#stuff of legends

[ilovesuzie]

FanX Salt Lake City '25: Emotional Scenes

Not David choking up when talking about their last scene together and how he is going to manage DW without Billie...

[pokemon-ash-aus]

Going off the ask from 9stackedturtles, what would Ash look like if he was a Lugia-Mewtwo hybrid?

I thought i would hate it, cause im used to Ash's dark fur- but it fits so well XD

Sadly can never be canon cause theres no feasible way for Team Rocket to get legendary DNA

But it's a neat idea. Man, now im just thinking on what the other 2 would be 🤔

Ash | Indigo | Peach

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Poignant Invocation

It wasn’t until the little girl they raised together was six years old, the two men realised they had experienced something quite similar, numerous times, in their childhoods. The girl, Rosamund Mary Watson-Holmes, only her uncle Myc addressed her that way, everyone else, even her teachers, called her Rosie. Her fathers also called her Bee, sweetheart, darling, precious girl, and sometimes, Watson. It was she, who asked the question, that lead to this revelation from Sherlock and John’s past.

“What were your grandmothers like?” Rosie asked one Sunday after they’d come back from visiting Sherlock’s parents. They were the only grandparents she had.

“Eccentric,” her papa rumbled.

“Thought she was clairvoyant,” her dad said, earning him a raised eyebrow from his husband.

“Really?” the detective asked. “You’ve never said.”

“I guess I haven’t. Never seemed to be an appropriate occasion for it,” John shrugged. “How eccentric was yours, then? The normal Holmes quirkiness, or something spectacular?

“Same as yours, actually,” Sherlock replied slowly.

“No way!” John exclaimed.

“Way,” the other man assured him.

“What is clair – that thing?” Rosie asked a bit affronted, feeling left out of the ongoing conversation.

“Clairvoyant,” Sherlock said patiently, making his daughter repeat it until she pronounced it perfectly.

***

Neither John, nor Rosie, was the least bit surprised when they came home the next Friday afternoon, finding their home redecorated.

“At least it smells nice,” was John’s response.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, before kissing his husband and kneeling in front of Rosie to give her a welcome home hug.

Five scented candles were placed on the mantlepiece, purple in colour, the scent something citrusy with a touch of lavender. The curtains were drawn, and all the lamps were covered in black fabric adorned with silver stars and golden moons. 

John half expected a crystal ball or a Ouija board on their coffee table, but instead, a large book rested there; a book John had never seen before. 

Rosie stood, mouth agape, then moved around the room, carefully.

“What’s all this, love?” John inquired silently.

“A tribute to our grandmothers, John. To Annabelle and…”

He waited for John to fill in the blank.

“Hester. Her name was Hester,” John murmured.

Sherlock repeated the name, then gestured for them to take a seat. 

Large oriental-like cushions were placed around the table, all in different colours, reminiscent of gemstones. Ruby-read, emerald-green, sapphire-blue, topaz-pink, tourmaline-yellow.

With his usual agility, Sherlock seated himself closest to the book, while John and Rosie sat down on either side of him.

“This book is one I remember from my childhood. Annabelle, my grandmother, used to read it to Mycroft, and later to me. The legends are from Japan, where she grew up,” Sherlock began.

John cried out, horrified that he knew nothing about this.

“She was Japanese?” he asked, searching his husbands face for Asian features.

“No, John,” Sherlock smiled. “Her father worked there. As a chemist. They moved to England when she was twelve.”

John looked at the book, realising it was written in Japanese.

“Do you? – “

“Yes, me and Mycroft both. She taught us.”

“Wow!” Rosie exclaimed. “That’s amazing, papa.”

“Quite extraordinary,” John said and reached out a hand to squeeze Sherlock’s arm.

“Can you teach me too? Please,” Rosie asked.

“Of course, Bee,” Sherlock said.

The little girl rose quickly and threw her arms around her papa’s neck and murmured her thanks into his cheek. 

John looked fondly at them, his eyes a bit blurry.

