anyways? Kinda dangerous don’t you say darlin?” Yondu said as he leaned forward resting his elbows on the table and I shrugged. “Yeah, it’s a little dangerous but I like to take chances and I can handle myself.” I said as I stood and grabbed my bag, “Where are you going Ms. Abigail?” Yondu called over the noise as I walked away from my table and to the other side of the crowded room, I jerked backwards when someone grabbed my arm. “Hey there little missy.” The stranger called as his grip tightened around my arm, I tried to jerk my arm away as his grip tightened but I quickly punched him in the nose and he let go of my arm as I continued to walk to the other side. I reached the other side and quickly turned around ready to fight again but I realized there was a familiar blue face behind me, “Damn girl, they ain’t joking when they say you a fighter.” He said with a laugh and I rolled my eyes. I was about to make a remark but before I could a fight broke out behind Yondu. “As much as I’d love to chat darlin,” he paused as he stared behind me, “You need to duck.” He said quickly and I did what he said as he whistled and something flew through the air above me leaving a trial of red, the arrow. I smiled, I always wanted to see the famous arrow in action. I stared behind me in amazement as Yondu whistled differently and the arrow flew at rapid speed around the room. “Shit, Yondu watch out!” I yelled but he was to busy to see the man approaching. I looked at his waist and noticed a knife hanging on his side, I reached out and grabbed in quickly as I jumped behind him to fight with the man quickly approaching. He was bigger than me so I knew I had to fight smart, he lunged at me and I quickly moved to the side but his knife managed to get me in the shoulder before I could move out the way completely. I screamed out as I quickly kicked him and looked down at the now red growing splotch on my shirt, the man stood in front of me before dropping quickly as the arrow moved through him and stopped right in front of me. “Sweetie, thought you said you could protect yourself,” I turned to look at Yondu as he smiled that pointed smile at me, “Get over here girl, everyone here is much bigger than you and I don’t want any other person or thing sneaking up on you and hurting you.” He said as he looked around and whistled again. I watched as people continued to drop, I looked around to make sure no one else was coming near us. “Yondu there’s more coming behind you.” I said tugging on his arm and he turned around quickly whistling and the arrow quickly darted across the room. I turned around and rested my back against Yondu’s watching to make sure his back was safe. Another man began to walk towards us, “Shit.” I said as I looked at the size difference between me and the man coming closer. “What’s a pretty little thing like you dong here?” He asked and I moved away from Yondu to make sure he was hit, the stranger grabbed me and I felt something sharp stick into my side but no noises left my mouth as I turned Yondu’s knife in my hand and shoved it backwards causing the bigger man to fall to the ground. He fell and I stood looking at Yondu’s back and I felt the liquid run down my side. Everything stood still as I watched the arrow return back to Yondu’s waist, “Well princess that went-” he turned to face me and his smiled dropped when he saw the red that was staining my side. “Son of a bitch.” He said as he quickly walked over to me, he quickly picked me up and began to walk out of the once crowded bar. “Y'know for as long as I’ve been looking for you and following you around this is the first time I’ve seen you covered in this much of your own blood. I’ve seen you beat up before darlin but never this bad.” He said walking out into the cold, frigid air and I shivered. “Don’t worry my ship is close.” He said continuing to walk towards his ship. Once we reached the ship he walked up the ramp with me and he carried me through one of the hallways, “Stay here I’ll be back with stuff to fix you up.” He said as he set me down on a bed and walked to the other side of the room, he came back quickly and I was already lying down with my shirt off so he could tend to the wounds. His eyes roamed over me and I stared back up at him, “I’m bleeding out Yondu can we hurry this up?” I asked and he laughed while shaking his head. He made sure to clean my wounds and then he wrapped him. “Thank you, I’ve never actually had someone to help me so thanks.” I said quietly once he was wrapping my shoulder wound. “I’ve been watching you for a while now sweetie, if we’re behind honest here. I’ve been helping out from a distance making sure you don’t get hurt, you’re caught my attention when I first seen your name on the bounty list Abigail. You’re something else.” He said and I stiffened, the bounty list. “Calm down girl, I ain’t reporting you or turning you in. I’m not that heartless. Besides, you probably ain’t got no where to go. Am I right?” He asked moving from behind me to sit in front of me and I nodded. “Well missy, I think the only safe place for you right now is somewhere close to me because I’ve seen some of the people and things that are coming from you and trust me those Guardians are still looking for you and they aren’t the ones you should be scared of. They’re are scary people looking for you.” He said seriously and I nodded. “And I ain’t usually the one who looks out for people, but you, you girl definitely caught my eye.” He said and I smiled, “What exactly caught your eye Yondu?” I asked and I looked at his red eyes as he looked back at me, “A couple of things, a big part was how you can hold your own and you’re a good fighter.” He said and I nodded. “And you’re easy on the eyes girlie.” He said with a smirk. “You calling me pretty Yondu?” I asked and he smiled. “Course I am, now you gonna stay with me or are you gonna try to go on by yourself?” He asked staring at me and for a second I swear I could see fear or rejection pass in his eyes but he would never admit it even if I asked, he had already admitted to watching me and wanting me to stay, he would never admit to fear though. “Yes, I want to stay.” I said smiling and looking into the red eyes I knew I would grow to love and learn that I couldn’t live without. He smiled a crooked smile at me, “Good, I don’t know if I would’ve let that pretty face leave, but if it did I would just keep following you like I’ve been doing darlin.” He said and for the first time in a long time I laughed a genuine laugh. He laughed too and for the first time in a long time I felt three things I hadn’t felt in awhile: happiness, safety, and love.