Once Rosie was seated on her green cushion again, Sherlock started to read, translating effortlessly, as if he read an English book.

“This is a bit sad, but the moral can easily be transferred to our everyday lives. It is called The Legend of the Grateful Crane.”

Rosie curled up in John’s lap as Sherlock got the end of the story, but she didn’t cry. She was as resilient as one would expect a daughter of the infamous Baker Street boys to be.

“One more, please,” she begged once Sherlock had finished reading.

“After dinner,” John said sternly, and she knew it was futile to protest.

She sighed dramatically, not unlike how her papa used to indicate his disapproval. 

***

“This was a brilliant idea, love,” John said after they’d put Rosie to bed.

“You think so?” Sherlock asked.

“Of course, Sherlock. Couldn’t you tell how enchanted she was? Me too, for that matter. God, we’re so lucky to have you.”

Sherlock sighed contentedly and made himself comfortable on the sofa, his head placed in his husband’s lap. As John carded his fingers through his curls, Sherlock purred like a big cat. When they made love some hours later, the sounds escaping Sherlock’s throat reminded John of those made by dragons of the legends.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

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[a-forbidden-detective]

Until their dying day

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt FFF291 - stuff of legends and @fluffbruary Feb 7 using hand as the prompt. Thank you once again for these prompts. Also, with my head canon in mind I’d like to tackle Ron Kamonohashi’s ancestor, Sherlock Holmes.

—

Fandom(s): Kamonohashi Ron kindan no suiri / Sir ACD’s Sherlock Holmes

Characters: Ron Kamonohashi, Totomaru “Toto” Isshiki, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson

Pairings: RonToto, Johnlock

Word count: 1099

“AHHH! Now I must clean up my dad’s messes. Imagine, Toto, having a father like him leaving dirt on his trail?”

“You have been going on about that all day long…” But Toto shut up his mouth at once when he saw Ron looked admiringly at the picture of his father. Next to it was a rare photo of his parents together, which he alternately paid attention to.

“May I?” Curious, Toto pointed at the picture Ron next to Ron’s head. The forbidden detective was smiling at his newly christened lover.

After the two had a lay-in caused by the gruelling events of the Plateau Auberge incident, Toto went back shortly to his flat in Asakusa to get some fresh clothes, reported to Amamiya and returned to Ron’s place immediately. It made him anxious leaving Ron alone even though he knew that the younger man could cope with it better than Lily-san, Mia and Sakai.

Toto traced the two figures entwined on the picture frame.

“Your life is so extraordinary, Ron. You have these two great people who have cared for you…” He let out a sigh, he and Ron were ready to die together.

“I love the way you think about me… I truly cherish it,” Ron sat behind Toto, encircled his arms around the police officer and went to tell the story of his parents and the ancestor he wanted to emulate, who was the stuff of legends in the family.

“Come to think of it. Milo mentioned that I reminded him of your ancestor’s trusty companion. Who could that be? Do you know him?”

Ron looked at Toto, slowly got up and walked toward the shelves where one of the boxes contained several photographs.

He handed him an old picture of a man in a British uniform. The man sported a slight moustache with blonde hair underneath the helm. His eyes could be blue with the looks of it. He seemed to be a very handsome man.

“It was him why half of the reason my ancestor could and would never leave London. The other was the cases. His name was John Watson, an army doctor for Her Majesty, the Queen Victoria,” Ron said with a naughty smile on his lips.

“Huh? What do you mean? Were your ancestor and this man more than acquaintances?” Toto was surprised.

“Yes.” Ron responded with pride, his eyes were glowing. “You could say they were my ‘real’ great-great-great grandparents!”

“How long has it been going on?” Sherlock lighted up his pipe, white hair threatened to overwhelm his once dark brown hair. Across him was his partner, Dr. John Watson glaring at him, there was also sadness etched on his face, tears threatened to fall. The consulting detective was holding a telegram.

“You are gravely mistaken, my dear doctor. There’s no more understanding between us. The child I left behind only longs to see his father,” the detective was looking at the luggage in the living room. John Watson was going to leave him. If he did not play his cards well, he would do so permanently.

“I only wish for your honesty, Holmes. To me,” the doctor bent his head. “Only to me. After all that we’ve been through. After all the lost three years I have wasted for you.” Frustrated, he believed this was the last straw. The three years in which the doctor thought that his partner had died broke him apart. He likened himself to those bereaved wives who lost their husbands in the wars. As a former soldier, he beat himself up for being pathetic.

On the table there was an ukiyo-e painting of a woman clad in cobalt blue kimono with white plum blossoms all over it. Her face was hidden on the spectator by her fan. It was sent to the flat a few weeks ago. Next to it was a picture of a healthy beautiful boy smiling seated on a wooden floor. Not even two years old. His hair stood up and his cheeks were round like a bun. One could see that he was loved and adored by his family. Below was a note in English, “Yori-kun says Dada for the first time, Chiyo,” with two shaped hearts drawn on it.

“Are they the reason you left for a few months this year?”

Holmes nodded. He took another puff from his pipe but he smoked it too fast that he experienced a tongue bite. There was a burning sensation on his tongue.

“I understand that you deem it as a betrayal, but she is the closest thing I had when I was far away from you,” the detective said. His eyes pleaded, praying that the doctor somehow would understand.

“You didn’t have to go anywhere, Sherlock! You could have asked for my help! But you told me there were assassins following me ready to kill me if you established your connection to me again after your fall at the Reichenbach,” John put his hand on his face suppressing his anger, the need to hit someone or something.

“Now there is nothing we can do. You have your son. And I…” trailed John, who did not know what to say.

Holmes put down his pipe, walked to him, and without saying a word placed his arms around his partner.

“I understand that you hate me. But I never forgot you, John, during the three years of my absence. I always thought of you, asked Mycroft about you, told him to fast-track the process and eliminate the problem as soon as possible so I could come back to you,” the detective assured his best friend one more time.

The doctor shook his head, slowly pushed Sherlock back and said, “No, you could have told me everything. But you have many secrets and I am not even privy to them! Am I an outsider to you?!”

The question rattled Holmes as he had never seen his partner so angry like this.

“No! No, John!” Sherlock put down his hands. He knew when he was beaten.

“I can’t do this. Please give me time. I have to sort this out first.”

With heavy footsteps, the doctor took his luggage and headed to the door.

Upon hearing the door slammed, Sherlock sat on the floor and closed his eyes.

“They got back together again, didn’t they?” Toto held Ron’s face. He was seated on the forbidden detective’s lap. How did it happen?

“Of course! Until the army doctor’s dying day!” Ron replied.

“Thank god!”

And the two laughed together as they held hands.

~fin~

[valyrfia]

charles at the back of that drs train we’re about to see some majestic track terrorism

[nyamadermont]

Stuff of Legends

@flashfictionfridayofficial

#FFF291 Stuff of Legends

Avatar: The Legend of Korra

940 words

Bolin rolled the stem of the wine glass between his fingers, not quite sure whether he should be drinking at this event. Zhu Li had told him that he was off duty about an hour ago, just as she and Iknik had begged off from the hosts, insisting they needed to see to the baby.

He took a little sip, then tried not to gag on it. It wasn’t any better this time than the other handful of times he had tried it at other fundraisers or galas. He wondered if he was missing something, or maybe he still hadn’t really grown up, after all.

He sighed, but decided to hold onto the glass just to give himself something to do. 

Korra and Asami were holding onto each other’s hand in a way that made him think they were trying to find a way to get out of the conversation they were having with the knot of representatives from the Green Meadows borough.

Mako had growled at him about being on duty the last time Bolin had tried to even say hello.

He scanned the room again, but realized there wasn’t anyone here he wanted to talk to. A waiter with an empty tray walked by, and accepted Bolin’s barely-touched glass of wine. The directions to the water closet were easy to follow.

As he re-emerged into the broad corridor that surrounded the ballroom, he decided to take a turn to his left and see what there was to see.

The dim lights inside helped the city shine out over the water. He spread his hand out against the glass and touched his forehead to it, still taking in the view. A small light crossed in the water below, and he watched the little boat head out into the bay. He followed its slow progress out to find the catch that would be tomorrow night’s dinner for an awful lot of people.

When the lights dwindled away in the distance, he sighed again and straightened himself. He tugged at his jacket and slid his hands down his chest. He turned and continued down the corridor.

The section he was in was dimmer and seemed to have more office-type doors and spaces. He didn’t feel like trying to make out all of the names beside the doors.

He kept walking.

He began to take the curve at the far end of the arena, back to where the main entrance would be. The lights were bright where the crowd was milling about, some still arriving at this late hour, some already departing for other events in other venues.

Still reluctant to rejoin the bustling crowd, Bolin slowed down and drifted to the interior side of the corridor. A few steps later, he noticed an older gentleman, bent forward as if to read a caption at a museum.

Bolin made a few polite brushing noises with his feet so as not to startle the man. The fellow glanced at him, smiled, and waved him over.

“Come over here, young man! Have you seen this display case before? They have some excellent items here!”

Something about the man’s voice tickled Bolin’s ears, but he couldn’t quite place it.

He approached, and saw that the case was full of pro-bending items. There was an earthbender’s uniform with a team logo he didn’t recognize. A few earthen discs were propped up against the back of the display. He leaned in, and was able to see what looked like a few variations on the rules for the game, from a napkin with nearly illegible scribbles to a fully-bound volume with gold lettering.

“You see that?” the man asked, pointing out a large photograph that was as long as his own arm, but only about a handspan tall. It looked like there were a hundred people in it, standing on stairs of some kind. They were all too small for him to make out much detail, but something about it made him think it was about twenty years old.

“That’s the picture of the entire pro-bending league from the second season. The first season only had four teams, I think. But those first games were so popular that they had to make an entire league the very next year!”

The old man’s voice was so excited. When Bolin looked down, the man had raised his hand, and was using a finger to help him look through the newspaper clippings and photos tacked up at the back of the display.

His face lit up when he saw something, and he pressed his hand flat against the glass, his fingers splayed in excitement. “There I am!”

It took a minute for Bolin to see what he had seen.

Just at the crease between the back and right-hand panels was an “action shot” that was labeled Shiro Shinobi Announces First Championship.

“Shiro Shinobi?” Bolin gasped.

The man’s voice shifted, and Bolin knew he was right. “Welcome to the Republic City Pro-Bending Arena, folks!” 

Shinobi smiled and turned to face him, only to gasp, himself. “Bolin? Of the Fire Ferrets? I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you!” He laughed and clapped Bolin on the shoulder.

“You need to give us your uniform, young man! Do you still have that shirt you wore the night you protected Raiko from the terrorists?”

He paused, but Bolin was too flabbergasted to say anything.

“Come on, man! This display is incomplete without you! We have Lin Beifong’s uniform, we need yours!”

He backed up and rubbed his hands together.

“This history of the league is incomplete without the Fire Ferrets! You kids are the stuff of legends!”

[lukas-wrld]

Never Meet Your Heroes

Once I figured out what to do with this prompt, I was super excited to write! so thank you @flashfictionfridayofficial for the awesome prompt! :D

Daughter, like her classmates murmuring excitedly beneath Them, knew the legend well. The story of how They started with nothing and, against everyone's beliefs, worked their way up and out. And was, for some reason, back to bestow their wisdom. Or so they had professed.

So daughter listened with yawning ears and a starved heart, hoping to deign on the roadmap They so graciously wanted to provide. Keenly at first, before doubt whispered on her shoulder, quickly followed by unsettling disbelief.

By the end of the sermon, while others asked for further guidance, daughter had only really learnt one thing.

[lair-master]

this blog is staunchly pro big-tiddy-dragonborn-barbarian